"Why do you do it?"

One of my colleagues noticed that I was favoring my left shoulder this morning (I have been for a week now, but who’s counting) and asked if it was “another judo thing”.  I had to honestly answer that yes, it was a direct result of competing in last weekend’s judo tournament.  They laughed and said that they hoped the medal was worth the pain.  It wasn’t, but not the way it sounds.

I get asked that question a fair amount lately.  As an older, very out of shape guy my return to the judo mats after almost 25 years absence has been full of challenges.  Not the least of which is that judo is not easy on the body.  Ask any judoka who has been practicing for any length of time, and they will regale you with stories of the dislocated or broken toes and fingers, cracked ribs, concussions, twisted (or worse) ankles… the list is endless.  It is to be expected – it is a martial art first and foremost, and a sport second.  Any continuous practitioner of a contact sport, whether it is football, soccer, rugby or judo will accumulate injuries over the years.  In my case, add in three decades of too much McDonald's and too little activity and you have a recipe for injury and pain.  So why do we do it?

The short answer is, I have no idea why others do it.  Maybe they are masochists, maybe they have pain tolerances higher than anyone I know. Maybe they are so caught up in the adrenaline that they pass off the pain.  Or maybe they have another reason, just like I do.

Judo is an individual sport, though its practitioners are still part of a larger team - being part of my dojo has given me a new social circle, one united by a common interest – no, a shared passion.  Even those who aren’t actively practicing judo are still caught up in the excitement of their kids or their partners.  And those who do practice not only cheer each other on, they support and train one another.  Any given night on the mats is full of people with more experience helping those with less (often to the frustration of our sensei).  And there are no secrets among us – if I ask any of my fellow students how they pulled off that amazing throw that sent me flying, they are happy to show me how and coach me until I get the basics down.  So that comradery is certainly part of it.

As a sport or martial art, judo is also physically demanding – most martial arts are the same.  You use muscle groups you don’t use in any other circumstances, and you are frequently giving far more effort in the three minutes of a match, or the hour and a half of training, then you ever thought was in you.  Great sensei (like all of the ones at my dojo) can push you even further.  An hour of judo training burns more calories than an hour of running or an hour of using an elliptical.  There are very few workouts as intense, so as a result over the last 15 months of training, I have started to return to a state of physical fitness that I haven’t had in a decade or more.  So that is also a part of it.

The sense of confidence that comes with challenging yourself, of knowing that you can rise to a challenge that seems insurmountable, is unbelievable. When you step on those mats, and on the other side is a black belt with ten times your skill and experience, you learn quickly that you have to put the inevitable doubts behind you, and give your best effort.  When you bow onto the mats for a tournament, with a few hundred people watching you, your sensei screaming instructions to you and your opponent doing everything they can to drive you into the mat with all their technique and power, you have to believe you can do it. You can rise above the anxiety and fear gnawing at your gut, rise above the ache in your shoulder and that you can succeed. That boost in confidence carries over to every other facet of your life, and that is an undeniable benefit.  But it’s still not the real reason I step on the mats.

The largest part, and the one that really makes it matter to me, is the way it makes me feel when I am on the mats.  Focus.  Determination.  Calm.  Those are feelings that are markedly lacking in my day to day life.

I live with chronic depression, a fact which astonishes many people who know me, but not those who live with me.  They have seen me unable to get out of bed for days.  They know that left to my own devices, I would crawl into a hole and pull it closed behind me.  I struggle daily to get to work, to keep up my smile, to fit in and some days, just to breathe.  The love and support of my partner holds me up when nothing else seems to.  Antidepressants help, in fact they are likely the reason I can function at all.  But even these only make a dent in the grey fog that I live in, a fog that follows me everywhere I go.  Except onto the mats.  It is my one place where, for whatever reason, I find a peace that is lacking elsewhere.  The one place where colours are bright and where I can breathe deeply and fully. Judo has given me back my life.  And that is why I do it.  That is why I have learned to love my bruises (judo “kisses”), my mat burns (judo “trophies”) and my broken toes (judo “badges”).

Those of us who are adrift, whether it is due to mental disability or just to the peculiarities of what we all call life often need an anchor to hold on to.  Some of us are extraordinarily lucky and we get to have multiple holds – our loved ones (friends and family alike), our passions, and maybe even our idiotic love of a thing that breaks us down, even while it keeps us together and builds us up, stronger than ever.

O Captain! My Captain!

I have idolized Robin Williams for years.  Since I first saw him as the irrepressible Mork from Ork, I have reveled in his zany antics and loved him from afar.  He was one of the rare comedians who was able to make me laugh despite anything happening in my life.  Even now, knowing that he is gone, I am smiling while I think of his performances.

He was not as recognized for his more serious work, though the Academy did give him an Oscar for his work in Good Will Hunting.  But it was here that the real depth of his acting abilities shone through.  Good Morning Vietnam, What Dreams May Come and The Fisher King are all fantastic movies, where we see a small glimpse into the other side of this zany man. 

