Bosnia & Hercegovina

Bosnia & Hercegovina
September 1992
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Naila Jusufagic and her husband are Bosnians of Muslim descent from Sarajevo, who escaped in July 1991 and came to Canada as refugees

Twenty nine years ago I was born in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Hercegovina .. one of the six republics of the Yugoslav federation. I had a happy childhood, and was raised in the atmosphere of absolute tolerance and love towards the other cultures in Bosnia and Hercegovina – Serbs, Croats, Jews, etc.

Although my father and mother had lived through the Second World War and had seen much atrocities and injustice to Muslims from the Serbs, they never taught me to hate them collectively .. they would always say that those were the Ultranationalist Serbs “Cetnicks”, and that their rule would never happen again.

As I grew up in Sarajevo, my concerns ranged from: how to finish my studies at University and find a good job, to how to dress nice and where to go for vacation. My life there was like a song, and it was the same with most of my friends, regardless of their nationality, religion, sex, colour of eyes or hair.

And look at me now .. I am here in Canada with my husband, happy to be alive and in a safe place, but at the same time, tormented to be separated from our parents, brothers, and friends, desperate for news from them, not even knowing if they are alive! We probably no longer have our house and belongings back there … Everything we worked hard for all our lives is gone.

Every time I sit to a meal, I can’t help wondering when my family have last eaten. I envisage the elderly having to stand in a bread line surrounded by gun fire.

It hurts us even more that we no longer have our Serb friends, with whom we shared many a joyful hour as we grew up together, suddenly we are at the two opposite ends of a conflict that neither they nor us created. My husband’s and my best friends in Bosnia are Bosnian .. Croats, Serbs .. and were just as stunned by the ridiculous stories about them being harassed. We all naively disregarded this, and kept saying oh that is stupid and such obvious propaganda, nobody will accept that .. but unfortunately, as Goebel said once : the hundred times repeated lie becomes the truth !

Our lives have turned into hell .. and why all that ? !

The oldest reason in the world has been pulled out .. RELIGION! Suddenly, in our united community, in the middle of our mutual respect and harmony, the seed of evil had been planted, and started growing and flourishing its bloody flowers all over ex – Yugoslavia. Please forgive the expression, but it is hard to be mild in our circumstances !

We know one thing for sure: we are going to live together again in the future, like we had before, but when .. and at what cost .. ? !

Special Friends

Special Friends

September 1992

Becky Steinmann, 16 years old, attends Rockway Mennonite Collegiate in Kitchener, Ontario. Her cultural background is Mennonite, and her Anabaptist ancestors came from Alsace-Lorraine regions in Europe. Although she was not brought up conservatively, and her “outward appearance is the same as any other denomination’s in society”, she is a pacifist and believes in adult baptism. Becky visited Japan for 2 weeks when she was 10 years old, and her friendship with Mijuuki, her pen pal gave her the idea for this story.

Jenny sighed as she sat in her wooden swing, scraping her feet along the sandy dirt. The warm sun beat down, but the full branches on the maple tree above her covered her with shade.

Summer holidays began a month ago, and Jenny embraced the idea of freedom. Grade I had been fun, but the thought of swimming, flying kites and licking cold ice cream in the summer definitely took preference over the classroom.

Well that was the past, and the excitement of holidays had dwindled. Her best friend had gone to Florida, and none of the neighbourhood kids paid any attention to her.

As she wallowed in her self-pity and boredom, Jenny noticed a large yellow moving truck parked in the driveway of the house next door. The back doors were open, and two burly men were carrying wooden trunks and crates out of the truck onto the front lawn. Boxes and crates were scattered all over the lawn. Finding the scene interesting, she leapt off the swing, and curiously scampered over to the sight.

As she approached, she noticed a family bustling around, taking things inside the house and giving directions to the moving men. Jenny could tell they were a family, because they didn’t look anything like the neighbourhood people Jenny had seen before. Their skin was darkly tanned brown, and their hair was straight, black and shiny like the Black Stallion’s coat. It was totally different from Jenny’s bouncy blonde curls, and her sky blue eyes.

Among the chaos, there was a little girl, who caught Jenny’s eye, sitting on a large wooden crate. Her legs were dangling and swinging back and forth as she surveyed the situation. As her eyes followed the busy people, she suddenly noticed Jenny. Instantly a welcoming smile spread across the little girl’s face, and she waved at Jenny, and motioned her over. Jenny smiled back shyly, but was slightly apprehensive to go over. Her mother had told her never to talk to strangers, and she had been pretty serious about it. However, Jenny went to meet her.

As Jenny neared her, she could see a sparkle in the little girl’s slanted brown eyes. Feeling a bit more sure of herself, Jenny said a cheerful “hi!” Instead of the expected “hi,” back, strange words came from the girls delicate lips.

Astonished that the girl didn’t speak English, Jenny finally realized that she was from a different country, and spoke a different language.

Jenny motioned to herself and said with clear pronounciation, “Jenny”. The little girl followed the lead and said “Miyuki”.

Both girls bubbled up with laughter at Jenny’s attempt to pronounce the name, and they instantly became friends.

Jenny pointed at her backyard, and asked with gestures whether Miyuki would come over and play. Miyuki nodded eagerly, and leapt off the crate.

Together they zig-zagged their way through the maze of boxes, and played follow the leader as they went. Jenny was pleased that Miyuki knew this simple game, and realized that even though Miyuki looked different on the outside, she was just like any other little girl Jenny had known.

The girls hopped, skipped, galloped and crawled their way into Jenny’s yard, each taking turns to lead the other with interesting movements. Some of the funny movements made the girls giggle with delight, and they soon learned that smiling and laughing were a universal language.

The girls were having so much fun that they didn’t notice it was almost suppertime. They were soon reminded, however, when both their mothers came towards them with worried looks on their faces.

When Jenny’s mother reached the girls, she took Jenny by the arm and took her aside to talk to her. Miyuki’s mother did likewise.

Each of the girls was lectured by their concerned, yet loving mothers, and told never to wander off alone, or talk to strangers ever again.

Jenny and Miyuki could tell that their mothers didn’t like them playing with someone that was from a different country. “A Japanese” is what Jenny’s mom called Miyuki. Miyuki’s mom said Jenny was an “American”, and Americans and Japanese didn’t like or play with each other, it was as simple as that. In other words, they couldn’t be friends.

Both Jenny and Miyuki sulked through dinner, and hardly ate anything. Their mothers were concerned at their bad spirits, and finally decided to take their daughters, and go straighten this thing out with the other mother.

As they made their way to the other’s house, not watching where they were going, accidently bumped into each other on the way. At first they were stunned, and then, before they could stop themselves, the mothers burst out in laughter.

The laughter seemed to break the ice, and the two girls and their mothers relaxed, and let their hair down.

Now that the girls had their worries off their minds, they were hungry. Deciding to go out for a special treat, they compromised on both of their favourites, ice cream with raw fish on top!

Ireland Through New Eyes

Ireland Through New Eyes
September 1992

Diane Warriner immigrated to Canada in 1966 from Northern Ireland. Until this summer she had returned to Ireland only twice for short family oriented visits. Her recent travels, which covered both Northern Ireland (Ulster) and most of the Republic of Ireland (Eire) has given her a fresh perspective on the Ireland of today. Diane is a former school teacher who is presently pursuing a masters degree in Adult Education. She and a partner own a training and development company called AMARYLLIS ASSOCIATES.

The content  of this introductory article was adapted from The Story of Ireland by Victor Kelly

Setting The Stage
Ireland was first settled in 4000 BC by the Mesolithic people, who clung to the coast as fisherfolk and left little impression on the environment that remains. They were followed by the Neolithic people who made the perilous
journey from the Mediterranean Sea through Ibernia and France to Ireland. They brought agriculture and manufacturing skills with them, and because of their deeply religious nature built huge stone megaliths as monuments to their dead. These still stand in many high areas of the landscape.

During the half millenium before Christ, European people loosely known as Celts, started arriving in Ireland and the last of these were the Gaels, a superior warrior class with advanced iron-working skills. They established dwellings ranging from earth ring forts encircling single farmsteads, to great hill forts surrounded by stone walls and ramparts which housed many. Although their emphasis on military valour encouraged political disunity among rival kings with small kingdoms, they also excelled in the field of art.

On the edge of the then known world, and away from barbarian raids and Roman Legions, they developed the beautiful intricate patterns of spirals and curvets wrought in metal and stone as decorations.

In the early fifth century A.D., St. Patrick and his followers brought Christianity to the Gaels, and from then to the ninth century, Ireland was known as the land of Saints and Scholars. Many beautiful religious pieces were produced in metal, sculpture and parchments combining the Celtic abstract designs and the Christian stories. The seventh century Book of Kells displayed in Trinity College Dublin is an exquisite example of this work.

The ninth century brought the Vikings, who raided monastic settlements and castles, and carried off armour, metalwork, and the occupants to be sold as slaves. Spoils from these raids are still discovered in newly excavated Scandinavian grave sites.

These settlers never intended to colonize Ireland, but to establish trading settlements in large coastal towns, and they behind a legacy of coin usage, marketing and maritime trading skills.

After the Vikings were more or less routed by a united gathering of petty kings and their followers, disunity among rival factions began again .. and one disgruntled king appealed to Henry II of England for aid. The influx of Anglo-Norman knights sent by Henry produced a powerful ruling class in Ireland and this made Henry assume the Lordship of Ireland for England to keep his knights in check.

By the thirteenth century all but the remote and wild west was under Anglo-Norman occupation. But the Irish stubbornly refused to adopt their ways; and as England left the knights isolated and unsupported for long periods of time, they gave up as rulers, married into Irish families and adopted Irish ways.

The Normans‘ contributions to the Irish culture were .. designed towns, centralized government, and a jury system. They also built magnificent castles and religious buildings still very much in evidence today.

By the fifteenth century, and during the reign of Elizabeth I, the English influence in Ireland had been reduced to a small area known as “the Pole”, which stretched around Dublin. Catholic Ireland had become significantly attractive to the enemies of the reformation, so Elizabeth decided to subdue the Irish, starting with Ulster in the north.

In 1607 the Rout of the O’Neils made way for her successor James I to ‘plant’ Ulster with loyal Presbyterian Scots and Anglican English settlers. This plantation changed both the culture of Ulster and the history of Ireland.  Although the original wave of settlers were wiped out by the avenging dispossessed Irish; Ulster had a Protestant majority by the late seventeenth century. The settlers brought with them an alien culture of “Godliness through industry”, village networks clustered around fortified enclosures for defense, and life centered around the town core (the diamond) for trade and commerce.

Protestant infiltration continued after Oliver Cromwell defeated Charles I in England and then invaded Ireland in 1649. Large numbers of Irish Catholics were massacred, thousands forcibly deported and their lands given to English Protestants.

This influx was further entrenched by the defeat of Charles’ son James II by the Protestant English King William of Orange in 1690 at the Battle of the Boyne. This victory is still celebrated annually in July in the North of Ireland.

The Anglo-Irish control, called the Ascendancy, was established by imposing crippling economic and religious sanctions against all who were not Anglican. In response to this oppression, Catholics and Presbyterians formed a fighting force called the United Irishmen and with the help of France they rose in rebellion in 1798. This was quickly crushed by the superior English armies. The now powerful Anglo-Irish who had large land holdings, allowed their tenants to divide their already small farms into minute holdings, thus increasing their rental income. Demand still exceeded supply due to a rapidly increasing population, and the gentry acquired great local power and status.

Then the potato blight struck between 1846 and 1850, and because potatoes were the main crop, starvation and fever killed one million people and another million fled the country to England or North America. Those landlords not ruined by the famine, sold their estates at a loss to the British government to escape this “green, damp, forbidding country”.

By 1914 various British governments had transferred back three quarters of Irish land to the descendants of the original tenants.

All that remains of the vanished ruling class are huge mansions and estates open to the public and maintained by local authorities.

At the height of the Anglo-Irish rule, Dublin was the jewel of Georgian culture, but by the early twentieth century Belfast in Ulster became the most prosperous city in Ireland. The entrepreneurial values held by the mainly Presbyterian north, had promoted shipbuilding, engineering, rope-making and linen manufacturing concerns. Belfast’s commercial communities were convinced that Ulster’s prosperity lay by remaining tied to Britain.

Still the majority of Ireland demanded HOME RULE and British Prime Minister Lloyd George was hard pressed to come up with a solution to the Irish problem. As a temporary solution, he proposed PARTITION and six counties became Northern Ireland and a part of Britain, while the remaining twenty six counties became a separate republic in 1921. This partition remains today.

After the partition of Ireland in 1921, the six counties known as Northern Ireland remained fairly quiet until 1969. In August of that year riots broke out in Belfast and Derry, and British troops were called in to keep the peace. The fighting occurred between those who wished to have a united Ireland with no British interference (mainly Catholic), and those who were staunchly opposed to uniting with Eire or severing the ties with Britain (mainly Protestant).

