Remembering Jennifer (Jenn) Bigelow (1968-2022) Part 1

It must be acknowledged that what is written here was initiated by Carolyn Maloney, who lives in Buckingham. Carolyn mentioned the story a year ago. When she speaks about society’s approach to addiction, Carolyn speaks from her heart and soul. She followed up on our previous conversation with an email on November 7th, the contents of which comprise what you are about to read. I want to express my gratitude to Carolyn for her sincerity and perseverance in following up on Jennifer Bigelow’s story. It should also be noted that when I requested a personal photo from Carolyn, she was hesitant about including it. It was with persuasion that she agreed to submit it. You now have a photograph to identify the one who deserves all the credit for today’s column.

Carolyn writes. . .

Jenn grew up in and around Buckingham and, as far back as her mother can remember, she always wanted to help others, especially women. Life threw many challenges at Jenn over the years. She succumbed to depression and at one point was living on the street. During the brighter years, while living in Vanier, Jenn saw what was happening around her, especially to women who ended up sleeping on the street. No one was more courageous or driven in her quest to help them, than Jenn, who often found a dozen plus sleeping in her living room when she woke up in the morning.

This led her to starting up the organization, “Purple Bridges”, whose aim was to fill a tangible gap in services, providing outreach to street-level sex workers. In the beginning, it was finding temporary places where the street people could feel safe and out of the cold – a bed and something to eat. Eventually, a van was purchased, as the volunteers continued to make and/or buy food, gift cards, financial donations, as well as warm winter coats, boots and other clothing.

Injecting hope into their lives, being there for them was definitely Jenn’s focus. She was in demand to talk at Ottawa’s universities, Algonquin College, as well as one in Edmonton for social science classes. In addition, she spoke at women’s rights rallies.

Upon Jenn’s death a year ago, a number of Celebration of Life gatherings were held, including at the Shepherds of Good Hope, and Willow’s, a drop-in and outreach program where welcome services and support are provided. Willow’s is a joint project of Families of Sisters in Spirit, Métis Nations of Ontario, and Indigenous Death Doula Collective. As Jenn worked closely with OAC (Outreach and Church) Ministries of Canada, a touching and heartfelt eulogy was given by Pastors Deborah and Layton Kerr, OAC Ministers, at the Buckingham Cemetery, noting Jenn’s generous contribution to the support groups at their church. As a society, we have to take responsibility for not pointing fingers. Jenn was a beautiful and accomplished daughter.

Christmas Concert

Carolyn Maloney is one of the Heart and Soul Singers who will present their Christmas Concert at 7:00 pm, at Our Lady of Victory Church in Buckingham on December 8.

Purging the mind of clutter

As we grow older, we discover new insights. Sometimes these revelations are beyond comprehension. Eighty years plus had expired before I finally realized that I had carried truckloads of clutter in my head. This profound truth was revealed to me on a recent walk. By rough estimation, I had taken 16,000 similar walks before it occurred to me. Walking, you see, clears the mind. Since that last stroll, my mind is now completely empty. I can now affirm that simple thoughts, or impulses, trump scientific facts. I know this, since I am now free to think and share simple conclusions that have dubious merit.

It is in light of thoughts such as these that I can now reflect upon my formative years with a senior's wisdom.

It is now clear in my mind why some of my early teachers occasionally referred to me as 'scatterbrain'. There have been a number of occasions during my lifetime that I will confess to having no knowledge about whether I was coming or going. There have been multiple occasions when I have come and gone simultaneously. At other times, I have marched off in several directions at the same time. When your mind has been purged of all redundant matter, you can state profound truths such as these.



When one's brain has become completely emptied, one can raise one's eyebrows to state profoundly to anyone who will heed your proffered wisdom: "I come before you, to stand behind you, dear brother or sister, to direct you to the pathway that will bring you successes such as your wildest dreams could only imagine. You will discover that, upon purging your mind of all inconsequential stuff, there is very little, if anything, to worry about."



As an exercise, may I suggest that today you go for a healthy stroll to purge your mind of all dark thoughts. Allow fresh air and sunlight to clear your mind, to shine down upon a clean slate.



In the cold month of January 2002, while my mind was full of clutter, I reflected upon how I might bring more peace and happiness into my life. The answer was simple. If you want to be happy, what can you do today that might fulfill your desire? Through making others feel better, you'll feel better yourself.



After a few days meditating on this, I put pen to paper to write the following poem.

Sharing Good Deeds

Every act, every word in time's swiftness
is sealed with the passing of years.


Each choice that is made in the future
may add to our laughter and tears.


It is today that we make our tomorrows,


it is the good that we do will repay
what we owe to the ones we have faulted
by a wrong word, or deed, on the way.


How often we look in life's mirror
to review all the places we've been.


We see faces of loved ones departed
that we'll never be seeing again.


How beautiful then are our riches
when we share them with someone in need.


For in life's bank account all the interest
can only be earned with good deeds.

Remember this: Happiness is a perfume that you cannot spill on others without getting a few drops on yourself.

Remembrance Day

Today we are witnessing the horrors of war in other regions of the world. As we view tragedies unfolding, of innocent lives lost, of our brothers and sisters starving, maimed and wounded, let us never forget that there are those Canadians who lived and experienced these atrocities in other lands fighting for the freedom and peaceful lives that we enjoy today. Thousands sacrificed their lives, were wounded and scared physically and mentally. Let us never forget the debt that we owe our armed forces. If unable to attend a Remembrance Day service, let us bow our heads at 11:00 am on November 11th to remember and honour every one of them. 

Plus que ça change, plus que c’est la même chose

From the Old Testament, the description of the Battle of Jericho reveals that the soldiers walked around the walls six times before Joshua sounded the trumpet and the walls came tumbling down. Now a trumpet, no matter the volume of its sound, would never bring down any wall. Rather this should be interpreted as the trumpet’s signal to attack and the soldiers to storm the barricades. I’m no biblical scholar, but it’s the only logical explanation that I assume occurred at the Battle of Jericho.
   

Throughout history, many walls have been erected to deter, or repel, the “enemy” from attacking. The “enemy” is, in reality, fellow human beings who have interpreted good and evil differently than others. Thus, for some, the kidnapping, raping and killing of others is somehow justified. Others, whether children or the elderly, are dehumanized in the process. Walls, not simply borders, must be erected to divide us from those who do not see it Our Way.

There’s the Great Wall of China, the Belfast Peace Wall (1969) to separate Catholics and Protestants, the former Berlin Wall, and the Israeli West Bank Barrier separating Israelis from Palestinians.

In the context of the present war in the Middle East, where mostly innocent Palestinians are suffering the consequences, as well as many Israelis, I am reminded of Lord Byron’s (1778-1824) poem The Destruction of Sennacherib. Lord Byron was more concerned with the victims of war than with the participating factions. Here are two verses of that poem:

The Assyrians came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
(...)
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

Victor Hugo, the renowned nineteenth century French novelist, published his novel, Les Misérables, in 1862. The central theme is of a man, Jean Valjean, who was imprisoned for many years for stealing a loaf of bread. Valjean, upon release from prison, became a successful industrialist, and under another name, became the mayor of a northern town. Yet, a police inspector, Javert, continues to pursue Valjean. A musical, Les Mis, is based on the novel’s story lines. It is from that dark musical that I draw upon this personal experience.
   

As most of you know, my musical history derives from traditional country music, which I continue to love. However, over the years I became exposed to other genres of music as well. Musical Theatre is one of these.
   

When I began taking vocal lessons through the Meredith Matthews Gets You Singing program, we were more than a dozen students. At one time, we held our lessons at Orpheus House. One of the first musicals to which we were introduced was Les Mis. Three of the main selections of Les Mis were part of that process. These were Master of the House, Do You Hear the People Sing? and Bring Him Home.
   

The first is a lighter moment in the musical theatre piece, of the unscrupulous landlord, Thénardier. Do You Hear the People Sing is a marching song where the students in the streets of 19th century France finally rally to confront the injustices of that time and place. They were led by Valjean. Bring Him Home is Valjean’s plea to God to save young Marius from perishing in the ensuing battle.
   

I loved that part of the musical journey, particularly having the opportunity to learn and sing the parts of Thénardier and Valjean.
   

Frequently, I share what I call one of my poems that are, in reality, verses. Here are a few verses of another one of those pertinent to this piece.

        On lines put the words in their places
        Words may shatter our point of view
        They are marching to tell us a story
        As a window that we can look through.

        Read the script of the play we are seeing
        Before lights dim and overture starts
        Now the curtains are slowly opening
        Revealing a world torn apart.

        Buildings crumble in Israel and Gaza
        Buildings crumbling, too, in Ukraine
        Innocent lives lost in hellfire
        As missiles down on others reign.

        The theatre is now cold and empty
        We, the patrons, now cozy and warm
        As we draw up our blankets around us
        Where missiles can do us no harm.

Municipality of Chelsea versus Jean-Paul Murray

Jean-Paul Murray has been successful in getting under the skin of Mayor Pierre Guénard and other members of Chelsea Council.  His language—and we are talking scatological, not English or French—does it.

Back in June 2022, Chelsea Council adopted a bylaw prohibiting use of abusive language aimed at municipal politicians and employees.  At that time, we thought the measure to be ultra vires, beyond Council’s authority.  We still believe that.

We would not argue that Murray’s language is in good taste or that it adds anything to reasonable discourse.  There are, however, limits to what can be said, even if the bylaw lacks force.  Chelsea is seeking an injunction in Quebec Superior Court, ordering him to cease and desist.  Will the court find some basis to impose such an injunction? It is questionable if good taste is subject to judicial imposition.

So what might be done?  Murray called the mayor a fart-catcher, clearly a metaphor and clearly one without any meaningful referent.  However, he also called him a fascist.  That is a different kettle of fish.

While Canadian court cases do not come to mind, an American case does. A great deal of civil liberties court action in both Canada and the United States has involved Jehovah’s Witnesses.  In one such case, the U.S. Supreme Court held that calling a sheriff “a damn fascist” was not protected speech.  The same principle might apply to calling the mayor a fascist.  Not clear that the same thing would apply to fart-catcher.  Presumably, the fascist charge could result in a libel suit.

In another outburst, Murray connected Director General Sheena Ngalle Miano to voodoo.  This charge against a black woman might be seen as racist and might be pursued as such.

Chelsea Council is also disturbed by Murray’s frequent requests for records.  Why not simply charge a reasonable copying fee, say twenty-five cents a page?  A down payment in advance, please.

A Consumer's Nightmare

As I write these words, I am well aware that some of you, unlike this old codger, own a smartphone. A smartphone is a convenient way to scan weekly specials, to present the best competitive price at the checkout counter and to walk away with better savings than we who do not use one. Just as I prefer to read the morning newspaper while eating an orange and a banana, I like to peruse the flyers that add colour and volume to Thursday's newspaper. I usually grab a pen to check off the best deals before writing the items on a weekly shopping list.

Not too long ago, this was a pleasant experience; not so much anymore. Today, pennies are history, but I wonder why numerals such as one to nine are prominently displayed in today's flyers. To illustrate this, I am now referring to one of the flyers with 92 items displayed over six pages.

Of the 92 items, 10 are rounded to favour the buyer. Eighty-two of the items are rounded up to the nearest dollar. This is nickel and diming the customer to the benefit of the merchant in the majority of cases. The same is evident upon examining the other flyers, with one exception. A popular big box store that also sells significant merchandise other than grocery items has all displayed produce that is rounded off to the lower figure.

Profit margins are thin, we are told, so this becomes a legitimate way of adding profit to sales.

Another eyecatcher from these flyers are the larger numerals indicating the prices in pounds. On many of the flyers, you need a microscope to read the price in kilograms or grams. It was on April 1, 1975 that Canada adopted the metric system to replace the imperial one. You would hardly know it, glancing at those ads today. Ha! you might gasp. Is this an April Fools joke?

Before April 1, 1975, we pumped fuel into our vehicles by the gallon. If we were still using the imperial system, we'd be paying over six dollars for every gallon of gasoline. Now, I ask, would you rather see the advertised price of $1.60.9/litre or $6.08.9/gallon?

Yet there's more grist for the mill of today's rant. If grocery procedures must feature imperial measurement and service stations advertise in the metric system, must we ask ourselves in which country we are living?

We, the consumers, also have other irritants as we stretch our paycheques. Here are a few personal examples that made my teeth grind. A recipe that I was following called for a 16 oz. can of jellied cranberry sauce. There were only 14 oz. (381 ml) cans displayed on the shelf.  My solution was to reduce the chili sauce to maintain the proper consistency.

At that same store, a day later, I needed three items. House brands of a dry-mouth oral rinse, of beef broth and a bottle of ketchup. The oral rinse was listed at $11.97/l. The brand-name litre was $26.97. There was no house-brand oral rinse on the shelf. Ditto the house-brand of beef broth, where only four boxes of chicken broth were displayed among multiple choices of a brand-name variety at over a dollar more than the house-brand price.

Now I imagine that most of us are accustomed to the Heinz Ketchup brand. There are, however, other brands as well. Personally, I don't like house-brand ketchups but I do like French's. As I arrived at the aisle, the shelves featuring French's Ketchup, which was cheaper than the others, were empty. Grit your teeth but smile, you're on camera.

Finally, one of those flyers informs us that we can earn 2500 points by purchasing two 213 g cans of Wild Sockeye Salmon. That's saving the equivalent of $2.50 when you buy two. One can was listed at $6.49. With the 2500 points you would be paying $10.00.

To redeem points under this system you have to spend at least $10.00.  On this day the Omega 3 eggs, an advertised special, were absent from the display. I asked for a raincheck. I was told that they would check with the manager. "How many would you like?" he asked. "Just one," I replied.

After a five-minute wait at the checkout, he brought me a dozen Omega 3 eggs at $3.89.

Canadian Nature Museum Open House: Research & Collections

And… a goodbye

On October 14, the Gatineau Research Branch of the Canadian Nature Museum opens its doors to the public.

This is the one time of year when the public are invited inside this research museum.

Dr. Jean-Marc Gagnon, Chief Scientist and Curator of Invertebrates, says part of the appeal is that Gatineau’s Pink Road museum houses more than 14.6 million specimens and artifacts of plants, animals, fossils and minerals. It’s also Canada’s repository of frozen tissues of plants and animals in the recently opened Cryobank.

It’s intriguing to understand the level of protection required for the collection of everything from ancient dinosaur bones through to delicate plants. From humidity to heat, pests to fragrances, specimens are fragile, requiring special conservation and preservation technologies and strategies.

This annual one-day event let us peek into these scientists’ fascinating work.

Open Labs

At the popular Fossil Workshop, meet researchers who will demonstrate their fascinating work, including 3D scanning of new fossil discoveries, and how fossils are extracted from rock. At the X-Ray lab, learn how scientists identify new minerals. At the Conservation Lab, understand how specimens are preserved and conserved. At the Heavy Wet Lab see selections of fishes, reptiles and amphibians.

Open Collections

Collections of fossils, minerals, invertebrates, mammal skeletons in the Large Skeleton Room, Botany – Canada’s vast National Herbarium, the Library and Archives (oldest book dates from the 1580s), and the National Biodiversity Cryobank are areas to discover.

The Cryobank is the museum’s “deep freeze” which preserves DNA samples of plant and animal tissue for analysis. Opened in 2018, the Cryobank’s DNA samples are frozen at -170C, offering unique road maps of each tissue’s specific structure, crucial for biodiversity study and preservation.

October 6: Register promptly

On October 6 pre-register for free, timed tickets at: nature.ca/openhouse: https://nature.ca/en/visit-us/whats-on/listing/open-house/. Do this early on the 6th, because tickets go quickly. Although they’re available from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. the last reserved ticket slot is at 2:30 p.m.