Dead Poets Society is one of the most inspiring movies of all time.  His role as John Keating made me want to be a teacher when I saw it, and still makes me wish I had chosen that as my career.  To this day, the wisdom and hope that movie provided remains profound and on target – use your brain to think critically, don’t let life pass you by, find and never let go of your passions, carpe diem.

I have always rather immodestly felt that I was a lot like Robin.  No, I don’t pretend to be nearly as funny or smart as he was, but we seemed to have a lot of similarities.  Hell, even physically – we’re both short, hairy and heavyset guys.  But above that, we’re both recovering addicts - from the same drug of choice even (“Cocaine is god’s way of telling you you are making too much money”).  And we both struggle with depression. 

It’s the last part that is tearing me up right now.  Just like Robin, I have spent a large part of my life hiding my feelings and confusing people by being the joker and the funny guy.  I turned to cocaine and alcohol to self-medicate, and it worked… for a while.  It wasn’t until my son died that I was forced to take a long, hard look at my emotions.  It wasn’t until my behaviour started to affect my relationships with my other children that I sought medical help.  And like millions of people, I learned that my life-long battle just to stay alive was not my imagination – it was severe clinical depression.  And I finally started to look for solutions.

That’s when I learned the truth that no one wants to talk about, there is no solution. Nothing really works with depression, you can’t make it go away – it is a part of you.  A sly, dark little part that sits in the back of your brain with long, dull claws dug in and draping everything you do and think with a fog of pain.  You can smother that little fucker with the best prescription medication that money can buy. You can talk about him with trained professionals, and keep him at bay, feeling better most of the time.  Every day though, he waits.  He’s patient and he’ll live with you for the rest of your life.  He’s an insidious little prick and all he wants is to kill you.  And if you listen to him long enough, he will win.  Just like he did with Robin.

There is a significant stigma attached to clinical depression.  So many of us hide it, and hide it well, because we have heard the old mantras a thousand times:  “You’ll get over it”, “It’s just a bad day”, “Pull up your boots!”, “Put on your big girl panties!” and my all-time favorite “But you don’t seem depressed.”  We do pull up our boots and tie on our big girl panties.  That is how we get out of bed in the morning – though even that isn’t possible some days.  We don’t ever get over it and we certainly can’t just shake it off, any more than an epileptic can ‘get over’ their seizures – it is a chemical imbalance in the brain – a purely physical issue that causes these reactions.  Of course, it is hidden away, that little bastard is clever.  If we could point to the wheelchair or the crutch there would be no question that we were living with something that had tremendous impact on our lives.

If there is one thing positive to come out of Robin’s suicide, I hope it is this – that people will start to recognize that laughter can be just a mask and that emotional pain, the kind that drives our friends and family to such despair that the only way out is the peace of death, is real. 

O Captain! My Captain! Be at peace now.  And thank you for brightening our lives with your laugh and your smile.

What is in a Word?

We often hear people talking about how words have power.  How the way in which our thought processes, even our worldview, are shaped and molded by the words we use – the words we have available to us.

In my office we deal with word and word meanings all the time.  What one person calls another in the workplace, and the connotations that can be associated with the word or words used, can be the difference between a peaceful work environment and a poisoned one that drives people to do terrible things.  We all know the words I am talking about, though we never say them in polite company.  The “N-word”, the “F-word”, all manner of racial and ethnic hate rolled up into tiny little words.  And of course it isn’t always just races and ethnicities that are the targets of hateful words, classes, sexes, orientations, you name it, if there is a way to differentiate people based on some trivial or inane characteristic, someone, somewhere has invented a way to mock and ridicule those people.

It isn’t just linked to hateful words either.  We attach tremendous importance to words of our own.  My colleagues and I spent almost two years designing a new process for our office.  We created it, almost completely without managerial interference, and we’ve been using it to tremendous success for over a year now.  There is a great deal of pride in the halls of my office when we talk about it.  But… there’s always a but, isn’t there?  We were recently asked to change the name of the process.  Not how we administer it.  Not where, when, what or how we do it, just its name.  The level of defensiveness that has sprung up, over the name of it alone, took me quite by surprise.  After all, they are just words, right?

Right?

The truth is, they aren’t just words.  Words embody our sense of identity.  They give us the framework by which we communicate our sense of justice, our hopes and fears, our prayers and our condemnations.  They define who and what we are.  And when some of these words are used against us, or against those we stand with, they can hurt.

The other day, while walking with my youngest son (now aged four), I was moping my sweating and bald head with a handkerchief.  It happened to be a rainbow handkerchief, a holdover from proudly walking in Halifax’s Pride Parade last year.  I hadn’t given any thought it when I grabbed it from among the others in my drawer, to me it was just a way of keeping the sweat from running down by brow and into my eyes – shaving your head in the summer has a few unintended consequences!

As my son and I walked, sweating, down the path, a young man passing us looked at me with a great deal of disdain and snarled “Fucking faggot” as he passed us.  For a moment, I had no idea where it had even come from, until I realized he had been staring at the handkerchief.  When that realization hit, I was momentarily stunned – it certainly wasn’t the first time someone has assumed I am gay, likely won’t be the last – but what stunned me was the hate in his voice.  This was a complete stranger, someone I had never seen before, and likely will never see again.  And he hated me, for what he thought I was.

