v5 #5

It's the time of year for lists: gifts, resolutions, top albums of the year, top movies, best books, moments in sports, etc. Not wanting to miss out, I'm providing for you here some of my favourite photo shots from the past 12 months. These appear in the video in chronological order, in case you're curious.

Canadian politics

I have a theory about what's going on in Canadian politics right now (you knew I would). The problems we are facing globally are so huge, so apparently insurmountable, that our leaders are subconsciously opting to tackle a theme that seems solveable, something they are comfortable with. They've retreated inside the walls of parliament and it makes them feel better. So instead of addressing what we might do about the conflict in the Congo, or what our role is in Afghanistan, or the increasingly unstable climate, or the global credit crisis, our national leaders have chosen to hold a debate that's more in their area of expertise: non-confidence motions, proroguation, parliamentary protocol. It's human nature I suppose, whenever we are faced with something bigger than us, we focus on a smaller part that we feel we can handle. Of course that is not what we need or expect from our leaders. As I travel all around the globe, I have always been immensely proud to be a Canadian. This particular moment however, has to qualify as my second most embarrassing moment as a Canadian. I want to encourage Canadian leaders from all political camps, please, get on with the business of governing this country, and making us one of the great nations in the world.

v5#5

I'm looking for some advice. I'm not quite sure if it's ethical, moral, legal or what.

You likely know that I travel quite a bit and that I spend a great deal of time in immigration and customs lineups that I would prefer to avoid if I could. Well, I've noticed that a couple of government institutions from a couple of countries which will remain nameless for the purposes of this update are promoting a system where you can avoid the long lines by applying for a special pass for frequent travellers. Of course they put the emphasis on cutting the lines, so recently I applied for said pass, only to discover that, by the way, we'll be scanning your iris in order to ID you when you pass through. As much as I would love to save time in lineups (and I've spent literally hours doing that), the whole thing strikes me as very 1984/Gattaca/Bourne Identity.

So what do you think? Am I selling my soul for a few minutes in line? Or is it just practical way for someone who travels to save time? Please weigh in on the blog comments space if you want. I'm undecided at this point, and your insight would be appreciated.

v5#4

"Are you carrying any ironic items in your pockets, sir?", asked the security officer at the airport checkpoint in rural Ethiopia.

"I don't know, I suppose that depends on your point of view.", I thought. The US dollar bills in my wallet, the ones that say, "In God we trust" on them, some might say those are ironic. Or perhaps the CD by the locally famous pop artist who was recently thrown in prison for writing lyrics mildly critical of the current government, there might be those that see that as ironic. Maybe even the pants the pockets were on, the total value of which is probably close to equivalent to the monthly income of a typical working Ethiopian, surely that might be an ironic item. If I thought about it long enough, probably all the items in my pockets could be ironic in some way or other.

But somehow I managed to keep all that to myself, and only responded,"No, nothing ironic." So my check through security, and my travel from rural Ethiopia to the capital Addis Ababa went without incident. This gave me time for one last cup of coffee, in the very birthplace of coffee. This made each cup an event for me, and I felt compelled to document this photographically as you will see in the attachment or on the blog. And as I sat there, waiting for the long flight from Africa to my homeland in the New World to begin, the sounds of Eric Clapton doing a reggae interpretation of "Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home..." came up on my MP3 player, one more ironic item I should have mentioned to the security guy.

Photo: every cup of coffee I drank in Ethiopia, plus a few coffee related shots.

v5#3

I occasionally find myself in that uncertain, hazy space between asleep and awake asking myself, "Where am I?". It's this strange moment which I find both exciting and disconcerting at the same time, when in the next instant it will be revealed if I'm in a hotel in Africa, or on a bamboo mat in Thailand, or perhaps on my couch in Canada. It's not really so much of a conscious thought as it is this feeling that my neurons have not quite fully booted up and connected me with all my peripherals (eyes, ears, nose, etc).

I once in while get a similar sensation when I'm driving, when I'm turning on to a new street and for a very very brief second, my instincts fail me and won't tell me whether I'm supposed be moving to the left side of the road or the right side. Again, it's not so much that I'm thinking about it, usually that stuff is hard-wired, no thinking required, but I guess I've done enough driving in former British colonies to establish two competing driving patterns.

The thing is, there seems to be less and less to tell my senses that one place is different from the next. Cell phones are everywhere, internet is well, not everywhere but many places, satellite TV, fast food, big name shoe brands, large volume retail stores. I might hear the same music in London as I hear in Kilimanjaro, or Port au Prince. This is not to say that every place is the same. There is still this huge and amazing diversity of culture, language, food, music, sometimes just a few kilometres apart in some regions. It's just that there's this superimposed layer of globalized meta-culture (am I using this word properly?) that one seems to encounter everywhere one turns now.