Canadian Museum of Nature Research & Collections Open House, October 14, 1o:00 – 4:00, 1740 Pink Road, Gatineau

And… Au revoir -- for now

This is my last column, particularly appropriate because this open house reflects my raison d'être: the understanding, appreciation and conservation of nature plus the celebration of individuals who do such work.

In these 34 years of living at Spiritwood, I’ve discussed everything from bird migration to waste management. I’ve asked you to cherish our Pontiac as an indescribably precious, integral part of Earth’s dwindling biodiversity.

I’ve asked you to please be vigilant, reflective. We are witnessing climate change. Tornadoes. Hail. Drought. Forest fires. Reduced snow, increased ice storms, power outages. As a scientist mentioned to me yesterday, “It’s only the beginning.” Dire? Yes.

We must protect our collective future by considering our actions of today. Do we really choose to clearcut forests while speaking of species at risk? Should we install an incinerator in the Pontiac? Must we follow the capitalist mantra, “shop ’til you drop”?

How much is enough?

What do we actually do about First Nations unceded territories – particularly when considering nuclear waste landfills, mining, and our colonial-inspired concepts of property rights?

Choices.

As a visual artist and writer, I chose to join CPAWS-Ottawa Valley’s DRAW (Dumoine River Artists for Wilderness) to advocate for conservation: for hope. I choose activism: to create art, write columns, articles, books. All represent positive initiatives where, for example, CPAWS-OV has been successful in protecting areas of the Dumoine and Rivière Noire.

More personally, over 34 years, Eric and I have nurtured a wildlife sanctuary at Spiritwood. This September, we’re enabling bat research with NCC biologists at Spiritwood, because our land is adjacent to Gatineau Park. It’s exciting to further the understanding of Park biodiversity with NCC scientists.

How we choose to act makes a difference.

Thank-you very much for your support over these 34 years.

Katharine Fletcher is a freelance writer and visual artist. Contact her at fletcher.katharine@gmail.com

A momentary escape from the Middle East war

It is with feelings of sadness and some apprehension that I write these words today. You and I are experiencing vicariously the horrific horrors of hate unleashed in Israel and Palestine. I am referring to the slaughter of innocent people on both sides of the Israel-Palestine conflict, particularly the brutality that occurred at a music festival in Israel where 260 innocent people lost their lives. Many sought shelter in a building where the last sounds that they would hear was a roar of hatred that snuffed out their lives. There was no escape for them as bullets of hate ripped through their bodies.
   

Perhaps you and I, just listening to the reports on television with vivid images of the unfolding slaughter, sought momentary refuge by turning off the TV. Would you please join me now to pause and reflect upon these things? Would you join me for a walk to ease our thoughts; to contrast where we are in our time and space with what our brothers and sisters in Israel and Palestine are experiencing – where there is no escape?
   

As we stroll beneath the tall maple across the well-kept green carpeted lawn, we hear the steady thud of a ball bouncing on the pavement of a tennis court. Our feet then trod upon a soft yellow carpet from the row of honeysuckle trees to where we hear the gleeful shouts of children at play. We turn to walk uphill, where we pause beneath a gigantic poplar that has stood since long before we were born. Its rustling leaves are soothing to the soul.
   

Upon returning to our starting point, we decide to climb the sloping terrain that will take us to the sidewalk beyond the park. There at the curbside is a twisted heap of furniture. We’ve seen that on several occasions. Perhaps, we surmise, it’s because someone is renovating. As we stare at that discarded furniture, we’re reminded of the debris covering human beings in the Gaza Strip. A passer-by chuckles as he exclaims: “Another loser evicted!”
   

Our peaceful excursion is interrupted by those callous words. If it indeed was an eviction, why would anyone revel in another person’s misfortune? Where was the compassion? Where, the empathy? Have we, at some time, not heard similar comments directed at a poor person begging a handout while standing in the rain? They are our fellow human beings, our brothers and our sisters. Are we who are blessed with the comforts of life, with greater prosperity, any better or more worthy than they? Might we not surmise that if there is a heaven, it is we, not they, who will be evicted?
   

As we continue our walk, thoughts such as these plague our conscience. In Sigmund Freud’s writings, he describes the life instinct, Eros. Eros is the basic instinctual impulses of thirst and hunger that includes life-giving gifts of love, sympathy and empathy. The opposite, Thanatos, is the death instinct that includes negative feelings of rejection, of hate and aggression. It is the latter that brings us heavy thoughts that sap our energy from us, that erodes and destroys our peace, that brings us to an “us versus them” mentality. It is Thanatos that erupts in anger, in hatred and in wars.
   

As these atrocities occur in Israel and Palestine, I am also reminded of two Rabbis who are laid to rest in Jerusalem. Many years ago, in a class of Clinical Psychology, Rabbi Dr. Simon Eckstein, Gerontologist and Founder of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, was our professor. 
   

A woman interrupted the class to wheel in an overhead projector. Rabbi Eckstein turned toward her with a smile. Greeting her warmly, he asked her how her day was going and thanked her for bringing the overhead projector. It was a genuine act of kindness that I shall always remember.
   

Logotherapy was also a part of that Psychology course. Rabbi Eckstein invited Rabbi Dr. Reuven Bulka to lecture on Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search For Meaning”.
   

Both these eminent Rabbis made our world a better place in which to live. Thanks to Rabbi Bulka’s legacy of kindness, Canada now has a National Kindness Week. As much as they would mourn the hatred directed toward Israel by terrorists, I firmly believe that they would equally be saddened at the loss of innocent men, women and children in Palestine.

On being a caregiver

He: There’s a new cure for Alzheimer’s disease.

She: And what that might be?

He: I forget.

Well, while scientists have some hopeful results in developing medicines to slow the progression of the disease, there is no cure on the horizon.  Alzheimer’s is one of the dementias. 

Claire Webster is the founder of McGill’s Dementia Education Program and was the caregiver for her late mother who had Alzheimer’s.  On September 20, Connexions Resource Centre gave access to her virtual presentation, prepared by the Community Health and Social Services Network.  The conference focused on the role, responsibilities, and challenges of the caregiver. 

Webster commented that the number one problem that the caregiver faces is the lack of information.  First off, the caregiver needs to know the signs and symptoms.  Does the person have dementia?  Getting a diagnosis may not be a simple matter.  Then, how to manage.  Safety is a concern both for the caregiver and the person in care.  There is also the matter of leisure activities for the person.  The caregiver needs to know about resources available. The CLSC should be key, but it may not be able to supply the needed help. 

The care plan needs a team—the caregiver, physician, and social worker at a minimum.  And the care plan can be expensive.

People with dementia come with other problems, some of which may be related.  For example, anxiety and depression often go along with dementia.  These other problems need treatment.

Memory loss begins to have an impact on independent daily living.  Help may be needed in managing medications. Other areas of impairment may include handling bills, shopping, cooking, housework, driving, dressing, and personal hygiene.

Dementia is progressive.  At some point, when the person’s memory declines to a certain stage, he may lack insight into that fact and become paranoid.  “Who is hiding my shoes?”  In response, one does not correct him.  Instead, “I don’t know about that, but let’s look for them together.” 

A night light can help prevent falls and even perhaps confusion.  To deal with the potential event of wandering, putting chimes on the door might give warning. 

With a degree of loss, as vision becomes narrower, memory becomes more impaired, and depth perception and reaction rates deteriorate, it becomes time for the doctor to pull his driver’s license.

Eventually the time may come when placement is necessary.  That decision entails choice of public, non-profit, and profit.  Cost may be a major consideration.  Placement or not, the caregiver will eventually find it necessary to take control of his finances.  Other matters to consider are legal and estate arrangements and advance care planning.

The caregiver faces a mountain of problems.  There may be conflicts with other family members over what needs to be done.  Then there are personal issues.  Feelings of anger and guilt may come into play, and the two may be mutually reinforcing.  The caregiver will perhaps feel isolated because the all-encompassing nature of the role.  Will he recognize it if he becomes overwhelmed?

Caregiving may involve various problem conditions—denial (I am perfectly capable), guilt (I am resentful and not doing a good job), anticipatory grief, isolation (I am all alone with my charge), and shame (rubbing off from my charge). 
In the final analysis, said Webster, the basic goals of caring are to keep the person safe, clean, and happy.

Pantomime Politics in Eastern Europe

Gwynne Dyer

The Polish hate the Russians

The Slovaks hate the Czechs,

The Bulgars hate Ukrainians

And everybody hates the Jews.

With thanks and apologies to Tom Lehrer

Tom Lehrer’s original song, ‘National Brotherhood Week’, was about how different kinds of Americans hated each other, but it translates so easily to other venues that I couldn’t resist plugging Eastern European names into it. Especially since there are truly hate-filled elections coming up in Slovakia this weekend, and in Poland on 15 October.

In Slovakia on Saturday the man to beat is Robert Fico, leader of the left-wing Smer-Social Democracy Party, who has gone all pro-Russian despite the fact that Slovakia is a NATO member. He has been prime minister several times before, but was driven from office by corruption charges in 2018.

We’re not talking about side-deals with construction firms here. A well-known Slovakian investigative journalist who was looking into Fico’s alleged links with the Mafia was murdered together with his fiancée in 2018. No criminal charges were laid, but street demonstrations forced him out.

Why is he running for the job again now? “His strong motivation is to avoid criminal investigation,” explained Grigorij Meseznikov, head of the Institute for Public Affairs in Bratislava. (More charges were laid against Fico last year for creating a criminal group and misuse of power.) And his party is leading in the opinion polls.

Slovakia strongly backed Ukraine after the Russian invasion last year, even sending it combat aircraft, but Fico has found a vein of anti-Ukrainian feeling and works it hard. “The war in Ukraine didn’t start yesterday or last year,” he says. “It began in 2014, when the Ukrainian Nazis and fascists started to murder the Russian citizens in Donbas and Luhansk.”

There’s a market for this sort of talk in Eastern Europe, because there is a lot of bad history. Russia is not Slovakia’s neighbour, whereas Ukraine is, so when Fico says he will stop sending Ukraine arms and push it to hand land over to Russia in return for peace, some Slovaks like what they hear.

With Poland it’s even simpler. The ruling Law and Justice Party (PiS) knows that the forthcoming election will be close, so it make good electoral sense to pick a fight with Ukraine. After all, the people who vote for PiS have the same profile as Trump’s core supporters in the US: ultra-nationalist, mostly rural, poorly educated, and deeply religious.

When Poland’s Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki declares that Poland will stop sending arms to Ukraine because cheap Ukrainian grain exports are underselling the home-grown product, most of these folks won’t think: “That’s bad, because the Ukrainians are defending us from Russia’s expansionist ambitions.”

They think: “Good for Morawiecki. He’s standing up for Poland, for the Holy Catholic Church, for honest peasant farmers, and against immigrants and gays and foreigners in general. I never did trust those Ukrainians anyway.”

And it doesn’t really matter much, because if the PiS get back into office its leaders will wait a week or so and then resume helping Ukraine militarily. They exploit the psychology of people who don’t do much joined-up thinking on abstract matters, but they are perfectly capable of doing it themselves.

Same goes for Robert Fico in Slovakia. He’s not going to pull his country out of NATO or abandon Ukraine to its fate. He just needs to find enough votes to come first in a race with five other parties (20% will probably do), as that will give him first chance to build a coalition that can keep him out of jail.

It doesn’t matter if many of those votes come from a pro-Russian minority of voters: the exigencies of keeping a multi-party coalition together will absolve him from having to deliver on any particularly stupid promise he had to make in order to get elected.

So why are the Western media burbling on about a new “threat to NATO solidarity” and “support for Ukraine fading” and the rest, when they must really know better? Because they need some ‘content’ to hold the ads apart, and the story will only get your attention if it implies dangerous change.

Eastern Europe really would be a howling wilderness of beggar-my-neighbour conflicts if all these countries had been left to make their own way in the world after the Soviet empire collapsed thirty years ago.

NATO and the European Union, which they all clamoured to join, gave them a framework for cooperation that spared them from all that. For all the Russian complaints about the ‘expansion of NATO’, it spared Russia from that, too. Otherwise, Moscow would be worrying about Polish nuclear weapons by now.

Oh, by the way. The Bulgars don’t really hate the Ukrainians. They hate the Serbs, but that didn’t scan.

Beware that sneeze or cough

Our children have transitioned from Mother Nature’s vast learning environment to confined spaces where a more structured, formal program is offered. The nights are longer and cooler; the cricket sings. Soon those dark, wee-morning hours will flirt with frost. Land’s bounty is almost all harvested. On October 8^th, we will be giving thanks for it. Soon, also, we’ll be singing the praises of those blazing autumn colours. Leaves will shower down upon us, leaving stark bare branches to scratch the sky. A white blanket will spread across the land. Winter enthusiasts will shout with joy. We’ll celebrate the Holiday Season. Snowbirds will migrate to warmer climates to golf and enjoy sandy beaches.

Having attempted to capture the mood of this seasonal time of the year, what you will now read are graphic descriptions of an approaching winter’s hazard. That is the spread of contagious germs through sneezing or coughing.  The three examples that I have chosen concern sneezing, but you can substitute coughing if you desire, or, a combination of both.

Our noses are natural filtration systems that prevent many germs from entering our respiratory systems. Hence, it is wise to breathe in through the nose rather than through the mouth. As anyone will tell you, that’s not an easy task if you’re huffing and puffing to get to the top of a hill. In reality, we all sometimes have to breathe through both passages to inhale enough air to perform a task.

What follows are three experiences I had recently. Given our common experiences, I suspect that you, too, are familiar with incidents such as these.

Being alone. It had been an eventful day where I had circulated among many people. A relaxing warm bath in a tub sprinkled with a half cup of baking soda was the perfect way to end the day. Afterwards, I drew back the blankets, lay my head on a couple of pillows and … before I could reach for a facial tissue … aah-aah-Choo! Darn it all, I’d just bathed and towelled my body. That sneeze must have reached the ceiling. Tiny droplets descended on my exposed skin, on the bed sheets and probably on every surface of the room. It is what prompted me to write what you are reading now.

Thinking you are alone. At the mall, that same afternoon, with two bags of groceries in hand, I sought the public washroom. On the way down the corridor, that aah-Choo feeling came upon me. A polo shirt was the only protection from others. I sneezed into the shoulder portion of that shirt. No doubt about it, some of those tiny droplets became airborne. I used the adjacent hand sanitizer before opening the handle of that washroom door. After sneezing, I heard a “Bless You” from behind me. I hadn’t been the only person in that corridor.

Having a face-to-face encounter. While sitting on a bench, I recognized a couple of fellows passing by. It was at a bus stop where they had just exited. While exchanging gleeful remarks, one of those guys turned his back and let fly a series of whopping sneezes that must have sprayed the other side of the street. The other two of us repeated “Bless You” and “Gesundheit” after each of his sneezes.

I sneeze. You sneeze. They sneeze. We all sneeze. Allergies, dust, particulate matter from forest fires, and certain spices are but some of the things that we breathe in regularly. That CO₂ that we breathe in contains more than carbon and oxygen. Our nose filters do their utmost to protect us but, alas, this existence isn’t perfect. Did you know, for instance, that an average sneeze, or cough, can spread around 100,000 contagious germs into the air at 100 mph? That information, I discovered on the Internet. Whoo-eee! That’s a lot of germs for our poor little nose filters to absorb.

That is precisely why we should carry an N-95 mask around our wrists at all times during this season. Indoors, it is preferable to wear that mask at all times. It is why we should have access to facial tissue in a pocket, wash our hands and use hand sanitizer. It might also be a good practice to wash our bedding and our clothes. Especially, after encountering a self-inflicted or other dispersed load of germs.

Covid-19 and influenza are also part of this season. And that is no coughing or sneezing matter. One “Aah-aah-Choo!” could be your last.

