Where in the World is Colleen?

According to Mr. Lawrence Martin, the next generation of Canadian leaders simply don’t care.  (If there’s an inspiration deficit in our politics, blame it on the young)  He claims, and rightly, that Canadian youth are more interested in voting for Americian/Canadian Idol than we are in voting in elections that influence the future of our country.

But “blame it on the young”?  What sort of answer is that?  The question you should be asking, Mr. Martin, is WHY young Canadians are so disillusioned by our politics and politicians that we chose to ignore or disengage from these debates, discussions or elections.  Why is it that youth, more than any other demographic, are voting for the Green Party of Canada (which incidentally, might tell you something more than just we are tired of the liberal and conservative bikering and promises)?

And naturally, the question to follow are how do you engage Canada’s youth in meaningful debate and discussion?  It’s not likely to be another campaign encouraging youth to vote.  It’s going to be something like The First Drop encouraging discussion and engagement amongst young Canadians on issues that matter to us, or TED talks that inspire and call us to action.  It’s movies like Good Night and Good Luck that show us fighting for a political cause and justice is possible.

I’d like to feature Amanda Henry’s response to Lawrence Martin’s article on youth participation in politics:

Featuring Cashewman:

Cambridge, UK, February 2008

Sitting in a library in England on a late December night seems like an unlikely place to be able to change anything in Canada. Distance hinders direct action, but does provide the benefit of perspective: once I am outside Canada, I can see our country more clearly for what it is. Only when I leave Canada and compare it with the other places I have lived, be it Australia, Senegal or the UK in my case, can I truly see the extent of my country’s precarious, still-innocent and naïve beauty, and fret at its subversive, emerging ugliness.

It is from outside that I can best see the awe-inspiring foundation of decency we have and the level of tolerance and respect we have established and enshrined in many of our societal structures. I am fiercely proud that I can vote, freely and without fear, and that my country’s political spectrum still includes empathy for different cultures, religions and sexual orientations. I am fiercely proud of the belief of my fellow Canadians that universal health care is a basic Canadian human right. I am fiercely proud that we accommodate English and French speaking cultures, albeit with a few hiccups. I am fiercely proud that Canada ranks among the highest in the UN Development Programme rankings and that my home city of Vancouver consistently ranks as one of the best cities in the world in which to live. I am fiercely proud of our reputation for humanitarianism, and the willingness of many past great Canadians to stand up for causes that represent the best of pure human strength, decency and empathy, both at home and on the world stage. I am fiercely proud of our history of peacekeeping, our involvement in the fight to ban landmines, and our commitment during two World Wars. I am fiercely proud that we do not have a Vietnam, an Iraq or a history of colonialization of other countries. I am fiercely proud of Stephen Lewis and Romeo Dallaire.

But time and distance can qualify this pride, and provide a balance; I see an emerging ugliness that my fellow Canadians may not get the chance to see. I am proud of my right to vote freely, but discouraged that our political process allows a party to obtain a minority of our votes but rule with the casual arrogance of a majority. I am proud that our political spectrum includes tolerance of different views, but discouraged that those views are wasted when politicians are consumed by a rabid self-interested struggle for power. I am proud that we accommodate English and French Canadian cultures, but wonder when we will truly accommodate our aboriginal population as well, long since marginalised, ignored and impoverished in Canada, but still conveniently presented as cultural heritage when the world is watching. I am proud that Canada is one of the best countries to live in, but am painfully aware that our prosperity largely stems from a fortunate abundance of natural resources, often unsustainably managed with predictably disastrous results. I am proud of Vancouver but shocked that it can also be home to the Downtown Eastside, with one of the highest rates of poverty and AIDS in the country. I am proud of our reputation of promoting basic human rights around the world, but distraught that this reputation is based on actions that largely ceased a decade ago. I am proud of our peacekeeping heritage, but depressed that we have long since failed to offer much help and pathetically rank behind over 30 countries in our commitment. I am proud of a history without Vietnam or Iraq, but worry about our challenges in Afghanistan and shake my head at our government’s appeal to neutrality, while expressing overt support for one side in the recent Israel-Lebanon war.

I am proud of Stephen Lewis, but wonder why people like him are the exception, rather than standard representatives of our foreign policy. I am proud of Romeo Dallaire, but distressed that we have not yet learned from Rwanda and that we stand by and watch the ongoing scourge of ethnic cleansing in Darfur.

I have crossed the country twice by car, and I am deeply proud of our boundless oceans and stunning mountains, our prairies and forests. On the TransCanada seven days in one car is not a challenge, it is a brief glimpse of the unique and varied lives of Canadians. I bask in the knowledge that environmentalism is becoming more important to Canadians. I appreciate that our resources – harnessed by the forestry, mining and fishing industries – provide the economic base that allows me to live with prosperity, education and security. But I am in disbelief that we have managed our forests so unsustainably, allowed fish stocks to crash and, while holding decent standards in Canadian mining, allowed our mining companies to trample human and environmental rights in other countries.

