:: brandon's crawlspace ::

2010-01-19T15:46:00.002+02:00

2009-05-21T12:02:00.000+02:00

for photos, click here.

mischief, for sure.

2009-03-17T15:40:00.002+02:00

Let's be honest

2009-02-23T11:08:00.004+02:00

Ok, so let's be honest: I don't update this very much anymore. Which, for one, betrays the fact that I haven't been too interested in writing; and two, probably means that not many people come here anymore anyway. Gosh, I didn't even finish the subsequent two installments of my parents' trip that I promised. Um, sorry. Suffice it to say that we had a whole schwack of fun and adventure.

This isn't to say that there's not a lot going on; quite the contrary. I didn't write about my sister who had a baby in September, nor how I was at a great retreat in Nairobi before Christmas, after which I spent a week with Steve the White Kenyan who showed me around the city, after which I took another little trip for the remainder of the holidays. I'm now back in Burundi and am busy doing some exciting work for which I am often travelling upcountry to visit projects; Mr Joseph Ferretti is engaged, and it's now been confirmed that I'll be travelling home in August to join in the festivities. And that's not all.

What I will say, to my defense, is that I have been and will continue to regularly post photographs that I've been working on and that I'm rather proud of on my personal Flickr site, one every three days or so as long as I've been out shooting. And as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words...

So, please, although this isn't a signing-off forever, I do invite you to continue (or begin) following my adventures in Burundi through my photos. (You can also add Flickr sites to your internet newsfeeds, if you do that sort of thing, to be notified whenever a new photo is up.)

www.flickr.com/photos/mynameisbrandon

I'll leave you with the most recent shot I've posted, of a beautiful little boy waiting in the pouring rain with his mother to receive three goats at a distribution Help Channel did a few weeks ago. Through funds from the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) of the UN, in one day we distributed 1200 goats to some of the poorest Burundians in Rutana Province! And of course, in the afternoon it began to pour...

2009-01-22T16:25:00.000+02:00

Parents’ Visit, Instalment Number One: Burundi

2008-12-09T19:34:00.021+02:00

Hi. It seems like this is becoming a bit of a travel blog. I’m sorry; I’m rather negligent, and find that I only end up writing when something takes me out of the normal, such as travelling, which thankfully I tend to get to do a bunch of. And I guess I feel that life here has in fact become sort of normal, forgetting that aside from my parents who have just spent three weeks in Africa with me, most people still probably don’t know too much about what normal for me looks like.

Additionally, I have indeed been regularly posting on a blog, just not this blog. As the last post here directed, I’ve started a photo project that is updated thrice weekly and keeps me somewhat busy, in addition to being quite busy at work, and travelling frequently.

But as I mentioned, my parents did finally come to visit for three weeks. We had an incredible time, and did far too much to write about in a single post, so I’ll break things up into three instalments. Here we have:

Parents’ Visit, Instalment Number One: Burundi

November seventh was a propitious day. Firstly, it was the day I celebrated my second-year anniversary of being in Burundi, having thus far maintained my sanity (although this might be disputed in some circles), and in innumerable ways finding myself living a much fuller life than ever before. On November seventh I also celebrated the arrival of my parents, something that I had been looking forward to for, well, two years. As they walked off the plane onto the baking tarmac, I’m sure that they really had no idea what they were in for, but they know me well enough to suspect whatever awaited them would be an adventure.

We started out the week with a big party at my house, partly in celebration of their arrival, partly in celebration of my two years, and partly to christen the house (despite the fact that I actually moved in January, we hadn’t yet had a proper party). I’ll spare you the photos that dad took of the cook processing the goat, and will let it instead suffice to say that we had a feast replete with local delicacies: brochettes de chèvre, bananes cuites, samosas, saucissons, et bien sûr des fantas.

I think they also quickly discovered that there’s not a whole lot to do around the city, which suited us fine for we were soon on our way upcountry to see the real Burundi. On our way to Cassien’s home in the south of the country, we stopped and drank from the Source of the Nile. Now, each country in East Africa claims the true source. Burundi’s claim rests on the fact that they are the southern-most country inside the Nile Basin; all water inside the basin eventually drains into Lake Viktoria and then the Nile, while water on the other side of the mountains in the west and south of Burundi drain into the Congo River and eventually the Pacific. So, maybe we’ll all live forever or something.

The first day we set out to see the beautiful Karera Falls, where mom and dad were maybe a little unnerved that we were escorted by armed soldiers. My colleagues laugh that I can’t remember ever having seen an armed soldier in real life before I came to Burundi. Oh, except maybe in the US in Miami Airport after 9/11.

Day Two we went way way up in the mountains in Makamba Province, where Help Channel Burundi has two tree nurseries.

After touring one and meeting a crowd of workers from the community who came to greet us, I asked around about a road that I’d heard rumours of, that would allow us to continue straight down the far side of the mountain chain instead of taking the same route back the way we came. “Um, yeah, it might go,” was the response I got from one of the workers, which meant it might be passable, but no guarantees; which, with a few rough directions, was enough to convince me it was certainly worth a try. And before long we found ourselves on a grass path very seldom solicited by vehicles, little wider than our Land Cruiser, and I myself was thankful that we were completely enshrouded in mist, because although it made it slightly tense, it would perhaps have been worse for the passengers had they been able to see what I knew was there- the thousand metres straight down the mountain into the valley bottom below! We did finally escape the clouds and realise just how high up we had been. (The photo below was taken when we had already almost reached the bottom)

Finally descended after two rather tense hours, we ate a nice fish brochette at a new establishment on the lake and headed back for Cassien’s house. (And I think that Cassien has never been more relieved to be home than after that trip!)

There’s a lot more to tell, but that’s the meat of it. My parents had a great time meeting my colleagues and seeing the office and a tree nursery; they met my friends who support me and keep me sane (or perhaps we go nutty together?); they ate at some of the nicer restaurants we frequent on weekends; enjoyed sundowners at one place that sits atop a hill and overlooks the city, Lake Tanganyika, and the mountains of Congo beyond; they lounged at home and enjoyed omelettes and fresh fruit juices; and of course they held pythons and teased the spitting black cobra at Musée Vivant.

Sounds appealing, n’est pas? Next installment: Safari!

Photo Project Launch

2008-10-23T14:33:00.003+02:00

I just wanted to let everyone know that I have just launched a little photo project collaboration. It's really neat, actually; let me explain it a bit. A complete stranger in Vancouver who's name is Leah had been following my photos of Africa for a little while, and approached me via email to propose a photo collaboration. After a few weeks of correspondence, we've decided upon most of the details. Each of us will submit a current photo to the project every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, for the next 12 months (corresponding to the remaining time I will be in Burundi) which will then be paired together, aka a diptych, and posted to our photoblog, accompanied by a few sentences of reflection. The guidelines are written on the website, but the idea is that the pairings will be entirely spontaneous, each of us following only a general theme for the month. Although it will most certainly not always be esthetically perfect, the expectation is that some days we will be surprised by something profound, be it a moving juxtaposition, for example something showing the differences of life in Vancouver vs Bujumbura; or something surprisingly similar; or two photos that for whatever reason work really well together.

Although it might be difficult for me to keep current with photos due to the safety limitations I would face carrying around a massive camera on a daily basis in Bujumbura, I really am going to try my best because I find the project very intriguing. I am also looking for a way not just to show people more of what Burundi is like, but also to be forcing myself to be creative on a regular basis and to be looking for beauty in the sometimes mundane details of normal life.

So, I, along with my new friend Leah, invite you to come along for the ride. For now our project can be found at leahmeetsbrandon.blogspot.com. Bookmark it and check in whenever you get the chance, or add it to your RSS newsfeed. And please feel free to forward the link along to anyone else who might be interested.

2008-10-15T09:16:00.002+02:00

Of Eyes and Ears and Apes: Vacation Part II

2008-09-14T17:00:00.009+02:00

When we left off last time, my friends had abandoned me in Goma, DR Congo, after having spent the night on the rim of the very volcano that had virtually destroyed Goma six years before. What does one do, alone, in Goma? There really is only one thing to do: arrange one’s departure. Which is precisely what I did. My disinclination towards prolonging the stay was apparently not unfounded; after rumours that one of the rebel groups based just outside the city was in the process of rearming, they indeed did attack the Congolese military the following week. The fighting, which is still ongoing, is being described by the UN as some of the most intense in many months.

I, on the other hand, was able to procure a ticket for a seat on La Marionnette, a rapid boat ferry service connecting Goma at the northern tip of Lake Kivu and Bukavu at the south. That was an entire story in itself, but suffice it to say that after finally getting on board and embarking (much gratitude again to the brilliant team at World Relief Goma), I promptly scoped out the windows to ensure that I’d be able to fit through if necessary, and had determined that although we were closer to the Congo side of the lake, if for whatever reason I found myself in the water, I would instead elect to head towards Rwanda; and furthermore, that after a swim like that, I’d more than merit the brunch buffet at the Serena Hotel, and would not be even slightly deterred by the fact that all my money was at the bottom of the lake.

Disembarking unscathed in Bukavu, however, I met a friend named Papa Pierre, the director of one of MCC’s partner organisations. After catching up a bit, he brought me to his cousin’s house where he had arranged for me to stay. It is quite evident that Bukavu was once a paradise of sorts: myriad multi-storied colonial mansions rise dilapidated from the steep sides of finger-like peninsulas, each one taller than the next in order to secure its view of the lake. Decades of neglect, corruption, instability, and urban migration, to name just a few things, have left it an overcrowded ramshackle town covered by a thick coat of dust. I really liked it actually.

Papa Pierre had prior engagements the first night, and I somehow found myself at a sordid little establishment with his cousin, Erasthon, three of his friends, and a goat’s head on a platter of boiled potatoes staring back at me. We discussed local politics and development, or rather the lack thereof, as I, with the local beverage of choice, quite literally washed down an eye and an ear and something else I couldn’t quite distinguish. It was over this pièce de résistance that we also thrashed out plans for the next day’s main event: a visit to the nearby Kahuzi-Biega National Park to observe the gorillas, one of the world’s rarest and most majestic species. Erasthon just so happened to be going away on business, otherwise he would have accompanied me. But he also told me that he just so happened to have an old army-issue Landcruiser and a chauffeur, whose services he would be glad to offer me as long as I’d put in some fuel. I was glad to oblige. And I was glad that the chauffeur, Aimé, very wisely had the two spare tires repaired that morning before setting out. And I was also glad that the vehicle, although old and more than a little beat up, proved itself to be practically indestructible. I say this because it took nearly two hours to travel the 40 kilometres from Bukavu to the park entrance, and before the day was done we would end up requiring both spares.

Arriving at the park, I paid my $300 as well as the $20 for Aimé to join, because he had not yet seen the gorillas either. Four armed guides accompanied us, while a fifth waited with the vehicle on the main park access road. As it was still the dry season, and because the park is located in a mountainous region, we actually had to descend for several kilometres to find the apes in the marsh where they were feeding on roots. Then, after winding our way through overhead marsh grasses for 20 minutes, we entered into a small clearing and there he was: a massive silverback who struck in me the fear of God when he welcomed us with a fake charge, coming to a stop a mere two metres in front of us. There was also a female with five or so little fluffy babies bouncing around. We were given just over an hour with the gorilla family, which we followed throughout the marsh as they were going about their normal business. An hour with such a rare and magnificent beast in its natural habitat was impressive, to say the least; the simple fact that there was no fence or glass between him and us made me all the more conscious of his terrible strength, and of the wildness and wonderfulness of our planet. It also made me acutely aware of how much they stink (it was really quite unbelievable!).

That, in slightly more than a nutshell, encompasses my brief but excellent little vacation in eastern Congo. After being wonderstruck by the gorillas, I spent a bit more time in Bukavu, and then proceeded back to Bujumbura by bus. The ride was uneventful but for the almost unprecedented feat of making it through the borders of Congo, Rwanda and Burundi without the slightest hitch or anxiety.

The whole thing was almost too easy to be a real Congo adventure.

The Fiery Heart of Darkness: Vacation Part I

2008-08-28T21:46:00.005+02:00

East Congo is not the first place that most people think of going for vacation, considering that the DR Congo is one of the most lawless countries on the planet and its eastern regions of North and South Kivu are the places where the indescribable depths of hellish human capacity find their nadir. Conversely, not too far beyond the main eastern border cities of Goma and Bukavu, one also encounters the beauty of raw wilderness, and not too much further still, wilderness untouched, ever, by anyone. East Congo was, however, the destination of choice for our motley crew of temporary Burundians and Rwandans. Partly because of our proximity to that great unknown, and because of the fires of adventurousness that had been lighted after hearing recent accounts from other acquaintances who had approached the fiery heart of darkness and lived to tell the tale, I found myself in Kigali with Seth and Trina packing our bags to set out. Destination: Goma; Objective: Nyiragongo volcano. With more than a little help from our marvellous friends at World Relief Rwanda and Congo, and the assistance and company of a few other illustrious individuals, we arrived and were escorted across the Rwandan border of Gisenyi into wild and hopefully wonderful Congo. What awaited, no one was quite sure.