 Of Mosquitos and Fire

When we were in graduate school, a classmate told of a time when he worked in a welfare office.  One of his clients was a black woman from a small town in Mississippi.  The town was segregated.  Mosquitos were a serious problem in the town, so the local government instituted a spraying program—for the white section.  However, the mosquitos did not know that they were to torment only black people.  They multiplied in the black sector and moved back to harass white folks as well.  An effective program would have been inclusive.

This story came to mind when our seniors’ residence recently had a compulsory fire safety program—what to do to prevent fire and what to do in case of fire.  It was in French.  Staff were prepared to answer questions in English, but the audiovisual presentation from the province was unilingual.  When asked why there was not a separate session for those not comfortable in French, the presenters explained that trainers in fire safety had to be authorized by the province, and no one on staff met that requirement. 

In case of fire, French-speakers may have had the necessary information.  However, nous autres could mess things up for everyone.  Our fire department should ensure that for multiple-unit dwelling facilities fire safety information is available in both languages. 

By the way, the audiovisual presentation was largely inaudible.  While we wear hearing aids, our wife, Québécoise de souche, could not understand much of the broadcast, and her hearing is normal.

Reviewing our successes and failures

An aircraft could easily have landed that early morning when I steered my car into the mall’s empty parking lot. I was there to renew my driver’s licence at the behest of the Ministry of Transport. The previous day, 40 of us octogenarians had successfully completed the compulsory driving testing. We were then directed to go to the nearest transport facility to renew our driver’s licenses. It must be done in person, as a new photo and signature are required. AI facsimiles aren’t accepted.

My plan was simple; arrive early, have breakfast at the mall restaurant, read the morning paper and saunter over to the transport office to await its opening. Poor planning: the restaurant had yet to open. No problem, since I knew of another nearby diner that served breakfast.

As I drove into that lot, vacant but for one vehicle parked at the entrance of the diner, I wished that I had chosen to stay in bed an hour longer. However, my mindset changed as that vehicle became the catalyst for what you are about to read.

It was one of those long sleek sports cars, black in colour with those high wheel wells. As I strolled by that beauty, my eyes surveyed the tanned interior of the two-seater. In one last backward glance before entering the place, two oval-shaped diagonal headlight eyes stared back at me. This was a beauty, a beautiful beast. One could imagine the roar from its bowels as its accelerator was pressed. Growling off, it would undoubtedly gobble up a kilometre of asphalt within seconds. Its proud owner, who spoke with an Irish brogue, was conversing with another gentleman, whom I assumed may have been the diner’s owner. My ears caught snippets of his words: ‘Dublin, Paris, my granddaughter loves it…’  However, I became the lone patron now comfortably ensconced at a small table. I won’t describe the breakfast or the place. I will only mention that the coffee mug was half-size, the marmalade had a distinctly rubber texture and there wasn’t even a wee slice of orange on the two-sausage plate. There was but one paper to read called Druthers, which is the antithesis of anything that you will read in this paper.

Returning to the mall, I reflected on my experience at the diner where, upon departing, I had stood examining that beautiful beast more closely. “It’s a Lotus,” came a voice from its owner who was seated in the one patch of sunlight on the patio. I replied that it was a beauty that you might only see in the movies, which seemed to have delighted him greatly.

You may have already surmised, as I did, that that sleek black Lotus was to its owner symbolic of his acquired status. A compliment about his possession was a word of praise for him. Upon further reflection, however, I came to the realization that most of us, at one time or another, have revelled in some object that we possessed – an automobile, a boat, a swimming pool, jewellery or an item of clothing perhaps.

We sometimes measure our status through our acquisition of material things, symbols of our successes. The only way to prevent our heads from swelling too much is to remember all those who contributed to our achievements along the way. We ought also to recall our many missteps, our failures that equal what we achieved. It is what keeps our heads from swelling too much.

In life’s book, our many successes

Are emblazoned in chapters of gold

Though our failures may well those outnumber

Seldom are these stories told.

Procrastination that led to anxiety

As that high school exam drew near

Too late now to change study habits

Come September, we would repeat that year.

Partying ‘til the wee morning hours

Eyes closed at the break of day

With cobwebs in our head, we stayed in our bed

We failed in our duties that way.

Yes, if we make an honest appraisal

As the years pass us by in review

Though we’re flattered by our successes

Our failures must be mentioned too.

So many people – so little interaction

Seventy-two years ago, I was that 10-year-old lad hunched over on the back porch steps, elbows on knees, head weighed down by ‘poor me’ thoughts, resting on the palms of my hands. The anticipation of two whole months of freedom and adventure of that last school day in June had morphed into mid-August doldrums. In that woeful state, I rose, opened the screen door and blurted out words such as these to my mother who was busily preparing the evening meal: “Mom, I’m bored; there’s nothing to do around here.”

To which mother might have exasperatedly replied: “Why don’t you weed one of the garden beds; it’ll surprise your father when he gets home from work.”

Weeding the garden wasn’t exactly the type of activity I craved. Resuming my position on the porch steps, my eyes, which originally stared into blank space, now focussed on the bed of carrots. There I was on my hands and knees weeding between the rows. Viewing the results of my endeavour was sufficient incentive to weed the whole carrot bed. Upon completing the task, I stood to admire the difference I had made. Inside, I felt good, proud of the work that I had done. If father was surprised, it would have been icing on the cake. The work itself was the reward.

During my lifetime, I have spent considerable time killing time, or wasting it. Today, at 82, there are some regrets about that. Time, you see, catches up with us all. I have since discovered that time is elusive; you can never catch and kill it. Time for me now is lurking just around the corner, waiting to kill me. Don’t we all know that in the Battle of Time, depending on one’s conviction, it is either off to Gloryland or the grave, or perhaps, the spirit is off to Gloryland and the carcass to the grave.

Today, my wife Joan had a hair appointment. Call us partners if you will, but don’t refer to either of us as ‘the better half.’ What better way to use the two hours productively than take a six-minute walk to the Great Canadian Superstore to search for bargains? Upon entering, I selected a sweet kale salad, as this was the lunch hour. As I munched on that salad in the upper concourse, I marvelled at the colourful displays of fruit and vegetables below that stretched to the self-checkout and about a dozen other service counters. Beyond that was a display of clothing that would have filled any Main Street store in Buckingham when I was growing up.

It occurred to me that perhaps on this very day, 72 years ago, my mother might have handed me a dollar bill to go to the Demers’ store down the street to fetch a bag of flour. That distance spanned three properties, which approximated the distance from where I now sat to the opposite side of the Superstore.

Madame Demers might have greeted me: "Ton père et ta mère vont bien?" she would intone as she scooped a pound of flour into a double brown paper bag. If Madame Demers were alive and sitting beside me now, I am certain that she would have been in awe at the size of this store and the magnitude of its produce. The prices would have bewildered her, but most of all, she would have felt a sadness that nobody smiled or spoke to one another while waiting in the line-ups.

Oh, how that friendly ‘p’tit rendezvous’ has been weeded out of today’s robotic-like society. C’est triste ça.

NATO Summit 2023    

By Gwyne Dyer

When Nato held its annual summit in Brussels two years ago, all 31  presidents and prime ministers of the alliance’s member states dutifully showed up, but their hearts weren’t really in it. France’s President Emmanuel Macron had publicly declared NATO “brain-dead” in 2019, and nobody could find a good reason to disagree.

This week the annual meeting is in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, (11-12 July), and the cast of characters has not changed all that much, but everything else has. This is an alliance transformed, with a clear enemy, specific goals and a real sense of  purpose – all thanks to Russia’s President Vladimir Putin and his foolish invasion of Ukraine.

It was foolish not because Putin’s army was too corrupt and incompetent to conquer Ukraine – neither he nor his generals realised that – but because he woke NATO up. If he had just left it alone for another five or ten years, it would probably have simply mouldered away in the end.

Now it’s back up and running. Defence budgets are soaring right across NATO, new strategic plans are being made, and Russia is being openly named as the threat. Vilnius, the NATO capital closest to Moscow, has been chosen for its symbolic value, and there are a thousand soldiers there from other NATO countries to provide security for the meeting.

Germany has deployed 12 Patriot missile launchers to intercept Russian ballistic and cruise missiles or warplanes. France is sending self-propelled howitzers and anti-drone technology, Finland and Denmark have sent military jets, and Spain has sent a NASAMS air defence system.

Not to mention Poland and Germany, which are both sending special operations forces with accompanying helicopters in case the Russians try to infiltrate their own Spetsnaz troops to kidnap or kill NATO leaders.

No? You don’t think that the Russians will choose this week to bomb Vilnius or send in the assassins? You suspect that this is a pantomime exclusively designed to illustrate NATO’s new-found unity and determination. Well spotted!

Almost the sole focus of this summit is embattled Ukraine’s desire to join NATO – which is not going to happen at this time. As US President Joe Biden said: “I don't think there is unanimity in NATO about whether or not to bring Ukraine into the NATO family now, at this moment, in the middle of a war.”

That’s understandable, as NATO membership includes an obligation to defend any other member that is under attack. Hands up, who wants to go to war with Russia?

Ukraine will get a promise of membership eventually, after the war is over, but for now it will have to make do with arms shipments, financial help and intelligence sharing.

Military alliances have a momentum of their own, however, and an elderly alliance that has been shaken awake to deal with a nasty local crisis could go on to regain a central place in world politics. That would be unfortunate.

It was the Cold War, the ‘Soviet threat’, that brought this peculiar transatlantic alliance into existence in 1949, and the peaceful collapse of the Soviet Union 40 years later robbed it of its purpose. It trundled on for a while, as large bureaucratic organisations tend to do even after losing their core function, but its proposed new roles were not very convincing.

Its most plausible rationale was to provide a safe haven where a dozen new countries, all emerging from many decades or even centuries of Russian and Soviet imperial rule, could take shelter while they got their bearings and built more or less democratic successor states.

The great fear in NATO after the Soviet collapse in1991 was that the newly freed countries of Eastern Europe, still terrified of Russian imperialism, would start making alliances among themselves against Russia – and that at least one, Poland, would probably start building its own nuclear deterrent.

That would not have been a happy outcome, as such Eastern European alliances would been strong enough to provoke Russia but not strong enough to deter it. Taking the former satellite countries into NATO was seen by the West as the safer option. Although Moscow deplored this decision, it didn’t make much fuss about it at the time.

NATO’s ‘expansion’ never threatened Russia’s security because troops on the border are almost strategically irrelevant in an era of intercontinental nuclear-tipped missiles. In any case, US troops in Europe fell from 300,000 at the end of the Cold War to one-fifth of that number by 2008, and stayed there until last year’s invasion of Ukraine.
            
Putin’s declining years were bound to be problematic no matter what NATO did or didn’t do, but it’s still deeply regrettable that the alliance had to be resuscitated. May it become irrelevant again as soon as possible.

Our Consolidation Years

After a lengthy hiatus due to the pandemic, events have resumed at Our Lady of Light Cultural Centre (OLLCC) at Mulgrave/Derry located northeast of Buckingham. The first event, on June 25, featuring opera singer Norman E. Brown with piano accompanist Frédéric Lacroix, had a relatively small audience, perhaps due to intense smoke that filled the air that day. Many events were cancelled due to the concentration of air pollutants.
There is always a welcoming experience for everyone in a delightful rural paradise setting at OLLCC. Here are the events to be presented throughout the summer, as described by Brenda Miller and Michael Kane.Sunday, July 16 (2:00 pm – 3:00 pm)

Carey’s RnR Show

Brothers Nic and Joey Carey used to fight each other a lot, both on stage and off. But since they found music, and especially Rock‘n’Roll music, they seemed to find a common cause to fight for.
Their music is not limited to Blues, Swing or pure Rock ‘n’ Roll. It’s the 40s, 50s and 60s revisited in the style of Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Fats Domino, without forgetting the King and all the other icons of the spirit of freedom that prevailed at that time.
Come out and join us in this trip down memory lane.
Admission is $10.00 for adults, $5.00 for students and free for children aged 12 and under. Tickets are available at the door.
Le dimanche 16 juillet (14h00 - 15h00)

Spectacle RnR de Carey

Les frères Nic et Joey Carey se battaient beaucoup sur scène et en dehors. Mais depuis qu’ils ont découvert la musique, et surtout la musique Rock‘n’Roll, ils semblent avoir trouvé une cause commune pour laquelle se battre.
Leur musique ne se limite pas simplement au Blues, au Swing ou au Rock‘n’Roll…On revisite les années 40, 50 et 60 avec entre autre Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Fats Domino, sans oublier le King et toutes les autres idoles qui prévalaient un esprit de liberté à cette époque.
Venez nous rejoindre dans ce voyage dans le passé.
L’entrée est de 10,00 $ pour les adultes, de 5,00 $ pour les étudiants et gratuite pour les enfants de 12 ans et moins. Les billets sont disponibles à la porte.
Sunday, August 6 (2:00 pm – 3:00 pm)

Concert with Ambiance
Looking for a vivifying and uplifting musical experience? Come sing and dance with AMBIANCE! This wind quintet offers old-timey music, French and English ditties, ballroom airs and other nostalgic and widely known pieces.
Hélène Sansfaçon (alto saxophone), Marie-Josée Rondeau (clarinet), Denis Manseau (trombone), Pierre Lachance (bass clarinet) and Louise Lavigne (tenor sax, and clarinet) will be delighted to make music with you. We have lyric booklets prepared for this fantastic event.
Saturday, August 19 – rain date Sunday, August 20 (9:00 am – 3:00 pm)
Art and Yard Sale
We invite all artists and members of our community to bring and set up their table for this event. Cash donations will be accepted by the OLLCC. Refreshments and food will be available.
Saturday, September 9 (11:00 am – 3:00 pm)

Harvest Feast
Everyone in the community is welcomed to come and showcase their harvested fruits and vegetables, canned preserves and other home-made goodies at this event. You may be surprised to see how many people are truly interested in buying what you have to offer at your table. Again, cash donations will be accepted by the OLLCC. A lunch will be served (sausages and potato salad) from 11:30 am to 1:00 pm.

Our Consolidation Years

Our golden years might be better described as our consolidation years. Those of us who have survived to greet them, whose wills were long-since written, and whose children and their children are now at their adult stage of life, might attest to the above observation. It is during our later years that we become most keenly engrossed in compiling our ancestral trees. It is now that we tell and retell the stories of our youthful episodes. These are the years when we remember our loved ones who have long-since departed. Join me today, if you will, to a time on my journey of seventy years ago to which many of you might easily relate.

Around this time of year back then, I was eagerly anticipating the end of the school year. Soon I’d be preparing to go to Scout camp where, at Randall Teske’s farm at the Blanche, our 2^nd Buckingham Boy Scout Troop would set up for a couple of weeks of pioneering.

To the right of the little wooden bridge that spanned the river was a sandy area where we would build, cabin-style, our campfire. Beneath the fire, buried in the sand, was the huge cast-iron pot of beans that would be our supper the following day.

Around that bonfire our stories were told, songs were sung and skits performed. At the closing of the evening, as the glowing embers matched the colours of our faces, our Scoutmaster, Bill Lawliss, would lead us in these words:

By the blazing campfire’s light

We have met in comradeship tonight

Round about the whispering trees

Guard our golden memories

And so before we close our eyes in sleep

Let us pledge each other that we’ll keep

Scouting friendships strong and deep

‘til we meet again

Then with drooping eyelids, we would turn on our flashlights and stroll down the darkened roadway to our patrol tents and a good night’s restful sleep. Now I’m sure that most of you have at one time or more sat around a campfire at night. Simply change the words ‘Scouting friendships,’ to ‘our friendships’ and you will grasp the conveyed mood.

You and I both know that a time would come when family and friends would never be met again. As the years rolled by, we went our separate ways: each of us pursuing our own occupation(s); each of us becoming involved in our own activities; many of us raising families of our own. We are now well aware that many, if not most of our loved ones, have walked that final journey which we also are destined to follow.

