Tag: ottawa

Notes on Canadian Healthcare

August 23, 2025

While sitting on the porch facing the lake with my laptop open on the table, healthcare unexpectedly came to mind. It was a perfect summer morning, and with a coffee in hand, I thought about how true it is for a healthy life to live with and enjoy nature.

 Canadian healthcare has a good reputation, particularly outside the country. Although it is a universal system, accessibility remains an issue, especially for those without a family doctor. Twenty percent of Ontario families have no family doctor. These individuals end up seeking medical assistance in emergency departments, where there is a shortage of emergency physicians and nursing staff. Because of that, many emergency departments have been forced to close for a day or even a week.

A tragic example highlights this issue: a sixteen-year-old boy arrived at an emergency unit and was triaged as a “second” priority patient. This designation means that a doctor should ideally see him within fifteen minutes. The boy received attention only several hours later. He ultimately passed away due to the delay.

Not in the same horrid category as the above example, I had experience with our healthcare system recently that raised some questions in my mind. I twisted my leg, which made walking quite painful. After a few days with no improvements, I visited my family doctor, who provided requisitions for an X-ray and an ultrasound to determine what was wrong with my knee. However, I expressed my concerns about the long wait times for an ultrasound— the imaging center near us has openings in six months. She heard from other patients about the long wait times and suggested an imaging place on the east end of Ottawa, where one of her patients had the treatment in a month. I wondered if I really had to wait that long to find out what was wrong with my leg before any treatment could begin.

In the meantime, the doctor gave me Voltaren to help alleviate the pain, but it didn’t work for me. As a result, I scheduled an appointment with a physiotherapist, who used needling and massage techniques on the painful area and prescribed some exercises. I noticed significant improvement within just a few days.

I went to the doctor with the expectation that she would diagnose the issue and recommend a treatment plan. Instead, she provided me with requisitions for further investigations. Since the pain has been subsiding with exercise the physiotherapist suggested, I have not followed up with the requisitions. The doctor did not mention physiotherapy as a treatment.

While speaking with my family doctor, I requested a prescription for an EpiPen. I had one previously, but it had expired. She informed me that my records did not indicate a need for an EpiPen, so she was unable to prescribe one. I do not know what policies exist for prescribing EpiPen. I reminded her that I had used an EpiPen for ten years. However, she reviewed my records with this medical group that goes back six years, and there was no documentation of my previous EpiPen use. (We joined this medical group when our previous family doctor retired, and the practitioner we initially started with did not request my medical records although I offered to get it). I also mentioned to her that I had a wasp sting incident after stepping on a wasp nest. Following that, an allergist gave me shots for a few years to build my resistance to wasp stings and prescribed an EpiPan for ten years.

Following my explanation, the doctor gave me a prescription for an EpiPen. Still, this experience made me realize that a lifetime healthcare data system would be highly beneficial. Everyone should have their complete health history in one place.

I have access to my health history that is on multiple data systems. Two of the three hospitals that I visited in Ottawa use a system called “MyChart” that includes all my testing and hospitalization data. The third hospital in Ottawa uses another system called “ConnectedCare” and has my history with this hospital. Then I use a lab for blood work and other tests, and I subscribe to their data system to access their results. And, of course, my family doctor receives data from all of these systems. What is missing is the history from my retired family doctor, when most of the data was handwritten.

But beyond medical results, we use other health-related experts. We visit dentists, optometrists, physiotherapists, personal trainers, and other health care professionals. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to have all of this information together in one system?

My Emergency Room Journey: Insights and Reflections

July 6, 2025

I discovered I lost seven pounds. It was not a diet; I spent four days at the hospital, a day in the emergency observation unit, and then three days on a ward. What took me there was high fever alternating with chills in between and a general crappy feeling.

Kathy dropped me off at the Emergency entrance of the Civic Hospital, where I showed my health card and was told to sit down and join the fifty other patients in the waiting room. I observed with interest the people, some of whom did not seem to be sick at all, while others were in wheelchairs. There were people of all ages, and all ethnicities dressed informally.

The elderly gentleman, with a white beard and a black t-shirt featuring a giant fox on the front, impressed me because he wore a t-shirt befitting a teenager while having the demeanor of an academic. His partner gently guided him along while he also brandished a cane.