Goma is still a bit of a wasteland following Nyiragongo’s eruption in January 2002, in which lava erupted not only from various locations on the volcano’s flanks, but also from a vent only a few kilometres from the city proper. Lava cut the city in two, flowing right across the airport’s runway, igniting aviation fuel stores and causing widespread devastation. Even still, the only real pavement that exists on the roads is actually lava, and grey soot covers everything else. The UN force actively holds the main roads in and out of the town, protecting from the various rebel groups that are all based just beyond, who, along with the military, unleash their terror on the pitiful, defenceless peasants as coercion for support. The part I wish not to think about is that they all want support from the same people, and have all adopted systematic, violent rape as a main tactic. Thankfully we weren’t going far from the city, and were in good hands with World Relief.

“Tourism” on the volcano had actually been closed for some time due to fighting, and has only recently been reopened. From where we stood, looking up at the cloud- and smoke-enshrouded summit, it was quite obviously going to require a good deal of effort to make it to the top. And that it did. The first half of the 2000m+ ascent was on loose, rocky lava flows that offered no respite from the hot equatorial sun. Reprieve in the cool of the jungle that surrounds the base of the cone came at the expense of steepness, and our ensuing fatigue was only compounded by the fact that we were missing the oxygen we had been progressively leaving behind at lower elevations.

And then, voilà! After a solid five-hour ascent, we were at the crater rim, and, looking down, there they were: the fiery bowels of the earth, somewhere where they normally are not: spewing forth into our surface realm. And they seemed angry to be there, what with all their rumbling and sulphurous smoke. It was probably the cold; at 3469 m, it really was frigid, and even the Canadian was complaining. In fact, some of us quadrupled up into a three-person tent for the sheer purpose of body heat. Yes, we camped on the rim. Right on the rim. It was actually the only spot possible. Somnambulists and those with small bladders were given a two-metre margin of error in the event that they unconsciously or semi-consciously exited the tent… But gosh, was it absolutely incredible! Seeing the molten lake of lava at the crater’s bottom, constantly boiling and exploding and lighting up the thick, rising column of sulphur; it really was everything you would imagine it to be, but more awesome still.

And then in the morning, after coaxing our bodies out of our sleeping bags, we took down camp completely engulfed in sulphur, and we went back down.

My friends left me in Goma. But that’s for Part II.

Fonte d’Acqua di Ferretti

2008-06-20T12:18:00.012+02:00

On Thursday I had the privilege of visiting the project funded by some of my friends in Ontario, headed by Mr Joseph Ferretti, but with many others playing important roles. Back in October they threw an amazing costume party attended by a couple hundred people, through which they were able to raise $1500 to construct a clean water source in a remote area in Northern Burundi. The project involved first finding a region in particular need, where people would typically walk several kilometres to fetch water, and even then from unsafe sources. Next, the community was gathered and was informed about the project, in order to hear their stories, to gather any ideas or concerns they might have had, and then to solicit their assistance in gathering local materials such as wood and stone. In this way a mindset of community ownership was fostered to ensure that proper care would be taken of the project. After the local materials were procured, construction began. First, the land was cleared around an existing source, in this case a small spring. A large, underground concrete reservoir was installed, which was then filled with special filtration sand and gravel, through which the water slowly percolates, issuing from the faucet clean and safe for consumption. The area immediately surrounding the source was reinforced with concrete and stone for easy access and longevity, and fenced-off to avoid the entrance of livestock. Additionally, a small concrete sink with two basins was constructed just to the side, with drainage away from the source. Lastly, community representatives were given some instruction about proper hygiene when dealing with water, and how to keep good care of the project.

It really is an amazing thing, to be a part of providing something so fundamental and basic, to a community that has almost nothing. 80 families live in the vicinity of the project, which means that roughly 600 people will now have access to safe water close to their homes. Their efficiency will increase because the women and children will no longer have to spend a good portion of their day collecting water; instead, they will be able to tend to other household responsibilities and cultivation. They will be better positioned to become economically self-sufficient, and they will no longer be so plagued by intestinal diseases, a major cause of infant malnutrition and mortality.

Thanks to everyone who played a part in this project. I wish you could see it for yourself (come out for a visit and I will take you there!). But please do understand this- you’ve changed the lives of an entire community. And they are grateful for it:
Severin NYABENDA says:
“Before this water project, we were fetching unclean water. When it rained, erosion brought garbage and dirt from the mountain, infecting our drinking water. We were suffering from intestinal diseases and other illnesses; but now, having this clean water, the cases of those illnesses have decreased. We are blessed in this region because we have clean water!”Euphrasie NSHIRIMANA says:
“You can not imagine the water that we were drinking before. Often it was coloured because of mud and silt. Our children were suffering from diarrhoea, but now we have a wonderful source of clean water. We can even wash our clothes in the sink beside the source without dirtying the drinking water. May God bless the providers of this water project!”

These kids are killing me.

2008-06-08T17:24:00.001+02:00

Biddy Ball '04

2008-06-06T14:16:00.001+02:00

(I don't know what his t-shirt means. Neither does he.)

Toujours en vie

2008-05-27T20:35:00.006+02:00

Time for an update, methinks.

I’m now back in Burundi after a stellar month spent at home in Southern Ontario. A year-and-a-half is a long time; lots of things change, while lots of things stay the same. It was hard to leave it all behind again: family, friends, open spaces, delightful food, cooler climes (despite having complained of being too cold most every day), fast Internet and in general things that work as they should. En revanche, it’s also good to be back with close friends here in Africa. It’s good not to be too cold all the time. It’s good to be back doing something that makes a big difference to the wellbeing of so many impoverished and vulnerable people. It’s also not too bad to be on the beach every weekend. No, despite some of the sacrifices that must be made to be here, life certainly isn’t unbearable.

I missed a serious little bout of fighting here in Bujumbura while away, during which my friends watched rockets and tracer bullets lighting up the sky over the city. Things have since calmed, and just today an unequivocal peace deal was signed between the government and the last remaining rebel group. This is being lauded by many as the last step to sustainable peace in the war-ravaged country.

Upon my return I asked one of my Burundian colleagues if he had ever been scared. He responded somewhat fatalistically, “No, if a bomb would have fallen on my house, that’s it. There’s nothing I could have done.” However, four large rockets exploded not far from the home of some of my other friends, and they said that they had indeed been very scared. We’ll continue to hope and pray and keep our fingers crossed that it is indeed the beginning of something new.

However, and I interrupt, I did just this very moment hear two explosions, one after the other, loud enough to indicate they were likely not farther than a few kilometres away. Which opposition MP's house is being grenaded tonight, I wonder? And life goes on in Bujumbura. For most of us anyway.

Canada

Best party: welcome back with an Africa-shaped cake right off the plane before I even had the chance to shower (the pleasure was all mine!)

Best quote: as asked at a neighbouring winery, “Do you decant in Burundi?”

Best meal: four-way tie between The Keg with Robyn, Pow Wow with Goose, a decadent little French affaire for Mother’s Day at home, and The Keg with my best friends (you all treat me far too well.)

Biggest change encountered: almost all of my friends now own houses.

Prettiest sight: other than my mother, Niagara in bloom:

Pretty In Pink

2008-04-06T12:25:00.001+02:00

Beauty in Rags

2008-03-11T09:19:00.000+02:00

2008

2008-01-21T10:03:00.000+02:00

It certainly has been far too long since I’ve last made an appearance here, but I’m back in Burundi after a salubrious holiday in Tanzania, and 2008 is in full swing.

There are at least three events that deserve recounting, the first being the trip to Kigoma, Tanzania, during the holidays between Christmas and New Year’s. Travelling overland to Kigoma always turns out to be a wonderful and beautiful adventure, and it somehow always ends up truly being an adventure. Not too long after our departure from the city, the underside of Matt’s Subaru became intimate with one of the many small boulders one finds on the road south of Bujumbura, and the car developed a nasty vibration that became almost deafening at speeds above 30 km/h. Hopping into the repair pit at a decrepit “service station” in the nearest town, and with the assistance of a multi-tool and a large tire iron, we were able to pry away from the rotation of the transmission the metal guard that normally acts as a barrier between the exhaust system below. Et voilà! après cela, tout allait bien. Good as new and back on track. We spent the rest of the journey lapping up the breathtaking expanses of the verdant Tanzanian plains as we cruised along the remote, sanguine dirt road that led us onward to Kigoma. And, as was expected, Jacobsen’s Guest House did not disappoint. As is customary, newcomers were initiated with the Tour des Sautes on the cliffs adjacent to our isolated beach (see Seth in perfect form above. Seriously, he must have been a gymnast or something...)

Piggyback!

One new item on the itinerary this time was, thanks to Matt and Rebecca, a two-hour boat trip north to Gombe National Park, wherein which one is permitted a profound, up-close-and-personal glimpse into the lives of a group of chimpanzees in their natural habitat, the very same apes with whom Jane Goodall spent much of her time. Some more photos can be seen here.

The second event was the recent arrival of the vehicles purchased for Help Channel Burundi during our trip to Dubai in November. After passing through the exasperating formalities of importation, the vehicles have been washed, tuned, and prepped with Help Channel logo decals (thanks to honorary Help Channel member Mr Joseph Ferretti).

Third was my recent move, into the house that I’ll occupy for the remaining duration of my time in Burundi. After two weeks, it already feels like home, and I am very content. It’s in a “gated community” which means it’s secure and calm, and the house staff are talented, honest and conscientious. I share the house with a good friend Duncan, who spends the workweek upcountry, beyond the reach of telephones and electricity, and commutes into town for the weekends. We geek-out about botany and classical music, and he teaches me all sorts of interesting British-isms. I’ve occupied myself reading with a cold beverage in a nice chair on our covered patio, I’ve been doing some extreme gardening, and I’ve even been (gasp!) walking around the neighbourhood. The poverty, overpopulation, insecurity and diesel fumes don’t usually lend to great walking conditions, so it’s a real treat and somewhat of a liberation. PS- spare bedroom available for any visitor on their way through…

So, 2008 is in full swing and I have little doubt that it will be the best yet.

Step Outside

2007-11-18T13:57:00.000+02:00

We all know that life is not about money or status, and yet I have to keep reminding myself of that each day I’m here. I am even selfish when staring poverty right in the face, as I do every day on my way to work in the city or when visiting a rural project. How can I continue to be selfish when surrounded by such poverty? Have I become callous? Perhaps it’s because I really have no idea how my contribution is making a difference in the context of such a big problem. It would seem unlikely, even if I were to devote my entire life to doing so, and I might as well go home and get on with things. Or maybe there’s something hidden deep down inside that tells me I’m different. Different from them. I’m different because I come from a rich country. I’ve known only peace, I’ve got a university degree, I regularly bathe, I eat healthy food, I know about science and politics and iPods and blogs. As such, these problems exist outside of my responsibility. I have indemnity: I can choose to help, but I am under no obligation to do so. If ever I get tired of being here I can hop on a plane and be home in 48 hours. Furthermore, I say, Regardless of what actions I take as an individual, the government of my rich country and others like it are giving billions in aid. And yet for whatever reason Africa just can’t get things together. However, when I dig deeper I realize that despite all the media hype of cancelled debts and massive international relief budgets, my rich country and others like it still take far more from Africa today than they claim to be putting in. The raping and pillaging continues unabated, albeit less conspicuously than during the last several centuries. I think it quite possible that my happiness comes at the expense of others’ misery, and I don’t like that thought.

Being honest, I confess that I am a citizen of a rich country who enjoys all the privileges and benefits thereof, who is not ready to give them up, and who will return one day and thoroughly enjoy them. Does it make me more reprehensible than someone who only sees poverty on a World Vision commercial and neglects to act, because I see it with my own eyes and touch it with my own hands and I still remain selfish?

The other day I was visiting a project site in a remote little village in the south of Burundi. As I arrived and the crowds started gathering, I was moved by the emotional pleas of the women, Please help us have clean water; our children are sick. We walked together to where they are currently fetching water: bubbling up out of the mud in the middle of a marshy valley-bottom where they also have their pitiful garden plots to grow their food. It’s no wonder their children are dying from intestinal diseases, or why 45% of children in Burundi are underweight. Or why the average life expectancy is 44 years. Or why Burundians now have 25% less to eat than they did 25 years ago.

Sometimes there are simple projects, but there are rarely simple solutions, especially to the bigger problems the world faces. Let me be daring and suggest a simple project- I propose we become less selfish. I’ll begin at that and leave it entirely open-ended; the specific details are your own and my own. Simple? Yes. Easy? Not in the least. Is it a solution? Perhaps not; however, I guarantee that the results will be astounding for everyone involved. And we’re all involved, either as part of the solution or as part of the problem. If I live in excess, even if I’ve toiled for it with my own hands, I come by it by Grace alone: I was not born a Twa who will never be granted the luxury of owning footwear or attending school. Rather, I was born into a culture whose clever exploitation of others affords me my happiness. It doesn’t leave me too happy though, to remember that when I have, someone else doesn’t. Or worse yet, that maybe it is precisely because I have that someone else doesn’t.