As we reflect on the early and middle years of our lives, we fondly remember and bring back the glowing faces of those who guided us along the way. There are those occasions, such as reunions, weddings and celebrations of life, when we gather in harmony to tell our own stories. It is at these times that we meet others who shared our early life experiences with us. As we become older, there are fewer of these friends who remain to share the stories. As we bring it all together during our consolidation years, some of us keep diaries, some of us write our memoirs, while most of us just orally relate our stories.

What we all cherish are the memories of family and friends who may have left us. We treasure our own families and friends who sustain us today. We may not be gathered around a glowing campfire, yet the warm smiles and greetings of those who surround us cheer us on.

Today, I would like to leave you with some words of an old country song: ‘A Satisfied Mind’ by Porter Wagoner who started Dolly Parton’s illustrious career.

“…Money can’t buy back

Your youth when you’re old

Or a friend when you’re lonely

Or a love that’s grown cold

The wealthiest person is a pauper at times

Compared to the man with a satisfied mind.”

Caring for Your Feet: Connexions presents information in English

Reuel S. Amdur

The story is told of the man who was to have his left leg amputated. By mistake, the surgeon cut off his right leg. The man went to see a lawyer, planning to sue, but the lawyer told him, “Sorry , you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Barring misfortune, legs end up at feet. On June 6, Connexions arranged a presentation on foot care at Aylmer’s St. Mark’s Catholic Church, by foot care nurse Kathy Kelly. A nurse for 32 years, she got into this specialty because of a back injury that occurred in hospital work, from lifting a heavy patient. She said that there is a serious shortage of foot care nurses in Quebec, either registered nurses or practical nurses. Yet, she cannot work here because her French is not good enough.

Kelly emphasized that foot care nursing is significantly different from non-professional care or do-it-yourself. For example, diabetic’s feet and those of people using blood thinners are more at risk of infection. Nurses follow strict sterilization procedures to minimize that risk. “I sterilize my equipment three hours each evening.” The nurse does more than cut nails. She is also concerned to identify and treat calluses, corns, bunions, warts, and other problems. In addition to feet, the nurse examines the legs.

Other categories of people better served by nurses include those with thick nails, those who have difficulty seeing their feet, and people with arthritic hands, making care of feet and nails difficult.

Here are some of her tips:

Wash feet daily, including between toes. Dry between toes, to prevent athlete’s foot. While

creams are used on feet, not between toes. To soften heals, petroleum jelly (Vaseline) is a good

choice. If you have difficulty reaching your feet, use a towel or a long-handled duster.

Have shoes that fit properly. If your feet are a bit different in size, fit to the larger one. When

there are lumps or bumps inside the shoe, it is time to replace them. Shoes should not be either

too large or too small. The end of the big toe should have wriggle room in the shoe. Some

people find it easier to use shoes with velcro rather than laces.

A Perilous Expedition of an Early Life 

The late Frank Ryan, founder of radio station CFRA that bears his initials, was the owner of Kilrean Farm, where Algonquin College now stands. He once signed off his noon hour program, “Farmer’s Notebook,” with these words: “A farmer is one whose feet are planted solidly on the good green earth and his head is right up there in the stars.”

Did you also know that Publisher Emeritus of the West Quebec Post, Fred Ryan, whose thought-provoking editorials always challenge us to probe more deeply our own convictions, was at one time a sheep farmer?

Murray McLauchlan’s “Farmer’s Song” lyrics contain these words:

        “There’s no farmer’s songs on the car radio
        Just cowboys, truck drivers and pain
        Well this is my way to say thanks for the meal
        And I hope there’s no shortage of rain.”

The late Stan Rogers, in his song “The Field Behind the Plow,” wrote these words:

        “Poor old Kuzyk down the road
        The heartache, hail and hoppers
        Got him down
        He gave it up and went to town.

        And Emmett Pierce the other day
        Took a heart attack and died at forty-two
        You could see it coming on
        ‘Cuz he worked as hard as you.”

I mention these things because we’ve survived another winter and the planting has begun in earnest. Perhaps you, like I, are preparing our own little plots or arranging our own groupings of potted plants. Meanwhile, the real farmers are tilling the soil of hectares of land. They’re the ones that you’ll observe along the highways, out in the fields behind their tractor wheels, hard at it, as you’re driving to your rural vacation. They are the ones that we often take for granted; the ones who produce the food that’s on our tables. The ones to whom we, like Murray McLauchlan, should say: “Thanks for the meal.”

About Stan Rogers’ “Field Behind the Plow,” who am I to criticize this fluent poet-songwriter when he describes “Poor old Kuzyk” and “Emmett Pierce.” Farming, you see, isn’t an easy task. There are long hours of labour, often in hot weather. There’s work to be done seven days a week. Anyone who farms knows this but will attest to the love of the land, the freedom to be your own boss and the satisfaction of bringing in the harvest.

They will also tell you a couple of other things. There are, most certainly, “heartaches, hail and hoppers” to contend with. There are periods of drought where rain is prayed for to save a withering crop. There may also be too much rain preventing them from getting their crops into the ground. They will tell you that, yes, they are at the mercy of mother nature at critical times.

That part about Kuzyk moving into town may ring true with some. About Emmett Pierce, who died from a heart attack from hard work? Hard work is not what kills you. A poor diet, little exercise, and late hours partying will certainly factor into taking you out at an early age. Don’t we all know that? Down goes the bacon and poutine; out comes the chips and beer; on goes the sports channel. Sports, you see, are good for you…if you participate.

Here is one of my poems that I would like to plant in your mind.

        March wind’s a lion that is biting the flesh
        Of all who dare show their face
        But when door of March closes, the lion reposes
        As a gentle lamb leaps into its place.

        Furrows, yet frozen, await the thawing
        That comes with warm sunshine and rain
        And a bounty of life emerges from seedlings
        That September’s promise brings us again.

        Will corn stalks stand tall in rows as do soldiers
        Or be mowed down by storms lashing land?
        Will sweet corn be our pleasure with summer days measured?
        For it’s Mother Nature, not we, in command.

Dandelion memories of bygone years 

In gratefulness for Canada’s role in liberating their country from Nazi occupation during the war, the people of Holland annually gift us with hundreds of thousands of tulips. Every spring folk travel from near and far to view the colourful display in the Nation’s Capital. Whether their journey is by land or air, these tourists are also exposed to another floral gift that was brought to eastern North America in the 16th century. It is the gift that keeps on giving.

These early settlers brought with them the seeds of dandelion to plant in their gardens for nourishment and medicinal purposes. Dandelion greens are high in nutritional value; the flowers are also edible and can be boiled to make tea. They are one of the natural plants that pharmaceutical giants process and bottle to place on drugstore shelves throughout the world. We happily pay for them. Dandelions, like milk thistle, are good for the liver.

Today, as I write these words, a smile spreads across my face as a yellow carpet spreads before my window. It is the fond recollection of seventy-six years ago, when two young classmates picked fistfuls of dandelions from the churchyard to bring to their teacher. Paul Fortier and I were the boys; Alma Lavell was our first-grade teacher. Miss Lavell smiled and graciously accepted them as she placed the beautiful bundles in a glass vessel upon her desk. At dismissal she could not know that her two little students would choose to go behind the school to examine Brother Hermidas’ plane on display there. We were hidden from view as those dandelions showered down from the top floor window.

The word dandelion is an English corruption of the French word dent-de-lion or lion’s tooth, so named for their shape. The French also refer to these flowers as pissenlit. The assonance of that descriptor implies what many of us would like to shower upon them.

Yet another smile spreads over my face at a later time in my life when we were raising our family. I had unearthed a red-covered manual from a pile of used books on display. That little red book from England contained hundreds of recipes for making home made wines, of which dandelion was one. Now you see it clearly stated that you needed two quarts of the petals plucked from the calyx to make one gallon of wine. My smallest wine-making jar was a three-gallon size. Further, how much better the final product would be, I thought, if the flowers were picked from a countryside meadow. To Poltimore we drove where that pristine meadow of golden splendour was on full display. Our three daughters gathered the flowers; the heap of them grew before Joan and me, who were kept busy plucking the flowers. We left with a bagful of them.

I smile today, although I shouldn’t I suppose, at the memory of boiling the mixture of dandelions, sugar, grapefruit and orange zest and juice, and golden raisins in a huge pot on the stove. You may want to try this yourself today after reading this but let me assure you of two important things that will not make you smile. After the boiling, which leaves a putrid odour, the concoction has to rest for half a day before being strained into your glass jar. It’s springtime and we all love to keep our windows open for the fresh air. If you’re making dandelion wine don’t do that; your neighbours might surmise that you’ve broken a sewar pipe and dial the city maintenance crew.

The final product, however, is a pleasant tasting dry wine that will amaze some folk. You’ll only be able to taste it come Christmas, but the satisfaction from your labours will be worth the wait.  A cautionary word here: one glass is fine, two starts the scenery in motion, three glasses and your surroundings become waves and, more than that, you’ll be walking as a fish swims in water…if you can walk at all.

Paul Fortier, Miss Lavell, the large college of St. Michael where we started our formal school journey are all gone now. The parking lot of St. Grégoire’s Church where we picked the dandelions is now paved over. That field in Poltimore may well be paved over today as well. Soon, also, I will be history and there will be no one left to relate the above stories.

Between a rock and a hard Place

Overuse of the Notwithstanding Clause: Why Its Use Should Be Referred to the Supreme Court of Canada!

By Brian Rock

Let us turn back the political clock to Saturday, June 15th, and Sunday, June 16th, 2019.  Yes, the Members of the National Assembly of Québec were sitting during extraordinary sessions over the weekend following the imposing of closure which limited debate. Bill 21: An Act respecting the laicity of the State including the enactment of the Notwithstanding Clause to prevent court challenges was passed. At 11:00 p. m., in the residence of the Honourable J. Michel Doyon, the Lieutenant-Governor of Québec, Bill 21 was granted assent. How ironic for legislation dealing with laicity to become law so late on a Sunday evening! 

Me. Julius H. Grey, highly respected constitutional lawyer out of Montréal, argued before the Superior Court of Québec against Bill 21.  That case has proceeded to the Court of Appeal of Québec.  Me. Grey remains ever hopeful that the Supreme Court of Canada will rule that the Notwithstanding Clause can not be used as the Government of Québec pleases.  

Let us now proceed to Tuesday, May 24th, 2022.  This time around, the Coalition avenir Québec Government proceeded with its controversial decision to apply the Notwithstanding Clause to the entire Bill 96: An Act respecting French, the official and common language of Québec in order to shield the legislation from any Charter of Rights and Freedoms challenges. Lieutenant Governor J. Michel Doyon granted assent on Wednesday, June 1st, 2022.

The Honourable David Lametti, former Professor and Associate Dean (Academic) of the McGill University Faculty of Law is now the Minister of Justice and the Attorney General of Canada as well as the Member of Parliament for the Montréal riding of LaSalle -  Émard - Verdun.  Me. Lametti reacted to the passage of Bill 96 and took exception to the proactive use of the Notwithstanding Clause to shield Bill 96 from constitutional challenges, shutting down debate and proper judicial review of the legislation terming it an “unintended negative consequence in our political system. The Notwithstanding Clause was meant to be the last word in what is, in effect, a dialogue between the courts and legislatures.  It wasn’t meant to be the first word.” 

    The Right Honourable Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister of Canada, as well as the Member of Parliament for the Montréal riding of Papineau, recently expressed concerns over the Notwithstanding Clause, condemning its use.  The Prime Minister indicated that he is investigating the possibility of regulating its use.

    François Legault, the Premier of Québec, criticized the remarks of the Prime Minister for “attacking Québec’s democracy and people” by proposing to limit the use of the Notwithstanding Clause. Premier Legault termed it a “frontal attack” on the Québec nation’s ability to protect its collective rights.  Following, the Quebec general election of Monday, October 3rd, 2022, Legault’s Coalition avenir Québec political party won 90 of the 125 seats in the National Assembly of Québec.  Legault may very well be ready to confront a Liberal minority federal government challenging the Constitution Act of 1982 and its Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms which representatives of the Province of Québec have never signed.  

    It may very well be time to allow the Chief Justice of Canada Richard Wagner as the presiding judge of the nine-member Supreme Court of Canada, the highest judicial body in Canada, to study the implications of the overuse of the Notwithstanding Clause.    

“Trudeau has good reason to limit use of the Notwithstanding Clause. Governments are too willing to invoke the Notwithstanding Clause pre-emptively when our rights are an inconvenience.” – Peter McKnight, Journalist

Pakistan: Endless Turmoil

By Gwyne Dyer

Last year US President Joe Biden called Pakistan “one of the most dangerous countries in the world,” presumably because of its potentially lethal cocktail of nuclear weapons and unstable politics. But somehow it staggers on endlessly, never resolving its permanent political crisis but never quite exploding either.
 
For the past five years the crisis has revolved around Imran Khan, a former cricket star and socialite playboy  – at least seventeen ex-girlfriends and five known or alleged children – who relaunched himself 25 years ago as a populist Islamic politician. He became prime minister with army backing in 2018 and was removed (again with army support) in 2022.

He is currently besieged by police and paramilitary forces in his house in Lahore but is protected by a cordon of his own supporters. “The government is petrified of elections,” he said. “They're scared that we're going to win. Therefore, they're trying everything to get me out of the way, including assassination.”
 
There was an attempt on Khan’s life last year. The gunman only managed to shoot him in the leg, but he has every reason to fear being murdered: two Pakistani prime ministers have been shot to death, and one was hanged by the army after a military coup. Yet his own rhetoric constantly invokes violence.
 
Just before he lost a military-backed non-confidence vote in parliament a year ago, he told his opponents: “I wish to warn you: If I am ousted from the government, I will be more dangerous for you.” He has kept his word, and he is mobilising his supporters with constant claims that the military have sold out to anti- Muslim and anti-Pakistan forces.
 
He insists that he was “ousted because of a conspiracy to install America’s puppets,” and says that the government that replaced his, led by Shehbaz Sharif’s Pakistan Muslim League (N), was “an attempt to impose the Indian-Israeli-American agenda on Pakistan and enslave Pakistan.” 
 
What that alleged joint agenda might be is hard to imagine, since the disastrous end of the US occupation of Afghanistan has demoted Pakistan to the bottom of the list of US priorities and Israel is busy elsewhere. However, the accusation resonates in Pakistan’s domestic politics, and the army is angry at being painted as a traitor to the country and to Islam. 
 
It is not yet clear whether this will end with yet another military take-over in Pakistan. (It would be the fourth since independence in 1947.) That would be no great tragedy in itself: the country has spent half its history under military rule, and it was no more and no less dysfunctional in those periods than it has been the rest of the time.
 
However, the soldiers might find that foreign support for their rule is less available than it used to be. In particular a financial bail-out of the sort that was common in the past, and is urgently needed again, may not be forthcoming this time, because the old formula that Russia backs India and the US backs Pakistan no longer applies.
 
The Indians happily buy Russian oil and gas at a 40% discount, and New Delhi hedges its bets by staying neutral on the war in Ukraine. However, India now hobnobs with Australia, Japan and the United States in the ‘Quad’, a proto-military alliance aimed at containing Chinese power. In this new strategic context, who rules Pakistan is virtually irrelevant.
 
Absent any US pressure to bail Pakistan out, the International Monetary Fund is only interested in whether its loans will be repaid. From that perspective the current coalition, a military regime or a restored Imran Khan government are all equally unreliable borrowers, so the loan doesn’t come through and Pakistan sinks deeper into poverty, debt and despair.
 
Of the three parts into which the Britain’s former Indian empire was eventually divided, Pakistan is now indisputably the poorest. Gross Domestic Product per capita is only $1,500 in Pakistan, compared to $2,250 for India and almost $2,500 for Bangladesh. The gap will grow even wider, because Pakistan’s population is growing twice as fast as the other two.
 
