As a council meeting gets underway in the Ka'a'gee Tu First Nation band office in Kakisa, N.W.T., Chief Lloyd Chicot fills everybody in on the current state of affairs.

Today council is discussing everything from oil and gas jobs in the Cameron Hills to Christmas preparations.

"We need to focus on the bright side of things,” Chicot says. “The things that we are doing that are positive."

Chicot has been chief of Kakisa, pop. 40, since 1990. The pay cheque for being chief this year? $6,000.

As chiefs' salaries across Canada were made public through the First Nations Financial Transparency Act, much attention was paid to the highest numbers, such as Ron Giesbrecht of the Kwikwetlem First Nation, who was paid $914,219 last year.

Less discussed were the more modest salaries, such as those in the N.W.T., or the downright low ones going to people who take on an important role in their communities.

Chicot also works as a foreman for the N.W.T’s department of Municipal and Community Affairs, something he doesn’t keep secret.

“Sixty-nine thousand dollars,” he says. “But that’s including all my benefits.”

On a typical Friday, Chicot attends a council meeting, signs some cheques, takes part in a teleconference and tackles the piles of paperwork familiar to any band administrator.

"I'll start at 9 o’clock in the morning and cut it off at 5 o'clock,” Chicot says. “That's not the mentality that's out there. They want you to be there 24/7. The day never ends, you know."

Then there are the less ordinary tasks, like being one of the last to leave town when the community was evacuated while a forest fire blew through town this summer.

Kakisa is a First Nation moving forward. Just a few metres from the band office, a community centre is being put up.

But the community, like other First Nations, is dealing with core funding cuts and Chicot says it’s not easy to make things work.

"Here we're scraping, clawing, we're getting leftovers,” he says. “That's what we have to work with."

‘He’s doing it for his people’

Band councillors like Melanie Simba grew up watching the chief.

"We learned a lot seeing how our chief worked, how he conducted himself, doing everything honestly and he never complained,” Simba says. "It all came from his heart. He's doing it for his people."

Chicot's daughter and band councillor, Terri Simba, also wants to see positive change for the community.

"We're doing it for the future generations," she says. "That's what people have got to realize. We're not here for the dollar figure. We're here to make a change and a positive impact."

Empowering future generations is important for chief and council alike.

Chicot’s nephew Joe Chicot sat in on the meeting. The chief is taking him to the Assembly of First Nations meeting in Winnipeg this week.

"The more opportunity, the more awareness that he has, the more things he's involved in gives him a broader perspective of where we are as a First Nations people,” Chicot says. “And coming from a small community, the door's wide open for him to do a lot of things."

Chicot doesn't want to be chief for the rest of his life. He also hopes one day, the First Nation will be able to support a well-salaried chief.

"That's a question I guess membership have to look at down the road. Not just for myself but for any future leaders that come into this position."