I know I am not going to change Africa, or Burundi for that matter. Yet I also know that it is possible to bring significant change to an entire community with a simple project. And that I can do. The songs and dances and prayers of people who receive assistance remind me that it’s all worth it. It’s so necessary, and it is my responsibility. I must share the happiness and resources that I have. Because I am Christian, and Christ would be with the poor in their squalor. Because I am human, and refuse to forget that others live in misery while I enjoy affluence. Because I am selfish, and long to step outside of myself.

Perhaps there is Salvation for me yet.

-----

Post-script: An incredibly encouraging group of friends in Ontario led by Mr. Joseph Ferretti just put on a party and raised $1400 to construct a simple clean water source for this community. Their efforts will benefit hundreds of people for decades. Now that’s something to party about!

Perception

2007-11-07T11:22:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, Doug and I travelled to a small school that MCC supports in the middle of Burundi. The Hope School is an amazing success story of ethnic reconciliation. It exists primarily to bring education to severely marginalized and normally unschooled Twa children, but serves children from other ethnicities as well. As such, the kids all learn and play together without stigmas or exclusion based on ethnicity, and there has even been reconciliation between parents of different ethnicities whose children are friends at school.

Recently the students were asked to fill in a map of their country with drawings that depict their perception of development for their country. Some of their ideas were "No more illegal marriages in order that men cannot so easily chase away their wives"; "Police to maintain order and prevent violence" (I neglected to tell this truly bright little fellow that it's often the police who cause those very problems); "More schools, and materials for the schools"; and "More crops so that people have enough to eat" (a problem that keeps many children from going to school- one can't concentrate with an empty stomach, or with the likelihood that if they don't spend the day looking for food there won't be dinner in the evening either).

What are their favourite subjects? Invariably the languages- French and English. I felt somewhat sheepish that some of these youngsters speak French more correctly than I do (after all, I am more than double their age and come from a bilingual country....)

To observe children pursuing school with such enthusiasm despite all the obstacles they face, and when the stakes are so high, one's perception of education is profoundly affected.

Do I Really Live Here?

2007-10-31T11:50:00.000+02:00

My friend Mrs Amy Mawson asked the question already- "Wait, we don't really live here do we?"

Although it's easy to be overwhelmed by the poverty and the corruption and everything else that comes with living in one of the poorest countries in the world, it's is also a very beautiful place if your eyes are open to see it.

United Arab Emirates

2007-10-19T17:23:00.000+02:00

An arid 40 degrees is one thing; an intensely humid 40 degrees is quite another thing. Whereas the intense, dry heat at the beginning of my week in Dubai was somewhat of a novelty (after all, it’s expected when in the middle of the desert), the same 40 degrees was an altogether different experience when 100%+ humidity was involved, as I experienced at the end of the week. The brief, intermittent walks between the air-conditioned hotel room, vehicle, shopping mall and restaurant were about all that one could handle, unless walking around with luggage containing a change of clothes for each subsequent item in the agenda.

Dubai really is the booming, Arabic paradise city that it’s cracked up to be, albeit somewhat difficult to navigate outside of the various visitor-friendly air-conditioned capsules. Perhaps just as I’ve acclimated to the “more moderate” temperatures here in Bujumbura, one’s body could also theoretically become accustomed to the heat in the Middle East. But it’s difficult to imagine.

In any case, Cassien and I found ourselves in Dubai last week in order to purchase vehicles and computers for Help Channel Burundi, and we were successful. I am very enthusiastically awaiting their arrival to see the ways in which Help Channel’s capacity will be extended to do the important work they are doing. It will be quite a step; up until now, the rural offices that oversee all projects have been operating without computers at all. And because of the decrepit state of their current fleet, it is not infrequent that they have been required to rent vehicles at a significant cost in order to visit rural projects found far off the beaten track.

Additionally, I returned to somewhat of a Christmas in October yesterday, as several wonderful friends had sent out gifts and cards with a recent visitor. Coffee and chocolate and music chosen by those with impeccable taste will enrich my daily experience for months to come- thanks to my parents, Aunt Betty and Uncle Larry, Tammy, Laura and David and Karla. You are sorely missed.

Mr. David Bretherick has played a particularly large role, as he was responsible for the project of printing the promotional materials I designed for Help Channel a while back. They’ve finally arrived after lots of work on his part and generosity on the part of Westside Church, and they will undoubtedly have another big impact on the capacity of the organization. If you are interested in receiving a brochure, please request one by leaving a comment or sending an email (include your address if you suspect I don’t already have it) and I’d be happy to mail one out.

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-10-08T11:32:00.000+02:00

Happy Thanksgiving! from me and my cat. I miss you all, and my cat is missing a name. Perhaps you can help me out with some inspiration. She's a feisty little African feline with an identity crisis...

free burma

2007-10-04T15:45:00.000+02:00

(the following is taken from Jim Wallace's blog God's Politics, September 28th)
Gene Stoltzfus is a friend who worked in Southeast Asia during the 1960s and 70s, and then became director of Christian Peacemaker Teams, a program of Brethren, Mennonite and Friends churches and other affiliated organizations that places teams in high conflict zones to emphasize human rights protection, nonviolent action, and peacemaking campaigns. On his blog, he comments on the religious roots of nonviolence for the Buddhist monks leading the demonstrations against the military junta. [He writes:]

"Two groups with countrywide power and influence in modern Burma are now facing each other across potholes in the streets. The military with Chinese-supplied weapons, is determined to retain the grip it has had on the nation since 1962. The Buddhist movement, with an institutional life going back more than 1000 years, is led by monks armed with spiritual disciplines and a commitment to an ethical system that combines practical living with a deep sensitivity to all of creation. The Buddhist way is nonviolence empowered by love, honed by teaching and meditation. However, this does not mean that monks are not tough, persistent, and even militant."

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Please add your name to an international petition here, and stand with the Burmese in support of democracy through non-violence. The petition will be advertised in a massive ad campaign all this week, delivered by a Nobel Prize winner to UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon, and broadcast into Burma over the radio.

A Shiny New Pen

2007-09-30T12:12:00.000+02:00

A young orphan girl simpers in front of the camera while waiting in line to receive a UNICEF school kit.

Thursday was a day that helped me remember why I’m here.

Sometimes things can get a bit stagnant in the office, and the immediacy of the need in this country and the beauty of the beneficiaries can dim. Which is why Thursday was so good for me. Help Channel Burundi was in Rutana Province in the south of the country, distributing 12 000 primary school kits to orphans and otherwise vulnerable children in a project funded by UNICEF. We spent many days planning the logistics- how to best determine the distribution locations, how to formulate the information database to ensure the correct amounts of materials make it to the correct schools and to the correct children, and then how to actually do the distribution. It was a massive job, and the Help Channel team shone brilliantly. However, the best part of the experience for me was actually driving to a few schools and handing the school kits to the individual children. It was inspiring to see how they graciously accepted the materials, with the looks on their faces showing their eagerness to learn. For some, to use a pen for the first time. For all, to fill the bright white pages of their new workbooks with marks of hope for the future.

My Burundi

2007-09-29T11:59:00.000+02:00

When the camera comes out, this is the Burundi I know.

International Day of Peace

2007-09-21T16:07:00.001+02:00

September 21st is the UN International Day of Peace. I hope that we can take today and the weekend to consider the current situation in our own countries- whether that means Canada, the United States, Burundi, or elsewhere- and be thankful for what peace exists. I think we can't really understand how wonderful it is if we haven't experienced otherwise. Let's also consider very carefully our choices, and those of our governments, and how these choices influence the situation of peace, or lack thereof, in other countries. We all play a part, whether knowingly or not, for better or for worse. Let's make it the former of those two.

In Memoriam

2007-09-14T17:17:00.001+02:00

Miss you buddy.

Steven Peter Dirksen
November 24th, 1981 - September 14th, 2006

At least 4 N.W.T election candidates have criminal pasts...

2007-09-12T19:13:00.000+02:00

I got a chuckle from this headline in today's CBC.ca newsfeed:

"At least four candidates in Northwest Territories election have criminal records- and in one case, the would-be legislator is still wanted by police, according to court files."

Well, I guess I can understand. After all, who among us doesn't make the occasional death threat or obstruct justice by releasing crickets in the local courtroom? In any case, at least we have elections and our government representatives aren't guilty of crimes against humanity (I'll make a note that I'm speaking only about the situation in Canada...)

Click the title to link to the article.

Studio Photo

2007-09-08T13:46:00.000+02:00

I came upon this interesting scene on Thursday while traveling upcountry with Help Channel Burundi to check out a future project site. Studio Photo. I can't overstate how remote this is- it's truly in the middle of nowhere. There were no houses in view and the nearest village was at least a few kilometres away. Awesome.

What's also awesome is that the project site we were checking out is for the construction of a clean water source near one of the new HCB tree nurseries in Rutana Province, in the south of Burundi. At the moment, the entire village gathers water that bubbles up from a spring in the middle of a muddy marsh where everyone also grows their crops. The first time we visited the nursery, the first thing the people said was that they need clean water because their children are dying of intestinal diseases. What's more is that right above this area is the location of a newly constructed primary school that will host a few hundred students for the first time next week.

a note

2007-09-07T18:48:00.001+02:00

i just thought that i'd mention quickly that i didn't know the unfortunate man written about in my previous post "of sushi and instability". he was just one of the many people suffering human rights abuses and all sorts of other injustices in this beautiful but conflict-ridden country in the heart of africa.

Woken Up By Sounds Of...

2007-09-04T10:46:00.000+02:00

5:45 in the morning and I'm awake. It was probably the fault of the night guard who is somewhat noisily taking a shower in the building in the back yard. The birds have begun to wake up as well, and their exotic songs break the early morning silence. But there is another strange sound under the rest of the usual morning clamour, audible at first only during pauses in the chirping. Then, with the unmistakable sound of a distant explosion, followed by another, I realize that the other strange sound is machine gun fire. I take some consolation in the fact that it sounds to be coming from across the lake in East Congo...

...but later learn that it was in fact coming from Burundi, in one of Bujumbura's northern suburbs. From about 5:30 to 6:30, dissident parties within the last remaining militant rebel group were fighting because of dissatisfaction with the group's leader. Apparently at least six combatants were killed, but we'll wait for the news later in the day to learn more.

Again, I'm safe. I live in a safe neighbourhood far from where anything would happen, if anything were to happen. Although there are present tensions and disconcerting rumours, there is massive pressure from the international community for the government to resolve the peace talks, and it appears that they will soon come back to the table. And perhaps with the present instability within the rebel group, their leadership is showing signs of weakness, and their combatants signs of non-commitment.

I'll write more when more is known. Click the title for a link to the Reuters AlertNet news article.

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Afternoon radio news counts 19 dead soldiers plus 1 civilian, but is still unconfirmed because journalists aren't yet allowed on scene.

Apparently there are those among the rebels who want the peace talks to continue, while others don't, and are fighting over leadership in that regard.

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September 5th news sources now says at least 25 soldiers and 1 civilian; other sources say 21 soldiers plus 1 civilian.

Routine

2007-08-30T17:09:00.001+02:00

Some people have asked me about my routine- what does a normal day look like for me in Burundi? When I got home last night and was reflecting for a moment, I realized I had had a most wonderful day; and although it hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, perhaps it could have been called a day of ideal routine.

0730- Wake up. Strong, dark coffee from a press. Whole wheat toast with cheese. Fresh pineapple.

0830- Watch Le Téléjournal de Radio Canada, news from Québec on TV5 (France morning television).

0910- Arrive at work. Email. Put almost-finishing touches on 2006 Annual Report in French.

1200- Home for a special lunch, to which I've invited Emmanuel and his wife. Eat like royalty.

1400- Back to work. Email. Skype with Mr. James Perreaux. He asks me if I shower; respond in the affirmative. Even use soap. Feel somewhat homesick. Chat with Antonio on MSN. Should be working. Coffee.

1700- 2 hours to finalize French translation of the annual report with good friend Jean-de-Dieu. Completion brings grand sense of accomplishment and relief.

1900- Skype with Duncan, says there's a power cut at the gym.

1930- Duncan's proven correct, I'm alone at the gym, exercising by candlelight. Quite enjoyable, actually; nobody is around to see my profuse sweating. A choir practices next door and makes me very glad to be in Africa.

2030- Leave the gym when the candles burn out.

2100- Home. Shower. Warm up dinner of pasta with fresh fish. Paul Desmond on the stereo (thank aloud Mr. Daryl Alford for the iPod and Benedikte for the stereo).

2200- Read a chapter of Sa Majesté des Mouches (The Lord of the Flies).

2300- Not entirely abstemious nightcap while catching TV5 Africa news.