Each poll that comes out ranking our trust in politicians at 14% causes bewilderment. Then it is shortly followed by another painful example of political posturing, childish bickering or corruption, leading me to wonder how they even managed 14%. To our politicians: when we gave you our votes on election day, we gave you our trust. When you engage in corruption in an advertising scandal, you abuse that trust. When you falsely accuse your opponents of criminal activity during a campaign, you abuse that trust. When you are elected under one party banner and immediately cross the floor, you abuse that trust. This is not an attack on any one party: all have proven themselves unworthy of the trust and support of Canadians, as have most politicians. For every Chuck Cadman we have 10 Stephen Harpers, Jack Laytons, Belinda Stronachs or David Emersons. Canadians do not want a minority government to be a constant power struggle with each party trying to score political points. We expect our politicians to respect the distribution of our votes and get to work on running our country.

Right now I feel that we have nowhere to turn politically. None of the three main parties has shown itself to be remotely worthy of our support. Polls of young people show a constant disillusionment with politics. Can you blame us? We are a sceptical and realistic generation. We have fewer idealistic illusions. We understand that extremes are not healthy, and expect our society to be managed rationally. We appreciate competence. And principle. It is ironic to be passionate about rational, moderate, principled leadership. So rarely will we be on the streets in protest. It is more likely that our political leadership will hear the deafening silence of a low voter turnout and continue to avoid dealing with the root causes of our disillusionment, glossing over them condescendingly with ‘get out the vote’-type campaigns. Yes, it is my responsibility to vote, but it is their responsibility to give that vote meaning.

We have allowed our international reputation to erode, sliding from exemplary integrity in the past to hypocritical bickering in Bali. While our declining reputation is cause for distress, it is merely a symptom of a deeper lack of collective responsibility towards the world. Few countries have established such a perfect position to constructively engage the world, and help its myriad and disparate cultures work together. We have no history of colonialism overseas. We speak two of the most widely spoken languages. We still have the vestiges of a reputation for patience, intelligence and tolerance in engaging the rest of the world.

To a degree, we still have the respect of the world. But we must continue to earn it, not simply inherit it from the last generation’s courage and integrity. Although I have lost the bulk of my faith in our politicians, I still believe in the power of average Canadians to make a difference, both within our borders and abroad. I still believe that, in spite of the vast distance that separates us from most of the world, we share a connection with it that has not been extinguished. I still believe that passion can triumph over indifference, that collective good trumps self interest, and that Canada has an important and positive role to play in the world. And if it is ordinary Canadians that stand up and seize that role, then so much the better.

B

At the edge of changes that lead to confusion and conflict we often find our greatest insight.  The uncomfortable feelings can either be pushed aside in a broad stroke, or addressed.  A fellow volunteer, Nick Jiminez, chose to address it as he left Ghana for Canada.  It is best expressed in his own words.

A Window Into Development

So it’s been 5 weeks since I’ve been back in Canada. I’ve decided to continue writing in this blog, because it is a constructive form of reflection for me. I’m able to process thoughts, and think critically from experiences, learning things I wouldn’t normally learn. Some of these posts might not be interesting at all. You may think that I am over analyzing a simple situation, the result of a hyperactive imagination, lol. Alas, the blog should be changed to A Window Into Nick’s Brain.

Since being back, everybody is asking “what’s it like to be back”. This isn’t an easy question to answer quickly, because a whole mess of emotions arise whenever I think about Ghana and now the polar opposite that is Canada. Ghana was a world of extremes. Distractions were minimal, and one was able to focus on everything in their environment. There were highs, when I would work 80hr weeks and wake up excited for the next week. There were lows, when I cried for the first time in 8 years. Ghana pushed me to my limits, in a way no other experience has.

But being back is confusing. I’m so happy to be back seeing friends and family. It’s amazing to engage in intellectual conversations with so many of you. Get up to speed on global issues. Have fun. Eat amazing food.

When I really sit down and think about it, I think about what my host family back in Ghana is doing. What my co-worker is doing. I think about the fact that 6 weeks ago that used to be me. And it makes me amazed that two places so different could exist on the same planet.

But when people ask “how’s it to be back?”. Sometimes I don’t want to answer “great”. Sometimes I’m damn frustrated, and want to say how aggravating it can be to see people so . . . content . . .oblivious . . . apathetic.

Though my experience is limited, I feel that the life I led in Ghana was closer to the majority than the world than we live here. The life we live in Canada, or at least Vancouver, seems so . . . artificial. People work hard for what they have, but there is just so much excess. People are able to have hobbies, walk around the sea wall, go out for coffee, sushi, or drinks. Our children dress like their supermodels, have elementary schools that are better than most secondary schools in developing countries, and participate in all sorts of extracurricular activities. We live life as though we are inside a bubble of sheltered utopian reality.

Now some of you may be saying “Nick, people are being laid off and we are in the midst of an economic crisis”. This is true, and for those people I am sorry. It’s not my intention to downplay or understate the plight of many Canadians. But I look at our society, with the social programs such as Employment Insurance and Welfare, and can see that we are still getting along quite well.