I was enraged. Not at what he had called me, because even if it were true I don’t attach any judgement to that and no doubt also because, as a mostly straight person, I don’t have a history with that word being used against me as a weapon.  I was enraged because he saw fit to let that hate show, in front of my four year old son.  My boys are being raised to understand and accept all difference – to acknowledge the truth that we are all human beings, and our differences, as much as our similarities, make us unique, cherished and worthy of basic dignity and respect.  It was fortunate for him that I did have my son with me though, as my first instinct (which I have not felt in a very long time) was to react in a physical manner.

Instead, I reigned in my anger, smiled at him and said “Thank you!” and kept walking.  But I am still fuming over it.

It is not the first time I have been the subject of stereotyping, and won’t be the last.  As a privileged, white (pink really), (over) educated, young(ish), straight (mostly) and able bodied male, it is very rare for me to be the target of an “ism” but it has happened, and no doubt will happen again.  But that hate, that level or disdain - that was new.  Even when I have been (in my misspent youth) beaten up for being the wrong [fill in the blank] - I never felt the level of hate in those actions that this young man held for me on the basis of a brightly colored handkerchief.

Ironically, when these things happen to me, all they do is strengthen my resolve to continue the work I do.  As long as there are bigots out there who hate for no real reason, as long as the insanity that is racism/classism/sexism/etc. exists, I will fight it.  In big ways (my career) and in more important ways (teaching my kids) I will continue to do what is right.

So I hear your hateful word good sir.  I hear your “faggot” and I counter you with “hope”.  Because that word, that idea, is more powerful than your hate will ever be.  It will sustain and nurture a generation raised to know that differences are powerful and that diversity is magnificent.  It will light the way forward, while you and your ideas will cower in dark places and wither. 

Old, White, Christian Men

Yesterday I took my boys out for the afternoon to visit the Nova Scotia Museum of Natural History, one of three “education-type” places that we hold memberships at.  Don’t tell my kids, but the places they love to visit are the same ones that I want them to go to – they’ll learn more if they think they are having fun!  But before we could begin our day of fun at the museum (snakes and lizards and scorpions oh my!) we had to fuel up.  So we stopped at McDonalds for a bite to eat. 

As we sat, munching our way through the communal pile of tasty french fries (we always just pile all our fries together and share them all), I could not help but overhear the conversation between two older gentlemen.  They started off their conversation talking about the “ladies auxiliary"  at their church, and went on at length about how things were going in the church.  They veered to hockey and football for a time, before one of them pushed the newspaper across the table to his friend, with a gruff “You seen this yet?”  What follows is their conversation, not quite verbatim, but close.

“Nah, what’s it about?”

“New premier of Ontario is a woman.  And she’s gay.”

“Damn.  Pretty soon, we’re going to be the minority around here.”

At this point, I was almost set to interject into their conversation.  That statement, coming from the mouths of able bodied, straight, educated, white males always gets my goat.  But I bit down on another fry and tried to mind my own business.  Partly because I was having a great time with my boys and didn't want to ruin it, but partly because I just did not have the energy to engage in that debate all over again. Either way,  I am damned glad I did keep my mouth chewing instead of talking...

“Maybe that’s a good thing.  We had our chance, and we really screwed things up.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  Time to give the lesbians a chance.”

“Yup.  Don’t understand what everyone is so upset about – it’s just about giving everyone the same equality.”

“Exactly.  People get too worked up about stuff that shouldn’t matter to them.  Hey, you heard that Mike’s kid is going to school…”

I nearly hugged them.  It reminded me of my own prejudices; based on their chatting about their church, their patterns of speech and their age, I had already put them in the “old white Christian bigot” category – a form of discrimination all its own.  It reminded me that we all need to revisit our stereotyping constantly – we all do it, and it’s not a bad thing in and of itself, so long as it doesn’t lead to value judgements.

So to all you old white Christian males out there, I’m sorry for sticking you in a box.  I promise to try and remember that you aren’t all the same, and that many (most) of you are good and decent people, who care about people and their human rights just as much (and often more) as me and my young, atheist, “liberal” friends.  We have a lot more in common than we think, and we have to remember that from time to time.

Critical Thinking & Kony 2012

It never ceases to amaze me that in this day in age, with access to the vast amount of information we have available via the phones in our pockets, let alone the computers on our desks, that people seem to be incapable of checking into things they hear / read, and instead react much as they have for the last two thousand years – by grabbing their pitchforks and torches and storming the castle when they hear something they don’t like.

Seriously people, the sheer amount of information available via a high speed internet connection is staggering.  If you feel righteous indignation about something, you can make sure, in about twenty minutes, that you are enraged by the right thing, or that your ire is not misplaced.  A few clicks, some reading, and viola, you’re educated.