Someone will have to tell me whether this is a good thing or a bad thing for the global community. Myself, I'm just trying to stay out of on-coming traffic, or rolling out of bed face first into some random piece of furniture.

Fast food--Thai style

v5#2

I want to apologize in advance for this blog entry, because I know it's going to be all over the place. I just got back from my first, around-the-world trip: Burundi, Tanzania, Thailand, USA, then home again. Someone pointed out to me at some point during the trip that by travelling that way (eastward), I have actually gained a day, and am now one day younger, technically speaking than when I left Toronto on Jan 3. I was in Kenya, three times, but just transiting through the Nairobi airport, so I didn't really get a sense for how things are going there. I do know that in both Burundi and Tanzania, it was a major topic of conversation, and as a major trade and political partner, the strife there has a significant effect on the region.

I think for me the most intense portion of the trip was Burundi. I've been preparing for that visit, planning, researching, reading, reflecting, and to be quite honest, working up the emotional energy just to be there for many months now. As many of you likely know, the recent history of Burundi is very similar to that of Rwanda, only on a slightly smaller scale. For a reasonably succinct summary of Burundian history see the US. State Dept website at http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/2821.htm or for a more personal account, read the book This Voice in My Heart by Gilbert Tuhabonye http://www.amazon.com/This-Voice-Heart-Survivors-Forgiveness/dp/0060817518. I also had the chance to visit a memorial built to remember the loss of several hundred school children. Part of the building where they were burned has been preserved and built into the memorial, and as you might imagine, visiting such a site is a profound and difficult experience. Such recent and brutal memories factor into much that is happening in Burundi today, and many organizations who are trying to re-establish basic political and economic stability face issues of peace and reconciliation daily in the communities where they work.

The photo is of part of the memorial, where every year, parents meet and bring flowers. Next to this part of the memorial is the building itself, although I could not bring myself to take a picture.

v5#1

This is actually a 2007 entry that I got in late. And it's about something that took place in September. However, for me it was a noteworthy event so here it is, better late than never I suppose.

In September, I was in Kenya, visiting an organization we are collaborating with on Rusinga Island in Lake Victoria. We were sitting around one evening with various staff and volunteers from this organization, and it was getting pretty late (around 10:30pm, pretty late in rural Kenya), when one of the volunteers--who happens to be fellow Canadian--realized that he had lost the keys to his house. So, the director of the organization, the volunteer, and myself, set off to the volunteer's house to see if we could figure out a way to get him inside. Various ideas were discussed, such as breaking down the door, breaking a window, using a stick to try and fish out the other set of keys locked inside, etc. Once we got there though, a quick tour around the outside told us that getting in through any of those methods wasn't going to work. However, as I looked at the wall of the house, and the gap between it and the roof, I decided that I might be able to squeeze through. First we had to remove the chicken wire which filled that gap meant to keep out bats, birds, rodents etc. Then remembering one of the generally useless factoids I carry around, I tried sticking my head through the gap first as a test. They say that since the head is the biggest bone in the human body, if you can get your head through something, you should be able to get the rest of your body through. My head barely fit through, so, trusting this, I got up on a stool, and started pushing my way in through the wall-roof gap. This was not easy, and the fit was pretty tight, and I scraped my chest and arms in several places as I proceeded. Until I got up to my hips. At this point you have to try and picture (since I have no photo of this fortunately), that I'm half-way in the house, head, arms and torso inside, hips resting on the top of the wall, and legs outside. Getting that far was possible because the upper half of your body curves, and I was able to do this to get underneath the downward sloping roof. But, hey, my legs don't bend backwards and I had this sudden moment of panic as I realized I might not be able to move forward any further, but might also not be able to move backward either. I was visualizing how everyone on the island would be talking about the one Canadian who had lost his keys, and the other Canadian who had got stuck in the wall of the house and how they had to tear the house apart to free him. As a desperate last attempt, I had the two on the outside tear more of the chicken wire away to my left, and then slowly I brought my left leg up to my side, and with some extreme stretching, I was able to get my left leg up and through to the inside. (All that stretching in Aikido actually pays off!). Once my leg was in, the rest was easy, and I swung inside in a few seconds, found the spare key, and passed it out to the director and volunteer waiting outside who opened the padlocked door. When the door opened, the director, a Kenyan, just looked at me and said,"I can't believe you just did that." Who knew my job skills would extend to break and enter?

Photo is of the space I squeezed through; you can see the chicken wire pulled back.