2330 or so- Collapse in bed. Reflect on enjoyable day.

of sushi and instability

2007-08-27T17:53:00.000+02:00

i'm still alive.

even though i dared to try sushi in bujumbura last night, after noticing it was offered at a restaurant i was visiting for the first time. i know- it was a risky move. but duncan made me do it. and i was just a little bit intrigued, to say the least. after all, if it would have been good, my life in burundi would have been forever changed. anytime a nostalgic trip back to vancouver were desired, i could hop on over for a few pieces, and go on with the day in a wonderful state of mind. so, was it good? sure, it was okay. did it merit the two-dollar-per-piece price tag? well, not really, but perhaps on the rare special occasion...

etienne nkurikiye, on the other hand, is dead.

he was beheaded by a group of rebels last wednesday, who proceeded to harvest and steal his potatoes and plunder other houses nearby. the police report that the aim of the attacks was to steal food, money and clothes. this was the latest of an increasing number of violent acts that have been occurring since the last remaining militant rebel group backed out of peace negotiations. two weeks ago the houses of five members of the government opposition were attacked with grenades. on friday the first vice president was sacked, and there has been a major shuffling of appointed positions in recent months. the current situation of political stalemate is sparking worries of a descent back into civil war that has plagued this tiny african nation since 1993.

i think everyone should just chill out, have some sushi, and decide together to stop destroying their beautiful country.

2007-08-15T11:36:00.000+02:00

Experience Burundi

2007-07-17T13:43:00.000+02:00

Lars squirts a worm from his hip. Matt recoils at the sound of a guinea pig’s skull popping in the jaws of a large crocodile. Together they brave open cobra cages in the world’s poisonous snake capital. Together they scoff at the hippos in Lake Tanganyika for the pleasures of bodysurfing. Lars and Matt experience Burundi.

Things got slightly out of hand last night when our game of croquet turned ugly, and Seth wasn’t entirely prepared for the competition put forth by the Canadian contingent. Perhaps expecting a more conservative and orderly arrangement, he soon found himself reeling on the other side of the yard after Lars sent him running like 1812. Braving canine land mines, massive drop-offs and invisible wickets, the US captured second and third place, but gold was solidly in Canada’s hands despite being outnumbered by a factor of two.

I wonder if my cat will ever be the same after a mortally frightful encounter with Matt’s beard. Matt wonders if all females respond the same way. Lars wonders if he’ll ever have a beard. I wonder if Matt and Lars will ever be the same after Burundi. I wonder if Burundi will ever be the same after Matt and Lars. I wonder if it’ll again be such a long time before I see them again. I wonder how long it will be before I am able to see the others who aren’t here with us but who have often been the subject of our conversations. I wonder if you’ll soon be able to experience Burundi yourself.

Read Matt and Lars' account here.

2007-07-04T09:35:00.000+02:00

Sometimes dreaming is easy. Other times however, it seems more likely that longing and languish breed only more longing and languish without any easy resolve. To see people in need, or to be in need yourself, but to know that the answer lies far off or that it cannot be envisioned at all, is to be vulnerable to discouragement and even to despair.

The dreams, when they come, are life. Glimpses of potential, visions of what could be, are the tiny sparks that set aflame Hope. And it is by tenaciously clinging to Hope that one receives life and strength in the struggle for those things most desired.

The dreams, when they come, are what put to death that most awful sin of complacency.

The dreams, when they go, sometimes draw us back into sleep, that we'd enter again the land where with ease anything is possible.

The dreams, when they go, are sometimes born anew in the hearts of those courageous enough to enter the land where with difficulty and perseverance and heartache and joy and sweat and tears, truly anything is possible.

Zanzibar

2007-06-18T20:22:00.000+02:00

a woman collecting seaweed at paje, east zanzibar, tanzania. ps- that's water. seriously. click for larger view.

From our dinner table set on the very edge of Stone Town’s waterfront, I saw Matt and Lars’ faces come into the kerosene light of the vendors’ stalls as they chose their meal of roasted lobster skewers and giant prawns. With a surprise attack on them from behind, I signalled the success of our long-awaited plans to meet up in Zanzibar. After warm embraces and a round of fresh sugar cane-lime juice, we set out on the long task of catching up. And what could be better than spending some good time together with some of your best friends in the world on surely one of the most mysteriously beautiful islands in the world?

We spent the first day together exploring the labyrinthine network of tight passages in Zanzibar’s Stone Town. Getting lost is an inevitable and frequent occurrence as one wanders about exploring sultans’ palaces and ancient fort ruins, but also a necessary part of the experience.

Zanzibar was the main port for slaves coming out of East Africa and an estimated 60 000 slaves passed through each year during the height of the trade just before abolishment. In the slave cells adjacent to where the slave market used to be located, we sat hunched over in the tiny room, dark and featureless but for a deep trough running through the centre for waste and death. It’s an austere venue to consider some of the possible thoughts by which men justified becoming monsters, and the situations in which we continue to do so today.

Today we moved on to the other side of the island to enjoy the impossibly clear waters of the Indian Ocean. And here we sit, under a thatched roof with the surf coming right up to the stilts of our restaurant, eagerly awaiting our meals of fresh seafood. In the immediacy of the moment, in its perfection, the rest of life slips far off into the distance, and only the moment remains. But it too shall pass, as will the next, and I will eventually face the malign reality of the moment that escorts me back to life. For that, I will summon the strength when I must; for now, there are other priorities that demand my undivided presence. Namely, barracuda in green curry.

Burundi Stats

2007-06-06T10:03:00.000+02:00

Since most of the world hasn't ever heard of Burundi, or if they have, they couldn't point out on a map where it is located, I'll compile a list of statistics that might interest you. I've highlighted some the most significant items, but with the current peaceful situation and the attempts at reform, the future is looking somewhat more promising.

Area: 25 680 sq.km (Canada: 9 984 670 sq.km)
Population: 7.8 million (Canada: 30 750 100 in 2006)
Polulation Density: 303.7 persons/sq.km (Canada: 3.3 persons/sq.km, although this is perhaps not entirely accurate considering that much of Canada's total area is not habitable, whereas the large majority of Burundi's landmass is habitable, and is indeed being inhabited)

Ethnic Groups: Hutu- 86%, Tutsi- 13%, Twa pygmies- 1%
Religions: Christianity- 67%, traditional African religions- 32%, Islam- 1%

Population under the age of 15: 45.5% (2004)
Life expectancy: 44 yrs (2004; in 2001 it was 40.4 yrs)
Infant mortality: 11.4% (% of live births)
Child mortality: 19.0% (0-5 yrs)
Maternal mortality: 1%

Human development ranking: 169th (2003; in 2001 it was 173rd)
Undernourished population: 66%
Literacy rate: 59.3% (females: 52%)
% population living on less than $1/day (USD): 54.6%
GNI (Gross National Income) per capita: $100 USD

Cellular telephone subscribers: 2%
Internet users: 0.4%

Transparency International corruption rank: 130th (1- least corrupt, 145- most corrupt)

Number of physicians: 3 per 100 000 people (in contrast, although there is a lot of complaining, most people living in Canada have access to physicians at rates nearing 1:550)
Percent (confirmed) HIV+: 3.3% (UNAIDS 2006, obviously many don't get tested because of unavailability or stigma)
Number of registered Burundian refugees living elsewhere: 438 663 (UNHCR 2005)

All statistics obtained from http://www.alertnet.org/db/cp/burundi.htm and http://atlas.nrcan.gc.ca/site/english/index.html

Rambling About Entropy And Trees

2007-05-23T12:15:00.000+02:00

Burundi is a pretty rough place. Drawn-out ethnic civil wars have a way of destabilizing things, and Burundi’s thirteen-year crisis (that more-or-less ended in 2005 despite peace agreement negotiations which continue to this day) did wonders on that front. The economy is in shambles and can barely begin to improve the bombed-out roads or the nearly non-existent healthcare system. Orphans comprise ten percent of the population, and each city has its masses of street kids. This partly explains why thievery is so widespread (I had my phone stolen, almost completely unnoticed, from my front pocket). Although somewhat less prevalent than in several nearby countries, Burundi is also being hit hard with the AIDS pandemic, and child-headed households are common. The average daily salary for a labourer is somewhere around $0.75. Which means that they will likely never taste Frosted Flakes cereal, which, at the time of writing this, has gone up to $22 per box at one of the local imported food supermarkets. Ah yes, one can obtain certain Western creature comforts in the capital city, Bujumbura (and I am glad for some of it); but it doesn’t help the image of white people that there are some of us here willing to spend money that frivolously, right in front of the faces of people who only eat once per day from their pitiful little gardens perched on the edges of vertiginous hillsides. If they were to lose their balance while hoeing their little plots, they might not stop tumbling until reaching the river at the bottom of the valley, which is invariably running rich with eroded red dirt. And that, at least in part, is their own undoing for having pressed their cultivation deep into where the forest used to hold its secrets. They can’t really be blamed, when a slightly bigger plot might mean more of their children will survive; but as a result, the hills are naked. Their exposed skin is exfoliated with every rain and their raw surfaces are blotched right to the tops with the square patterns of agriculture.

Help Channel Burundi believes that things can change. Although it’s far too late for the legendary pristine forest ecosystems to be restored, real change that protects the environment and that significantly benefits the majority of Burundians who are subsistence farmers is definitely possible. Help Channel Burundi has established more than twenty tree nurseries near ecologically important watershed areas, each producing between 75 000 and 250 000 seedlings every planting season. Millions of trees are being planted that will stabilize soils and allow water to penetrate deep into the ground to replenish the water table. They will provide resources to local inhabitants. They will play a role in the hopeful re-establishment of more moderate and dependable weather patterns that will bring back abundant harvests. The communities are happy. Local inhabitants are given meaningful employment and are educated about the importance of environmental stewardship. Previous plantations are effectively maintained and protected. People can provide for their families. And they have hope for the future.

What is Help Channel Burundi Doing?

2007-05-15T09:01:00.000+02:00

Or what am I doing with my time here, you might be asking, other than befriending wondrously cute African children and travelling to exotic locales? I plan to take the next few posts to highlight some of the ongoing work of Help Channel Burundi in response to the needs of their struggling fellow Burundians, and hope that in so doing you will also get a better glimpse into the country and into the current situation here in the heart of Africa.

It would be most logical for me to begin by describing their reforestation activities, considering that I am formally here as a Reforestation Consultant. But I won’t. Instead, I’ll start by introducing you to the Batwa. Some of you will have read my first newsletter in which I illustrated an unexpected encounter with an isolated group of 11 Batwa families high on a mountain above one of Help Channel Burundi/MCC’s tree nurseries. We have since began to establish a relationship with these families, and are working on a proposal for a comprehensive project to help them. Many organizations in Burundi have attempted to work with the Batwa but very few have met with any measure of success, for reasons I will try to explain. [One note before I begin: you may have heard of the three ethnic groups in Rwanda and Burundi- the Hutu, Tutsi and Twa. These are general terms; in Kirundi and Kinyarwanda (the native languages of Burundi and Rwanda, respectively), when referring to one person the prefix “mu-“ is added; thus, Muhutu, Mututsi, and Mutwa. When plural, the prefix “ba-“ is used; thus, Bahutu, Batutsi and Batwa. Sidenote from a sidenote: I would be referred to as muzungu, and very often am, while a group of white folk would be bazungu.]

So then, who are the Batwa? Consensus has it that they, a hunter-gatherer pygmy population, were the first people group to occupy the region (I’ll stay away from the controversial topic of who was the next to arrive on scene.) They were master hunters who respected nature and knew the intimate secrets of the jungle, and as such were feared by the others. In addition to having practices that the others considered taboo, this fear led to their marginalization, which continues to this day. I suspect they would be more than happy to retreat to their jungle sanctuaries and avoid the discrimination altogether, but unfortunately the forests in Burundi and Rwanda have all but disappeared and their old way of life rendered infeasible.

The Batwa are very slow to accept change and stubbornly cling to traditions. As talented potters, many continue to make clay pots to sell, despite the market for such wares having mostly disappeared with the advent of cheap Chinese plastic. Nomadic in lifestyle, if a member of their group dies, superstition demands that they pick up and start again somewhere else. This has kept them from becoming agriculturalists; however, they are quick to hire themselves out to neighbours on a day-to-day basis in return for food. Because of their marginalization, some of the dirtiest work was said to be fit only for the Batwa. This daily begging seems to have been ingrained in their mindset, and they will often move to the cities to beg where it is more lucrative. As with many Africans, especially those facing difficult times, thoughts and preparations for the future are almost nonexistent. Truly, the Batwa of Burundi and Rwanda are the most vulnerable of the vulnerable. Things have been horrific for them in the past, and the future is bleak unless there can be some progress.

And so, many organizations with good intentions impose projects but are confounded when they’ve constructed houses only to find that the following week the Batwa have sold all the metal roofing sheets and are sleeping in grass lean-tos beside the house, or that goats intended to be a source of sustainable revenue have all been eaten. Help Channel Burundi has seen some very encouraging progress in a large group of Batwa with whom they work in Gitega province. As a result of many years of patience and persistence in education and assistance, the group is enthusiastically and successfully adopting sound agricultural practices. They’ve given up nomadism, live in robust mud brick houses and send their children to school. They now even have six cows to provide nourishing milk as well as organic fertilizer for their crops, a first ever for a Burundian Batwa association. They are excited to help their neighbours by giving the cows’ offspring to other Batwa associations, and as such they are proving to be a model group that proves there is hope. Help Channel hopes to have funding so they can incorporate some of the same projects with the 11 families of Batwa in Kirundo Province.