In 1972 the Northern Ireland parliament at Stormont was suspended and direct rule from London imposed and British soldiers have remained in the North ever since. Continuing acts of terrorism by both sides of the dispute led to severe law enforcement by the British. In 1986 Margaret Thatcher (British Prime Minister), signed the Anglo-Irish Agreement with The Republic Of Ireland (Eire) which gave southern Ireland a stronger voice in northern affairs. This has not been accepted by the Protestant majority in the north.

My trip to Ireland this year had a dual purpose. Firstly, it was a journey of re-discovery for me to travel the old routes and explore those areas I had never visited. Secondly, I was anxious to show off my country of origin to my husband who had only heard my version of Irish life and as a rural sociologist he was very interested in observing it all first hand. We decided to keep family visits to a minimum and travel around the country using the plentiful Bed and Breakfasts as resting points. Our journey started in the North-East where I spent the first twenty-four years of my life, mainly around the Belfast area.

The northern outskirts of Belfast, where I grew up and the southern outskirts where we were based at my cousin’s house, have changed very little. Upper middle class life still dominates with well kept houses and gardens ablaze with roses of every shape and hue.  Neighbours still exchange pleasantries with each other as they trim their lawns and hedges.

The noticeable changes were in the centre of the city which contains the government offices, department stores and the beautiful city hall surrounded by lawns and benches for public use. When I was young woman working as an Ordnance Survey draughtsman my friends and I would eat our lunch in the crowded grounds of city hall in the summer all the while wiping the soot particles off our clothes and faces. The soot is gone, Belfast is now a smokeless zone with no coal burning allowed, and the area is devoid of cars. The benches are now empty, the dome of city hall is draped with a huge white banner with: BELFAST SAYS NO written in red letters across it. (This is in response to the 1986 Anglo-Irish Agreement). Two large barriers block the main shopping area entrance and these are only raised for buses to pass through after an official conducts a walk through bomb search. The department stores also have security guards who look through your purse or bags, on all doors.

My relatives assured me that things had really loosened up compared to the early 1970’s when bombings and killing were at their worst. I still found the atmosphere oppressive and unfamiliar, especially the continual hum of the surveillance helicopter above and the constant patrolling of fortified police vehicles. I thought how difficult it must be for them to trust in a country where everyone looks the same as you.

While looking around the grounds and statues at city hall, I came across a monument to commemorate certain passengers and crew on the Titanic who had lost their lives helping others. The Titanic was built in the Belfast shipyards, as was the Canadian Bonaventure, and one of our family stories was about my grandfather being invited as a guest to the launching and small trip down Belfast loch. This story always ended with “thank goodness they didn’t invite him on the maiden voyage!“.  I had never noticed this monument before and I found the slightly staid inscription after the long list of names quite moving.

Their devotion to duty and heroic conduct through which the lives of many of those on board were saved have left a record of calm fortitude and self sacrifice which will ever remain an inspiring example to succeeding generations. “Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends“.

This was one example of many layers of history superimposed in one area that I came across constantly in this ancient land and as we progressed on our journey we became quite disdainful about events that only happened in the nineteenth or twentieth century.

In contrast with the empty gardens was the busy shopping area.  I particularly noticed the variety of goods, especially food, which were not available when I was growing up. The entry into the European Common Market had brought greater selections of foods, but I was shocked at the prices compared to here in Canada, in fact many items were more expensive. Healthy eating is in vogue and there were many vegetarian and ethnic restaurants , particularly around the university district. When I left Ireland, Chinese restaurants were just coming in, and they served chop suey and chow mien with chips (french fries) in order to survive. The usual morning fare was an Ulster Fry which consisted of fried bacon, eggs, tomatoes, sausages, and potato bread which was fried in the bacon grease. Now everyone eats muesli and yogurt, and the only place to get a fry is at a bed and breakfast. Fish and chips were also very popular, so I was amazed to meet people coming from the local fish and chips shop eating East Indian take out orders. The old menu is still there too, but you can have curry sauce on your French fries! European holidays are now the norm and an appreciation for other culinary delights is developing.

Another change is occurring in the poorer areas which surround the city centre, both Catholic and Protestant. Many of the old row houses built around the factories in the last century were destroyed by the two warring factions in the 1970’s and 1980’s. This caused great trauma and hardship at the time, but now in their place new houses have been built and I was impressed with the change they made on the urban landscape. Instead of the graffiti and political paintings I used to see in the old entrenched battle areas, I saw a notice on the end wall of the new housing which read “This corner is out of bounds to hoods and gangsters” erected by the residents of the complex. A small example but a start in the right direction.

My cousin, who has a high government position, toured us through the worst sections of the city centre and showed us the so-called PEACE WALLS that were built to keep Catholic and Protestant areas apart. It was a very depressing sight .. with houses close to the wall on either side bricked up as no one wants to live in them.

The dilemma is that crowding is occurring, especially in the Catholic districts, but neither side will give in to use these large tracts of no man’s land for housing and development. One ray of hope was a poster I saw often displayed advertising to Belfast youth who are fed up with sectarian violence to come to a series of meetings.

Gains are slow for reformers and every killing that occurs sets the process back a step.

We were horrified when we saw on television, while we were in Belfast, that a thirty year old man was beaten to death while walking his dog at 2:00 am, by a group who had been cruising around in a car looking for someone to pick on; but my relatives hardly noticed …. In order to survive, they have developed a screening system which filters information through which fits how they see themselves and their world.

The THEM AND US model helps them go to work, socialize with their friends, holiday abroad and forget it is happening. My cousin was genuinely surprised when he asked us “Now sure its not as bad as they depict it in the media, is it”, and we answered gravely “yes it is!”

To my great relief two things had not changed since my youth. The first was the generosity of people we found wherever we went. When I asked directions from a woman who was loading a man in a wheel chair into a taxi, she finished her task, jumped into our car and took us there. She refused any offer of a ride back and cheerfully set off home after wishing us a pleasant stay. Another time I admired the shamrock embroidered tablecloth of our hostess while we were having tea. She immediately whipped it off the table, put it in a bag and apologised in case it was dirty!

Secondly, the sense of humour is still the same. A dry sense of humour that gets you through any bad situation. One scary evening in downtown Belfast we decided to take a taxi home. This was after we had witnessed three ruffians break a plate glass store window in an empty street except for them and us (where are the army and police when you need them?). Another factor that influenced our choice was the announcement by the waitress at the EUROPA HOTEL just as we finished our meal that the hotel had been bombed twenty seven times. Getting a taxi is in itself a formidable task because there are Catholic and Protestant big black taxis and you could end up at the wrong stand, although we were assured visitors were safe (I vowed to keep my mouth shut to hide my accent). We ended up in a glass fronted store with hard wooden benches all the way around. Taxis would drive up and take those close to the door and everyone else moved up. I was seated beside a young man who made the hour long wait fly by. He would wait until the place was quiet and remark, “these seats were commissioned by PREPARATION H” the room would erupt with laughter and when the time was right, as when a police vehicle slowly cruised by with two serious looking policemen staring in, he quipped at us “did you order the big blue taxi?”. He brought the house down when he said “I bet you could get a condom quicker in Dublin than a taxi in Belfast!” at this point our taxi arrived.

The next day we set off out of the city past all the road checks to see if the rest of the country had changed as much ..

We left Belfast and the checkpoints bristling with guns and headed up the spectacularly beautiful Antrim Coast. So far the weather had been good and my husband began to question the need for all the rain gear we had brought and my doom and gloom predictions of imminent downpours.

Driving beside the ocean we reached Cushendun where, as a child, I spent most of my summers, until at twelve years old I became bored with sitting on the stone bridge looking across the sea to the Mull of Kintyre in Scotland, which is only twelve miles away at that point. Everything looked even better than I remembered, the quaint Cornish styled cottages built by Lord Cushendun in memory of his wife Maud, who came from Cornwall, the three hotels on the bank of the river Dun where it meets the ocean, and the lobster pot markers bobbing off the shore.

In my early twenties I would return regularly to Cushendun for weekends with a group of friends and stay at McBride’s Hotel, which used to be an old mill. In the “Blue Room”, named because of the bright blue chipped high gloss painted walls (sadly over wood panelling); We had the most wonderful singing sessions which lasted far into the night. Folk music and in particular Irish rebel songs were in vogue then, as this was the early sixties and political unrest was just beginning. At eleven-o-clock the local policeman would chase us all off to our rooms, and our hostess, Mary McBride would dutifully put up the shutters and dim the lights. After a respectable time, usually about ten minutes, we would all tip toe back down and continue the party. The bar was a table with an oil cloth cover and the musical instruments varied with the talent and availability of the guests.

Henry Andy, a very old fisherman, sat in a seat of honour in the corner by the fire with a small glass of Bushmills whiskey, which was always full, in front of him. Avid fishers kept it that way because Henry Andy knew all the places on the river where the salmon were. He told me once he had sailed to Vancouver when he was a cabin boy and had stayed at the Anchor Inn. This meant nothing at the time but when I first lived in Vancouver, the old inn was still standing in Gastown and I remembered his tale. Rumour had it that one night he ran out of matches for his pipe, left the Blue Room to get some, and returned two days later. When asked where he had been he casually replied, “It was a nice night so I sailed over to Scotland and met an old friend in a pub“.

Today Cushendun has been taken over as a heritage village, hence its state of good repair. The middle hotel of the three is a seniors’ home, McBride’s hotel is run by Mary’s son, and the famous “Blue Room” is just another slightly shabby lounge serving drinks and snacks. I was told that in the last twenty years the area was known for its nationalist sympathies, gatherings after legal drinking hours were banned. I’m sure the close proximity of the rest home also added to the “Blue Room’s” demise. Nevertheless we enjoyed a Guinness on the sunny but chilly shore and that, at least, had not changed!

Heading north we passed Rathlin Island where the Scottish king Robert the Bruce is said to have hidden in a cave from the English in 1306. The legend tells of how he was encouraged to rally his troops again after watching the patience of a spider spinning its web. The cave can be viewed but the boat trip over and back is pretty rough. We stayed the night at Ballycastle where, in 1898, Marconi had set up the world’s first radio link from the island to the lighthouse. Ballycastle was still a popular sea-side resort when I left Ireland, but although still busy, it looked run down to me.

Tourism in Northern Ireland has suffered greatly because of the conflict, but also trips to Spain and Portugal are cheaper and warmer for Ulster holiday makers.

I watched that North Atlantic water, now starting to look grey and forbidding as the weather deteriorated and gave an involuntary shiver. I learned to swim here and I remember those days of blue goose bumps and skin rubbed off by sandy towels wielded by my enthusiastic mother who chose to ignore my whining. I made a vow never to enter that water again unless dressed in a wet suit!

We were well equipped with rain gear the next morning as we walked the mile long path that led to the plank and rope bridge which links tiny Carrick-a-Rede Island to the mainland. The island has a 350 year old salmon fishery on it and the bridge is about 25 metres (80 feet) above the inlet. We and some sheep were the only visitors and once we had braved the swaying bridge in the wind, the peacefulness and beauty of the scene was breathtaking. The fishery consisted of one little cottage with curtains of nets hanging outside. Cages to catch the salmon as they swim round the island were visible but otherwise there was no sign of life. The bridge was as I remembered it, but before, my only interest as a teenager was to dare my screaming friends and myself to go over the bridge while someone shook it at one end. Then, I saw neither the scenery or the salmon. Now, I thought about the saying “youth is wasted on the young” and smiled.

Another natural curiosity was only 8 km (5 miles) further up the coast called the Giant’s Causeway and we were impressed with the new visitors’ centre full of displays and an audiovisual exhibition explaining the honeycombed basalt columns which extend far out to sea. The scientific explanation is that the quick cooling of the volcanic lava when reaching the ocean caused these strange formations, but legend says that the giant Finn McCool made the road to Scotland in order to visit another giant. Apparently the Scottish island of Staffa has similar columns which run into the sea towards Ireland. By the time we had scrambled over the rocks a fine mist had turned to torrential rain and as I slipped over the stones in a vain attempt to get out of the rain, I thought they looked remarkably like an intricate man made road.

A recent discovery in that area, in 1967, is the 16th century GIRONA, a Spanish Armada galleon which was carrying a huge cargo of gold and jewellery. After a long and bitter debate with Spain as to who owns what, Spain persisted and consequently only a small display of the artifacts can be seen at the Ulster museum in Belfast.

Another 3 km (2 miles) brought us to the village of Bushmills where we immediately made for the famous distillery which got its licence in 1609, shortly after James I granted the Scottish settlers, which included my ancestors, the lands of Ulster. By this time the rain was chilling and we were glad to sample the hot whiskey toddy offered at the end of the tour. I was shocked to hear the distillery had been sold at least twice in the last two decades, once to our Seagrams, and more recently to Pernod of France, but it was pointed out to me that economic boundaries are blurring in the European Community. One comforting piece of information was that the village had been declared a heritage site the very week we were there.