And then a huge African Canadian man squeezed himself into the narrow chair next to me, in a cloud of perfume, wearing multiple chains around his neck with his long hair neatly braided. Excuse me, I thought there were signs advising against using any perfume. Then he got up when the loudspeaker system called for Josephine.

Then the triage nurse took my vital health signs and gave me a bottle for a urine sample, assuming I could void at that time. I rejoined the waiting room after completing what I was instructed to do. An hour later, I was called to the registration station, where an agent placed a paper bracelet on my wrist with my DOB, name, and ID number.  

Then it was back to the waiting room again, where a sudden commotion broke out with three large policemen pushing a hollering woman into the room. Many people averted their eyes while I wanted to see why she was yelling, “I cannot take this anymore.” The policemen waited for the staff to take the hollering individual off their hands.

Complicating this atmosphere of general buzz, a young girl was throwing up, and people were getting up to register at different windows. Ambulance drivers were also pushing gurneys through the waiting room. You would think that waiting for treatment would be boring; I found the entire scene fascinating to observe. It appeared to be controlled chaos. 

I thought of getting a cup of coffee and some food to carry me through after a few hours of waiting, only to discover that the vending machines were not working. Kathy went outside and entered the main hospital door, where there were fast food places, and picked up some food for me. I wondered how people without a companion would obtain food without missing their turn when called. Finally, they called my name and instructed me to follow the yellow dots on the floor, which led to the “urgent care” door. Nine colored dots were running in parallel and then peeling off in different directions.

In one of the examining rooms in the urgent care unit, they took my blood from both arms and put me through tests. An hour later, a medical student interviewed me and said he would advise the emergency doctor, who would then advise me on the next steps. In the meantime, I socialized with my neighbor, a young woman with sepsis, who showed me a portion of her arm from where four skinny hoses hung out of a port. I did not think I wanted to further our medical conversation about her history of sepsis.

 I had been here for over five hours when the Emergency Department doctor showed up and explained that I seemed to be alright overall but had an infection and ordered a CT scan of my pelvic region. My mind did not connect the CT scan with my complaint that brought me in here; it was beyond my comprehension. I just waited to have the scan completed and then waited again until the nurse showed up with a couple of pages of text and a prescription for two medicines. One was an antibiotic, while the other had something to do with acid reflux and GERD; the latter was a complete mystery to me. But I was drained and happy to get out after seven hours in the ED without asking any further questions.

The antibiotic prescription did not work; after four days, I still had a fever and chills. I found antibiotics to work in a day or so in the past, so it was time to go back to the hospital, this time to another one, the Queensway Carleton. After seeing the triage nurse, I was pleasantly surprised when a young attendant quietly asked me if I was Andy. When I said that it was me, she asked me to follow her into the ED observation rooms, where they put me in a cubicle. I asked the attendant how she knew who I was and found out that I looked my age and was the only one of my age in the waiting room, one benefit of growing old.

They performed all the blood work and testing again, and then it was a matter of waiting again. However, I knew I could ask for some food that they provided for lunch, a nice feature. In this ED, a doctor came around to discuss my symptoms, and later the internal medicine doctor came and provided a diagnosis that was satisfying, knowing that he was pretty convinced I had a tickborne infection called anaplasmosis. The reason the previous antibiotic did not work, in his opinion, was that it did not address this infection; it targeted Lyme disease. By the way, I have recently read several articles about the proliferation of ticks in the Northeast, attributed to the warming climate.

So, the treatment started with an IV drip and doxycycline pills, a double attack to begin the healing, while waiting for the blood analysis proving that it was anaplasmosis. Start the treatment and save time while waiting for confirmation.

Now, if you have ever been in an ED space overnight, you know that it is not the place for a quiet sleep. The traffic was constant all night, in addition to the nurses taking your vital signs every couple of hours. So, little snippets of sleep, each two hours in duration, was my night. The next day, they found a room for me upstairs, advising me that my infection had to improve before they would let me go home.

I was miffed to find out that I was in a geriatric ward until my daughter informed me that I was one of them chronologically, if not by physical condition.

Sleeping in the ward was a bit better than sleeping in the ED space, although bells were ringing all night, patients were requesting attention, and the nurses still checked my vitals every three hours, day and night.