Three Notifications

2007-05-04T09:31:00.000+02:00

I'd like to direct your attention to the result of some of my energies here in Burundi: Help Channel Burundi's website! The finished product was masterfully put together by Catharine Graff of Studio53, to whom many many thanks are owed. Check out her stuff if you or anyone you know is in need of some design work.

Secondly, a wonderful piece of news is that Westside Church in Vancouver, BC has adopted me as a missionary. They will be partnering with me and Help Channel over the next few years, beginning with the printing of a promotional package I've created for Help Channel- a brochure, business cards, letterhead and envelopes.

Lastly, my good friends Lars and Matt are setting out on Sunday for their long-awaited pan-african adventure: Cairo to Capetown. I'll be joining them for a small stretch, but I have yet to decide which; I'm thinking coastal Tanzania. Follow their their progress at larsandmattinafrica.blogspot.com.

To The Bad Place And Back

2007-05-02T18:01:00.000+02:00

Seth's moving portrayal of 11 hapless travellers winding their way from Bujumbura, Burundi to Jinja, Uganda in order to raft the mighty White Nile where it begins its sometimes violent journey from Lake Victoria to Egypt. Caution- people were injured during the making of this film, and it contains scenes of raw terror which might traumatize younger viewers.

Distribution Video: Openhanded

2007-04-27T11:16:00.000+02:00

Here's a video Seth created recently to send back to supporting churches in the US. Stay tuned for our Uganda trip video....

Kickin' it in Kampala

2007-04-25T18:46:00.000+02:00

One of the things about travelling in Africa is that it almost always takes longer than it seems it should. This is especially true when the trip doesn’t quite begin as planned, whether due to a driver waiting for the bus to be full or due to a fall from the top of the Land Cruiser resulting in a badly damaged shoulder and some slightly shorter toes (not mine). Miraculously, the Lord protects and provides, the journey continues after setbacks, and arrival at the intended destination is [mostly] certain, albeit likely somewhat delayed. And thus the 760-kilometre drive on [mostly] paved roads from Bujumbura, Burundi to Kampala, Uganda takes a solid two days. It sure feels like a solid two days when, packed-into the Land Cruiser like sardines, 11 passengers are attempting to avoid carsickness on queasy mountain roads, guarding their coccyges from impact when rogue transport trucks force our trajectory over massive potholes.

Driving in Kampala is an entire story all on its own. We were told that there is no longer any time day or night when traffic lessens. Thousands of motorcycle taxis are whizzing by, winding in and out of traffic, brushing vehicles, remaining [mostly] unscathed. Roundabouts are chaotic intersections in which, if lucky enough to gain entrance, one can never be sure of escaping fully intact. Speed bumps dwarf the nearby Rwenzori mountains and, shrouded in mist, appear suddenly and unannounced, threatening to send any inattentive outsider into orbit. In hindsight, that would probably be a quicker way of getting around town.

The purpose of being in Uganda was to raft the mighty White Nile near Lake Victoria, from which it embarks on its long and sometimes violent journey to Egypt. No one was disappointed except for Roy, an Israeli backpacker who spent most of the morning heaving over the side of the safety boat from motion sickness. Yes, to be sure, there was a lot of motion. Interestingly, the objective of our boat (and our guide) was to capsize in the middle of each and every rapid, and we would have succeeded were it not strongly suggested that we attempt to remain in the raft over The Waterfall. My hypothesis as to the reason why it’s moderately safe to do so is because there is such a massive volume of water pouring through each rapid, the chances of hitting a rock or being caught underwater are slim. But that’s just a hypothesis; it might be somewhat comforting to know that there were two mothers with us who enjoyed their experience tremendously.

Blessings to the Brose boys and Vinten girls as they begin their last semester at Rift Valley Academy. Thanks to all for having me along.

stacy

2007-04-13T16:56:00.000+02:00

sorry, that was a long hiatus, and still i don't really feel inspired to write anything of consequence. one excuse is that i've been traveling quite a bit and have not frequently been able to connect. despite the fact that my travel should have afforded me ample subject matter for written reflection, en lieu of more substantial food for your thoughts, i'll leave you with my friend stacy. perhaps you've met her before. she went swimming for her first time last weekend when i brought her and a gang of our burundian friends to spend the day at saga resha, a most wonderful beach located an hour's drive south of bujumbura. she calles me brandoni because it's difficult for a native speaker of kirundi to end words on a consonant. that makes me feel italian, and makes her even cuter.

Less

2007-03-19T09:41:00.000+02:00

My friend Matt and I were discussing the paradox of how even modern measures to reduce waste can have harmful effects in excess of the that of the garbage they aim to decrease. Not only can recycling programmes be harmful through the use of highly toxic chemicals or massive amounts of energy, so too can they reinforce the modern idea that we can simply use and dispose. And that’s something we’ve become quite good at: we use, then when we’re done, we throw away. And then we do it again. And again. And again, ad infinitum. We’re quite highly trained.

What? Am I saying that recycling is a bad thing? I’ll bet you didn’t expect that. But, if the simple act of recycling absolves our consciences of the guilt of over-consumption and unnecessary waste creation, then indeed, in that way recycling is a bad thing and could be causing more harm than good. That’s tipping the scales even before one takes into account those nasty chemicals and all that energy.

I’m not suggesting we stop recycling, because it’s certainly not all bad. What I’m suggesting is that we stop wasting. We need to stop thinking that our waste is someone else’s problem, and that they’ve got it covered. Because they don’t.

For starters, let’s stop buying those convenience foods that are packaged six times over. And how’s about we try not to choose items whose packaging will outlast them by decades or centuries. We could also do well to spend a few dollars more on things made with quality, things that will not soon require replacing.

Or better yet would be to simply buy less, but that’s maybe pushing things too far.

Change

2007-03-15T09:30:00.000+02:00

I'm going to start a short series on environmental stewardship. For those entirely uninterested, please read; this is for you. I promise I won't prolong your tedium too much.

Let’s begin by being honest with each other: when thinking about such massive issues as climate change or world poverty, it’s very easy to become discouraged. It’s easy to have no clue how an individual can make a difference, however much one would want to. Swimming against the current is particularly difficult to do, especially when the proverbial current is the entirety of the culture in which we live. And what’s the point, if nothing less than a sea change of culture will make any difference? Perhaps the beast we now ride is too elephantine to steer clear of the destruction toward which we are headed. Maybe the masses will require comprehensive quantitative evidence, the type that will only be compiled after it is too late. Or could it be that such evidence exists and we are too hexed by comfort and security to see that the legacy of our overexploitation will be an intractable curse on the next generation and all who follow?

Some still refute the apparent scientific consensus on the contribution of human activities to global warming, and it could be true that our part is less influential than others would suggest. But I’d like to invite you to come here and observe a distribution of emergency food relief to poor subsistence farmers whose crops have been wiped out by relentless rains, and who have been eating dirt to feel their stomachs full. Or afterward to watch the old widow who didn’t receive anything, who dives to the ground for the five beans emptied from a colleague’s shoe. She was one of the lucky (?) ones who survived last year’s drought. These aren’t normal conditions, friends.

I don’t write this from the security of philanthropic righteousness or environmental innocence; I am guilty just the same. I merely invite you to see, to experience, and then to return to Disneyworld. Where every space is climate-controlled.

Climate Change

2007-03-09T09:21:00.000+02:00

Isn't this issue decided upon yet? Seriously. How can we still be so arrogant and senseless to think that the prohibition of one man being able to marry another man is more important than dealing with the fact that the world's rich- including Christians- are contributing to the killing tens of thousands of poor people every single day due to our insatiable consumption?

I'm not sorry for taking this time to rant, because the entire reason why I am in Burundi, surrounded by undignified poverty, is to help mitigate the effects of changing weather patterns and otherwise deteriorating environmental conditions, caused in large part by global warming. Last year in Burundi, thousands and thousands of people died of starvation when the country was struck by drought in the main producing regions. And so we prayed for rain. This year, we're getting rain: relentless rain that has so far destroyed 50-80% of the country's crops. Hundreds of people have died hunger-related deaths already, and the food shortage has only just begun. In the West, we have the resources to adapt, but here that is not the case. Thus, the poor majority are the ones who suffer the most when the rich minority can't curb their consumption.

The reason I rant is because Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family, a conservative Christian ministry with widespread following, has written a formal letter to the National Evangelical Association attacking their recent stance, a stance which united tens of millions of (American) Christians in agreement that action to counter global warming must be taken soon, and that it's a major moral issue of our time. What follows is a statement from Dobson's letter, and a rebuttal posted on the blog of Jim Wallace, the leader of Sojourners, a major non-partisan movement founded on social justice for home and abroad.

Dobson:

"More importantly, we have observed that Cizik [of the NEA] and others are using the global warming controversy to shift the emphasis away from the great moral issues of our time, notably the sanctity of human life, the integrity of marriage and the teaching of sexual abstinence and morality to our children."

He goes on to suggest, “he be encouraged to resign his position with the NAE.”

Wallis:

That is indeed the key criticism, and the foundation for the real debate. Is the fact that 30,000 children will die globally today, and everyday, from needless hunger and disease a great moral issue for evangelical Christians? How about the reality of 3 billion of God’s children living on less than $2 per day? And isn’t the still-widespread and needless poverty in our own country, the richest nation in the world, a moral scandal? What about pandemics like HIV/AIDS that wipe out whole generations and countries, or the sex trafficking of massive numbers of women and children? Should genocide in Darfur be a moral issue for Christians? And what about disastrous wars like Iraq? And then there is, of course, the issue that got Dobson and his allies so agitated. If the scientific consensus is right - climate change is real, is caused substantially by human activity, and could result in hundreds of thousands of deaths - then isn’t that also a great moral issue? Could global warming actually be alarming evidence of human tinkering with God’s creation?

Or, are the only really "great moral issues" those concerning abortion, gay marriage, and the teaching of sexual abstinence? I happen to believe that the sanctity of life, the health of marriages, and teaching sexual morality to our children are, indeed, among the great moral issues of our time. But I believe they are not the only great moral issues, and Dobson says they are.

And further,

A statement last year by the Evangelical Climate Initiative, signed by 86 national evangelical leaders, including 39 Christian college presidents, noted that “we are convinced that evangelicals must engage this issue without any further lingering over the basic reality of the problem or humanity's responsibility to address it.”

mcc.org

2007-03-05T10:56:00.000+02:00

Hey! Sorry this isn't much of a post, but you should all check out mcc.org for March's feature page on MCC's involvements in Burundi, which includes the feature documentary video on Help Channel Burundi and our Food-For-Work reforestation projects "Burundi: Trees of Hope". Click the title to go there.

2007-03-05T09:14:00.000+02:00

Honestly

2007-02-20T10:34:00.000+02:00

Honestly. Little girl at Nemba refugee camp, East Province, Rwanda.

What can be said? Must one elaborate on a face so beautiful, or are there words eloquent enough to better explain a life so obviously precious? Such would be the case regardless of context; yet, to mention that this little girl is a refugee, living with her family under a small plastic sheet in a country they do not know, one is able to perceive much more in the glimmer of her eyes or in her infectious smile. Need one portray the pitiful conditions in which she lives? For, surely that would be providing part of the truth that her face does not betray. But no- the truth is that this girl has nothing other than what one can see in her face: she has Hope. And if she has Hope, after what she has encountered in her few short years, there isn’t anything that will be able to take it away.

If you come to visit, don't expect to leave with your heart intact.

Click here to see photographs, or here to see Ed and Ed's blog of the trip.

Meet Emmanuel

2007-02-13T09:00:00.000+02:00

Emmanuel is my Burundian roommate. He is 30 years old and has a wife who is currently several months pregnant. She has been pregnant in the past, but due to complications they haven’t yet been able to have a child. Because of the importance of having children in Burundian culture, we are all hoping and praying that they will this time be successful. His wife lives in their home upcountry, while during the week Emmanuel comes to the city for work; due to lack of employment outside the city, many Burundians do likewise. Emmanuel graduated from the university as a civil engineer, and is always busy drawing up plans for houses and buildings. He is presently responsible for a large building project of the Scripture Union, with whom he is also employed as a contributing author and editor for various Christian publications. One of my favourite moments in Burundi so far was watching Emmanuel laugh hysterically to the film ‘The God’s Must Be Crazy,’ which in a very humorous way depicts the strangeness of both ‘Western’ and African cultures when they encounter each other. Indeed, there have been some interesting moments in our own cross-cultural encounters, and my friendship with him has been important to help me gain access and understanding in regard to Burundi and its people.

mcc.org

2007-02-05T15:25:00.000+02:00

Hey again! Check out mcc.org for their February feature slideshow featuring my photographs! Go to www.mcc.org and click on the slideshow thumbnail in the right sidebar, or click here.

mcc.org

2007-02-01T18:02:00.000+02:00

Hey! Check out an audio interview and slideshow with yours truly at mcc.org! Click here to go there.