Our last stop for the day was at Dunluce Castle, 5 km (3 miles) further on, near the sea side town of Portrush. The castle sits on the edge of limestone cliffs flanked by the ocean and surrounded by a large golf course with a spectacular view. It was originally built in the 13th century by the Normans and captured in the middle ages by the MacDonnell clan who enlarged it in order to rule the area from it. One stormy night in 1639 when they and their followers were gathered for a huge banquet, the kitchen portion fell into the sea taking the servants with it. The Countess refused to live in it again and the castle was allowed to fall into disrepair. Today it is being skilfully restored. I told this story to my cousin Peter when we were younger and with typical Irish humour he replied, “So what did they do, send out for a pizza ?”

The next day we set out for historic Derry which has been in the news as regularly as Belfast in recent troubled years.

The history of Ireland is comprised of layers of events that are often found in close proximity to each other, and the town of Wexford is a perfect example of this phenomenon.

Wexford is situated on the east coast, south of Dublin, and was identified on maps as far back as 200 A.D. by the Greek geographer, Ptolemy. The Viking long ships were docked regularly for trade in the harbour they called WAESSFJORD ‘harbour of the mud flats’, but the continual silting of the harbour was a problem then and in this century this same problem caused the ferry businesses from Wales and France to move further down the coast to Rosslare harbour. The Vikings did establish a settlement at Wexford but in 1169 they were conquered by the Normans who built a wall around the town, part of which you can still walk around on today.

As we walked along the narrow streets lined with houses and shops in this ancient town we seemed to come across a layer of history every few hundred yards. In the Corn Market we passed by the home of the 19th century poet Thomas Moore who became a fashionable versifier in Regency England. His wit, charm and singing voice captured the interest of Lord Byron and Moore became one of his closest friends. Many of Moore’s songs became standards to be sung around the drawing room piano, and I can remember joining in “Believe me, in all those endearing young charms” on many a social evening as a young girl.

A few hundred yards further we came upon the Bull Ring used by the Norman nobility for bull baiting hence the name. In this same circle was a copper plaque commemorating an event that occurred there almost 500 years later. In 1649, 300 of the Wexford townspeople gathered in the Bull Ring to pray for deliverance from Oliver Cromwell and his invading English army, they were all put to the sword. In the centre stands a statue of a young peasant boy brandishing a pike. This is a memorial to the 1798 rebellion against the British which failed and took the lives of 20,000 Wexford County young men as well as some French soldiers. The book and subsequent movie, “The Year of the French” documents this brief rebellion.

A few more steps brought us to the site of the old rectory (now a drapery store) where Oscar Wilde’s mother, also known as the writer Speranza, grew up.

Leaving the Bull Ring we passed by White’s Hotel, which housed Cromwell and his troops for his brief stay on the coast, passed by King Street and the home of William Cody, the father of “buffalo” Bill Cody, the famous Wild West showman, and out to the harbour.

At the base of a large bronze statue of a man looking out to sea was an inscription dedicated to Commodore John Barry, founder of the American Navy, who left Ireland in 1760, aged 15, and settled in Philadelphia. Barry apparently became a legend in particular, distinguished himself during the American Revolution. Another piece of history lay at his feet, a wreath placed by John F. Kennedy in the early sixties when he came to visit his ancestral home close by.

By this time both of us were overwhelmed by the wealth of human experience we had been exposed to in such a small area, but the best was yet to come. I had read in a travel book that Selskar Abbey was situated in Wexford town. Not only was the first treaty between the Irish and the Normans signed there in 1169, but three years later the Pope sent the English king, Henry II to the abbey to de penance for ordering the death of Thomas A. Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury. This was of great interest to me and as we picked up the key to the wrought iron gate from Mr. Murphy who lived just around the corner, I mused about the length of time England has spent trying to subdue the “indomitable Irish”, 700 years of trying to get them to conform with limited success.

We had the tranquil stone walled abbey and grounds to ourselves and it was easy to imagine what it must have been like back in 1172. Although the roof was gone and the inside walls were blackened by fire (Cromwell again!), the abbey was in a good state of repair and we could still climb up the narrow, dark spiral stairway to the top of the tower which gave us a lovely view of the town and the bay. From there I could see the ancient grave stones around the abbey and pick out the newer ones.

While travelling around Ireland we had found many ornate grave markers erected to parents by immigrant children from all parts of the world. The large stone marker I found lying flat to the ground was one of these, placed in memory of Dorcas Catherine McGee by her children in America and Australia. Dorcas died in 1838 in her forties and her husband James lived through the potato famine of 1846 until his death in 1864, aged 82. The tomb was also dedicated to three of her children who had died in their mid twenties, all after her, but the last name was the one that held my interest.

IN MEMORY OF ANOTHER OF HER CHILDREN
THOMAS DARCY McGEE
WHO BECAME A FOUNDING FATHER OF CANADA
AND WAS ASSASSINATED IN OTTAWA (sic)
ON APRIL 7th 1868 AGED 43 YEARS

I still treasure this event as my personal discovery of another layer of history!

Ever since I was a small child, growing up in Belfast, I heard stories about kissing the Blarney stone. Usually the tales covered two categories, to complement someone for their “gift of the gab” or to berate those “silly Southern Irish and their daft ways”.

Although Ireland is a relatively small island, when I emigrated to Canada in 1966, I had never been south of Dublin. So on this holiday home I was determined to visit all the tourist spots, including Blarney Castle and judge it for myself.

We got a first glimpse of the castle through the green mistiness,, towering above the trees, drenched in rain. As we walked closer it became obvious that only the central keep was still standing, although it was still a large and forbidding edifice. The closer we came, the clearer grew the sound of music, haunting celtic music which hung in the air and echoed across the battlements to disappear into the mists of the forest. We discovered a group of young musicians, well wrapped up in Irish sweaters, playing in the great banqueting hall. These were all members of one family who support their studies by selling their tapes every summer at Blarney.

This was not a very hospitable spot, water streamed slowly down the green algae covered walls, but the music seemed to set the scene for the many listening tourists who stood in rapt attention. I found myself imagining how it must have been, the hall alive with people laughing and talking as they passed large platters of food down the long wooden tables while a large log fire burned in the huge fireplace at the far end of the room.

Using our direction sheet we climbed the 127 narrow steps to reach the battlements where the Blarney stone is set. The story goes that Cormac MacCarthy, head of the clan at that time, was a smooth talker, prone to flattering conversation which he used to win privileges from Elizabeth I of England. So famous were these utterances that the word “Blarney” became entrenched in the English language. (My Funk and Wagnell dictionary states that it means “wheedling flattery”)

As I stood on the battlements, at the back of a fairly long line, dressed in a long rain cape and carrying an umbrella, I wondered about my sanity. To actually pay money to queue up in the rain, lie down on my back (sans umbrella) and bend backwards down a crevice between the floor and the battlement wall to kiss a dirty old stone is not rational behaviour! I can’t imagine Queen Elizabeth submitted to these indignities, although they do say she was a bit eccentric. The smiling Irishman who holds you as you bend didn’t look that robust either!

But there was no turning back, although one American tourist did at the last minute. An expatriate who was too scared to kiss the Blarney stone? Inconceivable! So I let my husband go first, rationalizing that if he didn’t make it at least I knew the way back home to Belfast.

In a moment it was over – a quick sensation of cold rain hitting my face- the firm grasp of the “holder” – a few particles of sand or dirt on my mouth, and I was up again and smiling. We collected our certificates to prove we had been there (now part of my curriculum vitae) and headed off replete in the knowledge of our revitalized eloquence.

Our last trip was to the beautiful South West peninsula of Dingle. The peninsula’s three sides have long sandy beaches, rocky cliffs pounded by the Atlantic, and coastal plains chequered with stone walled tiny fields.

In one of these fields we discovered an early Christian site quite by chance. A small square of cardboard caught our eyes as we drove by. On it was scratched “PREHISTORIC BEEHIVES” and our curiosity got the better of us. The farmer’s son opened the gate for us and collected 50p each to view this spectacle. Halfway up the hilly field was a collection of stones, beehive shaped anchorite cells or CLOCHANS as they are known in Irish. These cells were inhabited by hermit monks in the early Christian period and are built of unmortared stones placed so tight against one another that no moisture can get in. The view of the ocean and surrounding countryside from this vantage point was breathtaking and even in the rain the feeling of tranquility permeated the very rocks.

We were heading for Dingle Bay, and in particular, the fishing village of Dingle to follow up on two interesting leads we had heard from other travellers. One was O’Flaherty’s Pub, a mecca of traditional music where jam sessions are held nightly in the summer and smoked salmon is served by the plateful. We rushed over at 8:00 pm and settled down in the large stone floored room to wait, as Mrs. Houlahan our landlady at the B&B warned us to get there early or we wouldn’t get a seat. Within the hour it was standing room only and ten musicians had arrived carrying a conglomeration of instruments ranging from tin whistles to guitars and banjoes, and a sole Irish drum.

The crowd was loud and lively but when a tune was played everyone would quieten down to listen. Irish music ends abruptly with no apparent warning, and these musicians would wander off musically with each taking the lead at one point or another but all would end perfectly with an uncanny precision. Many of the visitors in the audience were from the North, Catholics who told us they always came away in July to escape the parades and the violence that often accompanied the celebration of the Protestant victory of William of Orange in 1690. One young banjo player in a wheel chair had been shot as a young boy. “ah now, don’t be feeling sorry for him” said Dominic at the neighbouring table, “he’s been in that chair longer than he was out of it, so he doesn’t know any different.” We all had a memorable evening of laughter, conversation and wonderful music and sectarian violence seemed far removed from this jovial place.

The second reason we were in Dingle was to see FUNGIE, the Dingle dolphin. We had heard about the wild, bottle-nosed dolphin who arrived in the bay with his mother in 1985. When she died he remained, one of the few members of his species to live in solitude.

At breakfast we met a young couple who had swum with him in wetsuits the previous morning and they attempted to articulate the undescribable feeling they had when their eyes met his. We hurried down to the harbour to catch a boat out to the mouth of the bay. “Would you be after wanting to see our dolphin?” asked the fisherman, who refused to take any money until the end of the trip. Our scepticism soon disappeared when FUNGIE came right up to the edge of the boat. The next hour was magic, with the dolphin leaping, twirling and somersaulting while we all clapped and yelled and marvelled at this wild animal who seemed to take such delight in our company. Again politics and religious strife faded into significance as all of us on the boat shared in this almost spiritual moment between two species sharing this same special moment.

For me the Dingle visit and in particular, FUNGIE, was the highlight of the whole holiday. We left vowing to come back another year and to stay longer.

Our Scenic and Cultural Heritage

Our Scenic and Cultural Heritage
September 1992
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Jean Haalboom is Chairperson, Society for the Preservation of Upper Doon – SPUD; Chairperson, Heritage Advisory Resources Committee – ROPP, for the Region’s Official Plan Review; Heritage Advocate for built and natural environment, served as member and chairperson of Waterloo Regional Heritage Foundation; and member and Vice-Chairperson of Kitchener’s Local Architectural Conservation Advisory Committee – LACAC. This article appeared in the February 1992 issue of “Waterloo County Times”

In 1986, the Regional Environmental and Ecological Advisory Committee – EEAC – and the Waterloo Regional Heritage Foundation commissioned a Scenic Roads study. This study was conducted by Dr. Roger Suffling from the School of Urban and Regional Planning, University of Waterloo.

Six hundred road segments within the Region were studied and the roads were rated according to eight categories. The categories with their criteria were:

1- VEGETATION: diversity, forest maturity, variety and structure, colour, structure/edge, and visual texture

2- ROAD SEGMENT: structure, characteristic ditches and banks, condition of surface, official signage, roadside vegetation

3- LANDFORM / RELIEF: slope, terrain changes, rock outcrops, valleys and hills

4- WATER: water quality, water movement, water body, size, shoreline

5- CULTURE / BUILT ENVIRONMENT: telephone and utility poles, domestic architecture, other buildings, other structures, unofficial signage, people

6- CULTURAL LANDSCAPE: gardens, lawns, cropping patterns, farming methods, hedgerows, fences, and field edges

7- CONTEXT: foreground, middleground, vista, enclosure

8- TRAFFIC: four-lane highway, paved highway, paved regional road, paved township road, gravel township road

This region is truly blessed with scenic roads. One does not have to go to P.E.I. or Europe to experience a breathtaking view of nature’s beauty; the study proved it is right in our own backyard.

Where are the best roads? Try Twp Rd 16 in Wilmot, Twp Rd 5 in North Dumphries, West River Road in Cambridge, Twp 8 in Wellesley and Twp 60 in Woolwich.

Stauffer Drive in the Doon Pioneer Park area of Kitchener, for example rates in the top 2% of all scenic roads in the Region. It is filled with nature’s surprises in every season. In the winter, you may come upon a deer sauntering across the road or a cardinal flicking snow from its wing. In the spring you can enjoy the road tunneling its way under an unfolding canopy of green.