Furthermore, I found out I was in a ward with Alzheimer’s patients, and my next-door neighbor was either yelling, listening to a radio, or crying. I heard the nurse coming, informing her colleagues that she brought some “great” music for the gentleman next door: Nat King Cole and Dolly Parton. Fortunately, I enjoy a wide range of music. By the way, I couldn’t leave the ward without someone taking me, due to the type of ward I was in.

And then the nurse came in with the news that I would have to wear a pulsating sleeve on my leg, powered by an air pump, to prevent a blood clot from forming due to lying in bed all day (the name of the gadget was a sequential compression comfort sleeve). Wait a minute, I said, what do I do when I have to void at night? No problem, the nurse said, “You just take off the sleeve. I didn’t like the idea at all, since I get up a few times a night. Without saying another word, the nurse left and consulted with someone. When she returned, she explained that instead of the sleeve, I would get a shot in my belly to thin my blood. I had no choice at this time.

With the daily blood work showing improvement, they decided to let me go home in three days with a doxycycline prescription for another four days. And a follow-up visit with the infectious disease doctor.

Overall, I would have preferred not to have the experience. But going from feeling awful to good was worth it. The amount of attention I received from the nurses and doctors was genuinely excellent at the Queensway Carleton Hospital. Also impressive is the amount of paperwork I found on my account, which documents all the tests and the extensive reporting by doctors on X-rays, CT scans, ECGs, and the opinions of specialists in emergency medicine, internal medicine, and infectious diseases. And don’t forget, I’m still down seven pounds!

My Journey Through Various Cars: A Personal Reflection

June 21, 2025

A blogger’s description of his experiences with cars over the years sparked memories of myown time with the vehicles I’ve driven.

Like many others, I wanted to have a car when I was a student in Vancouver, British Columbia. With limited funds, I searched for something within my budget. I had my heart set on the curvy Mustang, which I found appealing in design. However, when I started looking, the used models began at $2,000, far beyond what I could afford.

On another used car lot, I came across a Peugeot 403 priced at $800. This was more manageable for me, and the car was in good condition with no rust. For me, the Peugeot had some interesting features, including a hand crank to assist with starting the engine in colder weather. You had to be careful with the crank; if you didn’t let go as soon as the car started, it could potentially injure you by taking your arm out of its shoulder socket.

The Peugeot 403 received excellent service from European mechanics in Vancouver, and parts were easily accessible. When properly tuned, the car purred like a sewing machine. The situation changed, though, when I drove my Peugeot to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where I entered graduate school. My route took me south to California, where I joined Route 66 and journeyed east across the Mojave Desert to North Carolina. The car performed well in temperatures above 120 degrees.

During my stay in North Carolina, snow arrived only once, and I was able to use the crank successfully. However, problems arose when I needed repairs. The mechanics seemed puzzled when they saw my Peugeot; they had never encountered this model before. More importantly, they didn’t have any parts, and the parts that I needed were in the metric system, not the imperial system. This meant that no North American part would fit. Fortunately, the mechanics were resourceful and managed to install General Motors parts that worked in some fashion, but only for a short time. The car sputtered, but it continued to run until it eventually broke down on a rural highway. I removed the license plates, left the vehicle on the shoulder, and hitchhiked back into town.

With my first professional job and a better salary in Norfolk, Virginia, I sought a stylish car. A yellow hardtop Dodge Coronet 440 caught my eye, equipped with a powerful V8 engine that rumbled in a confident roar. The black leather hardtop contrasted sharply with the yellow body, making it look sharp!

The car performed beautifully and even had air conditioning, which was a big deal since I didn’t have AC at my graduate dorm in Chapel Hill. We also lacked air conditioning at our rental unit in Norfolk, where temperatures often soared into the 100s.

I will never forget the rental furniture in Norfolk; the bed was made of Styrofoam! It was uncomfortably hot at night without air conditioning. The only relief we had during that time was from large fans and open windows, but we could always take a drive in the car with its AC system to escape the heat.

We later moved to Washington, DC, and then to Ottawa in this car. It was a reliable vehicle that took our family, which included three children under ten at the time, and our dog on several trips to Florida. With a two-door sedan, we had to push the children and the dog into the back seat before we could get going. We enjoyed car camping and visited various sights along Highway 95 as we headed south. One of our favorite stops was the Battleship North Carolina in Wilmington, NC.