To some extent Pakistan’s poor performance is due to its perpetual arms race with far bigger India because of the territorial dispute over Kashmir, but it cannot be denied that a large part of the fault lies with the country’s corrupt and chaotic politics.
 
Two extremely wealthy political dynasties, the Bhuttos and the Sharifs, have dominated civilian governments for decades. Imran Khan is an interloper, but about as helpful in terms of reforming Pakistan’s politics as Donald Trump has been to America’s. And the army is always the tail that wags the dog.
 
But none of it matters much any more, except to the long-suffering Pakistanis themselves.

Gwynne Dyer’s new book is ‘The Shortest History of War’.

Wolves! Shapeshifters in a Changing World

What are your thoughts when you think of wolves?

Pest and predator of your lambs and calves? Spiritual guides? Symbols of resilience and community? 
Perhaps an intricate tapestry of these and other reactions.

Your answer can be any of these and of course, much more. And if you raise livestock, you may have the first response: that of a shepherd guarding their flock, where survival of your own animals takes precedence.
Nevertheless, wolves have fascinated us for thousands of years.

That’s why Ottawa’s Canadian Museum of Nature is currently presenting Wolves! Shapeshifters in a Changing World, until 18 March, 2024. (https://bit.ly/3ThaqeW) 

Elusive beings

As we enter the exhibition, we hear the howls of wolves… or, is that my imagination at work? 

And, that’s the thing, while experiencing this show, we’re welcomed into the wolfian world of shapeshifting, of fascinating science – and remarkable experiences revealed by First Nations accounts and artwork. 

Wolves are elusive. Sometimes they are fleetingly glimpsed by us, where hairs on the back of our neck prickle to their howls and shadowy presence. 

Patience rewarded
Or, if we are patient, sometimes nature reveals itself. Ottawa photographer Michelle Valberg is a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, and is Canadian Geographic’s photographer-in-residence. She spent months researching wolves of Canada’s West Coast, sometimes sitting in a blind for days, hoping for a glimpse of wolves.

Patience was rewarded: Valberg’s photos of wolves transfix us. My reactions: I perceive deep intelligence and assessment as I gaze into the eyes of her wolf subjects. And the teeth! Certainly to be both admired and respected.

In fact, respect and admiration are my reactions not only to her amazing photographs, but also to the mammals themselves.

Fast facts

Museum signage explains that wolves evolved from weasel-like carnivores which lived approximately 66 million years ago.

Grey wolves entered North America 1 million to 700,000 years ago, crossing the Beringia land mass which connected Russia’s Lena River to Canada’s Mackenzie River. Now, wolves are the most widely distributed of the worlds’ land mammals.

Wolves remain keystone species, defined as being “one whose impact outweighs its abundance. In the case of wolves, their presence is felt throughout an environment. Wolf predation reduces populations of large plant-eating animals. This sets off a chain reaction of effects on countless other organisms.” (Museum signage)

In the USA’s Yellowstone National Park, wolves were eradicated in the early 1900s. The consequence? Elk populations boomed, where overgrazing decimated wild flora, affecting the biodiversity of the parkland. Between 1995 and 1997, forty-one wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone, stabilizing the elk populations. Chris Wilmers, wildlife ecologist at the University of California, Santa Cruz, noted, “Elk aren’t starving to death anymore.” (https://on.natgeo.com/3LjpE17)

In ideal conditions, wolves can smell their prey at a distance of 2.4 km.

Wolves and coyotes do interbreed, a fact which many people have doubted. “Wolves and coyotes share the same ancestry and can interbreed. Gaining wolf DNA has caused northeastern coyotes to develop bigger bodies, increasing their ability to feed on larger prey such as white-tailed deer.” (Museum fact sheet)

Shapeshifters

The title of the exhibition echoes wolves’ tenacious ability to adapt to that one unavoidable constant in all Earth’s creatures’ lives: change.

Anthropomorphic change – change that human beings have wrought on Earth -- is such a reality that our present Era is named the Anthropocene. The Yellowstone example dramatically demonstrates how humans’ fear of wolves caused the government to put a bounty on their heads such that they were shot. Then? Quelle surprise! We didn’t know what we were doing, of course, so we were compelled to reintroduce wolves into their natural environment when we realized what damage we’d wrought.

We don’t appear to be the brightest sparks in the universe.

Fortunately, wolves adapt. To us.

Will they adapt to the vagaries of climate change? Will we? My bet is the wolves will... 

Katharine Fletcher loves wolves and exploring her natural world. To discover her visual art, which includes wolves and other wildlife, visit her at: facebook.com/KatharineFletcherArtist/ 

Joël Fafard, Canadian Blues/Folk artist coming to West Quebec

“You should write a story about Joël Fafard,” was the suggestion of my daughters Christine and Anne Marie. Although I had heard Fafard’s music playing at their place – Anne’s husband, David Haskins, an accomplished guitarist was listening to the music – I was too busy conversing to listen.

How, then, does one write about a professional Canadian musician who writes, plays and sings a type of music to which he is unaccustomed?

How? First, open up your mind. Secondly, open up the internet and go to the subject’s website. That, essentially, was my introduction. What I learned was ear-pleasing, pleasant and informative. After  reading this piece, I urge you to do likewise.

Fafard, who has released several albums featuring original and traditional folk-blues instrumentals and songs, is a Saskatchewan native who now lives on the Sunshine Coast in B.C.

Although some songs were recorded indoors with other musicians, the majority of the recordings blend with nature’s great studio – a woodshed, with the forest background, an outdoor verandah where clothing hangs drying, candles warmly beaming around him.

As Fafard sings, one is immediately captivated by the lyrics, his Juno-Award nominated guitar stylings, and a simple life surrounded by nature’s paradise.

In “Borrowed – New and Blue,” Fafard is seated in lush foliage along the banks of a flowing river. As the slide bar presses down on the strings, the listener is transported to another world.

How does a novice write about a blues/folk artist? This novice emailed him at his home in British Columbia, asking simple questions about details of his music and where it has taken him. Here is one of his replies to my queries.

“I am originally from Saskatchewan but live in Robert’s Creek, BC now. Music has taken me across Canada, as well as Nevada, Oregon, Washington state, South Africa, New Zealand, Austria, Switzerland, Poland, Germany and the Netherlands. The tour that this show is part of has stops in Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and Manitoba. I love music and I love travelling – the fit is good for me.”

The Quebec location for Joël Fafard’s upcoming tour concert is at the Chelsea Motel on April 22nd. That location, familiar to most of us in this region, was formerly known as the Tulip Valley Restaurant. The show begins at 9 pm. The price of admission is $27.96. Tickets are at https://allevents.in/chelsea/motel-chelsea-presents-an-evening-with-joel-fafard/10000590088981027?ref=eventlist-cat.

From his bio are these words: “Award-winning guitarist Joël Fafard performs Southern roots and blues classics with the soul of a purist and the showmanship of a seasoned entertainer. He sings with the sexy, sandpapered-sounding vocal style of this new generation of bluesmen.”

Also of interest is that his father, Joe Fafard, was one of Canada’s leading professional visual artists who had exhibited a wide variety of work in galleries and museums across Canada, the United States, Great Britain, France and Japan.

You can view an online CBC documentary of father and son where the arts of sculpture and music are blended.

Also note that the photograph of Joël Fafard included here is by Randy MacNeil, a freelance film photographer who for over 30 years has been photographing many great musicians. You are welcome to visit his website to view some of his music photography, spanning many genres of music. As he states on his website: “We are always adding content, so please visit often.”

Randy MacNeil lives in the West Quebec region. Joël Fafard’s photographs included here is with his permission and I thank him for that.

A Perilous Expedition of an Early Life 

You’ve probably heard some of these phrases: burning the candle at both ends; sowing wild oats; burning the midnight oil; living the life of Riley; being wild and reckless. You may also have observed that aphorisms, such as these, date to a time before electric lights hung from the ceilings of our homes. There is an eternal wisdom to expressions like these that still ring true today.

Those of my vintage, of the male species, can attest to each one of the above. We lived them, we were part of that scene and we, most certainly, can relate tales of our own lives that will attest to them. Some of our youthful shenanigans might raise the hair on your head. However, most of us prefer to remain silent about our early behaviours since they now might raise the hair on our own heads.

Some of us readily relate foolhardy escapades of our young lives. We may be too old to ‘cut the mustard’ today, yet, by gosh, we are now able to disassociate from our former reckless selves. Today, I am doing that, in print no less. Kindly understand and forgive me for doing that.

In the second year at the Ottawa Teacher’s College on Elgin Street, the first all-male class of prospective teachers was formed. Without females, including nuns in our class, the whole demeanour changed. One might say that the rough edges were sometimes on full display.

We were encouraged to take advantage of exploring the wider community that surrounded us that included museums, art galleries, and the Parliament Buildings. Most of us did just that. However, to solidify the knowledge and culture that we had absorbed, we discovered the pub at the Lord Elgin Hotel up the street was the best place to share it. It is there that we enlightened ourselves about events of the world, gained great insights, solved Canada’s political problems and grew in knowledge and wisdom. Unfortunately, little of our newfound insights were recalled the following morning. That was a pity but we were still able to retell most of the jokes that we shared.

On one of my exploratory excursions, I found myself wandering down a pathway along the west side of the Parliament Buildings. It was after sitting in the public gallery watching the political debates between the likes of then Prime Minister Lester Pearson, the Conservative Leader of the Opposition John Diefenbaker, CCF Leader Tommy Douglas and Réal Caouette of the Social Credit Party. There had been much rhetoric about ‘this great country of ours, about our early pioneers and about the vastness of this great land.’

Perhaps, that was the reason why, after leaving the gallery, I found myself exploring a part of Canada surrounding the Parliament Buildings. The pathway led downwards to where it became more precipitous. Suddenly, as a mountain goat would, my footsteps took me across a narrow pathway along the cliff behind the Parliament Buildings. Looking up was a vertical wall of shale, glancing downwards revealed the darkened waters of the Ottawa River. I looked downwards but once, as the dizziness might have caused me to lose my balance.

To maintain a semblance of composure, I imagined myself in the footsteps of one of our native people or, of one of Samuel Champlain’s explorers. Always with one hand touching the wall of rock, I continued towards the Interprovincial Bridge (the Alexandra Bridge) emerging at the east end. So elated to have survived the expedition, I then walked briskly down Mackenzie King Drive, passed the Château Laurier and happily back to the Teacher’s College on Elgin Street.

Given my earlier escapades, it’s a wonder I even made it to Teacher’s College. On my first and last time driving a motorcycle, without a helmet, I rounded a curve, jumped the sidewalk and went smack dab through the middle of a picket fence. No harm done to my brains; they were out to lunch that eventful day. On our honeymoon, behind the wheel of a Volkswagen Beetle, I became confused and drove up an exit ramp on to the New Jersey Turnpike.  Must have surmised that “Turnpike” was synonymous with “U-turn,” which I promptly managed to manoeuvre thereby averting almost certain death.

Sudan: The Thieves Fall Out 

By Gwyne Dyer

It’s a pity that both sides can’t lose in the war that broke out between rival generals in Sudan on Saturday, but the best that the 48 million Sudanese can hope for now is that one side loses quickly. Beyond that, it’s all bad: the rival generals both want to strangle the democratic revolution that began in the streets of Khartoum four years ago.
 
It was a long overdue revolution. The previous military dictator, Omar al-Bashir, was in power for thirty years, waging constant wars against minority groups and handing huge chunks of the economy over to military interests while civilian living standards stagnated.
 
Bashir overthrew the elected government in 1989 for negotiating with separatist rebels in the south, but he ended up having to let South Sudan go himself.
 
He created the Janjaweed,  an ethnic militia, to destroy rebels in the western province of Darfur, and wound up indicted by the International Criminal Court (ICC) for genocide. He stole at least $9 billion.
 
The revolution that overthrew him in 2019 was a spontaneous popular uprising driven by idealistic students and the exhausted commercial and professional classes of Khartoum. The military dumped Bashir and jailed him for corruption, but they also forced the rebels to join a ‘Transitional Military Council’ (TMC)  with them.
 
Jailing Bashir kept him out of the hands of the ICC, whose investigators might link other generals to his crimes. The TMC deal forced the democratic movement to accept a two-year delay before free elections. But the Sudanese generals were really waiting for billions in help to arrive from other nervous dictatorships in the region like Egypt and Saudi Arabia.
 
By 2021, $3 billion of financial aid from Egypt, the UAE and Saudi Arabia had duly arrived, and the senior military officer on the TMC pulled the plug on “power-sharing” with the civilians. General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan  declared on TV that the military would “stop negotiating with the Alliance for Freedom and Change and cancel what had been agreed on.”
 
Burhan had to kill a lot of civilians to make them accept this betrayal, of course, and he worried that his own soldiers, who had been fraternising with civilians on the streets for the previous two years, might refuse to massacre them. He solved that problem by bringing the Janjaweed to town, now renamed the ‘Rapid Support Forces’ (RSF).
 
The commander of the RSF, ‘General’ Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, commonly known as ‘Hemeti’, was already a power in the land second only to Burhan. The RSF is essentially Hemeti’s own private army, and killing a few hundred people on the streets of Khartoum was no big deal to a man who slaughtered tens of thousand in Darfur, so he was happy to help.
 

The coup succeeded in derailing the plans for free elections and a handover to civilian rule. Many civilians were killed and the key trade unions and professional groups that had organised the big protests were dissolved, although smaller protests and barricades keep appearing and disappearing again in Khartoum.
 
Burhan, the chief thief, and ‘Hemeti’, now No.2 in the regime as a reward for his help in the 2021 coup, should have been able to cooperate in some lying promise about an election in a few years, and renege on it later. Amazingly, they couldn’t even manage that.
 
Burhan has already had decades to make his pile, while Hemeti, despite all his gold mines in Darfur, feels he is just getting started. So Burhan’s plan to ‘integrate’ the RSF into the army within two years (which would destroy Hemeti’s power base) was completely unacceptable to the assistant thief. He wanted ten years – so the thieves fell out.
 
The fighting is happening all over the country, because both the army and the RSF are everywhere. At the time of writing it’s hard to tell which side will win, but it’s also hard to care. Both men have a lot of Sudanese blood on their hands, and neither has the skill to run even a dictatorship efficiently.
 
The one thing we can say with confidence at this point is that it is not an ‘African’ problem. Civilian rule has taken a beating in the Sahel belt of Africa recently, but democracy, however imperfect, is still a reality or a live prospect in most of sub-Saharan Africa.
 
The Sudanese, or at least the dominant ethnic groups there, still see the country as part of the Arab world – and in that context what is happening in Sudan is not at all surprising.
 
There are no democracies whatever in the Arab world, and military or monarchical tyrannies are the norm. Moreover, they collaborate to maintain the status quo. Move along, please. There’s nothing new to see here.
 
Gwynne Dyer’s new book is ‘The Shortest History of War’.

Parlez-Vous?

Reuel S. Amdur

Much of the discussion about language in Quebec is about the threat to French from other languages, English in particular.  One aspect of this is the decline in the use of French in homes.  However, with the decline in the birth rate we need to rely more and more on immigration to fill the jobs.  Immigrants bring many languages.  This fact will likely mean a decline of percentage of people speaking French, at least in the short and medium term. 

Then there is the question of just what French is.  I am an anglophone trying to navigate French.  Yet, when I speak of beurre d’arachide, my partner, Québécoise de souche, calls it beurre de peanut.  Similarly for maïs soufflé and popcorn.  And she is university-educated.  That is to say, languages change and languages steal.  Is Latin dead?