Stauffer is only part of the scenic roads system in this area. The system consists of Tilt Drive, Groh Drive, and Reidel Drive. Driving tours of 4 interesting routes have been produced; maps are available from the Waterloo Regional Heritage Foundation.

The four scenic routes on the tour are:

Southern Trail: Wildflowers and Textile Mills
Huron Road: Pioneers and Quilts
Country Lanes: Markets and Maple Syrup
Wellesley Byway: Apple Butter and Corn

At the moment no protection exists for these roads. In the spring of 1990, the felling of the mature tree canopy along Bleams Road from Trussler to Westmount Road occurred. This road was once a shady avenue inviting one for a refreshing Sunday cycle, jog or drive; now, in summer, it is much more like a sauna. It takes an incident such as this to make one realize how quickly and easily our natural heritage can be wiped out with one chain saw massacre. Our scenic roads need laws to protect them if they are to survive.

Now we have the opportunity to get these laws to protect our precious resource of scenic roads. This year both the Region and the City of Kitchener are in the process of reviewing and rewriting their Official Plans, in which we need to provide protective policies for these roads

about Poland . . . POLSKA

About Poland . . . POLSKA
September 1992
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Ewa Jankowiak was, for five years, in charge of Graphic Arts Productions Publishing with POLITYKA, the biggest weekly newspaper in Warsaw, before coming to Canada in 1989. She is currently chief editor for the Polish Canadian Bulletin POMOST in Kitchener-Waterloo. The Polish translation to her article is also her contribution

Poland is the sixth largest country of Europe, covering an area of 312,683 sq km.  Its capital is Warsaw. It is bordered to the east by Ukrainia, Belorussia , Lithuania and Russia, and to the south by Czechoslovakia, and to the west by Germany. The population in 1988 was estimated at 38,000,000.  Poland’s population is ethnically and linguistically very homogeneous although minority groups include Germans, Ukrainians,, and Belorussians.  Polish is the predominant language. Dialects still exist, however, among the Kaszub of the east, and the Pomerania of the north.  Approximately 90% of the population is Roman Catholic, the remaining 10% being: lutheran, protestant, eastern (orthodox) church, etc…

Slavic tribes inhabited the Vistula river basin as early as the 2nd millennium B.C.  The tribes migrated in many directions from the Vistula basin and eventually formed differentiated groups referred to as East Slovs and West Slovs.

The year 966 is accepted as the founding date of Poland, when Piast ruler Mieszko I adopted Christianity. The Piast dynasty continued to rule Poland until 1382.  During the 1650s the Russian Tsar Alexis Mikhaylovich conquered eastern Poland.  Charles Gustaw of Sweden also occupied Polish and Lithuanian lands during the same period.

In 1772 the first of three partitions of Poland occurred and the country’s perimeter shrunk as some 28 percent of its territory was seized by Russia, Austria and Prussia. The second partition occurred in 1793 and took place in 1795 as Poland was eradicated from the political geography of Europe and replaced by Austrian, Prussian, and Russian sectors.

In 1825 the Kingdom of Poland was established within the Russian Empire. The Polish people unsuccessfully revolted against oppression in 1830, 1846, and 1863.

Following World War I and the Russian Revolution, the Second republic was established in 1921 and a constitution was adopted that established a parliament.  But in October of 1939 Poland again lost its freedom when it was invaded by Germany, and Warsaw had capitulated.

In 1945 The Soviet Army strided Poland.  The Yalta Conference of February 1945 was the last meeting between the three Allied leaders:  Stalin of Russia,  Roosevelt of the United States, and Churchill of Britain, where they agreed to sovietize Poland.

In 1956 and 1977 Polish workers went on strike to protest their lack of food, lack of freedom, lack of free election, and the Soviet presence.

In 1981 the “attending” Soviet Gen. Wojciech Jaruzelski imposed martial law in December and Lech Walesa along with other Solidarity leaders were arrested. One year later martial law was suspended. In 1988 Gen. Jaruzelski started to negotiate with Solidarity leaders, and as a result, “Solidarity” was legalized in April 1989.

In August 1989 the first democratic government was created, headed by Tadeusz Mazowiecki, who was a close advisor to Lech Walesa.

Polska jest szostym co do wielkosci krajem w Europie o powierzchni 312 683 km. Liczba mieszkancow tego kraju w 1988 roku liczyla 38.000.000. Stolica panstwa jest Warszawa, liczaca 1 700 000 mieszkancow. Kraj graniczy od wschodu z Bialorusia, Ukraina, Litwa i Rosja. Od zachodu z Niemcami, od poludnia z Czechoslowacja. Od polnocy Polska przylega do Morza altyckiego. Polska jest krajem jednolitym etnicznie i jezykowo, aczkolwiek jest kilka grup narodowosciowych. Sa nimi Niemcy, Ukraincy, Bialorusini.

Jezykiem urzedowym jest jezyk polski. Posiada on jak kazdy jezyk gwary i narzecza, ktore jednak z biegiem lat wymieraja. Polacy sa w 90 procentach wyznania Rzymsko- katolickiego.

Plemie Slowian osiedlilo sie nad rzeka Wisla w drugim wieku przed nasza era. Osiedlalo sie i migrowalo wrozne strony wzdluz dorzecza rzeki tworzac Wschodnich i Zachodnich Slowian. Polska jako kraj datuje sie od roku 966 kiedy to Piast Mieszko I przyjal chrzescijanstwo. Dynastia Piastow trwa do roku 1382.

W roku 1650 Car Rosji Aleksander podbil wschodnia Polske. Krol Gustaw, wladca Szwecji okupuje Polske i Litwe wtym samym okresie. W 1772 wybucha pierwsze powstanie, ktorego rezultatem jest utrata 28 procent naszych ziem.Sa one podzielone miedzy Rosje, Austrie i Prusy. Drugie powstanie wybucha w roku 1793 wyniku, ktorego kraj traci pozostale ziemie. W 1795 Polska po trzecim powstaniu zostaje wymazana z mapy swiata. W 1815 zostaje utworzone Krolestwo Polskie. Niestety Polacy zmuszeni sa znowu chwycic za bron aby bronic swoich ziem. Kolejne zakonczone porazka powstania datuja sie rokiem 1830, 1846, i 1863.

II Wojna Swiatowa i Rewolucja Rosyjska spowodowaly, ze Polska po prawie 3oo latach niewoli odzyskala wolnosc. w 1921 II Rzeczpospolita miala juz swoja nowa konstytucje i parlament. W 1939 roku Polska w wyniku wybuchu II Wojny Swiatowej pomownie traci swaja niepodleglosc. We wrzesniu zaatakowana przez armie Niemiecka poddaje sie w pazdzierniku. Po czterech latach okupacji i po wkroczeniu Armii Radzieckiej do Polski odzyskuje ona wolnosc. Niestety w wyniku sowietyzacji narod polski znowu znajduje sie pod kontrola obcego moczrstwa. W lutym 1945 roku w Jalcie spotkali sie liderzy krajow alianckich: Stalin, Roosevelt i Churchill, gdzie sowietyzacja naszego kraju zostala przypieczetowana.

W latach 1956, 1979 na terenie calego kraju robotnicy rozpoczynaja strajki, buntujac sie przeciwko braku pozywienia, wolnosci i demokracji. Zadaja wolych wyborow oraz calkowitej niezaleznosci od Zwiazku Radzieckiego.

W 1981 roku po powstaniu zwiazku zawodowego “Solidarnosc” pod przewodnictwem Lecha Walesy i zadaniach narodu polskiego general Wojciech Jaruzelski (kierowany przez ZSRR) wprowadza w calym kraju stan wojenny. Trwa on prawie rok. W 1988 Gen. W. Jaruzelski decyduje sie na rozmowy z opozycja. W rezultacie w kwietniu 1989 zostaje zalegalizowana “Solidarnosc”. Pierwszy demokratyczny rzad w wyniku wolnych wyborow powstal pod przewodnictwem Tadeusza Mazowieckiego, bliskiego doradcy Lecha Walesy w sierpniu 1989 roku.

Warsaw
October / November 1992
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In my last article I wrote about the history of Poland. Today I would like to take you on a brief tour of one of the most beautiful cities in Europe – Warsaw. It lies on the Vistula River amid the plains of central Poland. It only became the country’s capital towards the end of the 16th century. Completely destroyed during World War II it has been rebuilt by the inhabitants. The restored Old Town now looks as it did then. Warsaw street scenes by painters of the Canaletto school were used as a guide during the restoration work after the war. These paintings can be seen in the National Museum, which has a lot of Polish and other European schools and a rare collection of Nubian frescoes. Warsaw has 35 museums and art galleries. Among the most interesting are the Historical Museum of the City of Warsaw, Museum of Martyrdom, Chopin Museum at Ostrogski Palace and the Poster Museum in Wilanów

Castle Square with its 17th-century King Sigismund Column is the best starting place for a tour of Old Warsaw. The itinerary from there past the Royal Castle and up Krakowskie Przedmieście Street, with its baroque churches and palaces and fine patrician houses, to Nowy Świat is known as the Royal Route. Where the two roads join is the Church of the Holly Cross. The heart of Frederic Chopin is kept in an urn, at his request, though his body is buried in France, where he died.

The Marketplace is one of the finest in Europe, and the 14th-century St John`s Cathedral has been rebuilt in the original Gothic style. A visit to Łazieki Park(18th-century) and boroque Wilanów Palace on the side of the city, which has many artistic and historic treasures, is well worth it.

WARSZAWA

W poprzednim moim artykule opisałam krótką historię Polski. Dzisiaj chciałabym opowiedzieć o jednym z najpiękniejszych miast Europy – Warszawie. Leży ona nad rzeką Wisłą, wśród równin w centralnej części Polski. Stolicą kraju jest Warszawa dopiero od wieku XVI. Całkowicie zniszczona podczas II Wojny Światowej została odbudowana przez mieszkańców. Zrekonstruowane Stare Miasto wygląda dzisiaj jak dawniej. Rekonstrucja ulic Warszawy była możliwa dzięki obrazom Canaletta, które posłużyły jako wzór pod odbudowę zniszczeń wojennych. Obrazy te można oglądać w Muzeum Narodowym, które posiada rownież kolekcję polskiego i europejskiego malarstwa oraz bardzo rzadką kolekcję Nubijskich fresków. Warszawa posiada oloło 35 muzeów i galerii sztuki. Najciekawszymi z nich są: Muzeum Narodowe, Muzeum Martyrologii, Muzeum Fryderyka Chopina w Pałacyku Ostrogskich oraz muzeum w Wilanowie. Najlepiej jest rozpocząć zwiedzanie od Placu Zamkowego z jego XVII wieczną Kolumną Króla Zugmunta. Podróżnik wyruszywszy z Zamku królewskiego i idąc w stronę Nowego Światu, tak zwanym Traktatem Królewskim ma okazję podziwiać piękne barokowe kościoły, pałacyki i kamienice. Na skrzyżowaniu obu traktów znajduje się Kościół Św. Krzyża. Właśnie w tym kościele złożono serce Fryderyka Chopina, które na jego prośbę przeniesiono z Francji, gdzie został pochowany po śmierci. Rynek Starego Miasta jest jednyn z najwspanialszych w Europie. XIV wieczna Katedra Św. Jana została odrestaurowana według orginalnego gotyckiego stylu. Godnym uwagi jest również przepiękny Park Łanienkowski pochodzący z XVIII oraz barokowy Pałac w Wilanowie z wieloma artystycznymi i historycznymi pamiątkami tego okresu, które przedstawiają oogromną wartość.

Chinese mid-Autumn Festival

CHINESE mid-Autumn Festival

Stephanie Hong is a dynamic and prominent personality within her community and is a hard working, successful career person. Originally from Hong Kong, Stephanie has made Canada her home since 1976.

Watch the moon closely on Friday, September 11, this year and you will notice that the moon is in fullest shape, and looks brighter than any other night. Yes, the Chinese think the full moon (15th) of the eighth month is especially lovely, and to celebrate its beauty, we hold the Mid-Autumn Festival, which usually falls in September of the western calendar.

To celebrate the festival, food is a must. Moon cakes are the specialty we eat .. it is round shaped and filled with delicious dried nuts and fruits. The most common kind is with lotus seed and salted egg yolk. Everyone loves moon cakes .. and it tastes much better when it is eaten on the full moon day.

There are still some families who celebrate the event by gathering on the balcony later at night to look at the moon, eating moon cakes and having a cup of hot Chinese tea.

In the olden days, not every child had toys, so with the festival approaching, children had the most fun as they carried the lighted lanterns around. They spent days and nights to design and make special lanterns to show off their talents. They used bamboo sticks, colourful thin wax paper, glue, and their imagination to create different shapes, such as a fish, a rabbit, a butterfly, a rocket .. they lit it up by putting a candle inside the lantern. It was fun and looked wonderful at night; but it has also created a lot of fires. Nowadays, we seldom see children making it and playing with it .. if they do, batteries and light bulbs are used for safety.

