Has Canada’s urban Indigenous population been forgotten amidst the coronavirus pandemic?

It is the ethos of friendship centres, a network of community hubs founded in the 1950s to help Indigenous people in towns and cities across Canada access vital services like food and employment, to never turn anyone away.

So it was "devastating" for Leslie Varley, the executive director of the B.C. Association of Aboriginal Friendship Centres and a member of Nisga'a Nation, to put out a notice last week on social media, advising that the non-profit is "completely maxed out and we can't help anybody else," she said.

"At this time, B.C. Friendship Centres have not received any additional funding to support the increase in requests from B.C. First Nations members during the COVID-19 pandemic," the notice reads. "Please know that each friendship centre is doing the very best they can."

A month into the pandemic, the leaders of several of the major organizations serving Canada's urban Indigenous population are sounding alarm bells about the growing needs of this vulnerable group and the response of government, which they say has been sluggish and inadequate.

In mid-March, the Liberal government earmarked $15 million for agencies supporting Indigenous people in towns and cities during the pandemic - an amount federal Indigenous Services Minister Marc Miller acknowledged in an interview "is not enough."

Four weeks after that announcement, friendship centres and other urban Indigenous service providers say they are still waiting for the money to flow.

"Nobody is taking care of the off-reserve" population, said national Chief Robert Bertrand of the Congress of Aboriginal Peoples, which represents roughly 1.3 million off-reserve status and non-status Indigenous peoples.

"It's like the off reserve have been left like a ship without sails," he said. "It's maddening."

At last count, more than half of Canada's Indigenous population - including First Nations, Mi(C)tis and Inuit - lived in a metropolitan area with at least 30,000 people, according to Statistics Canada. While those living off reserve may not experience the same challenges as some remote First Nations, where overcrowding, limited access to health-care services and boil-water advisories make COVID-19 a particularly dangerous threat, the legacy of colonialism endures.

Indigenous service providers in cities and towns, who offer culturally sensitive supports and programming, say homelessness, food insecurity, addictions and underlying health conditions among the urban Indigenous population are putting them at risk during the pandemic. The concern is twofold: they worry about the virus itself and the knock-on effects of the economic lockdown and physical-distancing measures required to stop the spread.

As these organizations scramble to meet rising demand, patience is wearing thin.

"We have received zero dollars from the government. That's why it's so frustrating for me " to give hope to our women that something will be coming. I'm very upset," said Lorraine Whitman, president of the Native Women's Association of Canada, which was founded in 1974 and provides various supports to Indigenous women, both on and off reserve, including violence prevention, child care and employment.

Whitman, who is a member of Glooscap First Nation in Nova Scotia, said the association is relying on a patchwork of volunteers to deliver groceries and medications to elders in need. Some women lack the technology to access the virtual supports the association has created, such as a weekly prayer service, or call in to support lines, Whitman said.

"The dollars would help, if we were able to get more phone lines for our people to be able to speak to someone," she said. "They need that voice, that comfort, saying, 'Yes, I am here.'"

Sylvia Maracle, the executive director of the Ontario Association of Indigenous Friendship Centres, said "Friendship centres are using any budget flexibilities they have to be able to meet these very primary needs."

"That means that later, if and when the COVID-19 pandemic is over, there aren't going to be resources to feed children in after-school programs, or we're not going to be able to take as much support to seniors in our community," said Maracle, who is from Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory. "All of those are going to suffer moving forward because we're spending all that money right now."

In one northern Ontario community, for instance, the friendship centre is now providing 300 food boxes per week to those in need - a threefold increase - after the food bank suddenly closed.

Much of the frustration is directed at Ottawa. The $15 million earmarked for organizations that serve Indigenous people living in urban areas is part of a $305-million package to support Canada's Indigenous population during COVID-19. The majority flowed directly to First Nations ($215 million), Inuit ($45 million) and Mi(C)tis communities ($30 million).

The government asked organizations that serve urban Indigenous populations to submit proposals for the remaining $15 million. The deadline for proposals was Tuesday.

In an interview last week, Miller said he has a team working on how to bolster support to organizations that serve the urban Indigenous population, "whether it's providing direct funding or whether it's ensuring that the province is providing personal protective equipment (PPE).

"That is something we need to deal with and I will readily acknowledge to you that $15 million is not enough," he said.

In an email Wednesday, a spokesperson for Indigenous Services Canada said, "We are now reviewing all the proposals received and will be informing applicants in the coming days if they are eligible and when successful organizations should receive their funding."

In B.C., a spokesperson for the Ministry of Indigenous Relations and Reconciliation, said the government "is aware that friendship centres have seen a sharp spike in demand for their services" and is "working to support them (and) address concerns around funding as soon as possible."

The organizations that serve urban Indigenous populations stress that government funding during COVID-19 is desperately needed on reserve, where many communities are grappling with unmet infrastructure needs.

However, they say they resent the comparative lack of financial support for those living off reserve, and that established agencies with a track record of serving urban Indigenous populations must apply to access these limited funds.

"I need the government to recognize through its policies and procedures that we are the majority of the population," said Maracle. "I don't want to fight with my brothers and sisters about resources."

The Ontario government pledged $37 million to support Indigenous communities during COVID-19. Maracle said she is waiting for a contract from the province for some of the funds she has requested "on behalf of member friendship centres while the province considers the full proposal." (Ontario Minister of Indigenous Affairs Greg Rickford did not respond to a request for comment.)

Although various levels of government have boosted funding in recent weeks to food banks and other social service providers, the leaders of Indigenous organizations say historic mistrust and systemic racism often discourage Indigenous people from seeking support from mainstream agencies.

On Tuesday, the Liberal government announced it was transferring $72.6 million to governments of Yukon, Northwest Territories and Nunavut "to support their COVID-19 health and social services preparations and response," and providing $25 million to a food-subsidy program.

As of Thursday, there were 46 COVID-19 cases on reserves across Canada, according to Indigenous Services Canada.

The number of cases among the urban Indigenous population is unknown because "provinces do not require Indigenous people to self-identify when being tested," a spokesperson for the department said, adding that "Minister Miller believes reliable data on who is being tested, including information on whether people tested are First Nations, Mi(C)tis or Inuit, is valuable."

Rachel Mendleson is a Toronto-based investigative reporter. Follow her on Twitter: @rachelmendleson