At this point, we needed a second car to transport the children to their separate sports events. I purchased a used VW Squareback, which was economical, and I found the standard gear shift to be fun to use. However, the gas heater proved to be a challenge! Imagine driving the VW in minus twenty-degree temperatures during winter. The gas heater took time to start working. While waiting for it to warm up, I had to open the windows to prevent them from fogging up with my breath in the car. To cope with the biting cold wind coming through the windows, I wore a heavy parka, a tuque, and gloves. Unfortunately, the Squareback was not built for the freezing winters of Ottawa.

The car was lightweight, and even with snow tires, I slid into an intersection where oncoming vehicles collided with me one day. That was the end of the VW. The worst part was that my neighbors witnessed the wreck with me init, and the gossip in my neighborhood was about how incompetent I was at driving on ice.

A similar situation ensued with my fancy Dodge SE, a V8 that boasted ample power and a fabulous interior. This car had been given to me by my father when he retired, and I had it transported by train from Vancouver to Ottawa. It was a gem, but in humid weather, it was challenging to start. I am not sure why. I kept a screwdriver with a long stem in the glove compartment to help me short-circuit the starter engine in humid weather. Unfortunately, sliding on ice on a curvy road led me to crash into a tree, ending the life of this remarkable car.

After joining an international telecom company in the high-tech sector and becoming an executive, I rewarded myself with a Toyota Camry, which I dubbed the “silver bullet” because of its shiny silver color. It was a trouble-free car, and I drove it for an impressive 300,000 miles.

In a memorable event, I hit black ice on a rural road one night and flipped the car, leaving me hanging upside down by the seatbelt. Once I got my brain into gear, I opened the window and shut down the engine that was still running. Then I tried to figure out how to extricate myself from being upside down without banging my head when I unhook the seatbelt. Once I turned myself right up, I climbed outside through the window and flagged down a motorist. The insurance company paid for the rehabilitation of the car.

Before our next driving vacation, I had the vehicle inspected by service professionals to ensure it was still in excellent condition. They called me back in half an hour to inform me that the engine was about to fall out of the chassis at the next pothole due to the rusty frame.

We traded our Camry, with its limited value, for a Mercury Cougar station wagon to accommodate our hockey gear. The large hockey bags require plenty of space. I was impressed by the salesman’s story that the previous owner was the football coach of the Ottawa Roughriders. Despite the incessant rattle of loose parts, the car served us well.

When the Cougar became a rattletrap, we moved on to a Chevrolet Caprice Estate, another spacious station wagon. My most vivid memories with this car were transporting the boys to soccer tournaments from Montreal to Toronto, Syracuse, and various locations in between.

One trip left a lasting impression. The boys played cards in the back, sitting in a circle, when suddenly, the card game devolved into a farting contest. I had to open all the windows to let the foul smell escape, and when the boys continued to pass gas, I stopped the car and told them to control themselves or risk missing a game. That worked!

When we became empty-nesters, we decided to upgrade to a leased Honda CR-V. Now, we are on our third CR-V. The leasing arrangement allows us to get a new model every three to four years. Our current vehicle is a hybrid, and while the fuel efficiency is excellent, I was shocked to find out that it doesn’t come with a spare tire—the battery occupies that space. Fortunately, we’ve experienced very few flat tires on the road, so the absence of a spare may not be a significant issue. Keep your fingers crossed!

Overall, the quality of cars has improved considerably over time. At the same time, the number of gadgets and the use of chips in vehicles have increased substantially. I used to enjoy working on cars in the past, tinkering with things like changing spark plugs, but that has become too complex for me now. Thankfully, the newer cars tend to be more reliable.

Exploring the Ismaili Imamat: A Cultural Landmark in Ottawa

June 13, 2025

The Canadian Headquarters of the Aga Khan, known as the Delegation of the Ismaili Imamat, is situated at 199 Sussex Drive in Ottawa. The Ottawa Imamat itself is a secular building. However, the Aga Khan serves as the spiritual and hereditary leader of the Nizari Ismaili branch of Shia Islam, tracing his ancestry back to Muhammad.

The Delegation of the Ismaili Imamat Building on Sussex Drive

The Aga Khan once noted that, in the West, religion is often viewed separately from social and economic initiatives. In contrast, the Ismaili tradition sees helping the poor and fostering connections between people and cultures as integral to the practice of religion.