There are legends and fairy tales about the Mid-Autumn Festival. The simplest legend is that there was a beautiful lady who lived in the moon with a rabbit beside a pine tree … well .. since the astronaut made his first step on the moon, the beauty of this legend vanished !

The moon cakes also have their story .. they were used to convey secret messages to the Chinese patriots who took part in the rebellion .. the message was written on a piece of paper and stuck inside the moon cake.

Nowadays life is busy and people simplify the celebration of the festival. However, it is still a custom for the Chinese family to get together, enjoy a fabulous dinner on the full moon day, and of course to taste at least one piece of moon cake, which can be found at most Asian grocery stores. They usually come in a box of four, each cake about 4″ diameter.

Hispanic Culture

Hispanic Culture
September 1992
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by Marisol Amaya

Our Hispanic culture is not that much different from others, we have very strong ties amongst us, and the family is our nucleus; great grand parents, grand parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, are all in unity.

In some cultures the older ones are left behind .. not in ours ! We have respect for them, and really value them as a source of knowledge and wisdom. In some families the eldest has the last word .. and it is not imposed, it is respected.

My mother lives with us, and that is a blessing because my children have this marvelous source of stability and years of experience, right here at home .. for the price of just loving kisses and hugs.

The foundation of our family love is basically religious, and we try to carry out the teaching of the church by instilling it in our children and helping each other.

In our country of origin there is no need for social benefits for older or disadvantaged people; all members of the family look after each other in every way, whether the need is economical, social or spiritual, we are committed to each other and we share the good and the bad times .. and we love doing it !

This last June, our entire family was invited to celebrate my oldest daughter’s birthday. We went to a park, because there is no house big enough to hold us. Altogether, there were 45 members present from both my husband’s and my families. We had plenty of food, games and a great deal of fun; we even had a pinata !

People at the park were really impressed to find out that we all were relatives, as we shared, cared and gave love and attention to each other .. especially to grandparents ..

We cannot afford to have such parties more often, but we take every opportunity to teach our children the importance of love for each other . .  . these are our precious ways of life, our own nature, our roots.

I am proud of my roots, and I wouldn’t wish to change this most valuable heritage .. in fact I hope I can pass enough of it on to my children and make them feel these ties and be proud of being just the way we are, and pass it on to my grandchildren as well.

On The Road . . . with Jessica

Jessica Henderson has a B.A.Psychology (Trent University).  She just returned from 3 years of world travel, and will be sharing her diary with us on the pages of Cross Cultures

Calcutta Meets Tokyo

MY CULTURAL RECIPE
combine: 14 Rickshaws
1 Shinkansen
8 Japattis 6 Sukiyakis
11 Sari’s 2 Kimonos
750 Rupees 41.5 Yen
16 lbs Hindi 2.8 kg Nihon-go
4 weeks sun 6 days rain
1 tsp colour 3/4 cup black & white
1 pot chi 1 bottle saki

and you get hundreds of years worth of cultures

* a rickshaw is a common mode of local transportation in India. Both the cycle and motor rickshaws have 3 wheels which support the passenger carriage and driver

* a shinkansen is one of the fastest trains in Japan. It carries hundreds of passengers from the northernmost provinces to the south (a distance of 2-3 thousand kilometers) in 3 days or less

* a sari is Indian women’s traditional dress, it is a long strategically wrapped detail of printed material

* a kimono is Japanese women’s traditional dress, it is worn for special occasions

* a rupee is the currency in India. If there was Coke in India it would cost 350 Rs

* a yen is the currency in Japan. Almost twice the value of a penny

* Hindi is one of the languages spoken in India. It is used with English for trading communication

* Nihon-go is the language of Japan. The written Kangi developed from the Chinese, but developed a unique sound

* India’s climate is hot and humid; Japan has a lot of rain

* Indian crafts and textiles are very colourful

* Chi is India’s favourite tea served six times a day in a clay cup that you smash after drinking and it naturally returns to the earth

* Saki is the traditional drink of spiritual gatherings in Japan

On the Road
part 1
Heads and Tails
September 1992

Jessica ‘s world travel diary will appear in a sequel in Cross Cultures as promised in our last issue .. she has since become Mrs.Jessica Hall, and is honeymooning as we go to print … we wish Jessica and John a happy and successful life journey together !

After completing three years at university, I was eager for a change in lifestyle. I gathered my summer savings and ‘took flight’ in the fall of 1989.

The trip started in Florida when I accepted a ride “going west” from a car-full of colourful people! “Sure, no problem, we got room” insisted one of the long haired people. I crawled through the hatch of a window stickered VW bus and was greeted by smiles. The round of introductions which followed blended to the music as the creative re-decoration of bodies and their gear promised comfort until the next pit stop!

Meeting a family of friends who loved the Grateful Dead music was a brand new experience. They travelled around the United States days on end, enjoying live music and reunions with old members. Crafts and food were traded and sold to finance the next journey. I was so enamoured by this colourful collage of people and their attitudes, I decided to pursue this to a meaningful conclusion, to find what it was all about ..

Over the period of a year, some of my values were re-equated: There were other ways of life besides what I had experienced in the last 23 years. I learned that by becoming environmentally active (recycling, pollution control, resource management ..) spiritually tuned (practicing meditation, acting not reading..) and eating healthily (more whole grains and fruits than processed..) I could enhance “my quality of life”. Through my travels, I saw that most South Western people had a different perspective than back in Eastern Canada. I stopped travelling in order to work and experience how their different set of values and habits mingled in a cosmopolitan city like San Francisco.

Despite how much I enjoyed my days tasting new foods and swimming in the ocean, I was committed to sampling more than this culture. The opportunity to continue my travels around the world arose when this now familiar Grateful Dead band and its members announced a European Tour. I sold my VW bus, made several batik T-shirts (to trade) and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to adventure land.

On The Road
part 2
Grin and Wear It
October / November 1992

I settled on the pavement next to my display of T-shirts wondering from which country the next buyer would be. Drummers, in the distance, continued to attract a circle of people. The energy and cultural integration was high; the re-union had begun. It wouldn’t be long till the Grateful Dead journeyed with its fans on another musical adventure.

The band played in Sweden, Germany, France and England; eleven contracts in all. It was a splendid example of integration, with music being the central force by which people of different countries, languages, religions and class were united. All the hard work and planning that was necessary for many dedicated North American fans to afford such a trip had finally payed off. Smiles were radiant – and when the European communities joined in the dancing and spiritual exchange – the sight and sound of this colourful alternative marveled. The second to final concert at Wembley Stadium on Halloween of 1990, hosting a full capacity of masked faces, featured an unforgettable parade.

During the tour, I managed to sell 25 T-shirts (2 per show) for approximately $30.00 each. This gave me the funds to transport, feed and house myself between each consecutive show. Trading and bargaining was accepted as a way of survival and encouraged as a means of inter-acting culturally. I loved meeting people and bargaining. Fortunately, I was successful enough in not spending my previous earnings, set aside for the indefinite trip ahead.

By the end of the tour, I had found a meaningful solution: First, I became accustomed to a ‘poorer’ standard of living. Rather than stay in a hotel, for example, I chose a park, train station or hostel floor, as a safe place to sleep, “lay my bones” and re-energize. Second, I bought fresh staple food, from the grocery stores and spicily cooked them over a camp stove, as an alternative to ‘restauranting’. The meals prepared by fans were also cheap and nutritionally delicious. Third, I travelled in car pools, packed trains, and hitch-hiked sometimes just for the fun of “who would get there first”.

As a result of these experiences, I became more comfortable mentally and physically with the actualities of later travelling in the third world countries.

In England I was finally faced with the cold rain and the harsh reality of saying good-bye to friends returning home. Myself and a few other lucky fans headed south on the train before we met … and ouzo !

On the Road
part 3
A Peace of Greece
December 1992 / January 1993

It was November 1990; the first year of travel was coming to a close. I felt the need to relax and reflect on the faces and places I had visited. What better place than the famed Greek Islands !

The ferry I chose was heading to Patri via Corfu. I purchased an ongoing ticket but hoped to get off at Corfu before heading to Athens and islands further south. I soon realized that 3rd class passengers had no seats, so I decided to put my dome tent up on the deck. It was there, upon the contents of my pack, that I slept so peacefully, undisturbed by the wind, rain or the blackness outside.

I was suddenly awakened, early next morning, by the final call for passengers departing at Corfu. I stuffed my tent away and frantically scrambled up and down two staircases, around a cafeteria, across a lobby and off a ramp .. just in time.. now that was ‘aMAZEing’ !

The next four days took me as much by surprise. No sooner had I got off the boat than I was escorted by an English speaking Greek lady to join a van full of people and their belongings. The road wound us from one side of the island to the other in 45 minutes.

The views were spectacular, tall narrow trees and a lush green undergrowth, covered the hills and valleys; several pastel coloured villages set off in the distance beckoned a visit; white sand and a turquoise sea surrounded it all. The reality of Greece was as beautiful as people had said.

We arrived at the Pink Palace, also known as the Ouzo Zoo. This modern looking resort was painted pink and enclosed by a playground of facilities guaranteed to supply the common tourist with endless days of activity. Each new guest was introduced and poured a ‘pink’ drink. This drink, more often clear, was ouzo, a favourite Greek alcohol compared in taste to licorice, fennel and aniseed. By 6:00 am a party was well on its way. Strangers became friends, and whispers became shouts. Each night, following dinner, the festivities continued. There were stories, jokes, music, Greek dancing, shots of Ouzo, and clay plate smashing ceremonies. Tourists seemed to always arrive but never depart. Was it the Greek traditions, or the Pink Palace conditions ?!

A couple of days later, I arrived in Athens, the heart of Greece. The city was at full steam, horns honking, Giros and Souvlaki cooking, vendors haggling, and people roaming the streets. It was hot and dry, but it was an incredible place for its history and design. Thousands of years old, the buildings showed their wrinkles.

I then visited two islands, Paros and Naxos. My diary reminds me of the dogs and the squid. A large number of homeless dogs surviving on local garbage and tourist generosity followed me from the time I arrived until I departed. The squid hung around all day too .. fishermen flung their catchings over the rafters to bake in the sun, until a hungry customer ordered one with beer and sauce. The smell was overwhelmingly ‘fishy’.

On the Road
part 4
One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish !
February / March 1993

Where is Dr. Seuss when you need him? … And, how could the best memories of Egypt be so ‘fishy’ ?  Two good questions deserving some explanation.

From the beginning .. myself and another ‘wander-lust’ Canadian, whom I had met recently in Greece, decided spontaneously to postpone our parting by visiting Egypt. With such cheap flights and accommodations, the temptation was irresistible.

We arrived after dark, but just in time to catch the last bus down to Talaat Harb Street. Here within the still busy CAIRO centre, we found the ‘Oxford House’. This once magnificent eight storey building with cathedral ceilings, French windows, and a walkout balcony, told the tales of hundreds of hosteled hippies.  After reading the walls, we added a note and doodle.

The next day our comfort was cushioned by a warm welcome from an American family living in Maadi suburb. From this base, we ventured daily, acquainting ourselves with the new :

(1) Language:
Insha’ullah – God willing;   Shukran – thank you;   Ma’alish – never mind; Baksheesh – tip
(2) Currency: Egyptian Pound
(3) Staple food: Kushari – rice, noodles, lentil, onions and sauce;  Falafel and Foul sandwiches
(4) Popular cigarettes: Cleopatra
(5) Local Brew: Stella

Naturally, the history of Egypt as depicted by hieroglyphics and pyramids were of primary interest. It was this excursion to the desert, however, that called for a doctor. In a manoeuvre to capture three pyramids in one photo, I tripped and tumbled head over heels down a boulder and badly sprained my foot.  Ouch ! Ouch. Unfortunately this altered future plans to visit Aswan and Luxor for more history. Determined not to let this incumber our stay, we opted for snorkling in the Red Sea. There at the tip of the Sinai Peninsula, in a tiny village called Sharm El Sheikh, we rented a tent for a week. The red and blue colour of my foot was dull in comparison to the rainbow coloured fish and coral. We spent the better part of our days peacefully submerged in this tropical bath, even though things above the water were also very quiet – the Gulf War was a week from starting, and most tourists had cancelled any holiday plans.

On the Road
part 5
Hide and Sheikh
April / May 1993

” … 5 4 3 2 1 … ready or not, here we come !” Everybody was hiding;  the tension level was high; what was going to happen ?

On the way to India, I had a two day stop-over in Dubai one of seven emirates that make up the United Arab Emirates (UAE). An emirate is a province ruled by an emir. Emir or in Arabic Amir is a prince, a nobleman.

Dubai is located on the southern shore of the Arabian Gulf. It is the ultimate shopper’s dream: air conditioned shopping malls as well as traditional Souk‘s, both duty free. Oil and trade manufacturing provide the basis for a prosperous economy.