The recent success of the Kony 2012 movement is amazing to behold.  The video they created (they being Invisible Children Inc., a San Diego based not-for-profit) has been viewed thirty two million times between Vimeo and YouTube alone.  It has been forwarded on Facebook, Tweeted about and is the subject of everyday conversations around dinner tables and in schools as we speak.  That’s an amazing feat for any organization, and the fact that it’s an organization that is trying to do some good makes it even better.

When I watched the video the first time (I’ve watched it three times now, but more on that later) my first instinct was exactly what the producers of the film were aiming for – I wanted to help.  But my skeptical and cynical side reared its ugly head, so I did a bit of digging.  I checked the net for more information on Kony in general (and no, not just the Wikipedia article, though it is actually pretty good).  I learned that he was, in fact, doing precisely what they allege – he’s leading a ragtag army (opinions vary on the size) of largely child soldiers that he has conscripted into his, dare I say it, holy war.  I checked the website of the International Criminal Court for verification, and I read the indictment against him and a number of the senior officers of the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army).  Everything they said in the video checked out.  I was intrigued, and felt that this campaign of awareness raising was worthwhile to be involved in.  I forwarded the video on my Facebook and Google+ pages, and started to think about how else I can get involved.  There was nothing organized in Halifax (yet), but the internet gives us all kinds of options.  Time will tell.

I posted the video (after having it drawn to my attention via the Phillip DeFranco YouTube show) Tuesday night, around midnight.  When I woke up the next morning, two of my friends had reposted it.  That number grew throughout the day, and then the whole internet seemed to be getting on board.  I know it wasn’t my influence (my Effbook friends list is small by comparison to most – I only have actual friends on it) but I was happy that I was a tiny part of this awareness raising campaign.  When I saw the talented and passionate George Takei post the same video, I knew the movement would succeed at its goal of getting this message out – with his million followers, he’s a great internet voice.

Then, on my way home from work that day, my wife informed me that there was some controversy happening – people were saying that Invisible Children was a scam.  That one hit hard and fast.  As soon as we got home (and my sons finished beating the stuffing out of me during our ritual wrestling match) I grabbed an internet connection and started doing some research / reading.  It ended up lasting until midnight, with a short break for a Zombies, Run! inspired walk/run.

Seems the internet was all abuzz because of two main factors with regard to Invisible Children Inc.  Firstly, that the organization had received a rating of two stars (out of four) from one of the more prestigious charity watchdogs, Charity Navigator in regard to the organization’s “Accountability” which apparently meant they were untrustworthy and the whole organization was a scam.  Secondly, that only 30% of the money raised by the organization was actually being used to fund programs on the ground in Uganda, clearly evidence that Invisible Children existed only to bilk the gullible and line the pockets of greedy film makers.

Charity Navigator, and groups like it, perform a very valuable service.  They let potential donors learn the hard facts about charities – are they trustworthy, are they using your funds properly, is the money going where they say it will, do the heads of the charity earn exorbitant salaries, things like that.  The problem is that the numbers they provide require the reader to actually read deeper than just the basics to really understand them.   In the case of Invisible Children, they gave the organization a four star rating (out of four) with regard to Financials and a two star rating for Accountability and Transparency, with an overall score of 51.52.  They spend their money properly, with approximately 80% of the money they raise going into the actual programs they implement.  That’s very high indeed.  For comparison’s sake, look at two of my favorite charities.  Amnesty International is close to the Invisible Children Inc. amounts (approximately 76% and a much lower overall rating at 42.88) and Oxfam America spends their money about the same (approximately 78%) but has a very high rating, gaining a four star rating and a full score of 62.97.  If you want to see how these scores are calculated, this link will take you to the full explanation.

Invisible Children did get a two star rating in their Accountability and Transparency section, primarily due to the fact that they have only four members on their Board of Directors.  Apparently, charity rating organizations really want to see at least five independent members on a Board, and anything less than this automatically earmarks you as scoring low in this area.  Invisible Children has released a statement on this issue, noting that they are in the process of hiring someone to fill this fifth position so that they can “regain their four star rating”.  The other reason that the rating is low is because the 2011 independent audit of Invisible Children (which you can see here, along with all their other financial information and independent audits) was not available at the time of the scoring.  The organization’s financials, including copies of their Form 990 (the tax exempt return form not-for-profits submit in the USA), their independent audits and their annual reports, are easily available on their website – and have always been.  They did not put them up in response to the criticism, they are required by law to be there and they have always complied.

As to the second allegation against them, that only 30% of the money they raise actually makes it to the ground in Uganda, there is no defence.  That argument is actually 100% accurate, and the organization freely admits it.  Here’s the thing though – that’s not the purpose of the organization, or at least, not its primary purpose.  The organization’s mandate is to use “film, creativity and social action to end the use of child soldiers in Joseph Kony’s rebel war and restore LRA-affected communities in Central Africa to peace and prosperity.”  That first part, the “film, creativity and social action”?  That’s the main mandate of the organization.  They are an advocacy and social awareness group that also happens to help build schools and radio towers and sponsor community programs to help people.  The fact that the lion’s share of their resources and funds go toward the very thing they were created to do should not be upsetting to people.  That would be akin to expressing outrage at Ford for making cars or at Apple for designing and selling electronics – it is why they exist!  The fact that they spend almost a third of their funds on a secondary (or even tertiary) goal is outstanding – there are charities out there that can barely manage to get 30% of their funds into their primary goal.