Sussex Drive, often referred to as the “ceremonial route,” is also home to the embassies of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, France, and Japan. The award-winning National Gallery, designed by Moshe Safdie, is located nearby, adjacent to the Canadian Mint and across from the Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica. Additionally, the Prime Minister’s official residence is located at 24 Sussex Drive, which is currently awaiting renovations.

The arrival of the Ismailis in Canada goes back to Pierre Trudeau, a friend of the Aga Khan IV, invited the Ismaili community to Canada when Idi Amin expelled them from Uganda. Currently, approximately 2,000 Ismailis reside in Ottawa and around 80,000 across Canada, out of a global population of approximately fifteen million.

The architecture of the Imamat left a lasting impression on me during my visit. Designed by the Pritzker Prize-winning Japanese architect Fumihiko Maki, the project originated from a three-page letter from the Aga Khan, in which he requested Maki to design the building. He sought a design concept inspired by the visual qualities of rock crystal, emphasizing its transparency, translucency, and opacity.

Maki and his team carefully analyzed the letter to grasp the Aga Khan’s intentions fully. To gain further insight into the characteristics of a crystal, Maki even brought his wife’s diamond ring into the office to study its reflections from different angles. The Aga Khan’s request was for the building to be mysterious, esoteric, and intriguing, yet aesthetically pleasing, incorporating themes of Islamic architecture.

The Imamat features a large atrium crowned with a multi-faceted dome and includes a courtyard that contains an Islamic garden known as a Char Bagh. Additionally, the building provides office space for the staff of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN) and serves as a residence for the Aga Khan when he visits Ottawa.

The AKDN operates numerous educational, conservation, social, and economic programs in Africa and Asia, spending approximately one billion dollars annually. For instance, AKDN founded a university in Karachi, which initially focused on Islamic studies but has since expanded to include liberal arts education. Additionally, the organization has launched a microfinance program designed to support small businesses. This emphasis on helping the less fortunate aligns with the objectives of the Ismaili sect.

Related to the Aga Khan’s interest in architecture, he established a triennial architectural competition for works of Islamic design, including residential, religious, and conservation projects.

The Char Bagh

The purpose of the atrium is to host conferences, meetings, and study groups that focus on improving the condition of humankind worldwide. It features a patterned screen made of cast aluminum that reflects themes of Muslim architecture. The atrium’s floor is composed of maple wood tiles arranged in a seven-square pattern in both directions, with each square approximately ten feet by ten feet. This configuration results in a total of forty-nine squares, symbolizing that the current Aga Khan IV is the forty-ninth Imam of the Nizari Isma’ili sect. The use of mathematical concepts also serves as a symbol in Islamic architecture, reminiscent of the mathematical ratios seen in the gardens of the Taj Mahal.

The three-layered glass dome, composed of panels in various shapes, illuminates the atrium while diffusing direct light through a patterned layer of glass. The glass panels attach directly to the structural frame without the use of hardware. The design of the dome originated in Toronto, with the glass sourced from Austria, the structural steel from Poland, and the panels fabricated in Germany. The construction was completed in Canada. The multi-sourcing of the dome represents “pluralism,” a core principle of Ismaili Shia philosophy.

When I visited the Imamat, I felt relaxed as if I was at home. The parquet-like maple flooring created a warm ambiance, and the filtered lighting was visually soft. The hexagonal pattern of the cast aluminum screens hanging around the walls added a sense of enclosure and intimacy. People were seated around the perimeter of the atrium on large, comfortable couches, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

The acoustics in the atrium were excellent, even with many people conversing. The wood floor, screen wall, and triple glass ceiling effectively absorbed sound. The gentle buzz of conversation in this relaxing environment was pleasant, leading me to reflect on the life of Aga Khan IV, who passed away in February 2025.

I learned from the tour guides on the floor that he was born in Switzerland and held citizenship in that country, as well as in the UK, France, and Portugal. He was also an honorary citizen of Canada. In his youth, he was part of the Iranian Olympic skiing team and later earned a degree in Islamic studies from Harvard University. Throughout his life, he became a prominent horse breeder and achieved significant success in business, with his estimated wealth reaching around $12 billion as of 2024.

If you find yourself in Ottawa, I recommend visiting the Imamat not only to appreciate its stunning architecture but also to gain intellectual insight by learning more about the Ismaili community.