Having arrived, I reported my whereabouts as requested by my family.  I added, however, teasingly, the reason being here was to “have breakfast with Saddam“, but their response was of serious concern: “GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE !”

The newly surfaced streets were empty. The hotels were full. Security guards waited patiently.

Unfortunately my very brief stay and perspective of Dubai was from a hotel, as all visitors without visa’s were restricted from leaving the hotel, even momentarily. This is s standard policy of embassies to ensure our safety.

I wondered about the faces hidden behind the womens’ black veils, and I watched the children carry their belongings from one place to another.  I observed how the mens’ rooms were on one side of the hotel and the womens’ on the other, each with separate staircases leading to them.  The men dressed in neat crisp gowns too !

The menu at the hotel, however, was international, and the entertaining dance group was from Malaysia.

On the Road
part 6
‘A Long & En-LIGHTENED Load’
June / July 1993

I arrived in Delhi, but my pack did not. Was this the adventure I expected? What next? “Onward to the co-pilot seat of a dilapidated bus: 4:00 am. The driver, wrapped from head to toe in dark blankets, smoking a bidi, signaled to the men outside the front, and to my disbelief, the rocking bus jumped to a start. It squeaked in all its joints and shook every passenger up and down as it clipped along the ‘wrong side of the road’ just clearing cows, dogs, motor scooters, rickshaws and bullox carts”.

The same morning while recovering my wits with a sweet cup of ‘chi’ a delightful Kashmir boy reassured me, “India’s a good place to be”.  He then went on to explain several customs:

* When greeting, hold palms together at chin level, nod head, and say “Namaste“,
* When visiting a temple or home remove your shoes and accept sacred food,”Prasad“,
* Never put your hand on an adult’s head, it is a sign of disrespect,
* Apologise if your feet or shoes touch someone, don’t whistle,
* Use your right hand for scooping food and your left for cleaning after the toilet,
* Tip well if you wish good service in a restaurant, taxi, etc.,

I found the following four months emotionally and physically fulfilling. I exchanged language, culture and recipes with several families, for example: To count 1,2,3,4,5 is EK, DO, TIN, CHAR, PANCH .. and the history of the Lotus as a flower and ‘enlightening posture’;  Hindus erotic symbols of fertility;  Masula Dosa, Dal Baht for spaghetti and a ‘veggie’ burger! The two activities I enjoyed most were riding in the trains and shopping in the markets where the prices varied, the faces were ever-changing, and the fruits were often unknown to me .. “taste and surprise!”

Overall, I considered their ‘recycling’ to be most fascinating and ingenious: coconuts are eaten, used for oil, and the shell used as a cup and husked into a rope; cow dung is used for fuel and a scouring pad; banana leaves are used for plates; bamboo for baskets, shelters, pipes and musical instruments, etc. Since their items are biodegradable and not synthetic (like plastic or glass) they can return to the earth quickly and naturally”.

What does Canada need to achieve this “No haste, no waste” balance? … perhaps a few more pigs?

I have the fondest memories of India and hope to return .. to wear the flip-flops, roast the peanuts and smell the Sandle wood all over again.

On the Road
part 7
“Eye in the Sky”
September 1993

I arrived in Darjeeling, India’s northern most city, by the renowned Toy Train ride. It was February 15th and the Tibetan New Year’s party was lighting up the sky. The next morning an elderly British farmer, former tea planter and I were getting acquainted with the village when we came across a group of Nepalese children.  The happy yet timid characters volunteered to sing the ‘English’ Nick, Nack, Patty Wack, give a dog a bone’ song for us. There accents were so precious we wanted to talk more, but when they heard their taped voices they smiled, giggled and ran away.

Later that day, we found the Himalayan Trekking Institute and Sir Edward Hillary’s climbing gear from 1952 when he summited Mount Everest at 29000 F/8800 M. There must be great joy in being the first to do something!

After a week of adjustment to the food, the customs, and primarily the climate, it was time to move west to Katmandu. I took the chance of travelling by bus through Eastern Nepal, a route several travellers recommended to boycott – to no avail .. it was uncomfortable, long, hot, sticky, sandy, bumpy and loud. Once recovered, the adventure continued, five individuals looking for trekking partners were united; One Canadian, one German, one British, one Israeli and one Australian.

We set off on a ten day hike to Lang Tang Mountain and back. Towards the base camp, the bus crawled down one mountain, across a valley floor and river, up over and around another mountain. We sat on the edge of our roof seat – kind of like a safari or riding an elephant. We arrived late after one flat tire, one broken springe and another suspension problem. The trekking was challenging and rewarding. Along the way we met the Nepalese porters or Sherpas -famous as mountain climbers- who carried the most enormous load for tremendous distances; children fetching firewood and water, women spinning wool and cooking. Most of them smoked tobacco pipes and wore heavy felt-like blankets, capes and skirts with colourful embroidery distinguishing their village apart from the next. The women also wore a lot of heavy gold and traditional or ceremonial beads around their necks.

Now if you are still wondering why “eye adore yew”, I’ll have to explain that Nepal is so high up in the sky that it can heal all .. mistakes .. and by the way a Yew is not a Yak; lest I forget ! I had seen many ‘Yaks’ in Nepal, but only upon my return to Canada did I realize that they were YEWS..
With bright temple eyes
You see the sun rise
You see the moon fall
I adore you Nepal

 

 

Think for Yourself !

Michael Ranieri – B A (Arts) 1978, is the owner-operator of a small business in K-W for 5 years now, and is keenly interested in educational issues

 

Isn’t Canadian Culture Still Worth Preserving?
June / July 1992

In the last century, some of the world’s political/economic systems have undergone major transformations: There are no emperors left in China; Russia is in the midst of another major change; and the European Economic Community is getting closer to reality. The recent U.S. riots are a  confirmation of the change that is required with our neighbours, yet we Canadians meekly sit and wait for others to think for us.

We see a need for an end to racism, sexism, environmental abuse, economic abuse and the ridiculous absurdity of our bureaucracy that puts paperwork before human beings. What can you and I, as individuals, do about this?

My background includes relatives that both fled and supported Russian aristocracy and communism. Ultimately, there seems to be no difference in the outcome for either. They came to the land of opportunity only to find a culture in which money is all and everything. In this economically driven Canadian culture, money takes precedence over community, over the arts, research, entertainment and over the basic necessities of life – putting a roof over your head and being able to eat.

Our culture is dying – people are not supporting the original concepts of freedom and real democracy where all are treated equal.

I have a lot of sympathy for the unemployed and for the abuse the lower class in our society suffers. How can someone be sentenced and given a criminal record for stealing a pair of $12 shoes for their child, while an employee caught embezzling gets an internal “retraining” program ?

The Greeks had a number of words that they used to describe the various connotations of democracy. We have one that refuses to go away, where the “blue bloods” would tell people that they will do the thinking for them.

I have always been an “outsider”, not participating in politicking, but if we should be more concerned with appearances and not make problematic issues public, then one of the most frightening aspects of this is : how many policies and practices will be rubber stamped and never disclosed or discussed ?

Other cultures have valued ethics and consistent morality (that is not necessarily dictated) as an integral part of culture. Does it still exist anywhere other than in a few individuals ?

As a business person my philosophy has been based on mutual satisfaction – if I do business with you, we should BOTH be happy. Some days I feel like an alien when I explain this pretty simple concept to people.

The examples are endless, but that is not the point. When people came to North America they brought their idealism and energy to try to find a better way to live. It was always stressed that adaptability and flexibility are key components for healthy evolution. North America was the last great refuge for freedom, creativity and independence. It did grow and prosper, but often at the expense of women, third world countries, the environment and native cultures.

However, these “subcultures” have fought back. Is our country now turning on itself because there is nothing left?  We have forsaken the ideal of harmonic growth for advertising slogans.

Now is the time to start creating a sense of community: we cannot expect to be given jobs, we must be independent and start working outside of the confines that are holding us back. In a vacuum, culture can be created.

Support the Arts that you want to see, the ones you enjoy and derive satisfaction from. Participate in the things you can change and find others that agree.

Make mistakes as you try things out; for everything you try, a mistake will turn into the right stuff if you try hard enough.

Talk to people to whom you wouldn’t usually talk to – find out if they are the same or different. Work beside them and play beside them – see if you remember how !! Think for yourself – Create your own future !

 

Would You Choose the Lowest Bidder ?
September 1992

In my last article, I briefly looked at the global changes and the implications for Canadian culture and what you and I can do to affect change and not only be its result, with no control.

People in this culture do not seem to get together and have any directed effect as my main contention was that our society is so preoccupied by money (especially during our current economic climate) that the individual does not have any say i.e. does not have enough money except in their own back yard. So this time, let’s discuss an economic and business perspective.

My own business experience has shown that to award a tender to the lowest bidder, without taking other factors into account, is an absolutely absurd bureaucratic position to take and benefits nobody. Our own business’ policy has been to immediately dismiss the lowest bidder when we source goods for resale. Reason? Almost every business is goods and services, and the exact same business principles apply: the lowest bidder is a collection of the lowest bids from suppliers, subcontractors and other services. Even though purchasing and engineers specify minimum requirements, anybody in business knows how to get around this. No matter how many specifications you put out, there are suppliers who are constantly learning how to defeat this. Just as when I go to a restaurant, they all serve the same, sometimes at the same price, but I definitely have my favorites!

I could continue, but basically the point is this: a cost saving now almost always causes extra expense in the future. In our business we know that the lowest bidder has the weakest quality i.e. ‘just passes specs’, has the weakest after sales support, and has the most aggravating and unacceptable, but legally passable warranty service.

A natural consequence of this is poor business ethics and relations, and ultimately, low value.

People may argue that this is the reason for the rigors of the tendering process, but it simply doesn’t work for the good of all concerned. What about after the job is done? There are always callbacks! How much time and money would be wasted in a critical situation?

Purchasing a large amount of equipment from a manufacturer / supplier whose reputation within the industry is not favourable saying that we have saved money by getting the lowest price, without considering the supplier’s skill, competence, experience or ethics and long term accountability, then no value or real cost savings are achieved. Dealing with a reputable supplier overcomes a lot of costly measures.

Accompanying factors and consequences should be of concern in the original bidding. Long term and overall value cannot be specified in a bid request, hence the need for looking at experience, past track record and ongoing performance and satisfaction.

So little value is placed on people’s experience and quality! Customers who tells me they can buy a product we sell cheaper elsewhere sometimes don’t understand how a product can be called the same thing and sold as if it were, but not have any real quality in it, thus the customer is not getting the same thing!

The same analogy is true when it comes to people. Other cultures have acknowledged the need for higher value than just in commodities and the price.

Isn’t this similar to an argument where one has or has not the choice to pick the best available, whether it be goods, services or PEOPLE ?

Our culture has to begin to recognize this. Hopefully, businesses will value people above lowest cost. If everything is sold to the lowest bidder, we will be reduced to no community at all. Isn’t community the basis of culture?

Money ? !
October / November 1992

In my previous articles, I tried to express the idea that an individual’s day to day experiences or interaction with other people is what produces a community’s identity. It becomes a part of a larger cultural identity when one includes how groups of individuals, a community, view other groups of individuals. Regional, ethnic, political and religious differences all impart a personality that an individual either reflects or tries to incorporate, for better or worse.

This is my rather awkward way of saying that an individual can make his or her mark and change things. The change is felt by the community, and if there is a large enough influence, the whole culture is affected. It could be going round in a circle if it is a static culture, or it could be changing as in the case of Russia revolutionizing itself: from aristocracy to communism to a variant of democracy.

Think of how these cycles take place on a local level – concepts in education, the impact of technology, changing concepts of values and of working, and so on.

Certain things seem to start from global culture and exert their influence only one way – the community simply reacts. Federal / Provincial politics, the Legal System, the communications media and others are examples. We often have microcosms of these: municipal government, local community standards of acceptability and the reporting of local news and events. Even at this level, the individual is often passive and only still reacting to what is presented to them.

What I feel is the underlying and driving force behind all these global one way influences in our culture is M O N E Y .

One does not need to list how money seems to affect virtually everything. But I do think it is important to list how little effect the individual has on reversing or balancing the force of money in their lives.

Rather than be theoretical, I will take a look at money in my own business. For this purpose, numbers will be expressed as a percentage, but accurately reflects what I feel is an alarming drain on our local economy. (Incidentally, gross sales are between $500,000 and one million – just to give you an idea of what we are talking about)

77 % direct cost of goods sold
7 % GST
6.5% PST (some items are exempt or wholesale)
2 % waste, damaged goods, dead stock, theft, etc
0.5% bank charges: credit card “discount”, service fees, etc.(no loan)
5 % wages, salary
1 % rent, utilities, local services, etc
1 % miscellaneous

the first five items ( 93% ) represent money that originates in the community but leaves and may only partially be returned. The goods sold are not manufactured locally. The dealings represent the worst of business affairs – almost all take and no give. And we provide all the work !