Meet Stacy

2007-01-28T20:44:00.000+02:00

Stacy, if you weren’t able to surmise from the photo, is the most precious four-year-old girl that has yet existed. Stacy latched onto me from the very beginning, enamoured by a strange new light-coloured friend. Every time she sees me, no matter how far away she is, she yells "muzungu!" or her attempt at my name, then runs and jumps into my arms. And I might as well not even bother trying to let her down. Stacy is hilariously exuberant, and very quickly has me bent double in laughter. If ever I succeed to let her down from my arms, she promptly plunges herself into an over-zealous portrayal of traditional Burundian dance or runs off with an object she’s pilfered from my pocket.

Stacy’s mother is a young, orphaned relative of Cassien. At the same time as trying to put her daughter through school, she also is finishing her studies. Because of all the challenges they face, Stacy hasn’t been able to go to a good school. Until today. Someone who has been captured by this little child has eagerly committed to take responsibility for the school fees, school food costs, and uniforms for her to attend a good school, and Monday, today, is her registration.

Let’s remember all the other children in Africa who still aren’t able to go to school at all, and who don’t have parents to care for them. The future of these children is in God’s hands; the future of this continent is in the balance. If anyone is interested, I’m sure I could easily find a little cutie for you to assist in this way.

Thoughts On Running

2007-01-23T10:23:00.001+02:00

I blame it on the elevation. And on the heat. And of course, on the humidity, because you can’t veritably breathe in water and expect to be able to do much more than drown. I expect there’s something about the food I’m eating too. And I’m sure there’s more, all working in synergy to constrain my attempt at running to a mere saunter. But, against all adversity, I’ll persevere, because if nothing else, I’m certainly getting the intended exercise.

Initially, I thought I would be the only one out on the roads in Burundi running for exercise, but I was surprised to observe many other joggers, old and young alike. This is especially the case on weekends. I’m told the observance of weekend exercise by city dwellers originates from the time of the war, so that civilians would be in good form if they were required to augment the military’s numbers in the event of a rebel incursion. There are also the usual footballers or military groups on their training circuits, and certain associations whose members run and sing loudly to raise awareness for one cause or another.

In any case, running in Burundi is invariably an interesting experience. In the mornings before the garbage fires start and myriad inefficient diesel engines infuse the air with that distinctive ‘developing world’ aroma, I’m able to distinguish the scent of the many blossoming trees and of the fresh breeze off the lake. In the evenings before the sun goes down, people bathe or wash their prized bicycles in the ditches, sorry-looking figures rummage through piles of trash, and long-horned cattle block the road on their way to better pastures. In one sense it’s a rest from the unceasing begging, as (most) people realize that I wouldn’t be carrying money during exercise. In another sense it only serves to reinforce the dichotomy of my existence here: I run not only to be in shape, but also because I eat more than I need, whereas, many people who greet me as I pass might not eat at all that day.

Seen in that light it becomes apparent that the obstacles I face in attempting to ‘find my lungs’ are hardly real obstacles at all.

Meet Gaspard

2007-01-18T08:50:00.000+02:00

Gaspard is a thin, quiet man whose continuous smile is contagious. He lives in Kirundo, northern Burundi, with his wife and nine children. Last year during the famine, Gaspard was especially concerned about his youngest daughter who was sick from malnourishment. He was worried that he would have to leave his home and travel to Rwanda to find employment to provide for himself and his family. Thankfully, he was approached by the director of a new Help Channel Burundi-sponsored tree nursery in his community and was given employment. He was also thankful for the food that he received in payment for his labour: cans of lean turkey meat provided by Mennonite Central Committee and flour purchased with funds from American Friends Service Committee. With this food he was able to nourish his daughter and have her discharged from the malnourishment centre, and he could provide for the rest of his family as well. With employment in his own commune, he is able to remain living at home with his family, and is meaningfully contributing to the restoration of the surrounding environment through the growing and planting of trees. Having worked hard, he has been able to save up and sell enough extra cans of turkey to purchase a small plot of coffee that will be a sustainable source of revenue. He hopes that his efforts at the nursery will help to ensure food and water security in the future so that he and his commune will not experience another famine like last year. He also hopes that the food-for-work program will continue until there is a greater measure of food security in his province.

Meet Cassien

2007-01-13T16:21:00.000+02:00

Cassien is the director of Help Channel Burundi, the non-profit, Burundian NGO to whom I am seconded from MCC. Cassien is my neighbour and close friend. He is also a big businessman here in Burundi, although he has relinquished prosperity and instead works for the benefit of the poor. With the revenue from their various businesses, Cassien and his wife, Beatrice, care for 40 relatives orphaned from the war or from HIV/AIDS. He strives to ensure that each has food and clothes, can attend school, and can remain in the house of their parents. On top of all of that, I have just learned that Cassien is also building three schools in the east of the country; I don’t doubt there is more. Cassien has a wonderful laugh and a good sense of humour, and is very fun to spend time with. Even though it is very fun to spend time with him, it is always very humbling. How is it that I find myself in Africa, surrounded by undignified poverty, and in the presence of people like Cassien who have renounced false security to live for something truly worthwhile, and yet I am still selfish? Sure, in a sense I have given up comfort and security, and have dedicated the next several years to become somewhat like Cassien, but it is such a slow process and daunting in scope. Do I have what it takes to let go of ‘me’ and so to truly realize the potential of who I am meant to become? Honestly, I don’t know; but I am glad to have a friend like Cassien whose life is a constant encouragement to ambitiously pursue the good of those in need. I would like very much for you to meet him someday.

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10.39)

a new look

2007-01-05T16:28:00.000+02:00

hey- a new year, a new look. maybe i should get a haircut, too; i'm not sure i like either. perhaps more change is in order.

click on the title to check out my friend sara's site. she's posted some more photographs of the holidays and other happenings here in bujumbura.

also, please check out brian and erin's site (rowaans in africa), allowing you to follow them as they traipse extensively across the continent. it was most excellent to have old friends here during the holidays.

a new year

2007-01-03T14:52:00.000+02:00

sunset in kigoma

Christmas in bujumbura was a wonderful holiday celebration, and a welcome escape from the consumerist frenzy that most of us are accustomed to getting sucked into, including myself, despite our yearly resolutions to behave otherwise. i am very encouraged by my friend joseph, who, rather than making an extensive list of current gadgets of desire, told everyone that he only wanted for them to donate trees through mcc on his behalf, in order to help reforestation projects in environmentally poor countries such as burundi. thanks joseph. on Christmas eve, a number of people gathered at the brose's house after church to celebrate. in the morning on Christmas day, together with doug, deanna and maddy hiebert, as well as brian and erin rowaan, who are at the midway point of their extensive four-month tour of africa, we exchanged a few small gifts and ate a wonderful breakfast. in the afternoon, we returned to the brose's for an incredible turkey dinner that was perhaps even more elaborate than i would have had with my extended family at home!

after Christmas, the hieberts, the rowaans, and i travelled to kigoma, tanzania, to spend new year's at a beach front guest house on lake tanganyika. more so than any place i've been yet, it was paradise. a secluded, cinnamon- sand beach on a crystal clear, salt-less ocean. we shared it only with the monkeys and the occasional monitor lizard. beyond the sandy beach stretched kilometres of rocky coastline, offering boulders and cliffs from which to jump into the water. we ate our fill of fresh fish each afternoon and evening, and consumed an alarming number of pineapple (better than any i've ever had before, purchased in town for about $0.09 each!)

so, it's difficult to miss home when you are in paradise, but i was often thinking about you, my friends and family, and how it would have been even more enjoyable had i been able to experience these things with you. perhaps one day i will get to show you some of the wonderful places i've discovered. thank you to everyone who has been sending emails; it is a gift to be reminded that friends and family are remembering me, especially during the holiday season.

Christmas blessings to each of you as we begin this new year.

here are some photos of the holidays:deanna and maddybrian and erinsettlers at the brose's on Christmas evegift exchange game at the brose's on Christmas evedoug showing us how it's done in kigomabrian and erin watch the sunset atop a mammoth boulder on new year's eve in kigoma

brandon shoots the president?

2006-12-24T18:58:00.000+02:00

cliquez ici for the official story; photographs are mine.

burundi slideshow

2006-12-20T11:24:00.000+02:00

click the title to link to a wonderful slideshow i discovered about burundi, "bridging the hutu-tutsi divide."

hungry hungry

2006-12-18T09:05:00.000+02:00

hippos!

is everyone aware that hippos kill the greatest number of people out of any animal in the world?! we've got lots of them here in burundi. (photo for aunt bev)

reflections

2006-12-14T08:58:00.000+02:00

One. A woman removes the brush tangled around the limbs of her cow. A old man rushes along the road to assess the situation, but after having watched the cow stumble down the small drop between the pasture and the road, he will only discover what he fears most: the cow’s neck, bent awkwardly beneath the weight of its body, is obviously broken. It is quite possibly, though I pray not, their only cow.

Two. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and I have not eaten since breakfast. An acute awareness of the void in my stomach reminds me that I’m rich. But the children yesterday, with distended bellies, do they feel the same? Is it less severe because they have grown accustomed to it? Or is it worse? Yet they are happy because they know no other life. Like normal children they sing and play and laugh, as their stomachs continue to swell. And so do our stomachs swell, due to very opposite, though connected, reasons. The injustice in the fact that we kill ourselves by over-nourishment is perhaps also a form of justice; but it’s still not fair.

On a lighter note:

Three. I have recently discovered my least favourite kind of music, which I term ‘missionary old-country.’ And let me tell you, they love it here. ‘Old-country’ by itself is quite bad; but at least the old music that has endured to be heard today is arguably that which has been done ‘well’. Not so the missionary sort. And incorporating indigenous choirs or instruments only adds to the disarray.

Four. In part, I was thrilled to see that the governor’s office had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle curtains; until, that is, I realized that Donatello was the wrong colour

Hope

2006-11-19T18:48:00.000+02:00

The tiny girl stops and turns her body to face us; a small sack of cassava flour rests upon her head. Silently she leads us onward over the crest of the mountain to the trail that will return us to our truck. There is more we must see before the rains come—from our mountaintop vantage we observe black storm clouds now not far off—but the grace of this child has captured me and I am content to delay our progress.

Two hours earlier, Zachée, my Burundian MCC colleague, and I had visited an MCC sponsored tree nursery in the valley far below. The seedlings will soon populate these barren hills, bringing Hope in the form of clean water to the valley’s springs and the peasant farmers dependent upon them. Setting our sights to the top of the mountain to gain an overview of the entire valley basin, we started up against the heat of equatorial noonday sun and my lungs gasped for the oxygen of lower elevations. I observed my surroundings: nothing. There wasn’t anything on this hill. Which is why we were surprised when suddenly, from a ways off, we heard excited shouts. A man was running down the path to welcome us, we could then see, to a gathering of small grass huts near the top. The small man was soon upon us, offering ecstatic welcomes, his hands held in prayer and in greeting. After embracing us, he ushered us towards the rest, who, aroused by his calls, awaited their visitors in a gathering beside the nearest dwelling. They were Batwa, we learned, the much-discriminated pygmy minority. They were eleven isolated families, relocated to the mountain by the government. They were obviously impoverished—one child had infected eyes, many had swollen bellies beneath their tattered clothes—they had not been able to save seeds from the last harvest. The ground was dry, but yet it was the rainy season.

Zachée took down a list of seeds and farming implements that they needed. Apparently a white person had been among them before and had helped them with their growing practices, but they were again in need of help. We would be back soon. Perhaps too, they could join the other workers, planting trees in MCC’s Food-For-Work project. In this way they would benefit not only from the turkey, canned and donated by MCC constituents in North America, but also from direct participation in the restoration of their environment and in the renewed sustainability of their harvests.

The tiny girl’s smile beckons us on. The glimmer in her eyes speaks of hope, but her clothes betray the daily struggle in which she and the others live. I am inspired as I look into the valley below and see the nursery that will provide some of the hope that this girl longs for. In two weeks the planting will begin on the mountain, and we will be back with seeds, hoes, and plans we hope will help these villagers. What an incredible opportunity to be able to be at the end of the long channel of blessings that so many have participated in, and to see the results of so many hearts and hands joined together in service to the poor!

so simple

2006-11-17T17:52:00.000+02:00

says the girl's sweater. in kirundo province, northern burundi, where we, help channel burundi, are starting a clean water project.

see other photographs here.

amahoro!