When we consider the proposition that people in Quebec should learn the language, is that a should or a must?  Clearly an ability to learn French is desirable. However it is not always possible. Some newcomers are not able to pick up the language in the six months that Premier Legault thinks is enough, especially if other matters such as work get in the way. Then there are other considerations.  Former Hampstead Mayor William Steinberg explained his lack of French as being due to hearing problems.  Many other factors may be at play.  Some time ago I worked for a social agency in Hamilton.  A Chinese woman came into the office one day, speaking broken English.  I asked when she came to Canada, and to the amazement of all of us in the office she replied that she was Canadian-born. Did she live in a language ghetto?  We don’t know.

Instead of insisting that people seeking help do so in English or French, I try to assist people to get services they need regardless of language. Perhaps the most extensive of my experiences in this regard are from my time working in Seaton House, a City of Toronto men’s shelter and residence.  I was more or less the go-to person in dealing with language problems.  I got Quebeckers from time to time, refugees from the punitive anti-welfare policies and practices of the Parti Québécois government.

I was able to handle some limited interaction with clients in Portuguese, but otherwise I had to rely on others, for example on a cleaner from Portugal. On one occasion I used a bilingual client to translate. Bilingual, in his case French and Portuguese.  One time an intake worker came to me in utter surprise to announce that his client spoke only Albanian.  In five minutes, I had a cleaner there to translate.  When it came to Turkish, I took the man to a Turkish travel agency. 

These examples relate to helping individuals.  I also promoted this same approach on a systemic level, working through the social work professional organization to promote provision of welfare services more adequately in French.  In Toronto probably less than one per cent of the population is French unilingual.

Once that effort resulted in welfare services in French being provided in the Centre Francophone, I passed the word on to the Portuguese, Spanish, Italians, Greeks, and Chinese.  Services became available in various languages at locations across the city.

My principle is to provide help in the client’s language if he cannot use mine.  I grew up speaking English but favouring linguistic openness.  It feels strange to me to be in the position in Quebec where I find myself called upon to defend the rights of fellow anglophones.

Buy Clean: Embodied energy matters!

There’s so much to think about as consumers, assuming we want to encourage a green, sustainable environment here in the Pontiac, the Outaouais — and world.

Embodied energy (EE)

Science Direct explains that Embodied Energy is the amount of energy to produce a material, where the “material” is anything we can think of: food, clothing, shelter, recreational equipment: you name it, everything we use from cutlery to pets’ supplies has been made from something. This processing is where EE is derived. Science Direct’s website notes:

“Embodied energy, or ‘embedded energy,’ is a concept that includes the energy required to extract raw materials from nature, plus the energy utilized in the manufacturing activities. Inevitably, all products and goods have inherent embodied energy. The closer a material is to its natural state at the time of use, the lower is its embodied energy.” (https://bit.ly/3IYj12u)

This website, incidentally, shows a scientific explanation of the calculation used to quantify the EE in a product/material. The formula assumes that “the origin of EE was associated with fossil fuels.”

When we realize that everything we purchase requires EE, and when we factor in the use and amount of fossil fuels needed to extract, create, deliver said product to market, promote/sell/ship it, and then dispose/reuse/recycle it, we can understand the relevance of EE (whether it’s in the context of a cradle-to-grave, circular economy – or not).

EE has “repurposing legs”

Authors Monahan and Powell explain that EE includes, “the total primary energy required for extraction of resources, transportation, manufacture, assembly, disassembly, and end-of-life disposal of a product.” (https://bit.ly/3IYj12u)

Although we may prefer to ignore it, “end-of-life disposal” possesses intrinsic energy expenditures, too. Mattresses are not only manufactured and delivered to our homes, they’re collected and “vanish” from our lives. Ditto with appliances and every other product we own. Everything has a lifetime – not simply us human beings. So landfills become wastelands of unwanted or broken materials.

No-one wants to live near a landfill.

Therefore, it’s prudent to consider EE when buying something. What went into it to make it? Do I need it? Is there a similar product that is better made, made from sustainable materials where the company has a cradle-to-grave policy? These are questions we must train ourselves to ask when we purchase anything.

Examples: Sand and gravel and cement

When first thinking about cement which is made from naturally occurring substances such as sand and gravel, we can be forgiven if we think cement production is not a harmful industry.

But let’s apply critical thinking.

Before sand and gravel can be harvested, forests are clearcut, eliminating biodiversity and the cleansing nature of woodlands – habitat for native and migratory birds through to the endangered wood turtle here in Quebec. Then, these natural aggregates are extracted, using fossil-fuel powered heavy equipment. Sifting and sorting requires further energy, where consumers can then order, for instance, 0–¾ inch pit-run aggregate for laneways, or ¾ inch washed stone for roof driplines, etc. Sand and gravel are trucked to industrial sites for making concrete.

Concrete issues

That seemingly innocuous, all-pervasive material, cement, is a polluter requiring immense EE. The Columbia Climate School’s State of the Climate website informs us about cement as an ingredient of concrete:

“A single industry accounts for around 5 percent of global carbon dioxide (CO₂) emissions. It produces a material so ubiquitous it is nearly invisible: cement. It is the primary ingredient in concrete, which in turn forms the foundations and structures of the buildings we live and work in, and the roads and bridges we drive on. Concrete is the second most consumed substance on Earth after water. On average, each year, three tons of concrete are consumed by every person on the planet.” (https://bit.ly/3SG53FC)

Cementing our understanding

Everyone uses products.

We must accept responsibility for our planet’s wellbeing, inform ourselves, and examine what we purchase to foster a cleaner, greener, more sustainable Outaouais and world.

Katharine Fletcher is a freelance writer and visual artist. Contact her at fletcher.katharine@gmail.com

Connexions workshop: Understanding and Supporting Sexual Minorities

Reuel S. Amdur

LGBTQAI2S+.  That was a virtual workshop put on by Connexions Resource Centre on February 21.  Leading the workshop was Elaine Wright, a trainer for Coalition des familles LGBT+ .  The workshop lead title is quite a mouthful, and Wright helpfully suggested that we simply refer to sexual diversity.  We might also use the term sexual minorities. 

She cited a 2017 survey of youth from 14 to 25, in which 16% did not identify as solely heterosexual.  Because many sexual minority youth have unhappy experiences, we all need to examine our own attitudes.

We need to keep certain distinctions in mind.  Gender identity and expression are what happens in the brain.  Sexual orientation is what the heart says, in another section of the brain.  These are all potentially different from sex at birth.  Chromosomes and hormones may influence identity and expression.  High levels of testosterone in women and estrogen in men may have an impact on opposite expressions of behavior.

People with ambiguous sex organs are called intersex.  These organs may be external or internal.  Intersex individuals may have various gender and sexual orientations.   We have heard it said that sexual anomalies are as frequent as red-headedness.

According to Wright, a child begins to decide on gender identity by age four.  By 12, the person may begin to change orientation from sex at birth.  Gender identity may differ from sex at birth and may be unrelated to sexual and romantic orientation.

Male and female—that is a binary distinction, biological but also possibly social.  Where gender identity is the same as sexual designation at birth the individual is said to be cis-gendered.  Someone who identifies with the opposite gender is said to be transgendered.  A transgendered male was born female, and a trans female was born male.  Non-binary individuals accept neither gender, being gender-fluid.  That fluidity may or may not relate to sexual expression.  Agender persons reject the binary code entirely.  As for those coming under the demigender label, there is partial identity with one gender.  This is a broad category involving how people act in a wide variety of ways.

Wright addressed the question of language.  Some among the sexual minority choose the pronoun “they.”  Others simply reject pronouns outright.  The singular “they” may be translated in French as “iel.”  Parent may be preferred to mother and father.  The suffix “-man” becomes unwelcomed. 

The rejected suffix is in fact neutral, not male, deriving from the Old English distinction between werman and wyfman.  The German word “Mench” has the same origin, and it is neutral. (Note to proof-reader: in German, nouns are capitalized.)

Two-spirited people are Aboriginals of the sexual minority.  In many of the First Nations, they have important status, with special social and ceremonial functions.  LGBT youth of color are particularly at risk of prejudice and discrimination.  In school, their teachers as role models are rare.  They have high rates of suicide, and Wright also says that they face police violence. 

It is estimated that in the 13- to-17 age range one person in 150 is trans.  Wright cited a study which found that 59% of the trans in that study identified as trans before age ten, 80% before 14, and 90% by 19.  Transitioning may be social, medical, and legal.  A trans may change name, pronoun, clothing, and social circle.  Medical changes may involve use of hormone blockers and hormone therapy and surgery. Not all opt for surgery.  In Quebec one can change name and sex on birth certificate and driver’s license.  Quebec’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms protects trans.  If gender identity or expression are attacked, legal action is possible.

Wright raised the problem of a young person coming out to parents.  This may be particularly difficult in the case of parents with particular religious orientations.  In such a situation, it might be best to come out with the help of someone respected by the parents or someone of authority.

The time available for the workshop could not cover everything.  The term trans is in reality very broad.  We know a man married to a female minister.  He cross-dresses from time to time, and when he shows up at church in a dress he takes woman’s name.  As far as we know, he is otherwise heterosexual. 

What can we do to be allies of sexual minorities? First, we can have zero tolerance for offensive language.  Then, we can set up situations in which people have positive experiences with someone of the minority.  We think of another church example.

A young summer minister was gay.  Most of the congregation was not aware of that fact.  He made a very positive impression and was well liked.  At that time the congregation was in the process of finding a new minister.  As part of the process, a questionnaire was distributed to determine what kind of person would be wanted.  One question was about hiring a gay person. Around 30% expressed discomfort with the idea.  On the summer minister’s last sermon, he came out to the congregation, with his hands sweating.  He pointedly asked what the 30% thought of him. Many years later, that congregation chose a gay man as their minister.

Guest speakers can be brought in by workplaces, schools, and community groups to promote acceptance.  A rainbow flag tells sexual minorities that they have found a safe place. Aylmer’s Provigo has rainbow stickers on the two outer doors, with English on one and French on the other announcing that all are welcome.

So what does LGBTQIA2S+ mean?  Wright never told us explicitly.  LGBT is rather well-known. 
Q is for questioning. She told us about two-spirit. + is self-explanatory.  It leaves the door open to extending the alphabet soup.  But IA?  We are none the wiser.

A young lad’s Tarzan escapades

What you will read here are the adventures of a 12-year-old boy, circa 1952. These adventures really happened – this is not fiction. I knew the young lad very well as that fellow was myself. As you read about his escapades, contrast them with the life of a 12-year-old boy today.

Our house on Church Street in Buckingham fronted a property that stretched to a gravel road where the Rainbow Plastics Company plant was located. Formerly a war ammunition plant, it was converted to its new purpose during peacetime. The rolls of barbed wire remained atop the surrounding fence. The property stretched from the railway tracks uphill. We called it the Plant Hill.

At a stone’s throw from where this property ended stood several tall, majestic white pines. Although their branches started high up from the ground, I managed to maneuver my way to the uppermost branches, where I had a panoramic view of the rooftops in the south part of town. Collège St-Michel and the French Church stood out.

Upon descending, I noticed that my hands were very sticky from the pine sap. Soap and water wouldn’t remove it, so I resorted to some solvent that was in our garage. The panoramic view was so inviting that I climbed that same tree several times afterward.

Closer to our house was a clump of cedar trees. There, I would climb one of the tallest, reach out to grasp the top of a cedar about 8 feet tall and…’Aiaieeeooo,’ like Tarzan swing down to the ground. I became so adept at this that I’d sometimes release the first tree while grasping an adjacent one with the other hand. Upon landing, that ‘Aiaieeeooo’ echoed once more. It wasn’t Gaelic; it was the cry of the jungle – of Tarzan himself.

Beyond the majestic pines, near Dorchester Street, was a turtle-shaped knoll where we would slide in winter. The south side of that knoll was very steep with many loose rocks among the shrubbery. Beside that steep hill grew a tall deciduous tree with one lower branch stretching toward the hill.

This day, I was with a friend exploring the woods. Although I cannot say with certainty, I believe it was Ronnie Macdonald, who lived on Dorchester Street. We would regularly exchange comic books, many of which featured Tarzan.

Two Tarzans stood gazing upward at that tree. We had a lengthy rope, restlessness and bravado.

‘Why not throw the rope over that big branch and go for a swing?’

‘Why not?’ of course, and I thought, ‘Why not climb that steep slope, hold on to the rope and swing all the way from that height to the ground?’

‘Aiaieeeooo!’ Out I swung and ‘Ow-Ow-Ow!’ The branch broke, plummeting me to earth below.

Fortunately, the branch wasn’t completely torn from the tree. If it had landed on my head, I might have been long since gone from now.

I wanted to end this piece with a poem to summarize the Tarzan-like episodes, but ‘Aiaieeeooo’, despite the vowel sounds, wasn’t appealing. Therefore, to conclude, here is a little poem about yet another adventure, skipping flat stones across the water of the Lièvre River near the railway tracks at the Landing.

You skipped a stone across the water

One, two and three.

It sank down to the bottom

Stones have no buoyancy.

I skipped my stone across the water

One, two, three, four.

It, too, sank to the bottom

As your stone did before.

We skipped more rocks across the water

One, two and three.

They all sank to the bottom

But … not the memory.

A young lad’s Tarzan escapades

As we celebrate Spring’s arrival, I would like to share with you one of the things that have brought a realm of joy to my life.

Bliss Carman (1861-1929), who was born in Fredericton, New Brunswick, wrote a poem, Revelation, which includes the following three stanzas:
    Live in friendship with the seasons, and their skill will make thee whole.
    Take the bird's call and the brook's note for their tonic to   thy soul.
    Bathe in renaissance of morning, drink the solace twilight brings,
    Feed on beauty for thy welfare and the strength whence rapture springs;
    So thy living soul shall sense the meaning of the Wandering Word,
    And thy being know the secret that creation's morning heard.
   

Gary Dewar (1959 - ) arranged Carman’s poem, commissioned by the Nova Scotia Choral Federation, on the occasion of its 25th Anniversary. On April 30th, as the Atlantic Voices Choir celebrates its 20th Anniversary, this is one of the choral renditions that will be presented. This, as well as other songs, bring great joy to our hearts, as we hope we will bring joy to all who come to share our music.
   

Songs of Home, with words and music by Cape Breton’s Allistair McGillivray, is another song chosen from our repertoire. Here is the first verse and chorus of that song:
    Where are those with eyes of fire who would
    chase elusive dreams?
    On they go where highways lead and won’t
    turn back
    As the sun goes down to rest, what sustains
    them in their quest?
    Thoughts of those they love the best – And songs
    of home.
    Songs of home in living rooms and bars,
    Songs of home on fiddles and guitars.
    Off you go the music gives you wings,
    And there’s peace in what the mem’ry brings.

Our concert will also include a Gaelic song. Though we were challenged, we are well prepared to sing Am dam doribhi. Here is verse three of that song:
    
    ’Nd ’fhuair iad ’n’ Stiubh-art-ach?’
    ’Nd ’fhuairiade dé ná chinn-each?
    ’Nd ’fhuairiad ’n’ Stiubh-art-ach?’
    Gill-ean’ bhail’ og-ainnfheini.


Translation:
    Did they get the Stewart man? Did they 
        get him from the clan?
    Did they get the Stewart man, the lads of
        our own village?

    More familiar with most of us are the lyrics of Acadie de nos coeurs:
    
    Séparés par la mer pendant les
            années tristes,
    Dispersés à travers on n’avait pas eu 
            l’choix d’partir. 

    C’est l’temps pour se revoir    
    Chanter danser ensemble où ça tout
            commencer        
    Presque quatre cents ans passés.

 When in 1755, the French-speaking inhabitants of Nova Scotia refused to sign an oath of allegiance to Britain, they were ordered deported. The Expulsion of the Acadians, or the Great Deportation, lasted until July 11, 1764.