In our particular business, the cost of goods sold is very high. One will notice that there is no profit and no retained earnings. We, and a lot of other small businesses, have not seen that for years. For some, this has encouraged fraud, theft and the bandit mentality. How many times do you hear complaints about the way businesses treat people now ? When your back is against the wall, there are very few alternatives. There is also no money set aside for training, development, consulting or anything that pertains to future or long term growth. It is a day-to-day survivalist mentality.

As an individual responsible for the cash flow of what I consider to be a sizeable amount of money, I have to worry about the little I and my employees can get out of it, never mind trying to balance the slate and make things fairer. I have tired so much of customers constantly haranguing us for lower prices when we fight Goliath, that I feel that they should see what it is like to come to work and daily be bargained down on the little mark-up we have. Our only true alternative at this point would be to substitute inferior goods, bait and switch or all the other horrors of sleazy salesmanship !

I find fewer and fewer people willing to be self-employed or entrepreneurial, few want to willingly engage themselves in such unequal business relations.

When are we going to do something about this ? Some feel it is already too late, and our culture has changed into one in decline, with people only profiting from other people’s misfortune or constrained relationships that never allow them to grow.

Do you think that ethical business is still possible or have we lost that too ?

Are you finding your friends, relatives and acquaintances have changed for the worse – stress, violence and manipulation seem to be the by-product of this state of affairs. Is this what you want ?

The ideas of freedom and self-determination and healthy competition now read like anarchist manifestos. This is how far we have strayed from original design and idealism. I find it hard to believe that the majority of people today want our current state of affairs, but I certainly have been called naive before.

Yet I don’t like what I see. I would rather be called naive and stupid than accept what I see. This is part of your community, your culture. Is this what you really want ? If you don’t say anything, nothing will change

 

Is Participatory Democracy Only a Slogan at Election Time ?
December 1992 / January 1993

Recently I was in the United States.  I watched a bit of the local TV new and read the city papers a few times.  A little incident caught my eye:

There was a problem in one part of the city.  Well, it seems that some of the people living in the “ghetto” (the word was never actually used, but certainly implied) were getting tired of having their area represented the way it was and treated the way it was.

Basically, they figured that they were  paying their fair share in taxes for services.  Ultimately, as time and incidents progressed, and when they looked at what  they were getting in return, they felt it was a “pretty raw deal” – a lot of money was going out to people and institutions outside the neighbourhood while a calculated fair percentage  of it was not returning as they reasoned it ought to (by simply comparing  other neighbourhoods’ treatment and their taxation levels and services).

Their neighbourhood needed basic improvements and the city had almost deliberately neglected them.  When  “outside” investment came in, it was strictly financial motivation and this helped accelerate deterioration in the neighbourhood (which reminds one of nasty foreign policies applied in third world countries ..).

The residents did not ask to be treated this way, yet were blamed for the outcome.  A wonderful ‘got-em no matter which way they turned‘ !

To make a long story short, they demanded that the city acknowledge and address their concerns.  Imagine my shock when the city quickly (and without confrontation or double-talk) agreed !

The city’s first step was to pressure the banks to make available  self directed business loans and to take risks at a lower profit margin and to lay off management control unless justified and agreed upon.  And further, zoning  changes would be partially directed by the neighbourhood (as opposed to the residents just being informed of, or having their opinion taken) and the city would let the neighbourhood have final say in changes.

I often see or hear of similar situations here, and I wonder if in my own little town things could be handled this way.  Imagine if someone or some group here tried to do things this way.

How differently would the outcome have been, in the case, for example, of building inspectors evicting a large number of people – who are simply trying to make a living and survive – from an “unsafe” building.

Had those people deliberately been encouraging such conditions?  Could the city have regarded the people involved with more consideration and not acted unilaterally ?

This is almost a repeat of the same scenario of the U.S. city, yet the outcome was completely different;  Or is there another angle I am not aware of ?

How would people respect such callous and uncalled for behaviour ?  Why can other cities improve conditions instead of blaming the people who are  trying ?  How can people’s trust in the ability of politicians and bureaucrats be maintained if they can’t  even use the little common sense and maybe some understanding in difficult times ?

Maybe it is time people started questioning adversarial tactics by the people who are in the public sector.  After all, we are their employer and do have some say … don’t we ?

 

Culture Should be Agreed Upon ; Defined by You and I
Why Isn’t it Now?

February / March 1993

My previous articles probably represent a consistent train of thought that is really only apparent to me! However, a lack of negative response has got me wondering .. And when I start wondering, I really wander in the wonder of it all!

Naming a column “Think for Yourself” is somewhat contradictory because it is one person’s opinion: mine. But .. I think my opinion largely does not influence anyone against their will and I (and you) should be free to express ourselves. Yet, I am sometimes made to suffer others’ opinions, laws, teachings, etc., and have no say in the matter. Lately, it has only got worse.

What is it that makes someone else’s opinion influence my life, whether I want it to or not? Is it this culture? Politics, religion, education, the working environment and your community are all cultural forces impinging on you and I, for better or for worse. I had previously stated that I think money has become the overriding (and negative) bottom line tying all these factors together. Let’s just ignore money for now (as if this were possible!) and look generally at culture (or the lack of an individual’s say in thereof).

Well, I’ve never had a reputation for acknowledging or accepting things the way they are, but what about you? Isn’t the right to question still available, or is culture so insular that questioning just falls on deaf ears and you get labelled the big complainer with a negative attitude?

* * * * * * *

If for one brief crazy moment, you had any wish you could, what would it be? In a directed poll taken recently (reported in Maclean’s), the number one answer was: inner peace and happiness. People favoured that over remaining young and healthy, over money, over sex (in that order). Why is this so?

Let’s take that one brief crazy moment and hold it a bit longer. Let’s pretend you really had a say in our cultural institutions. Do you think they’d be anything like the way they are now?

Would you keep the political system the way it is now?

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of hearing how this is the best place in the world to live and that things are getting better. My own poll with friends and relatives tell me that politics and the things we are told by our politicians and bureaucrats have about as much depth and concern as a very slick and expensive advertising campaign.

Would you keep organized religion the way it is now?

I consider myself to be a spiritual (for lack of a better adjective) person in my own way, but most religious institutions seem to have no soul (for lack of a better definition) in which to form a spiritual affinity with. I often politely argue about religion with others but dogma is often the ultimate answer to the ultimate questions. Dogma precludes my right to question and be equal to those who profess to have the answers. Somehow equality is always number two, behind a very frightening, vengeful and authoritarian #1.

Would you keep the educational system the way it is now?

Education now seems to be socialization: which is teaching coping skills to adjust in a culture that has been incapable of realizing ultimate standards for everybody to abide by and hold true. Coping does not address personal security and healthy evolutionary growth. Coping is not independence and self-reliance or teaching one to educate oneself. The double bind is that the freedom to be who you are is at odds with the narrow niche-filling needed by our corporations and government structures. And who creates education policies? Do you?

Creativity, the arts, self-discipline, entrepreneurial and independent thinking, productivity, self-expression, scientific and harmonious technical achievements and satisfying relations are some of the things that are formed through experience and opportunity and a mutual beneficial environment. Education in its ideal state could provide exposure to these concepts if the people teaching had themselves realized these abilities and were promoting them in action and by demonstration. Do you think that’s what’s on Teacher’s College application and today’s agenda?

Socialization produces value judgements by rote, the loss of spontaneity and the pressure to conform without merit or justification. To consider marking students on how well they participate as “team players”. Not one kid that I asked about this agreed: they cited peer pressure, being a teacher’s pet, disregard for the new kid in class or racial/ethnic/intellectual/physical individuality being subsumed. Parents were not consulted about these issues, so before blaming parents for non-participation shouldn’t we ask: how long has it been since we last listened to them? Do they actually need to be taught the right skills in order to ask the teachers the right questions? Then we are told our concerns are being addressed!

I do not impose my way of thinking on anyone, while others impose their thinking on me “for my good” (?)

I think valid political, religious and business qualifications come from those who have contributed and improved conditions for all those concerned. Or is this just an ideal that is marketed and taught but never really acted on? For me inner peace and happiness is derived partially from knowing that people whom I have entrusted authority and control over parts of my life are to be doing so in my (and theirs’ equally) best interest. And if we were to change positions, there would be no change in equality and no conflict would ensue.

In today’s society, I would certainly be one of the respondents who chose inner peace and happiness as a priority, because I don’t think my culture is providing it. Worse yet, I think that those who desire it are going to be branded “non-team players”, troublemakers, cowboys, etc., and penalized for it.

Unfortunately, I’m still confused as I can’t seem to find all these people who vote to keep things the way they are. Are we so afraid to say what we think in this culture?

If you were in charge for a day, is our present culture the one you would create? It is obvious that I would say NO, I would not keep much of what we have now. But am I the only one? If not, where are you, who are you .. and how are you now? What have you done lately to make the world a better place ?

April / May 1993
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Last issue’s article asked why the average everyday person is not getting much say in contributing to our current definition of culture. Educational, religious and political institutions seem to be so incapable of being flexible and evolutionary (i.e. progress or betterment occurring) that most people’s lives seem to be a defensive reaction to culture rather than a contribution to and extension or creation of culture. Input into any of these institutions is often ignored, confused, bureaucratized or otherwise deflected. “Teflon” ethics and leadership seems to be a fact of life these days ! Immunity to criticism and lack of true accountability go hand in hand with self-interests in a hidden agenda.

I rarely call upon my formal education for any explanations, but one of the things that I learned was that it is a relatively simple process to produce apathy, helplessness, and confusion: If I were of a particularly selfish and destructive attitude, it would be an easy matter to create apathy. Let’s say I wanted to do this to my pet dog. All I have to do is send mixed signals – when my dog does more than move, I simply both punish and reward my dog for the exact same actions. Even in a dog, I will be able to confuse and sensitize the animal to the notion that anything it does is subject to arbitrary actions on my part. I have control – I am the dog’s master, and my dog simply does not know how to respond.

Anything it does to respond will not induce better behaviour on my part. It will soon learn not to respond.

People are certainly more complex, but the same principle holds true. Who are the ‘masters’ in my life ? What do I do when I see them treating me arbitrarily or without just cause ? Do I just sit there and take it ? Do I fight back ? Do I take it out on others around me ?

Due to recent events in my life where I felt I was treated like the dominated dog, I began to informally ask people whether they thought they had been in comparable situations and how and why these things could happen.

I talked to a policeman, I talked to a teacher, I talked to a small business owner, I talked to a youth, and I talked to others. The details are not important, but the agreement was almost always reached when we discussed how it was getting harder and harder to find out if people have any consistency or agreement on any fundamental values. What does our culture stand for and hold in high ideal ?

Kids in school are learning about hypocrisy and being noncommittal. Teachers have no direction and are caught between an inefficient bureaucracy and parents who want to blame them for their kid’s problems. Parents are insecure and doing anything to hold on to what is fast dissolving in front of their eyes.

Policemen/women are seeing criminals with more rights than their victims and an adversarial legal system that is only helping those who profit from others’ suffering. A legal “system” strangling any attempt to see fair and consistent justice be done. Judges are ruling on people’s lives as if they were no better than victims of a spelling mistake and complex interpretations of detached rulings and laws.

Governments are telling us we must pay for decisions made in our names, but which we had no say in. One friend’s answer was his religious faith – he has so completely given up on the idea that this world can be a good one, that it is only the potential of an afterlife that gives him any hope. How has possibility and potential been removed from everyday life ?

Business people are saying that the only way to survive is to take advantage of people’s ignorance and wait for opportunities – the community is there to take money from and to not put anything back in. This is not mutually productive, but more like a military attitude – divide, conquer, then abandon after the destruction.

I listen to politicians and the media who are quick to blame the “lazy” unemployed, blame the crack heads (and witness the allegations made towards the race of those associated with the ‘problem’), blame the lack of morals and say it is things like the recent legalization of explicit sex videos.

It’s funny, though you know that there aren’t many jobs, and when they catch a welfare cheat, he or she is surely and swiftly punished. But when someone defrauds others of over a million dollars, he is a victim of his own delusions and is sentenced to less than 2 years in jail. I recently heard of a high profile bankruptcy where the scuttlebutt is that the company’s main business was large scale heroin and cocaine importation. Not one word of this was in the media. If I heard it, they surely did too. And how come there were no lawyers saying that high profile WASP businessmen are responsible for bringing millions in destructive drugs into the area ? But it was easy to say it’s Jamaicans and Vietnamese that are responsible. And it’s all too easy to pick up kids for smoking a joint and blame them for our society’s problems.

How come on TV I can see people killing each other, but am told that people having healthy, fun and mutually satisfying physical relations is obscene ? Something I feel and enjoy is wrong, yet harming other people is something I am supposed to ignore or accept as entertainment ?

I tell people that I dropped out a long time ago and do not like the society I am in. I see a lot of wrong, but always thought that in my own world I could be free to make it a better one. I don’t feel any great urge to make people be like me, but I don’t want others to make me be like them, unless I want to. Mutual respect and tolerance are important ! I admire the people I have learned from and felt comfortable with, even though I have disagreed with them or not even hold the same values. I respect the fact that they at least have values. A diverse culture is healthy !