2006-11-10T10:23:00.000+02:00

in kirundi, that means "peace," and it's the common gretting here in bujumbura, from where i greet you now. i haven't prepared anything to write, as i am very surprised this morning to catch a strong wireless internet signal from somewhere nearby where we, help channel burundi, are setting up our new office after moving from the outskirts of the city.

burundi is incredible! after being in transit for two full days, i found myself sitting under a thatched roof drinking iced tea while looking across vast lake tanganyika to the high mountain ranges of the congo. behind me is bujumbura, the capital city, and behind it are the heavily populated hills of the countryside. there is barely a square metre in the entire country that isn't inhabited. burundi is africa's second most densely populated country (behind rwanda), and is bustling to say the least. today i have not yet seen another muzungu, which is what people yell out with a smile and a thumbs-up when they see me. but i will; at the least, i'll see one whizzing by in one of the ubiquitous white UN landcruisers.

next week i look forward to touring the various help channel operations in the countryside, and getting a better grasp of what i will be doing. for now, my orientation continues, and my french classes will soon begin. i should conclude before my connection disappears, but i promise more soon, including photographs!

for now, peace.

the new is coming

2006-10-29T05:31:00.000+02:00

one more week remains until i say goodbye to everything that i know, to everything that i've ever known. next saturday evening i'll board a plane whose destination is the far end of far away, and my ticket is not for a return flight.

this, of course, hasn't really sunk in yet. currently, i find myself in amish country, pennsylvania, for orientation at mcc headquarters. as i jog along the rural roads, i observe those beautiful people bringing in their harvest by horse and by hand. having eaten at one of their tables and been gifted with a glimpse into their world, my heart aches for their them as they grieve from their recent tragedy. then my heart recalls the lingering pain of our family's own tragedy. there has been loss. but there is Peace. and there is Beauty. and there is Hope.

a horse's large head suddenly arches into my path, its neck stretching far over the split-rail fence. i am surprised out of my introspection and onto the task at hand: i am running, on a paved road, in heartland america, dodging a horse. my breathing is deep but controlled; my legs feel good; the late october breeze chills my perspiring skin. the immediacy of it all is nearly overwhelming. but this, too, shall soon be memory. the new is coming.

i am excited.

and the sun went down

2006-10-07T23:47:00.000+02:00

and the sun came out

2006-10-05T02:53:00.000+02:00

in memoriam

2006-09-16T21:49:00.000+02:00

steven peter dirksen
november 24, 1981 - september 14th, 2006

vancity

2006-08-31T23:16:00.000+02:00

more images of vancity's finest citizens. interestingly, all right-of-centre. but thankfully not politically-speaking. i miss them already.

vancity

2006-08-28T11:15:00.000+02:00

The Divine Image

2006-08-19T22:10:00.000+02:00

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God, our father dear:
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.

-William Blake, 1789

marathon

2006-08-09T18:26:00.000+02:00

this past weekend i completed a marathon of sorts. mark, antri and i set out on a decidedly ambitious (decidedly agonizing?) adventure whereby we were going to hike into the deep heart of the rockies, climb the sixth-highest peak in the canadian section of that great chain, and then retrace our steps back to civilization, all in two days. and, well, we did just that, with the addition of a second summit just for fun. just for photographs, actually, like the one above.

from kananaskis provincial park, we passed through banff national park into british columbia's assiniboine provincial park, some twenty-six kilometres from the trailhead to assiniboine lodge where we rested for an hour with our feet in lake magog. from there, it was another seven kilometres or so to get above the headwall and drop our packs at the climbers' hut at the base of mount assiniboine. the summit of nearby mt strom provided a perfect vantage from which to photograph its more majestic neighbour basking in alpenglow, before the evening cold forced our hasty retreat into the cramped hut. at least three of the thirteen guests were violent snorers, precluding any real sleep, but at least we were safe from the impressive cold outside (and not hiking.) that same cold welcomed our summit bid early the next morning, and travelled with us until eight o'clock, when on the summit ridge we were able to slow down and warm ourselves in the rising sun. a careful descent with four rappels brought us back to the hut to pack and coffee-up before the long thirty-three kilometres out. the long thirty-three kilometres out.

did every inch of my body hate the obstinacy of our resolution? yes; in fact, i'm quite certain that by the end, every muscle fibre wanted nothing more than to sever their neurological servitude to the draconian will that pushed them onward. regardless, we were back at the car before dark and eating manly amounts of real food in calgary before we could finally let the ecstasy of sleep overtake us. would i do such a thing again? of course. actually, how's about next weekend?

gap

2006-08-02T04:57:00.000+02:00

gap mountain with rob and monica, july 29th.

sir?

2006-07-28T18:25:00.000+02:00

mt sir douglas, as seen from the summit of mt burstall. the east ridge is on the left side.

mt sir douglas, east ridge

climbing mt sir douglas' east ridge

mt sir douglas in kananaskis was the most enjoyable adventure yet, even though the rock was horribly rotten and unprotectable for the entire lower part of the route. in that case, the solidity and elegance of mt edith cavell probably sets her above general douglas' peak; for a knighted fellow you'd think he'd be more congenial. i was very thankful for all but the sketchiest of twenty or so rappels to return us onto the glacier, followed by a nine kilometre run back to the car after sixteen and one half hours of climbing.

masochistic?

2006-07-19T23:42:00.000+02:00

in this post, two adventures.
adventure number one. at three in the morning, mark and i discerned that the weather had still not decided its plans for the day, so we closed the doors of the car and pretended to sleep for another hour. at four, some stars could be seen through scant partings in the cloudcover, so we opted to take our chances and make a break for it. for mt edith cavell, that is; she's the highest peak in the immediate vicinity of jasper, at 3363 metres (11 033 feet). climbing on the east ridge was solid and everything was fantastic until we reached the ice cloud that remained to guard the last two hundred vertical metres to the summit. then it became especially excellent, with a thin veneer of ice and spindrift encrusting the rock. white- out blizzard conditions, high winds and temperatures below minus ten degrees celcius dictated brevity in our summit celebrations, followed by a heinous descent of the easier west ridge, which, though less vertical, presented thin scree atop downhill-slanted rock ledges. for those unaware, scree is like gravel, and in stiff-soled boots, a thin layer of scree on sloped rock above cliff bands several hundred metres high, you've got a precarious situation. at four in the afternoon we made it back to the car, and after a quick dip in frigid cavell lake, we were off for a brew in jasper townsite.

adventure number two. a bit of a weekend off led me on a hike in banff with some new friends. across the highway from banff townsite you've got mt norquay (with the ski hill), mt edith and mt cory; our group had plans to hike the cory pass trail to the edith-cory col, where some of us would continue on up to one or more of the three summits of mt edith, rejoin the others, and continue down the seven kilometres of edith pass trail back to the vehicle. and this was more or less what transpired, though with a slight twist. the cory pass trail is evidently one of the steepest maintained trails in the rocky mountains. i guess they were going for economy, of sorts; though not of our efforts, that's for sure. two waited at the saddle between the two peaks (col) while four of us scrambled up the south summit (2554 metres), but didn't quite wait until we returned from our fun. not a problem, and all in the plans, but we underestimated their speediness on the downhill and were unable to see them in the distance. this, of course, led to second-guessing our instructions, and their whereabouts, and so we hurried down the trail in hopeful hot pursuit. after the goats got out of my way. and then after almost an hour without overtaking the renegades, i elected to run, and, if i hadn't encountered them before the seven kilometres was up and i was back at the vehicle, it would mean that they were either still waiting for us at the col or had returned the way we came. that would mean that i'd then turn around and run back up the pass and down the other side. i was entirely resigned to the upcoming off-road marathon when, lo and behold, there they were! yay! safe and sound and speedy. but interestingly, i was quite disappointed to abandon my upcoming test of endurance, since i had already planned it out from beginning to end in my mind and was already feeling a second wind coming on to fuel the exercise. oh well; i'll bank that energy for next weekend. the day was nicely capped by a dip in canmore's quarry lake, followed by food and drink at julio's barrio in cowtown.

photographs on my flickr and pdf slideshows downloadable here.

2006-07-05T18:06:00.000+02:00

insomnolence

2006-07-04T01:23:00.000+02:00

sleepless. but now that the tree plant is over and done, i'm only without sleep by choice. in the first case, so as to not simmer myself within my fine, metallic skillet and companion clifford, i elected to heed the meteorologist's warnings of the upcoming heatwave in southern saskatchewan and alberta by continuing on driving through the night to my destination. and, with the aid of chocolate-covered espresso beans and sunflower seeds (not chocolate-covered), twenty-three and a half hours after departure, i arrived here in cowtown. in the second case, mark and i had ventured to the foot of our weekend pursuit, mt. joffre. joffre is a pleasant monster of ice and snow rising to 3450 m (11 316 ft) in kananaskis provincial park, just east of banff. to get an early start, we woke at 0250 h and were on our way before 0330 h. for whatever reason, perhaps because of the diminutive half-section of half-centimetre yellow foam padding i was sleeping on, or the roaring glacial waterfall thirty feet from our tent, or the anticipation of the morning adventure; regardless of the reason, i didn't sleep a wink. but i laid there anyways, willing recovery and new energy into my barely initiated leg muscles, already nearly expended from the day's intense approach. sure, intense because we made it that way, but really, is there any other way? the climb itself was also made to be exhausting, but it was very necessary that we maintain our position far in advance of the eleven member alpine club group following in our hard-won kick-steps up joffre's snow-encrusted face. so, depending on how you look at it, not only was it our first mountain of the season, it was also our first time leading an alpine club of canada trip. but i don't know if they'll see it that way.

so, two sleepless nights in one week; one by choice, the other from insomnia (though it wouldn't have been much of a sleep anyways). the first was immediately followed by a respectable five hour nap; the second, by an intense thirteen-hour climb and return hike to the parking lot. before the painkillers and alcohol, i wished all mountains would crumble into the heart of the sea. but, we're already now working on plans for tomorrow and for next weekend. this is going to be a good summer.

done

2006-06-25T05:29:00.000+02:00

holy schmoly, has it really been a full month since the last time i've updated? wow. well, here's an update: the plant is over. i'm done. and as coops says: it's a dem fine day. a dem fine day indeed. me tired; more later.

settled

2006-05-23T04:14:00.000+02:00

after a difficult first couple weeks, i feel that i have now settled into my responsibilities as a supervisor of a tree plant in the wilds of northern ontario. after the stressfull first round of planning has passed, during which a few below-the-belt blows were fielded, the plans have worked out quite well, and all the planters remain entirely oblivious to the seemingly intractable hardship that was just barely deflected. but now we're in the clear; the plans for the remainder of the contract are more or less easy, the planters are happy to be making a tonne of cash, and we're quite significantly ahead of schedule already.

i'd also like to let you know that i'm a bus driver. my sweet ride is known by the affectionate knickname, "ducky", after the humourous waddling of a chafed, though well-loved, supervisor from several years ago. she's a full-sized, white schoolbus, outfitted with a trucker radio for the requisite mileage call-ins while driving my planters in to the block on the haul roads. the truckers, of course, don't really understand you unless you speak in their colloquial northern tongue. and so, out of consideration for the safety of all those under my care, i make myself into a fellow resident of atikokan, replete with the slow, laconic drawl of the north and a hopefull, though gawdy enthusiasm, that my town, atikokan, will soon be the proud bearers of the title, hockeyville.

thanks again to brier and shawn for the barbequed moose steaks, wine, and all-day, all-night sauna sessions that have restored my body and mind for another week.

ugh.

2006-05-12T02:39:00.000+02:00

things are going well up here in the north, but not without a large portion of stress. it doesn't really feel as though i've been able to settle into my role as supervisor yet, in terms of the expected bookwork and socializing and relatively relaxed mornings. nope. of course, out of the entire contract, it just so happens that the three most difficult blocks of land to be managed and planted need to be done so in the first two weeks. not ideal for anyone, really. anyways, with some serious negotiations (undoubtedly aided by my perpetually persuasive and intimidating demeanor) there have been some favourable arrangements made with the client. and so, after the first really nice day of planting, unmarred by stressfully looming plans, i returned to camp in the evening to discover that the generator, water pump at the lake, and water pump in the kitchen were all malfuntioning. perfect. love it. well, the water pump at the lake just needed a master's pull of the cord, and the generator required some tlc to clean the exhaust filter, but the kitchen water pump seems to have burned out. what you have to realize is that this is all very expected. dreaded, yes; but certainly not surprising. we've had problems with the generator each year, and each year it seems not to have been serviced completely. the kitchen water pump has blown before. the water pump at the lake cracked last year. and especially when you are the one in charge, especially of a tree plant, murphy's law will invariably stand true. and i hesitate to even tempt the ill spirits of the north by mentioning that things could be worse. yes, indeed they can.

but really, i only mean to describe some of the daily difficulties that i am faced with. there's much satisfaction when i can bring about acceptable outcomes, whether by plan or serendipity, luck or providence, and somehow everything works out. right now the generator is humming softly, the water tank is full, and a loaner pump will be on its way tomorrow to get us through to the weekend, during which i can retrieve a spare from the company shop.

of course, tomorrow will bring new difficulties of its own. for example, awaking at five to deliver treeslike mad all day into an extremely difficult access block. and of course, we're expecting rain and snow. but it will all work out, and, after another similar day on saturday, i get to spend the evening in the sauna at shawn and brier's in atikokan. did i mention that apparently atikokan is in the runnings to become hockeyville?