People have also come out in anger against how the money is spent.  The fact that approximately $250,000 goes to the salaries of the founders is “outrageous!” they claim.  Wait a moment… there are three of them – so that’s only about $85,000 each.  There are bus drivers on strike here in Halifax who make almost that much, and I seem to recall a story about a toll booth operator taking in over 100K a year – largely due to overtime, but does anyone think that the founders of Invisible Children Inc. are working thirty five hour work weeks?

Then “they” rage against the sheer amount spent on travel – a significant expense for the organization.  Hmm… Gee… you think that an advocacy group that travels all over the US and makes routine trips to and from Africa might have a large travel bill?  Common sense people, open your frigging eyes, but more importantly, use your minds.

Finances aside, people have been quick to point out that Kony and the LRA are no longer even in Uganda - which, had they watched the video, they would know that Invisible Children is well aware of, they even have a nice graphical map in the video to show where the LRA has moved to.  People have also suggested that the LRA is all but gone, and that they have been quiet for years now - which is directly contrary to the information the UN is operating under, that the LRA is renewing its attacks, that they have staged twenty attacks since January 1, 2012 and that three thousand people have been displaced, one killed and seventeen abducted in that time.

Suffice it to say, the vast majority of the objections to this organization are based on misleading or incomplete information. See, that’s a much nicer way of saying “idiots who don’t check their facts”  isn’t it?  Who says I can’t be tactful.

Now, all that said, there are some legitimate concerns about the organization’s mandate.  Critics have pointed out that the Ugandan government, who the organization works with, has a lengthy history of human rights abuses of its own.  That’s a gray area – lesser of two evils and all that, but it is a legitimate criticism.  Critiques also include that Invisible Children is simplifying the situation too much. Implying that all that needs to happen is the arrest and conviction of one man, peace will be restored to the region is naïve at best.  And those critiques are accurate – the problems of Africa are myriad and incredibly complicated, made moreso by foreign interventions.  Arresting (or otherwise stopping Kony) will not change that.  But it would be a step, even if it is a tiny one, in the right direction.

And other suggest that US military intervention, on any scale, is not the answer.  Most of the folks taking this position seem to suggest that Invisible Children is advocating a full scale military action against Kony - which is directly contrary to what the organization states over and over in its video - they just want the existing 100 military advisors, and their expertise, to stay in Uganda to help track down the LRA.

Does that smack of colonialism and “white guilt”?  Probably.  Many of the problems that Central Africa faces today can draw their origins directly to European colonialism, and are perpetuated due to, largely, western corporate concerns today.  That’s another rant entirely, but even if it is true, even if the real answer is to let people solve their own problems, is it really wrong to want to help stop a group that murders, rapes and kidnaps as part of their normal business?  Invisible Children says that the LRA has kidnapped over 30,000 children to serve as soldiers or sex slaves.  The World Bank estimates that number much higher at over 66,000 children.  Millions have been displaced as a result of the conflict between the LRA and the Ugandan government.  While many have made their way back to their homes and started to rebuild, many also have not.  As noted in the UN document above, there are still people being displaced as we speak.  Helping to stop that is a good deed – no matter the reason, whether it’s white guilt or genuine compassion.

I suppose the whole point of this (rather lengthy) rant is to remind people to think critically about the things they read online, and elsewhere.  Journalists are not infallible, and the internet is full of self-styled journalists who answer to no one.  These individuals are able to hide behind complete anonymity and say what they want with impunity.  They don’t have to check their facts, they don’t have to prove their cases.  All they need to do is make a believable claim, and then let the panic and fury of thousands of people run with it.  Fortunately, we have the tools today to do the research, to get to the bottom of claims like this.  We may not get a complete answer, or one we can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt, but we’ll have a better understanding of the situation.  We’ll have open eyes and open minds.  And we’ll make informed opinions.  When we rant at the unfairness of it all, we’ll know what the hell we’re talking about.  And that’s one of the best things about the internet. 

To quote the X-Files, “the truth is out there.”  Now go find it.

One Hour's Wage

As I write this, I am sipping an iced coffee and charging my iPad off the computer I am typing at.

As I write this, the air conditioning in my office is making me comfortable, and my well-watered houseplants are stretching toward the sunlight streaming in my office.

As I write this, my sons are playing and laughing, stopping occasionally to fight over a toy.  Both are healthy, vibrant little boys, enjoying their childhoods to the fullest.

As I write this, you are probably hard at work, or maybe taking some time to yourself.  You are a good person, all my friends are. 

As I write this, people are starving to death in Somalia.

As I write this, cholera is killing hundreds.  Cholera, which can be treated with basic antibiotics and water.