The answers to the problems we have are in acknowledging that we can no longer pretend that things are good. When I talked to a friend who came from another part of the world I asked him whether he thought it was better here or there .. he said that here he is better off financially or materially, but the way he said that people and community were better in his homeland, made me think that there has got to be a better way, because I know we are in danger of losing people like him. People, life and a positive, progressive culture are simply more important, attractive and healthy than all the things we have been substituting.

Hypocrisy, lack of anything to believe in, and anything for money is worse than any cancer or disaster. Our society is not immune to the toll these attitudes are taking. No government, no educational institute, no religion, no legal system, is capable of giving you the right to be happy, free and evolutionary. You as a person must create it for yourself and the community.

But do they have the right to take it away ? Is what we have now what we really want ? Think for yourself, do it yourself and be yourself !

June / July 1993
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My recent past seems to have been filled with either new or unresolved incidents that have been repeats of the same scenario – I, as an individual, am in situations where, what I thought were self-evident rights and truths are not valid.

My rights seem to be one-way obligations and my truths are said to be subject to a narrow set of laws that I had no say in creating, challenging or understanding. Additionally, even if I accept that it is the way it is, they seem to be fundamentally wrong and transcend what I think and my rights and truths as a human being. Has our society (or culture) gone too far from what I think is a part of me?

When I mentioned this to another person who is somewhat of an activist, he said that he can’t understand how things can be the way they are when we live in a democracy. I countered this by saying that we only live in a version of democracy. Canada is not like the United States where there is a history of individual freedom and rights. We have a parliamentary system that is made up of a watered down British system that is, in turn, a hold-over from the days of kings and queens. Does this even make sense at the end of the 20th century?

I recently heard of a government office, where there was a “challenge” to yet another horrible attempt to legislate, regulate and officiate the chain of authority. Basically, 2 people in the office wanted to move their desks closer together. The ‘boss’ was not sure whether he/she could delegate that authority. Three people spent an afternoon attempting to resolve this issue. Is this our legacy? These people are all reasonably high paid, pensioned, educated and otherwise protected. Do these 3 people even feel any affinity to the people on the streets who do not know the rules of this game and are told it is their fault that they are lazy and not working and that the afternoon of encounter group desk arranging is something they should pay for! I suspect new seminars and position papers are now going to be scheduled to deal with this thorny issue. The problem that created this buffoonery is then masked and confused even further.

While this represents an extreme, I then re-turned our conversation to a more lofty plane (we didn’t need to go through more examples). It seems that an overall cultural dictate produces the after-effect in yours and my lives. Look at the beginning: the next Prime Minister of Canada will not be elected by you and I. We will simply have candidates to choose from what have already been chosen by their party. Whoever wins will have exclusive and total control: over parliament, over their members, and over you and I. In the United States, a Democrat does not necessarily vote with their party. It is reported who voted which way on which bill and they are not kicked out of the party if they did not lock-step. In Germany, if the Green Party has 10% of the vote, there is 10% representation in their higher chambers. In Canada 10% is equal to 0%. But still, who says theirs, or our ways are better? (Their democracy is a little more homegrown though !)

I just know that it seems that I have no say, and our present system does not work. I can say I know when something is wrong and more energy is being spent attempting to hide or bandage the broken; I know when common sense and human values say it is time to replace or repair it properly. Our society has not been designed or encouraged to produce leaders – we are producing bureaucrats and mercenaries. We are unproductive and apathetic, waiting for someone to come up with answers that can only be found within. We are not encouraged to make our own way and be self-reliant. When one is happy, self-confident, enjoying life and looking forward to a future, you and I are harder to control! Do we need or want more incomprehensible and arbitrary rules that, at best, only serve vested interests at the expense of others?

I challenged my friend to come up with a Canadian example where political, religious, economic, educational or social model put the intrinsic value of the individual as paramount. We could not find it (except maybe in hurtin’ country and western songs!).

Religion seems to dictate that faith comes before your neighbour. I was raised in a Christian environment – denial of God was a bigger ‘sin’ than killing another human being! Needless to say, I cringe when I see any ideology incorporated into moral imperatives that I cannot question.

Politicians are unaccountable – patronage and abuse of power now are part of the job description. A radio phone-in show caller explained to a government minister how a new tax law put her out of business. The minister simply replied that he never considered it. My own business recently had money arbitrarily and without justification seized by Revenue Canada. After months of phone calls, letters, two meetings and an audit, the money was refunded with the exception of a $300 fine for not handing in a piece of paper on time.  No apology – no accountability – no acknowledgement.  Revenue Canada does not have the same rules as I do -in fact I am not allowed to even go to Court to defend myself.  I have repeatedly asked why, when a piece of paper is withheld by them in another situation (the printer had not provided the only forms accepted by them) that represents a lot of money owing to me, I cannot apply the same accountability. I am now a troublemaker for asking such questions. Will I be punished?

Worthy causes are often lobby groups that often only look after their own self-interests at the expense of others. I heard it explained that one of the biggest charities in Canada which is heavily involved in medical R&D does not actually want to find a “cure” because the size of the organization is too big to dismantle! While not all charities are anything close to this, what can an individual do in the shadow of such contradictions?

Locally, an elected politician tried to question certain practices in our system. I do not know this person and only know events from the media attention. However, I asked certain well-placed individuals their reaction to this person. Their ‘verdict’ was almost universal – this person’s character, motivation and beliefs were attacked, demeaned and under suspicion. Attack the individual, not the questions! With one exception, this person’s points of inquiry and requests for explanation were ignored. The one exception accepted the validity of the questions (while still maintaining the personal attack) but dismissed them as trivial and the charges were a necessary component in the scheme of things – a privilege of the politicians and necessary to implement the goals of the system. What are we handing over to our children?

I recently received an unsolicited resume from someone looking for work. The resume’s educational background was exceptional – national top 10% scoring in mathematics and seemingly well above average. Work history? Assembly line and McDonald’s.

What kind of culture does this to its young? What future does it have?

Racism, sexism, human rights violations, etc., all have their basis in denying truth and human values. Arbitrary and unequal enforcement of laws and rights is the first wrong step. But if we must have laws and enforcement, they should be simple, fair and not subject to arbitrary interpretation, collusion, deceit and without personal gain at the expense of others.

Where do you fit in?
What are you doing about it?
Children (and sometimes adults)
learn from what they see,
not what they are told.
Be like a kid again:
question everything, be guileless, be full of the future

Are You Exercising Your Rights and Freedoms ?
Volume 3 #2  1994

It is the policy of this writer to encourage and promote the voluntary exercising of these rights.  But, from time to time, the writer is forced to pursue other avenues in order to ensure that his own human rights are observed.

Every person, including the author, can and should be able to defend his / her /  my / your actions as we are supposedly equal members in this community.

This is also known as accountability and is based on mutual and equal disclosure.  If you want to know something about me, then you better tell me the same thing about yourself.  Shouldn’t we have the same set of rules for our ‘leaders’ and rulemakers?

Often when dealing with ‘higher’ authority, this is not the case.

There are some circumstances when I am now told authority excuses one from this bilateral agreement.  It is further complicated by an insistence that I am not capable of running my own life, especially in matters that do not  have anything to do with anything but myself.  The respect for laws and practices would be bound by my accountability to the same degree, etc., but can hardly be honoured when those in authority flagrantly abuse their obligations.

In these times, there seem to be different standards and different rules for different people.  This is what racism, sexism and other ‘isms’ were based on.  Invoking immunity, higher authority or treating me like a spanked child and saying it is for my own good should not be allowed unless truly defensible.  If your group of peers has one set of rules, and these are not the same rules imposed on me, then you would be accused of cheating and be dismissed, with charges against, simply on this point alone.  This is if we have even got as far as agreeing  that your rules are right!

In general it is time to question such antiquated concepts as “her majesty’s assets”, divine right, “management decision”, economic policy, the role of politicians and their agendas, etc.  In essence, calling on justification that only one side can use is WRONG !

While not meant to rain on anyone’s parade, it is acknowledged that in certain cultures, when practices are agreed upon by  a certain (willing?) membership, they may be allowed to practice such amongst the like-minded, but are not allowed to impose their will on those that they seek to subjugate / dominate and who unthreateningly oppose such control.  Women have understood this, racial / ethnic groups have understood this, the economically deprived have understood this, non-nuclear family groups/individuals have understood this, the politically deprived have understood this,  the poorly treated workers have understood this .. in fact, probably an overall majority and people that wish to get more out of life than a proscribed life have understood this.

When is it going to be time to practice true equality like I have been told to: I request full and absolute mutually conditional equality.  What goes for me, goes for you.

I don’t need a lawyer … I need justice
I don’t need a politician … I need a wise leader or at worst a representative who voices and reflects the concerns of the community
I don’t need a priest … I need a peer who is looking at more than the life I see in front of me
I don’t need a teacher … I need an educator who teaches me to learn about learning and not enforcing arbitrary socialization
I don’t need a counsellor, they have better things to do than try to take away what I already started off with … I need a community that says it is wrong to pay for advice and information that will be legislated in if I have a big enough lobby group

These people I may pick and choose from, just as they should of me.

I need REAL human values and REAL human rights that apply to one and all in their understanding, creation, implementation and resolution.

But even without any of that, because there are those who find that power and control (or whatever other ‘ism’ it is) are the only things on their agenda, I just want to be left alone and have it so that your rules and my rules are at least the same.

I come from a culture where this simple request is amazingly difficult to formulate and even dangerous to express in these times.  Try it and see

 

Governmentism
Volume 3 #3  1994

Sometimes when I sit down to write this column, I marvel at the contradiction(s).  Encouraging people  to think for themselves is somewhat an oxymoron -at best- suggestive of authoritarianism -at worst.   Who am I to even suggest anything.

The saving grace is that I am hopefully still entitled to my own opinion, and they are simply opinions because they don’t go any further than the page you are reading.  However, it is a far different case when you are subject to the enforcement of what is essentially still opinions couched in the rhetoric of cultural mandates.  It’s a one way street:  I have opinions, but others dictate their rules.  This is my long winded introduction to this issue’s topic.

My computer’s spell-checker could not find this word, possibly because it is a concept that the dictionary has yet to deal with.  If I were to add the definition for this term, it would be something along the lines of: “what is in common behind a lot of government management styles – in that one is increasingly seeing attempts by whatever philosophy is represented, that is possible to legislate cultural and moral behaviour among the governed, to the exclusion of people having a say in their own destiny”.

In Canada, we have a Parliamentary / Party system which precludes democracy.  Now this poses an interesting set of problems ..

We are told that in the matters of road building, public safety etc., we are best letting those who are chosen / appointed do the thinking for us.  Inefficient and subject to other problems as it is, it does seem to eventually get the job done, even if at horrible public expense.

However, enforcement and dictation of moral, ethical and public observance of cultural and social matters is not road building.

Are we that complaisant that we do not want any input into these matters, nor do we have any any concern as to  how these matters are arrived at ?

Governmentism” relies on an apathetic , uninvolved and detached, passive compliance.

We hear of mandates, but have no say in their origin.  We hear of opinion taking methods by advertising companies that are sophisticated enough to plot and interfere with behaviour, and they are even compensated as consultants.  We hear of rigid media injunctions that have made objectivity an accepted excuse when it may only be the controlled dissemination of selective bits of information.

One of the prime functions of governmentism seems to be to induce helplessness.  The inference is that you have  a measured amount of freedom, at the very same time it is taken away while saying it is good for you.  Patronising at best, destructive at worst, yet we say and do nothing.

It is my understanding that there is a group of people in Canada whose method of making decisions is through 100% consensual agreement.  While leaders are appointed they are simply spokespeople and fulfill  the requests of ALL concerned.  When 100% agreement cannot be reached, nothing is done.  This forces TRUE equality and completely avoids a top-down bureaucracy.

Almost impervious to corruption, it is a very effective way to manage a community.  Apparently, young and old, male and female, ethnic and racial differences, ownership and control are all very effectively balanced.  While not as simplistic as a paragraph can describe, there is no necessity for going beyond ‘golden rule’ sentiments and a completely oral representation that ALL understand.  Equality, freedom and governing are no longer contradictions and hypocritical.

While I am not personally involved in this community, it is also my understanding that this way of living is not allowed in Canada, or barely tolerated at best.  And as someone has pointed out to me, toleration is merely condescension

Governmentism does not allow for 100% mutual, consensual agreement and it appears that freedom only belongs to rhetoricicians and those who wish to make rules that they themselves do not follow.

When I think like this, I am ashamed to be a Canadian, but I am even more ashamed at those who do these things and those who stand by and do nothing.

The next time someone mentions freedom, democracy and Canada in the same sentence, try asking them what they are talking about and if they feel that it is reality rather than illusory propaganda.