    The Isle of Skye is the largest island in the Inner Hebrides archipelago that lies off the west coast of Scotland. The Skye Boat Song conjures up something of the windswept and romantic landscapes of rocky shores and green pastures and of the ever-changing weather from the Atlantic Ocean.  The “lad that’s born to be king” is ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’:

    Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing!
    “Onward!” the sailors cry
    Carry the lad that's born to be king
    Over the sea to Skye
    Loud the winds howl,
    Loud the waves roar,
    Thunder clouds rend the air
    Baffled our foes stand on the shore,
    Follow they will not dare
    Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing
    Over the sea to Skye.

    The Spanish Fisherman is a ballad containing four lines.  Its words are by Robbie Smith:

    Ah but Celinda waits for him
    Waiting to soothe his rope-burned hands
    And the lonely’s worth the living
    When the sea meets with the land.

The late Stan Rogers, before his untimely death in an airplane accident, wrote most of his songs about Nova Scotia. He had begun writing about his native Ontario as well. Included in the 20th Anniversary are two of these songs: The Field behind the Plow and MacDonnell on the Heights.
    
MacDonnell on the Heights, a portion of the Niagara Escarpment, occurred in 1812 when American soldiers succeeded in surrounding Major-General Sir Isaac Brock’s British soldiers at the Heights. Brock was killed in the battle and is eulogized by his troops, who eventually succeeded in defending the land of Upper Canada.

    As Stan Rogers notes in his song:
    
    [Verse 1]
    Too thin the line that charged the Heights
    And scrambled in the clay
    Too thin the Eastern Township Scot
    Who showed them all the way
    And perhaps had you not fallen
    You might be what Brock became

    [Refrain]
    But not one in ten thousand knows your name
    
    [Verse 2]
    To say the name, MacDonnell
    It would bring no bugle call
    But the Redcoats stayed beside you
    When they saw the General fall
    ‘Twas MacDonnell raised the banner then
    And set the Heights aflame

    [Refrain]
    But not one in ten thousand knows your name

Direly needed: A Derecho of Pivotal Change

Katharine Fletcher

The strong winds that devastated much of the National Capital Region, including parts of the Outaouais, was a meteorological phenomenon called a derecho. It swept from Michigan into Canada last Saturday and at time of writing (May 30th), 36,000 Ottawans remain without power.

Environment and Climate Change Canada’s Senior Climatologist David Phillips explained derechos:

“It’s sort of like a microburst or a thunderstorm … This storm [extended] almost 1,000 kilometres from Michigan to Maine as it went across Ontario and Quebec.

That’s what a derecho is, it’s a long line of very active thunderstorms or microburst situations. Nothing can deter it. It just marches along.” (bit.ly/3zax946)

North of Quyon, we were without power for three days. This was nothing in comparison to what others of you suffered… Yes, we have a generator – and it’s gasoline-powered. I paused often to reflect: generators are hardly a climate-change positive solution…

Implications of a derecho’s power

EVs (Electric Vehicles).

I have thought a lot about EVs. How would EV owners cope with sustained power outages? The prospect of increased power outages makes me realize that we need to be more self-sufficient. We’ll be investigating battery banks which can save power captured by solar panels.

Challenge? Battery banks are expensive. And so far, there isn’t an EV car model comparable to our eleven-year-old Toyota RAV 4 which features excellent clearance for all the backroad driving we do here at home in the Pontiac. Yes, we could possibly get an EV truck, but that’d overkill for our daily needs.

Many people want EVs and are transitioning to them. However, the wait for one may be 3 years, according to an EV dealer interviewed recently on CBC radio.

Pivot points

Other reflections include these: forest fires, floods, pestilence (Covid, Monkey Pox and what’s next?), derechos and tornadoes will be increasingly common with Climate Change. Although such phenomena can spawn pivotal changes, the status quo remains woefully entrenched.

Can we as Canadian society change to more sustainable lifestyles and industrial practices?

Clearcut solutions?

I reflect upon the #1 issue for Canadians – politicians tell us it’s the housing shortage. (I think it’s Climate Change…)

So, what now?

More agricultural land will be paved over for highways and housing developments. To build these, just as a Pontiac-based for instance which affects our natural world, both concrete and lawns are must-haves. Say goodbye to more farmland, see more forests clearcut as needs for sand, gravel and grass increase.

(Meanwhile, I hear the Ovenbird’s song. He’s just migrated back to his breeding grounds here in the Municipality of Pontiac. He’s flown all the way from Mexico and South America, fyi. He’s calling for a mate in a doomed patch of forest that awaits clearcutting for a sandpit. My heart cries.)

So my reflection continues: we need to eat and house ourselves. And yes, we need jobs. And yes again, jobs here in the Pontiac are hard come-by and employers are seeking to find (and keep) good workers. Understood.

But look at status quo’s trickle-down effect: clearcutting woodlands for sandpits. Sand is trucked and transformed (with other inputs) into concrete. Clearcutting woodlands for grass. Sod is laid down for people’s lawns. Then, everyone buys a gas-powered lawnmower and cuts their patch of lawn in the new, non-energy-efficient housing development.

We need a windstorm of change.

Greta Thunberg said: “Blah, blah, blah” to hearing international politicians and CEOS vowing to fight climate change.

When will politicians (and the CEOs who are receiving derecho-style escalations in salaries thanks to Covid) actually pivot the status quo to a greener future?

Now, THAT’s a derecho to embrace.

Katharine Fletcher is an author, freelance writer and visual artist.
Contact her at fletcher.katharine@gmail.com

Groundbreaking report outlines Canada’s quick path to clean power

David Suzuki

Canada could be a clean electricity powerhouse by 2035 — without building more large hydro dams or relying on expensive and sometimes unproven and dangerous technologies like nuclear or fossil gas with carbon capture and storage.

New David Suzuki Foundation modelling research — the first of its kind in Canada — finds we could affordably and quickly shift from fossil fuels to reliable 100 per cent emissions-free electricity using mainly wind and solar, existing hydro, energy efficiency, batteries and other energy storage technologies and grid improvements, including connecting grids between provinces. The transition would help Canada achieve its global climate commitments, create tens of thousands of new jobs and meet the growing demand for electricity.

Not only is this possible, the study notes that the underlying analysis was cautious: “The modelling did not consider a range of additional technologies and approaches, such as demand response, distributed renewables and emerging storage technologies that are likely to lead to increased efficiencies and further reductions in costs when moving to a zero-emissions electricity system.”

It did, however, account for increased demand from extensive electrification in transportation, buildings and industry as fossil fuels are swapped out.

The report, “Shifting Power: Zero-Emissions Electricity Across Canada by 2035,” shows that the country is already in a good position, “with favourable wind and solar resources, a mature renewable electricity industry and momentum toward an emissions-free electricity system.” Alberta and Saskatchewan, in particular, have abundant wind and solar resources and opportunities to become renewable energy superpowers.

Between 2025 and 2050, the ambitious shift to clean electricity would also create at least 75,000 jobs a year in construction, operation and maintenance of new wind, solar and transmission lines alone — far more if wind turbines and solar panels were manufactured in Canada, and if induced jobs supported by the broader electricity sector are included.

Reliable renewable energy deployment at the scale the report outlined has been proven possible by other countries that have stepped up their efforts, partly in response to the accelerating climate crisis but also to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, which has put a glaring spotlight on the geopolitical ramifications of fossil fuel dependency.

For example, the report notes Germany had installed 28,000 onshore wind turbines by early 2022, reaching a total wind capacity of about 56 gigawatts, and expects to add 10 GW of wind annually by 2025 — equivalent to the deployment rate in scenarios the report evaluated. The European Union was expected to add 300,000 megawatts of renewable electricity between 2021 and 2026, but released an even more ambitious plan in light of Russia’s invasion.

Because all energy projects are located on Indigenous lands, the Foundation commissioned a companion study by Neegan Burnside and Dean Jacobs, “Decarbonizing Electricity and Decolonizing Power: Voices, Insights and Priorities from Indigenous Clean Energy Leaders,” which sets out six principles for upholding Indigenous rights and ensuring Indigenous communities benefit from a transition to emissions-free electricity. These are included in the main report’s recommendations.

There’s no excuse to delay, to continue building fossil fuel infrastructure and burning polluting, climate-altering fuels. We’re already seeing increasing heat domes, floods, droughts, water shortages, refugees fleeing inhospitable climates, decimation and extinction of plants and animals — and all will rapidly worsen if we don’t change course now.

It’s appalling that governments feel compelled to compromise with those who argue we need to build more pipelines, dig up more bitumen, frack more landscapes and burn more coal, oil and gas, all for the sake of short-term, illusory economic gain. The costs of failing to act will be far greater than acting now. Scientists have been warning for decades that it’s time to change. Meanwhile, the most profitable industry in history and its supporters keep saying we can’t shift overnight, while sowing doubt about the science, lobbying behind closed doors and continuing to expand.

The choice is clear. The solutions are here. All that stands in the way is a cowardly lack of political will and a widespread belief that current “growth” economics and industry profits are more important than our own future and survival.

The benefits of shifting to reliable energy efficiency, cleaner sources and more interconnected systems are obvious, from reduced pollution and improved health to better employment opportunities and more stable economies. Let’s get on with it!

David Suzuki is a scientist, broadcaster, author and co-founder of the David Suzuki Foundation. Written with contributions from David Suzuki Foundation Senior Writer and Editor Ian Hanington.

Learn more at davidsuzuki.org.

Website links

Clean Power Pathways:

https://davidsuzuki.org/science-learning-centre-article/shifting-power-zero-emissions-electricity-across-canada-by-2035/

Decarbonizing Electricity and Decolonizing Power: Voices, Insights and Priorities from Indigenous Clean Energy Leaders:

https://davidsuzuki.org/science-learning-centre-article/decarbonizing-electricity-and-decolonizing-power-voices-insights-and-priorities-from-indigenous-clean-energy-leaders/

Continuing to expand:

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/ng-interactive/2022/may/11/fossil-fuel-carbon-bombs-climate-breakdown-oil-gas

Coping with ADHD: Connexions Resource Centre workshop

Reuel S. Amdur

Connexions Resource Centre held a Zoom parents’ night on “Living with ADHD” on February 3.  That’s attention deficit hyperactive disorder.  The presenter, Sophie Hélène Matte, currently an M.Sc. candidate, is, not only a person able to explain the condition, but also one who has it.

Matte explained that the condition is due to a difference in the brain in those who have it as compared to others. Someone who has ADHD is neurodivergent, while the rest of us are neurotypical.  The difference is seen the executive function, that is, how a brain handles working memory, flexible thinking, and self-control.  Working memory is the memory available for immediate needs, unlike long-term memory.

The executive function is affected by brain orientation.  Where the neurotypical brain looks to calmness, following priorities, and following external needs, the ADHD brain deals with emergencies, follows interests (especially immediate interests), and seeks novelty.  

Matte herself is an example of how ADHD can be positive.   She has been able to shift her interests into a variety of different career paths.  She has shifting interests and has pursued the novel.

She gave some examples of useful techniques in helping a youngster with ADHD:

• Validate the child. Don’t tell a child he or she should not feel a particular way.  Rather, “I can see that you are angry (or frustrated, confused, etc.).”
• Give help with timing.  The neurodiverse brain does not handle timing well, tending to procrastinate.  A clock can be a useful tool. 
  
• Give “brain breaks.”  Instead of simply carrying a task through to completion, provide breaks, for example, taking a run or having a snack.
• Break tasks into smaller tasks.
• Shift negative thinking.  “I can’t do it” might be refocused.  “You can’t do it yet.”
• Identify the condition.  You are angry, confused, overwhelmed, etc.  Emojis may be useful.

In the past, experts distinguished between ADD (attention deficit disorder) and ADHD.  ADD was seen as lacking the hyperactive component.  But, as Matte pointed out, the hyperactivity may to at least some extent describe what is taking place internally, in the brain.  What she calls “hot” and “cool” executive functioning seems rather reminiscent of the old ADD/ADHD difference.  Between the sexes, boys seem more likely to be “hot” and girls “cool”. Many have both characteristics.

One does not outgrow ADHD.  People can, however, learn to cope better.  Take focusing, for example.  The person with ADHD may well have a problem focusing.  This is not a total absence, as focus is on and off.  However, a person may develop hyperfocus.

Because there is a strong hereditary element in ADHD, it is not surprising that a number of the parents participating in the Connexions session self-identified as having ADHD.  

Survey Shows Quebec Intolerance

Reuel S. Amdur

Emory Bogardus was a prominent American sociologist.  One of his productions was the Bogardus Social Distance Scale, an instrument to measure attitudes toward other groups--people of different race, religion, or nationality, for example.  Largely based on that scale, Angus Reid carried out a survey comparing attitudes of Quebeckers and the rest of Canadians (ROC) toward people of different religions.  While the survey generally talks about attitudes toward religions, it would be more to the point to talk about attitudes toward members of the religions, and the results should be seen with that in mind.  Results of the survey were released on March 13. 

Angus Reid found that while 39% had a negative attitude toward Islam (again, note that is toward Muslims), the figure for Quebeckers was 52%.  Provincially, Quebec was highest.  Similar disparities were found in attitudes toward wearing religious symbols such as hijabs, kippas, and turbans.  Turning to Jews, 32% of Quebeckers were averse, as against 16% for ROC.  Quebec was the province that was most negative.   

Anti-Muslim prejudice becomes noteworthy with the arrival of Muslim immigrants, beginning in the 1990’s.  Before that, Jews were the main targets of prejudice and discrimination, in education and in employment.  Influential Abbé Lionel Groulx called for a boycott of Jewish businesses.

An anomaly in the results is the high percentage with a negative view of Christianity, 37%.  This surprising result may be a symptom of the revolt of Quebeckers against the influence of the Catholic Church. Yet, 47% had a positive view.  The extent of the negative attitude confirms the viewpoint that the survey would have better been addressed to adherents rather than religions, that is, Christians rather than Christianity.

Respondents were asked what they would think if their province had a law such as Quebec’s Bill 21, which forbids the wearing of religious symbols at work by certain public employees, including teachers, police, and judges.  While 35% of Quebeckers opposed such a law, 65% of other Canadians did so. 

Recently, Trudeau appointed Almira Elghawaby as special representative to fight Islamophobia, an appointment attacked by Quebec politicians because she had linked Islamophobia to Bill 21.  The survey found that in Quebec, “those who are most unfavourable to Islam are overwhelmingly in favour of Bill 21.”  

Then there were more personal questions.  How about working side-by-side with Muslims?  65% of Quebec respondents were accepting of that, versus 84% of other Canadians.  While 67% of other Canadians were comfortable having a mosque in their neighbourhood, only 53% of Quebeckers were.  Even more personally, consider how people would feel if one of their children married a Muslim.  52% of other Canadians could accept that, but only 38% of the Quebec respondents. 

Quebec Premier François Legault frequently reiterates that Quebec is tolerant and that Bill 21 is designed to maintain religious neutrality in the public sphere.  Two days after the release of the Angus Reid poll, the Quebec National Assembly unanimously passed a resolution declaring that Quebec is among the most open and accepting “nations” in the world and denying any suggestion of racism.  It committed to fight racism in all its forms. 

In 2007, the village of Hérouxville adopted a code of conduct for newcomers.  Except for Halloween, no face coverings.  Burning women alive was forbidden.  And so on.  The code of conduct had such wide appeal that then-Premier Jean Charest strove to deflect the prospect that other towns and villages might act in like fashion, so that he appointed a commission on reasonable accommodations.    

Not only are Legault and the National Assembly simply factually incorrect about prejudice in Quebec, their denial of reality is counterproductive.  Bill 21 is both a reflection of the prejudice and a reinforcer of it.  If the Quebec government really wants the province to be open and accepting, it needs to face the reality of the situation and take measures both to change the culture and the government’s behaviour in perpetuating it.