As I write this, mothers are staggering on bloody feet to refugee camps in the hopes that they will find food to save their children’s’ lives.

As I write this, people, good people, are trying desperately to help.

I’ve organized a fundraiser at my office.  We’re taking shameless advantage of the Canadian government’s promise to match any and all personal donations to aid in the famine relief efforts.  We’ve set up a “Lemon-Aid for Africa” event on Friday, and we’re going to sell baked goods and lemonade to drum up some support and even more awareness for this tragedy.  My office members have already given a little under $400 in personal donations, with more pouring in by the hour.

I have always hated it when people scream out that old cliché “won’t someone think of the children!” but I can’t think of any time when it is more apt than it is in the case of famine.  When I watch the news, when those worthies deign to show any African famine news at all, and see images of children the age of my sons, their legs so thin that you can see the bones, I have to take slow, deep breaths to avoid crying.  These kids are starving to death, dying of the measles (yes, dying of the measles!) and cholera, because of a natural disaster in the nation.

Even more upsetting to me, the comments on various forums and news sites… just when you think your faith in humanity can’t be shaken any further, it gets beaten once more.  Yes, Africa does seem to have these problems regularly.  Yes, we should also look to our own countries.  Yes, some of the money you donate will be used for administration, and yes, some will fall into the hands of regional warlords and militias.  But some, even a pittance, will still go into a pot of rice, so that a child can eat.  Some will buy a basic vaccination package, so that a child won’t die of the measles.  And while Canada is no paradise, few people are starving to death here.  Few people are dying of easily (and cheaply) preventable diseases.  There are no refugee camps.  There are no mass graves.

I’m challenging everyone, that’s everyone I know and everyone you know, and the people they know, to spread the word, and to give just one hour’s wage to this terrible disaster.  One hour’s wage – we can all afford that.  No matter how tight your budget is, you can scrape together one hour’s wage.  For some of us, that’s $10.  For some, it’s $300.  We can all find that bit of decency to make a small difference. 

Because ten thousand small differences can change the world.  And a million small differences can move it.

Be part of making the world a better place.  Take this One Hour’s Wage challenge.

Something Awesome

Tonight I witnessed something truly remarkable.  On the bus on the way home, I watched as a young black man (early twenties and fit) punched an old white man (60+ with a cane) and knocked him down.  He hit him hard enough to split his lip wide open and daze him.  I went up to the front of the bus to help the older man up and get him settled, but didn't know enough to really intervene, so didn't involve myself beyond that at first.  That's not the remarkable part.

Now, turns out the old guy hit the young guy first.  I didn't see that, but those at the front of the bus did, and in the aftermath, shared what they had all seen.  The younger man warned off the older one, clearly and loudly announcing (when the older man stood up and raised his fists) that if he came any closer, he would hit him.  The old man didn't listen, and started to lunge, so the kid threw a single punch.  Quite a doozy actually.   But that's not the remarkable part.

The driver intervened, in a calm and reasoned fashion, and got the parties separated while we all waited for the cops to arrive.  She did this despite the old man yelling racial slurs at her and the kid - did I mention she was black too?  Despite serious provocation from him, she stayed calm and kept the situation from getting any worse.  She also kept the rest of the passengers calm and followed procedure - getting the cops, paramedics and a new bus for the rest of us to get home.  Also, not the remarkable part.

Now, before I get to the remarkable part, I have to preface it with a caveat.  I didn't see the start of the altercation, I have no idea what happened to set either of them off, nor do I know either of their stories or what predicated their decisions.  Now that is out of the way, lets talk about remarkable.

When the old man started making racial slurs toward the young man and the driver, the response of the other passengers (twenty to thirty people from diverse backgrounds) was near universal - condemnation of the old man's comments.  When he started with his "He's fucking black and you're black..." yelling at the driver, he was shouted down by dozens of people.  For a moment it seemed that everyone on the bus, black, white and every shade in between, stood up for a moment against racism.

Comments of disbelief were heard throughout the bus once he was removed, predominantly from the younger riders, "What year does he think this is?" and "I can't believe this is still happening."

One woman in her sixties reached out to touch the young man's arm when he got back on the bus (the police interviewed him and then he was free to leave, it was pretty clearly self defense with dozens of witnesses and a camera running) and asked him if he was OK.  When he shrugged it off with the bravado of youth and said the old man hadn't hit him that hard, she said "No, I saw what happened, I just want to make sure you're all right."  They both knew that she wasn't talking about anything physical, and she connected, for an instant, with him.

It reminded me why the work I do is important, maybe even necessary.  And it gave me hope.  It was one small incident on one bus.  But it reminded me that people are good at heart.  That they care about one another, and that the pain and despair of complete strangers can still move them.  They can stand up for one another and they do come to the aid of those who need them.  Maybe, just maybe, we can keep moving forward.

Winds of Change 25 / 30

Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, Iran… what did Tunisia start?

