As I step out of the small propeller plane into the morning sun in Fort St. John, I’m reminded why reporting from communities directly matters. The gravel crunches underfoot as Chief Trevor Makadahay of Doig River First Nation leads me toward their expanding community garden project, now flourishing with help from a provincial funding initiative that has quietly transformed Indigenous food systems across British Columbia.
“Our gardens connect us to our traditions while addressing real food needs today,” says Chief Makadahay, gesturing toward neat rows of vegetables that will soon feed dozens of families. “Having provincial support recognizes what we’ve always known—food sovereignty isn’t just about nutrition, it’s about cultural survival.”
The provincial government announced yesterday that its Indigenous Food Security Grant program has now supported over 100 community-led projects, with new funding reaching 28 additional First Nations communities across B.C. The program, offering grants between $25,000 and $100,000, has become a quiet success story in addressing both immediate food access and deeper connections to traditional food practices.
For communities like Doig River, this means expanding their cultivation area from a modest garden plot to a comprehensive food sustainability initiative that includes a greenhouse, root cellar, and traditional medicine garden. These aren’t just infrastructure improvements—they represent reclamation of food systems that colonial policies actively undermined for generations.
Mike Farnworth, Minister of Public Safety, framed the initiative in terms of both immediate needs and long-term resilience. “These food security projects help communities address their unique challenges while building capacity for sustainable food systems,” he noted in the provincial announcement. “Each project reflects local priorities and traditional knowledge.”
The funding comes at a critical time. Statistics Canada data shows food prices have increased nearly 17% over two years, with remote communities facing even steeper costs. A basket of groceries that costs $100 in Vancouver might run $180 in northern or isolated Indigenous communities, according to research from Food Secure Canada.
What distinguishes this program from past government initiatives is the deliberately hands-off approach to implementation. Communities determine their own priorities—some focus on food storage infrastructure, others on hunting and gathering programs, while many combine approaches.
At Nadleh Whut’en First Nation, near Prince George, the emphasis has been on intergenerational knowledge transfer alongside physical infrastructure. Elder Margaret Patrick showed me their newly completed smokehouse where salmon preservation techniques are being taught to younger community members.
“Before contact, our food systems sustained us for thousands of years,” Patrick explains, adjusting wood in the smokehouse. “These projects aren’t new ideas—they’re ancient practices being revitalized with modern support.”
The First Nations Health Authority reports that food insecurity affects up to 41% of Indigenous households in B.C., compared to 12% of non-Indigenous households. This disparity reflects both ongoing challenges and the importance of targeted funding.
Murray Rankin, Minister of Indigenous Relations and Reconciliation, emphasized that food security represents a concrete step toward reconciliation goals. “Supporting Indigenous-led food systems addresses colonial harms while respecting the expertise communities already possess,” Rankin stated.
The program’s success has attracted attention beyond provincial borders. Yesterday’s announcement included confirmation that federal matching funds will extend the program for another two years, potentially doubling its impact.
Not everyone views the funding as sufficient. Judith Sayers, president of the Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council, told me by phone that while the grants are welcome, structural issues remain. “These projects help, absolutely. But we’re still dealing with a food system that wasn’t designed for us, on lands where our access to traditional foods has been restricted for generations.”
In Williams Lake, the T’exelc First Nation (Williams Lake Indian Band) has focused their funding on revitalizing traditional berry harvesting and processing. When I visited last month, program coordinator Jason Lulua described how younger members are learning to identify, harvest and preserve berries that have sustained their people for generations.
“The supermarket was never our first food source,” Lulua said, pointing toward hillsides covered with saskatoon berries. “Real food security means reconnecting with these traditional foods and ensuring they remain accessible.”
The funding statistics reveal an interesting pattern: communities are increasingly developing collaborative approaches rather than standalone projects. Nearly 40% of the newest funded initiatives involve multiple communities sharing resources and knowledge—a traditional approach to food systems that predates colonial boundaries.
Speaking with families in several communities, I’ve heard consistent themes about the program’s impacts. Beyond immediate food access, many describe renewed pride in traditional knowledge and stronger community bonds through shared work.
Back in Doig River, Elder Sam Acko sits near the garden, sharpening tools. “When I was young, we lived with the seasons and the land provided. Then everything changed,” he reflects. “These gardens are helping our young people understand who we are—people who’ve always known how to feed ourselves.”
As provincial numbers show the program surpassing its initial targets, the question becomes whether this model—Indigenous-led, flexible, and community-determined—might influence broader approaches to both food security and reconciliation efforts.
For now, communities are focused on the immediate rewards: freezers filled with traditional foods, youth learning ancestral practices, and gardens producing fresh vegetables in places where store-bought produce often arrives wilted and overpriced.
As Chief Makadahay walks me back toward the airstrip, he points out where next year’s expansion will happen. “Food isn’t just calories,” he says. “It’s our connection to everything. This funding acknowledges that our ways of knowing and growing matter.”