Understanding Ottawa’s Affordable Housing Crisis

May 15, 2025

Affordable housing is constantly in the news today. My local city councilor emphasizes its importance in his newsletter. However, I am not convinced that our community of aging patriarchs would welcome such housing in our neighborhood; it evokes images of public and low-income housing, often associated with crime.

During the recent federal election in Canada, all political parties proposed ideas for building affordable housing, including financial incentives, reducing and simplifying the administrative approval process for house construction, prefabrication, and even rent control.

I do not know anyone actively seeking such housing. However, some friends have mentioned their children have trouble finding affordable options.

To understand why housing is unaffordable for many people today, I searched the internet for statistics that illustrate the challenges individuals face when renting or buying a home.

In simple terms, your income determines what you can afford. If you earn a minimum wage of $15-18 (provincial rates differ) per hour and work 2,000 hours a year, your annual income would be $30,000-36,000. The Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC) recommends that housing expenses should not exceed 30% of your yearly income.

According to this guideline, someone earning the minimum wage can afford $9,000 to $ 10,800 annually for housing, or approximately $750 to $ 900 per month. However, in Ottawa, rent for a one-bedroom unit starts at around $2,000 per month, which means minimum wage does not support renting. That is why many young people earning minimum wage stay home or bunk up with friends when renting.

Buying a condo or a house is a much more challenging scenario. In 2025, the average condo price in Ottawa is projected to be $445,000, while the average house price is expected to exceed $800,000.

Without a down payment and mortgage rates of 4.5%, the annual cost of owning a condo would amount to $20,000, which is significantly higher than what minimum-wage earners could afford. Purchasing a house would be even more expensive.

An affordability crisis affects individuals earning less than $65,000; according to guidelines, 30% of that amount would be needed to rent or buy a condo. Twenty-six percent of Ottawa jobs pay less than $50,000. This situation highlights the urgency for solutions to the affordability crisis.

One major issue is the gradual loss of low-rent housing due to demolitions to make way for higher-density and more economically profitable commercial and residential developments. Older neighborhoods in Ottawa are particularly susceptible to this redevelopment. Additionally, many low-rent units face renoviction, where tenants are evicted to make way for renovations that will increase rental rates.

According to the Executive Director of the Ottawa Community Land Trust (OCLT), between 2011 and 2021, Ottawa lost 26,000 low-rent units due to demolitions and renovictions; in contrast, only 6,000 new low-rental units were built during that time.

The OCLT’s purpose is to preserve and maintain low-rental units. Their strategy involves purchasing these units when they become available. Acquiring multi-unit buildings requires funding, and the OCLT has issued “community bonds” to raise capital. A bank in Toronto specializes in issuing such bonds backed by funds raised by the OCLT from the local community.

Interestingly, many residents are willing to invest in these bonds, even with a low interest rate or, in some cases, no interest at all, because they believe in the cause. Professional property managers are contracted to manage the rental units on behalf of the OCLT, and the rental income is used to pay off the community bonds.

This approach offers a distinctive and effective means of maintaining and expanding affordable housing. The OCLT’s key strategy involves community bonds, a system gaining traction across Canada.

Another innovative approach for maintaining affordable housing is leasing the land on which the rental units are built. Land costs are a significant factor in the overall expense of constructing housing units. Depending on the location, land costs form 30% or more of total housing construction costs.

Recognizing the importance of land costs in housing, the Centretown Citizens Ottawa Corporation (CCOC) leases land to build affordable housing. This corporation was established in response to the growing number of high-rise developments in the community. The community association leased land to develop affordable housing, thereby preserving the area’s character. Currently, they manage 1,700 housing units.

One example of their work is the land leased from the local school board following a demographic shift that led to the closure of Percy Street School. Public agencies are aware of community needs, and through a nominal lease, the CCOC created a low-rise development that is affordable for individuals with limited income.

A coordinated multi-level strategy is necessary to effectively tackle the ongoing affordable housing crisis. From my limited experience listening to various non-profit organizations attempt to tackle this issue, I have identified two main approaches: subsidizing the cost of housing units or providing financial assistance to help individuals secure accommodation in the private market. The Ottawa Community Land Trust (OCLT) follows the first approach. The CCOC employs subsidized housing and market-based options, catering to those who receive housing subsidies.