I have held for many years that protest is essentially useless.  I’ve attended a couple, and privileged university students banged on pots and pans, chanted ill rhyming slogans and berated powerful people for things they were doing in other countries.  In most cases, turns out the people they were screaming at weren’t even in that building, and in a few cases, weren’t even in the same city.

The chanting/flag-waving/bandana-wearing/placard-making/angry people never seemed to get much done.  I never saw any change in domestic or foreign policy either in my own country, or in others.  Despite what I have always considered as the most beautiful act of personal heroism ever captured on film . . .

. . . I have always felt that protest, while a valid means of communicating one’s displeasure with one’s government, was ultimately futile.

Man, was I wrong.

I don’t think I have ever been so pleased to be proven wrong before.

I think it is odd that most people are seeing this as a positive thing, but not really a global issue.  A lot of the major media outlets seem to be paying lip service only to the subsequent protests that have arising in many nations in the Middle East, likely due to their producer’s realizing that we, as North Americans, are easily bored and need to be entertained by something else, something that will capture our att – Hey look, Lindsay Lohan did something dumb!!!

I think that attitude is an odd one.  For the first time in recorded history, these parts of the world are facing real challenges from their population, being told by their citizens that “Hell no!  We are no longer going to accept the status quo!” and that is amazing, to say the least. 

Millions of people are having their first taste of what it might be like to be free, and they are liking it.  The sad part is that many of their governments, trying desperately to cling to the last vestiges of their power, will attack and kill their own people.  Members of the Iranian government today were calling for the trial and execution of members of the opposition party.  Note the wording there – trial and execution.  Not just the trial, not an investigation – their minds were already made up, the opposition members of government should be killed for supporting the citizens of their nation in protest.  Wow.  Makes me very happy indeed to be a Canadian.  Not that Harper hasn’t likely asked his advisors about summary executions, but hey, so far so good.

Despite this almost guaranteed retaliation, the protests continue.  Despite police arrests and military interventions, the protests continue.  And one can't help but have hope now, seeing two nations succeed, that these protests will not be in vain, that they may go through hell, but these people have a real shot at democratic freedom for the first time in thousands of years.  And they did it themselves.  No UN embargoes, no US interventions, no peace accords, no civil wars.  Just thousands and thousands of ordinary citizens, uniting to stand up for what they believe in.  For their freedom.

So thank you, people of the Middle East (and large parts of Northern Africa as well) for proving me wrong.  Thank you for reminding me that when we work together, we can accomplish marvelous things.

Noah and I watched a movie the other day, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.  At the end, there is a great little scene where these small creatures lift a relatively large weight by working together.  Noah and I were on the bus, and he was talking about that movie.  He asked me how the 'rat-birds' had carried all that weight.  I explained that when a lot of little things work together, they can accomplish great things.  He turned to me and with a very serious look on his face, asked “Dad, what can a whole lot of people do if they work together?”  I hugged him very hard, and said “Miracles.”

A Rising Hope... 22 / 30

I’ve been loosely following the changes in Egypt with something akin to optimism.  Change is coming to that part of the world as people of all walks of life, of all faiths and beliefs, stand up against what they see as oppression and tyranny.  Democracy, for all its flaws, seems to be spreading without CIA intervention or external military force being applied.

The Egyptian military, currently in charge of the country, vowed today to rule the country for six months, or until democratic elections can be held.  They have pledged to uphold the treaty with Israel, which has both positives and negatives, but lets view ‘not going to war’ as an overall good thing for the moment.  They have dissolved Parliament and suspended the Constitution.  Those are a tad scary sounding, but may well be necessary in the short term, so that they can restore order to the country.

A few protesters are refusing to leave.  A few hundred, according to the news coming out of the country, are committed to staying in Tahrir Square until those election promises are kept.  I think that is commendable – they aren’t accepting the military’s word or its promises, and I can’t blame them.  I also think it’s a tad foolish though.  This nation will need a bit of time to arrange an election - despite what Mr. Harper thinks, you can’t put one of those together over a weekend.  Unfortunately, some of these protesters have been arrested by the military, and taken into custody – their status remains somewhat unknown.

Other protesters have returned to the Square as well, with brooms and dustpans, paint and rags.  The same people who tore up the sidewalks to use the concrete as ammunition against the police and military are now back there, trying to put things right.  And its this part of the story that really gives me some hope.  These people, Christians and Muslims, atheists and military, bankers and doctors, are still working together.  They are still remembering the success they achieved (and lets face it, this is huge news for the non-democratic world) and remembering how they achieved it – by working together and setting aside their differences and enmity.  Lets hope their message is still heard by the military.

The media is giving a lot of credit to things like Facebook and Twitter for helping the protesters to spread their message and get support internationally and nationally.  I think it would be very interesting to see how those mediums, and the Internet as a whole, influenced the upswing in protest in the first place.  I have long believed that as the education and communication of a group goes up, their willingness to be oppressed goes down.  History bears this out.  Illiteracy is a weapon used to keep people in line.  Dogma (whether religious or political) exists for the same reason – if you are told you “must” do this, and you know nothing else, then you are far more inclined to do as you are told.  But when you can see that others in your area / nation / continent are no longer standing for the same treatment, I think that empowers people to stand up for themselves and their rights.