The following is adapted from the prologue to the 25th anniversary edition of The Sacred Balance: Rediscovering Our Place in Nature (Greystone Books), released in December.

David Suzuki

As host of the long-running television series The Nature of Things, I learned of the battle over clearcut logging on Haida Gwaii, off the coast of British Columbia, in the 1970s. For thousands of years, the islands have been home to the Haida. Forest companies had been denuding much of the islands by clearcut logging, which had generated growing opposition.

In the early 1980s, I flew to Haida Gwaii to interview loggers, forestry officials, government bureaucrats, environmentalists and Indigenous people. One of the people I interviewed was a young Haida artist named Guujaaw who had led the opposition to logging for years.

Unemployment was high in Haida communities, and logging generated desperately needed jobs. So I asked Guujaaw why he opposed the logging. He answered, “Our people have determined that Windy Bay and other areas must be left in their natural condition so that we can keep our identity and pass it on to following generations. The forests, those oceans, are what keep us as Haida people today.”

When I asked him what would happen if the logging continued and the trees were cleared, he answered simply, “If they’re logged off, we’ll probably end up the same as everyone else, I guess.”

It was a simple statement whose implications escaped me at the time. But on reflection, I realized that he had given me a glimpse into a profoundly different way of seeing the world. Guujaaw’s statement suggested that for his people, the trees, the birds, the fish, the water and wind are all parts of Haida identity.

Ever since that interview, I have been a student learning from encounters with Indigenous Peoples in many parts of the world. From Japan to Australia, Papua New Guinea, Borneo, the Kalahari, the Amazon and the Arctic, Indigenous people have expressed to me that vital need to be connected to the land. They refer to Earth as their Mother, who they say gives birth to us. Moreover, skin enfolds our bodies but does not define our limits because water, gases and heat dissipating from our bodies radiate outward, joining us to the world around us. What I have learned is a perspective that we are an inseparable part of a community of organisms that are our kin.

With this realization, I also saw that environmentalists like me had been framing the issue improperly. There is no environment “out there” that is separate from us. We can’t manage our impact on the environment if we are our surroundings. Indigenous people are absolutely correct: we are born of the Earth and constructed from the four sacred elements of earth, air, fire and water. (Hindus add a fifth element, space.)

Once I had finally understood the truth of these ancient wisdoms, I also realized that we are intimately fused to our surroundings and the notion of separateness or isolation is an illusion. Through reading I came to understand that science reaffirms the profundity of these ancient truths over and over again.

We are no more removed from nature than any other creature, even in the midst of a large city. Our animal nature dictates our essential needs: clean air, clean water, clean soil, clean energy. This led me to another insight, that these four “sacred elements” are created, cleansed and renewed by the web of life itself. If there is to be a fifth sacred element, it is biodiversity itself. And whatever we do to these elements, we do directly to ourselves.

At the most basic level, we require the five sacred elements to live rich, full lives. But when those basic necessities are met, a new set of needs arises. We are social animals, and the most profound force shaping our humanity is love. And when that vital social requirement is fulfilled, then a new level of spiritual needs arises as an urgent priority. This is how I made the fundamental re-examination of our relationship with Earth that led to The Sacred Balance.

The challenge of this millennium is to recognize what we need to live rich, rewarding lives without undermining the very elements that ensure them.

50,000 Immigrants

 Reuel S. Amdur

Reflections on Growing Older

We, who have reached our Golden Years, do reflect upon where we have been that has brought us to where we are today. We are increasingly aware that the lengthening shadows of our yesterdays have long since eclipsed our tomorrows. Knowing that we can never go back to right the wrongs, we continue forward on life’s journey. Hopefully, we discovered that love, acceptance, and forgiveness supersede hate, rejection and revenge.

Throughout our lives we have experienced successes and failures. Achievements that once puffed up our egos were mere delusions of grandeur. Failures that brought us to our knees were just bumps along the way. We recall the words of Rudyard Kipling’s poem,

If:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

We also remember those who guided us through our formative years; our grandparents, our parents and caregivers, our siblings, our aunts and our uncles and our cousins. How often we summon to mind their faces as well as the faces of friends and acquaintances we made throughout our lives. Every one of them has left their legacy shaping who we have become. We loved them then as we do now. Many have already made their final journey as we will one day also.

We think of our own families, who, along with our partner(s) we have raised. We love our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren as they now return that affection and care for us. Like us, they will have their moments in the sunshine as well as those days when the sun never shines at all upon their lives. They, too, will come to appreciate the interconnectedness of all; that the journey becomes easier when we draw others within our own circle rather than to shut them out.

Meditating on an afterlife becomes more prominent as we grow older. We search out our own destiny in our own way.

Some say that we have no way of knowing if there is an afterlife, that we will only know the answer after we have passed through this life.

Atheists, who say that there is no god, say that before we were born, we did not exist. Appropriately, when we die, we become nonexistent once more. Cognizant of their common humanity, atheists therefore help their fellow human beings through their love and compassion here and now. This is the reward that is felt in the here and now, not in an afterlife.

Some, unable to understand God, describe God as a male figure, depicted with a white beard who resides in a place called heaven. When we die, we pass on to that paradise setting where we are united with our loved ones.

According to the teaching of the Catholic Church:

“There is one true living God, Creator and Lord of Heaven and Earth, almighty, eternal, immeasurable, incomprehensible, infinite in will, understanding and perfection.”

Obviously, this cannot be proven through the scientific method.

Further:

“Since God creates everything, out of nothing he can also, through the Holy Spirit, give spiritual life to sinners by creating a pure heart in them and bodily life to the dead through the Resurrection.”

These are but brief reflections upon turning eighty-one. There is one thing in my life experience to which I can attest with my own certainty. Happiness and peace of mind come through loving our fellow beings, accepting them as they are, and forgiving them as they forgive us. None of us is all-knowing. None of us is perfect. Enjoy life’s precious gifts; celebrate every day, because our existence here is only temporary.

The sounds they are a-changing

Freedom Convoy? Freedom Fighters? Rolling Thunder? Good grief, where is all this leading us to?  Protests against lockdowns, against vaccinations for Covid-19, against all tyrannical bills of legislation and all government mandates? Wave your Canadian flag, rev up your engines, honk your horns and write obscenities directed at our Prime Minister and – oh, yes, make lots and lots of noise.

Noise? Are there any among us who truly love noise? After all, long periods of exposure to elevated noise levels cause tinnitus or hearing loss.  Elevated noise over 85 decibels (dB) is harmful. A busy downtown intersection typically registers 80 dB.  A power lawnmower or snow blower’s range is 90 dB. Subway trains are in the 90-115 dB range.  Loud rock concerts range between 110-120 dB.

At sports events, in those cavernous buildings, noise is encouraged. If there is a lull in the action, we are treated to pumped up music and visually directed to make some noise. There is loud noise emanating from construction sites, although that is of necessity. However, within the confines of a vehicle, do we need boom-boxes blaring chest-thumping percussion sounds that blast a neighbourhood’s peace?  And, oh yes, do we really need that ambient music of 80+ dB that raises our voices as we compete to have our conversation heard at restaurants?

End of rant.  Now, will you join me on a journey to another time and place, a place where I grew up, a place that has changed and will never again be the same? First, however, let us concede that many, if not most, of the changes were beneficial. Unnecessary loud noise is not one of them.

Open the door and stroll into a brand-new house. Hear every footstep, listen to the echo of your voice and you will understand the meaning of silence. Rugs on the floor, furniture and window drapes dampen the ambience.

Within my memory is the sound of Dufferin Falls that soothed you to sleep at night. The regular falling of logs from the sluice forming those high pyramids also had a soothing effect. With the first morning light came the rooster’s crow. Thus began each new day.

Buckingham, in the early 40’s and 50’s, was also known for its sirens and ringing of church bells. At 8:45 PM, a siren told us that we had to be off the streets and into our dwellings. Being on the street after dark was no place for children. Firefighters were paid volunteers who were summoned to a fire by the sounding of a siren. The number of sirens directed the firefighters towards whichever of the four wards of the towns needed them. Frequently, we ran or biked in that direction ourselves.

The galloping sound of horses’ hooves on pavement, or gravel, meant the arrival of Moise Gauthier’s delivery of meat for your table. A slower clumping sound clearly revealed that Eddy Corrigan’s bottled milk was at your door.

The Angelus bell rang at noon – and still does – from the steeple of St-Grégoire-de-Naziance Church. Recorded chimes of hymn music emanated from St. Andrew’s United Church.

Occasionally, you might hear the blast of a rifle as a nearby resident dispatched a weasel menacing the chicken coop.  If you lived near the town boundaries, you heard the mooing of cattle. Some of these would occasionally end up near your backyard when fences were broken.

It was indeed a peaceful sort of life but for the bell that summoned you to class five days a week. The bell that rang towards the end of June was the sweetest sound of all. Free at last for a whole summer of picking berries, fishing, playing with our friends, and, even sometimes, getting into trouble with our misadventures. Those were the times that your parents might impound your bicycle or, worse still, confine you to quarters. There was nobody to bail you out.

Spring in West Quebec

It happened on May 16, 2022

Excuse me ... I'd like to side-step the "important" stuff and just discuss the real stuff.  Important stuff certainly is important: the Ukraine,  Roe / Wade,  today's assaults on the safeguards of democracy, and all the rights and obligations of people, corporations and nations. Some of this will be gone next week, others will become watermarks of our age.

The important stuff, on the other hand, will probably never, ever, become symbols of an age or a civilization or a good winter holiday.  But it is the very stuff that surrounds us all (the readers of this newspaper, anyway), that seeps into our lives constantly, colours and perfumes the air and also rips the roofs off others' homes: Mother Nature.  She's at her finest right now, while we still remember the feel of Old Man Winter's boot on our backside. Last weekend, while I watched, the big old maples, birch and spruce around us herein West Quebec went from bare branches with tight little buds to full-leaf glory: three days of plus-30 degree weather did it.

The activity going around us during those three days was staggering. That it was also invisible is also staggering.  The gallons of water siphoned up those millions of tiny pipe-ways, flooding into the buds, squeezing into the leaves as they push open, the flower buds closer to the soil .... and then literally releasing millions of gallons of this tree-filtered water into the air all around us ... whew.

Meanwhile, down below, from lawns to our window flowerboxes, from gardens to hedges to pastures outside of town, off in every direction ... and just as all this foliage and blossom blooms upward and outward, like a huge umbrella opening (the lawns are on top) and drawing up inside, under the foliage-umbrella are our pals, the bugs. Zillions of them. They thrive in syncopation with the plants around them, while streams of birds zip through, feeding on those very insects ... what a madhouse banquet underway!

Birds each day deserve their own column ....  open the bedroom windows just a bit before dawn and drink in the unbelievably- choreographed bird song. All of it will be gone in a month.  This air will grow silent, as the thousands of birds get down to business raising their broods. Feeding, protecting.  

I understand that bird-brain complexity is much more impressive than we had ever considered. Structured differently than our own, than all mammals, bird-brains apparently have the capacity for much more than we have so smugly assumed. Their brain's nodes connect in multitudes of centres, points, while us mammals, plodding along, have their neural connections spread out, layered ... with more insulation, I assume.  Who knows what form of consciousness squeaks out of these differing brain structures?

Outside of town turtles are mechanically climbing the banks of ponds and roads, crows are balling up big wads of vine, like rope, for their nests, and groundhogs are remembering that if they wait right beside a road, sooner or later they'll get the rush of their lifetime as they try to race any oncoming cars to the other side.  Skunks don't plan like that; this is mating season and nothing beats that, not even racing cars ... 

All of this just out the window or in the back yard, across a park, out on a fencerow ... this Life in West Quebec!  It's OK to take a break from the Important Things, from the Ukraine, the pandemic, or the James Webb Space Telescope.  Reality is equally crucial in our lives, and it's all around us ... even if we don't live in the fast lanes of the word's biggest cities during the greatest threat to human existence, climate catastrophe -- no, not social media.  Pinch yourself, if you must. West Quebec .... nothing more real than that. Right now.

F.Ryan

Two Truces  

by Gwynne Dyer

Two weeks ago, the three biggest wars in the world were in Ukraine, Ethiopia and Yemen. Now truces have silenced the guns and the airstrikes in  two of the three. They are only temporary truces so far, but there is a reasonable chance that they could grow into something more permanent.

The Ethiopian government’s declaration of a ‘humanitarian truce’ on 24 March came as a surprise. Six months ago rebels advanced from their home province of Tigray more than halfway to the country’s capital, Addis Ababa, and Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed seemed on the brink of defeat.

The Tigrayans made an alliance with another separatist movement, the Oromo Liberation Army, and were close to linking up with them physically. The survival of Africa’s second biggest country seemed to be hanging by a thread, and the border wars if it broke up into ethnically defined successor states could have lasted for decades.

But the Tigrayans outran their supplies, Abiy Ahmed took delivery of some Turkish-made drones, and by the end of the year the front line had moved all the way back north to Tigray’s border. There the Ethiopian army stopped, aware that taking the rebel province by force could involve huge casualties on both sides and had no guarantee of success.

Tigray is landlocked, so an Ethiopian blockade on all food supplies from outside was the obvious option. By last month at least two million of Tigray’s seven million people were suffering an extreme lack of food, and practically everybody was hungry all the time.

If Tigray was ever to be persuaded to stay in Ethiopia, however, the blockade had to end before huge numbers starved to death. Abiy Ahmed understood that, but it’s still unlikely that he would declare a truce without some assurance from the Tigrayan leaders that they would respect it, and that real negotiations would follow.

The Tigrayan war has killed tens of thousands and displaced millions, but there is now a real possibility that the sixteen-month-old war could end in a negotiated peace that keeps Tigray at least formally within the Ethiopian state. That matters, because a successful Tigrayan secession would probably have triggered a cascade of other breakaway movements.

The war in Yemen is much older (seven years now) and much bloodier (400,000 deaths and counting). It is usually portrayed by the international media as a war between the ‘legitimate’ Yemeni government and ‘Houthi’ rebels, with a variety of Arab monarchies and dictatorships backing the government and Iran backing the rebels. None of that is true.

The Houthi are the militia of northern Yemeni tribes who rebelled when the Saudi-controlled regime tried to  cut them out of their share of the country’s limited oil revenues. (The oil is all in the south.) Iran sympathises because the Houthi tribes, like Iran, are Shia Muslims, but Tehran does not and cannot support them militarily.

The ‘legitimate’ government is a former Yemeni field marshal and politician called Abdrabbuh Mansur Hadi who was installed as interim president (without an election) for a two-year transitional period eleven years ago. He got the job by doing a deal with the Saudis, who always want an obedient placeman in power in the turbulent country to their south.

Hadi was merely seeking to secure his own position when he tried to deprive the Houthis of their share of oil revenues, because he is from the south himself. When they rebelled and took control of most of the country, he fled to Saudi Arabia, where he has spent the great majority of his time ever since.

The Saudis and their Gulf friends (with Western backing) have been bombing Yemen ever since, but their armies are mostly poorly motivated mercenaries so they don’t do well on the ground. The war has been a stalemate for years, and an almost complete blockade has brought most of the country close to famine. Most of those 400,000 deaths are from hunger.

So the two-month truce is a blessing, although so far it only allows fuel to come into the ports, not food. There is no principle at stake on either side, just squalid considerations of money and power, so in theory they should be able to make a lasting peace deal where everybody shares the (quite limited) wealth.

In practice, in Yemen, it’s never that simple, but Western backing for Saudi Arabia has dwindled since Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman went rogue (the Jamal Khashoggi murder, etc.) so everybody may now be ready to deal. Otherwise, why the truce?

If it works, there will still be a big and dangerous war in Ukraine, but two of the world’s three worst wars will be over. Compared to the long and bloody past, that’s not a bad record.

Gwynne Dyer’s new book is ‘The Shortest History of War’.