'nuff for now. have a good weekend.

because

2006-04-26T02:36:00.000+02:00

hello again. brandon here. time for an update, methinks.

i had a wonderful time in southern ontario with family and friends, but an odd highlight was in solitude. this past wednesday i grabbed a minimal amount of lightweight overnight hiking paraphernalia and set out to rove as far as my legs would take me in one day. why? i wouldn't consider myself a masochist, although doing things the easy way has never appealed to me either. no, it was merely because i hadn't before. the bruce trail winds through the woods at the back of our farm, and i've lived there since i was five without ever having done an overnight hike. mind you, i've spend unnmerable days mountain biking, hiking, and exploring caves and cliffs and streams; it was always my door to the beyond. to really get beyond, the margin beyond which i hadn't yet travelled, i had to traipse about two hours. shortly past the boundary i was interruped by a strange man, who, while sitting and chomping on a large english cucumber, and with the help of perplexing topographical notes, explained to me the unique geological formations discernable in the surrounding area. he stowed the cucs' wrapper in his fluorescent bicycle helmet and let me on my way. i had no other company until the sun was waning low on the horizon, when a corpulent arm belonging to a kind, though dishevelled, elderly man held out a lone sprig of pepper root for me to assay. "it's not like it used to be," he asserted, and i noted that neither was my cardiovascular fitness level. in years past he had been able to gather bags of the edible root; much hotter than horseradish, he said of the stuff. shortly after continuing on, it was my feet that limited my progress at around six 'o-clock in the evening, leaving me about an hour or so of daylight to read my borrowed copy of lewis thomas' late night thoughts on mahler's ninth symphony. delightful. not so delightful was the next day. i knew i was in for a test of endurance when lacing up my boots in the morning was an agonizingly painful ordeal. but, step after step, i finally made it back, and mom was waiting for me on the porch with a cold beverage.

now, after an extremely long drive, i'm in thunder bay. the preparations for the tree plant that i'm supervising are well on their way, and i'm thoroughly convinced that i'm in over my head. for now, anyways. in a few days, twenty-nine people are all going to be expecting me to facilitate their daily wage-earning of two to five hundred dollars. when dealing with cash like that, there isn't really room for mistakes.

camera plans have been put off until july, so in the future, i'll include any photographs i can get my hands on from other sources.

ontario

2006-04-09T00:29:00.000+02:00

hello from ontario! unfortunately returning to ontario from vancouver means regressing the seasonal equivalent of about a month. but hey, out this way they have sunshine, and lots of it. i will refrain from beginning a point-by-point comparison of the merrits and shortcomings of both places that i, to some degree, consider home, although i've never felt so transient as i do now. "you moved away from vancouver?!" is a tough question to provide a satisfactory answer to, and i've tried to varying degrees of success over the past couple days. and in saving uninterested folks from a ten-minute dissection of all the details swaying my decisions, i usually end up sounding like a purposeless nomad. well, maybe i am a bit nomadic; and actually, peering into the looking-glass, i don't think that will soon change. but like good jazz, there is always underlying structure to the chaos.

i appologize for the length of time since my last entry; those curling pics must be annoying by now (especially amy and haylee's offensive costumes). and i appologize for the lack of visual stimulation in this installment; in explanation, i am awaiting the purchase of a new camera once all the facts have been compiled and compared and the criteria weighed. for now, i'm going to get out in the sunshine.

hard!

2006-03-20T22:39:00.000+02:00

kenton directing the shotdelon sending one offamy and haylee in traditional curling attire
apparently this is becoming more of a photo blog as opposed to the confabulation of wit and adventure that i had originally endeavored. writing is proving too bromidic, and when the trouble is suffered, the results are less than inspiring. however, photography is rousing my enthusiasm and demanding more of my time and money than i have to offer, at least without consequence, at this stage. perhaps i'm just one of those folks who thinks in images, and as a result finds more creative fulfilment through visual expression.

so i figured that i would just post some photographs of our recent westside outdoors excursion to the not-so-outdoors marpole curling club, foregoing words with the intention that the story would tell itself. according to my sister, this is not the case; and so, to relieve any anxieties or misunderstandings, these words have been offered. thanks for hanging in there.

posts

2006-03-13T23:04:00.000+02:00

posts at lighthouse park beach, point roberts, washington.

obstinate

2006-03-09T07:37:00.000+02:00

this is my sister, in the red. i like her.

after turning the house inside out in search of some matches to light the barbeque, i finally got it started. it took several minutes to burn off the leftovers of my last charbroiling session, and then the coals had warmed sufficiently enough for the chicken to go on. no sooner had i returned to the kitchen to fetch the basting sauce, did a storm the likes of which vanhattan hasn't seen in years begin to pelt our poor weather-sensitized citizens with hail and sleet and snow and wind and other such things that i'm no longer used to. because of my espousal of mother's obstinate all-season barbequeing, i too braved the meteorological adversity with an equanimity anchored solely by my hunger. and let me tell you, it was almost worth it. it certainly would have been; that is, if the chicken hadn't been stored in the fridge for several days too many.

ps

2006-03-06T21:35:00.000+02:00

as a post-script to my previous entry, i don't intend to sound glum. rather, i wish to express my pining for change and for adventure, and at the same time, my sadness at the prospect of leaving my home of the past four years.

of the gladdest moments in human life, methinks, is the departure on a distant journey into unknown lands. shaking off, with one mighty effort, the fetters of Habbit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares, the slavery of Home, one feels once more happy. the blood flows with the fast circulation of childhood....a journey, in fact, appeals to Imagination, to Memory, to Hope - the three sister Graces of our moral being. (sir richard francis burton, in his novel zanzibar)

mixed

2006-03-06T00:31:00.000+02:00

photograph taken from my sister and adjusted.

a busy week has kept my mind occupied. helping me to mature were my westside church friends at homegroup on monday night, and bringing me back to my mid-to-late teenage years were mxpx on tuesday night. that's right- mxpx. but even that was an instance of maturation; if they had truly brought me back to the middle of my adolescence, i still would have been the oldest person at the punk rock show. the twelve-year-old girls beside me laughed condescendingly when mike herrera and i were the only ones shouting out the lyrics to my life story. they snickered again when i asked who hedley is. and they scoffed when bryan and i left before finding out.

i took wednesday and thursday off and was absolutely contented to do nothing as long as it wasn't work. and that's just about exactly what i did. or didn't do. what i mean is that i didn't really do anything. although i think that i spent more money on food and drink this week than i actually earned. i don't know if i feel guilty about that or not. but what i don't feel guilty about whatsoever, in fact what i feel unequivocally mirthful about, is that my last day at my job is march 31st. following closely on the heels of my upcoming emancipation will be many contrasting emotions. all of them are strong although they are mixing together into various shades of uncertainty: happiness is the same as sadness, excitement intermingles with anxiety, welcome is infused with regret. i'm leaving vancouver.

winter

2006-02-27T03:24:00.000+02:00

happy birthday robyn! don't suppose the beaches you frequent look quite like this, but ha!- you're not the only one soaking it up by the water.

quarter

2006-02-23T00:39:00.000+02:00

so, a quarter century, hey?

expectations

2006-02-16T20:17:00.000+02:00

"his wildness was in his refusal- or his inability- to live within other people's expectations" -wendell berry

snowshoeing

2006-02-12T10:26:00.000+02:00

bri, i'm making an attempt to keep up with the coolness of my siblings. i can't at this moment match the other one, but this photo might just prove that i'm catching up to you. taken near the summit of cypress, i made my way, solo, to the top. the other group members figured i'd realize that they weren't going to complete our little adventure, and after twenty minutes of pondering their slowness while i was soaking up the sunshine and the summit vista, i understood that they had left me to my own devices. i removed my snowshoes and ran down, anxious to relieve their worries for my whereabouts and wellbeing. overtaking them halfway back to the parking lot, i discovered they had no such concerns.

engagement

2006-02-07T04:25:00.000+02:00

Congrats Colin and Nicki!

click on the title for a neat link.

vanhattan

2006-02-06T08:17:00.000+02:00

today was paradise in vanhattan. i know that i'm not surfing in hawaii like my sister, but after a january where it rained for 29 of the 31 days, a full weekend day of sunshine is as good as it gets. today it almost seemed as though nothing could be wrong; the entire province was outside soaking up the sun. but unfortunately, one of my errands today was to drop off a card for jana. jana is the girlfriend of my friend brent, who committed suicide earlier this week. my attempts at escapism were successful for only brief moments. man, it makes you think...so full of life and potential.... but the sun shone down, and i solemnly praised God that i'm aware of his grace.

the weekend has been good, and i should mention that batman and batgirl still roam the streets, and if you are going to be in a horror-movie type scenario, your first move should not be to split up from your friends.

coldplay

2006-01-28T06:22:00.000+02:00

coldplay in an acoustic set during their show at vancouver's gm place, january
twenty-sixth. thanks to durian on flickr for the photograph i didn't take.

with spontaneity that keeps me alive, i took a last minute ticket to see coldplay at gm place last night (thanks james pro). whoa...if you weren't there, you really should have been. one of the better concerts i've ever been to by far. at one point in the evening, during the song 'yellow,' myriad yellow balloons as big as my room (which doesn't really say much, actually) fell from the ceiling, that, when punctured, baptized the entire audience with golden glitter. then, at the end of the show, the deity joined his worshippers in a quick jaunt around the ground floor, where - gasp! - some mere mortals were permitted to embrace his feet and legs as he serenaded us from atop a humble equipment box at the back of the stadium. no priestly bodyguards to hinder the groping laity. of course, i'm not mocking. if i had been of the chosen few lucky enough to be permitted into the inner-courts of the ground floor, i too would have thrown myself upon him hoping that a touch of his sweat would make me a star. or at least fix my bum knee.

drugged

2006-01-20T02:15:00.000+02:00

my friend erin took a most beautiful photograph of shawna, and i modified it a bit, as seen above. i think it's absolutely magnificent, and doubt you'll disagree. she's very soon to be taking vancity's music scene by storm- keep your eyes and ears peeled. shawna is, of course, not drugged; although, perhaps some of us might feel a little unstable on our feet after seeing the above photograph (the title refers to the following entry).

some people have accused me of searching for any valid excuse to take up coffee again. for the most part, i consider myself to have been strong and obstinate in my decision to relinquish its joys and pleasant psychoactive side-effects. that was until i read about its truly elixir-like qualities in last week's time magazine:

"caffeine appears to have some protective effect against liver damage, parkinson's disease, diabetes, altzheimer's, gallstones, depression and maybe even some forms of cancer."

"...caffeine does't make you inherently smarter; it just lets you call more effectively on the intelligence you already have."

"caffeine is just a single chemical, of course, whereas coffee contains scores of substances. some of them are antioxidants, which could explain part of its protective effect against disease."

so, a posteriori, it appears as though i've passed through a lenten season, albeit a trifle early, but that now it would be in my best interest to again join the majority of wet-coasters who live continuously, though very happily and perhaps more intelligently, drugged.

sun?

2006-01-15T20:47:00.000+02:00

fishing boats in the rare and waning sunlight, steveston, january 14th.

it appears as though we've just missed breaking the rain record, at two days shy of 29. it's really too bad, because breaking records is cool. and come on, now all that's happened is we've endured 27 days of rain for nothing; no bragging rights. on the other hand, sun is pretty awesome. i nearly forgot the comfort of uv light warming my face. i feel like a mole who has just come out from the blackness of his tunnel, now exposed and vulnerable, his face grossly contorted from squinting.

it was good to be outside without rain. it's been a while. and no better place to spend the day than at historic steveston with some great friends eating some great fish and chips. thanks to erin for the incredible dinner that followed, and for the support and reassurance partaking of my first coffee in a month. i've decided that i'm going to become a social drinker. but maybe it's similar to alcoholism, where all it takes is a drop on the lips and i'll be done for, reverting back to my previous ways. i'll let you know.

update- january 16th- it's now been three days and three coffees. predictions, anyone? i blame erin. and jj bean. and coffee in general.

safety

2006-01-12T21:39:00.000+02:00

so, for everyone's safety here in the wet coast, i've decided to put up a beautiful summer picture, harking back to the glory days of warm sun and strolls around stanley park. i mean, there's something thrilling about breaking records, and i'm usually all about the challenge, but only sometimes. you see, when it is a 53 year old record for consecutive days of rain in vancouver, although there is something inside me that wants to root for us all to keep going- the goal is in sight!- i'd rather be rooting for the sun that just can't seem to break through. i've heard recently that universities have a 'spring break' in february each year, because it's the time of year, especially in vancouver, during which there is the highest rate of death by suicide. and last night on the hour, i had a little chuckle at the little video box in the lower left hand corner of the screen all evening called something like, 'the vancouver "don't slit your wrists" cam', which contained a pleasant sunny summer video from kit's beach looking out over the water. so what do i say? 'come on, we're almost there. just four more days and we're at 29!?' yikes. too bad i can't join my sister in hawaii.