So Egypt, keep working.  The world is still watching.  Your citizens are still mobilized and can repeat their actions if needed.  In fact, should the military fail to live up to their demands, I believe we’d see an even larger movement in opposition – they succeeded once, they’ve a taste for democracy now.  And that taste is sweet.

All You Need is Love... 19 / 30

...or a tyrant who attacks his own people.

A few reporters, and a lot of bloggers (whoohooo, I’m a blogger!) are trying to tell everyone about something awesome that came out of Egypt yesterday.

Muslims and Christians, as well as a whole lot of purely secular folks, are all gathered together, protesting the same thing, and they are not only respecting each other’s beliefs, they are actually actively defending them.

Stories are coming out of  Tahrir Square where the majority of the protesters to Mubarak’s reign have gathered, and one of those stories is particularly inspiring.

Muslim prayer schedule is very rigid, as you may well know – prayer is the second pillar of Islam after all.  And that prayer schedule doesn’t get interrupted for much, if anything.  But how do you offer your sacred prayers to Allah when you are busy protesting?  Well, it turns out your Christian friends come to your rescue – a large number of the Coptic (i.e. Egyptian) Christians in the square formed a human shield around their Muslim brothers and sisters to protect them while they prayed.

Not to be outdone, the Muslims returned the favour later on, shielding their Christian allies with their bodies while they prayed.

Never ones to be left behind, the atheists in the crowd have joined in.  The scene appears to be one of real unification, particularly important and impressive due to the tensions that have long existed between the majority Islamic population and the smaller (about 10%) Christian one.  But that tension appears to be decreasing, and in the face of adversity nonetheless.  The resounding cries through the square have been “Muslim, Christian, we are all one!  We are Egyptian!”

Who knew that all you needed to unite two contrary religious groups was a dictator who is willing to use the police and military to attack those who protest against him.  Come on Mr. Mubarak, you don’t think the entire world knows that the “supporters” who attacked the protesters were / are police or military acting under your direction?  We may be a bit ignorant about your culture and country, but we watch a lot of conspiracy movies.  We know a rat when we see one.

I want to leave you with the image of a Muslim Imam, being carried on the shoulders of three people, one Christian, one Muslim and one atheist.  In one hand he has a copy of the Qu’ran, in the other a crucifix.  And his rallying cry is one of togetherness and love.  That’s the image coming out of Tahrir Square.  An appropriate place for it to happen – Tahrir translates to “Liberation”… and it looks like Egypt might just finally see it.   Liberation from the rule of a dictator, and just maybe, liberation from the hatred that has simmered between its main religions for centuries.

Here’s hoping.

Standing on Guard for Thee... 10 / 30

I am fortunate to have been born in a country where my basic rights are protected by the rule of law.

I am proud to stand behind our system of government, with all its flaws, and know that our leaders, put in place by the people of this country, are accountable, if only in part, to us.

I take great satisfaction in knowing that my sons will grow up in a country where their voices can be heard, and if their voices disagree with the government, they will not be taken from me.

I sleep well at night, knowing that the police will not come into my house to murder my family or rape my wife just to teach me a lesson for being a human rights worker.

I feel a swell of pride in my heart when I see Canadian military personnel engaged in humanitarian and peace-keeping endeavours around the world.  I know that no system is perfect, and that sometimes mistakes are made, but I believe with all my heart that the men and women in uniform deserve our support, respect and admiration. 

I enjoy seeing a police car in my neighbourhood, because I know that the officers in that vehicle are sworn to protect me and my neighbours.  Some officers may stray from the straight and narrow, but the police in Canada, flawed though our judicial system may be, are the front line representatives and enforcers of justice, peace and freedom.

I am encouraged that protesters in my country can wave flags, bang on cans and make their voices heard.  I may not always agree with them, but I stand by their right to be heard, and am grateful that I live in a country where any police response will not result in a body count.  Yes, mistakes are made, but the fact that those mistakes result in a public outcry more often than not is another sign that our system works.

I decided not to practice law, but our legal system is held as a model by countries all over the world, and our courts and judges do their utmost to see to it that justice is not only done, but is also seen to be done.  No system is perfect, but I have faith that those who administer our laws are doing so with the best of intention, and that they can be held accountable when that is not the case.

I am proud of my nation’s efforts, and confident that it can make amends for its errors and omissions.  I have hope for the future because of that confidence.  I know that my children will grow up in an environment of peace and stability.  I know that they will complain about taxes and police stops, that they will bemoan the current political trends, just as we have done for generations in Canada.  But I also know that they will be safe.  That they will have adequate health care and that a social safety net will aid them if they cannot aid themselves.

I know that there are flaws and shortcomings.  I know that our schools are overcrowded and our hospital line ups are often unacceptable.  I am well aware that police officers have caused the deaths of individuals who did not deserve such conduct.  I am hopeful and supporting, while being critical and demanding.

I am Canadian.