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If pressed, Hans Matthews, could run to Parliament Hill within five minutes from his office at the consulting firm Price Waterhouse. But under no circumstances will he go running to government for money for the two-year-old Canadian Aboriginal Minerals Association.
Matthews says CAMA might spend more time justifying or documenting its use rather than getting on with the task of improving communities and mining companies that are running operations on their land.
"Government doesn't look at money going to an organization as being an investment, but as reaching its mandate," said Matthews.
The mining association keeps its budget down to $500 a month, conducting most business by proxy and phone, he added.
"I'm trained as a geologist and that's how I make my bread and butter. My work with the CAMA is my hobby," said the 36-year-old associate president who is manager of the Aboriginal Services division of Price Waterhouse's mining industry advisory section.
"We have our own advisors and we help the mining industry improve productivity. One shortfall was the lack of people who could address Aboriginal mining concerns."
Matthews entered the picture with the founding of the division in 1993. CAMA was founded a year earlier by eight directors who looked for, and were given office space within Matthews' quarters at Price Waterhouse. It has been an invaluable link for Matthews, who said he's encouraged to conduct business and so called "hobby" business from the same chair.
"As a result, those at Price Waterhouse have become more familiar with Aboriginal issues and how to restructure themselves," said the Toronto-born Matthews, a member of the Chippewa of Rama First Nation, just outside Orillia, Ont.
Familiarity is perhaps improved by reading CAMA's tidy 23-page document Listen to the Aboriginal Community. Sub-titled Report on Aboriginal Community Consultations on Mining Industry Business Development Challenges and Possible Solutions, its basic message is how can Aboriginal communities optimize economic development with mining operations on their lands.
Despite CAMA's existence, Matthews remains frustrated that most mining companies still believe Aboriginals don't even want to have a role in the industry.
Which isn't likely. Consider, for example, the anticipated transfer of nearly one million square kilometres of land and cash settlements up to $6 billion to Canadian Aboriginals. Some of these transfers may take place during the next two years, during what Matthews calls a continual upswing in the mining industry. Over the past year the prices in nickel, zinc and copper have shot upwards. For Aboriginals not to get involved, directly or indirectly, with the industry working in their backyard wouldn't make good economic or environmental sense.
"Aboriginal participation in the minerals industry, for the benefit of all," is the motto of CAMA. But it won't always be a motto quickly embraced.
"There's a huge process involved that shouldn't start half-way down the road, but rather before the exploration phase," said Matthews. "We're encouraging mining companies to develop a policy for a commitment to the community. From my perspective (this kind of policy) has to be general so it can be adapted to each community."
Companies can save money and encourage community involvement by informing communities well in advance about their service needs, and let the community determine how it might fulfill these needs, he said.
On average, it takes nine years from the exploration stage to the pouring of the first gold bricks.
"For each individual "play" you can see there is a wealth of cash generated, of which a chunk should be put into the community. If there is an economic plan, this should happen."
Canada is clearly caught in a mining frenzy, at least in the Arctic, where more than 150 companies have staked more than 38 million acres, including BHP's $.5 billion investment in a diamond play just north of Yellowknife.
Somecompanies have formed long-term agreements with the Aboriginal communities, in which they've stated business needs, environmental plans, monitoring intentions, and in some cases royalty sharing.
But go back three years and a one-page survey to 350 Aboriginal communities showed there was a serious lack of communication between the mining companies. Of the 400 companies also surveyed, 213 replied, with almost all acknowledging that they couldn't identify the Aboriginal communities in the area of their operations. Furthermore, almost none had invited their Aboriginal community to even tour their operations.
"There was a big gap. These companies had no intention of communicating because it was so foreign to them," said Matthews.
He believes that gap is closing with the help of CAMA's role as a communicator and disseminator of information.
"The mining industry may peak in the late 1990s. The year 1000 could be another quiet period, so the next five years is going to be a learning curve for communities and the mining industry. But this time we're on the right road."
Shows of good faith by the mining industry may also have far-reaching implications in the successful application for mining permits, he suggested.
"Every industry is going global, so if you screw up in one country, it spreads like wildfire."
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