If you are somebody who has your struggles and that occupies your energy, efforts, and time, then my frustrations are not with you. If you are somebody who doesn’t know about the global crises of today, then my argument is not with you . . . although today we should all know what is happening in the world.

My frustrations are with those that know the great global challenges of our time, and choose not to do anything. The people who say “it’s too depressing, it’s too daunting”. That wearing the world’s problems on one’s shoulders isn’t going to make them go away.

There are issues in this world that are not permissible. They are unacceptable. We all know this but for some reasons are sometimes struck into a state of apathy. Ignorance of these issues is no longer an adequate excuse. Most people know of the global conflicts/plights of today, and those that choose ‘not to know more’ consciously, are guilty of inaction. Because it is depressing or too daunting, does not justify inaction. This is the same as saying: “that’s really sad, but I can’t deal with it right now, at least it’s not me on that side of the world”.

It is our obligation, as human beings, to attempt to remedy these issues, in whatever capacity we choose to.

No one should be able to say, you are doing enough or not doing enough. It is only a moral question that you need to ask yourself. “Can I do more?” If you get a guilty or queasy stomach feeling, then you know your answer. YES.

It’s true, that thinking of all global issues can be suffocating at times. One cannot know their place, what they can do, or what problem to address. Just pick something that motivates you to take action. Pick one cause that you can devote some of your effort to, and follow through on it. Start off small, take the small steps, and reward yourself for your small successes.

Just make sure that you are continuing to increase commitment. Don’t kid yourself that throwing pop bottles in the recycling or using a travel mug is really going to stop global warming. Just ask that simple question: “Can I do more?” and let yourself be the judge.

What makes me saddest is thinking about the upcoming generation. A generation that has a sense of entitlement, without the need for work ethic. A generation that’s occupied with the new bells and whistles being put out by Apple and Microsoft, instead of world news. I’ll leave that for another post however . . .

Part of Engineers Without Borders’ guiding philosophy for their overseas volunteers is to integrate yourself as much as possible into the community in which you are living. “Integration” means many different things to each of us. It may be eating local food at a nearby restaurant or at home, maybe even learning to cook some of it. It may be learning the local language. It may be living with a family and trying to understand their reality, relationships and community, or it may be living on your own, an experience fraught with its own challenges and learning. It may be going to church or joining a soccer team. It may be making friends in the community, along your daily commute and at work. It may be adjusting your dress to fit local customs.

“Integrating” is a fuzzy term we use to catch all of this and much more. It is the sum of the experience of learning as much as possible as fast as possible to better understand and appreciate a new place. It’s about building a life for yourself in a new place, of fitting in, but more importantly, of belonging. On top of that, it’s just pretty awesome.

But as I am slowly discovering, reverse-integration (for lack of a better word) is evident as well. People I meet are as interested to learn about life and culture in Canada as I am to learn about Malawi. In fact, I didn’t know I knew so much about Canada… or that I didn’t know and have hence had to do some research! I am asked about our politics, corruption and democracy. I am asked about diseases, medical care and care for senior citizens; about family, relationships, dating and marriage. I am questioned on our geography (I have never used a map of Canada as frequently as I have in the past 2 weeks), about the great lakes, our seasons and the prevalence of snow and ice. I am asked how we travel in a land of such changing seasons, how we grow our food, how we shop. I have been asked how we dress, how we talk, what we eat… to which I have to reply that we are fortunate to have people from all nations, all cultures and all walks of life who have brought their local traditions with them and then created a few of their own. We are a nation of diversity and complexity, but also one of acceptance. In fact, I didn’t realize (or appreciate) how diverse, complex and accepting we can be until I have to describe what life is like in Canada, and find that my answers are always in vague and conditional terms of “it depends.”

Certainly, Canada has its fair share of issues. I am not trying to idolize our situation. And certainly, as Canadians, I think we need to step-up and take action on a number of tough (and sometimes uncomfortable) issues, both at home and abroad.

I find myself comparing situations, experiences and opportunities between Malawi and Canada. I try not to, since in some ways to compare is out of context. But having lived for over 20 years in Canada, it is my basic frame of reference, and this comparison has often provided very interesting thoughts, discussions and heated debates about why things are the way they are and how to move forward.

But on a lighter more simplistic level, integration works both ways. Here are some examples.

Cooking Lessons

I love to eat. In particular, I love the variety and endless possibilities, the flavours and textures on top that very satisfying feeling of fullness that a good meal offers.

I also love to cook. In fact, the thing I missed the most as soon as I arrived and spent the first month in various rest-houses was the ability to cook for myself. I would go to the market and see all these different foods, different beans and vegetables, fruits like mangoes, pineapples, bananas and peaches that were being grown locally and my mind would start to wander. Then I would walk past the fish market or a butcher and immediately I would start to plan meals, imagining it so vividly I could taste it. I would be tempted to reach out to buy something, only to realize that my culinary fantasy couldn’t happen because I had no kitchen (let alone utensils) to create it.

I usually eat and enjoy the local dishes of Malwian rice (which is delicious!) or nsima served with one or more relish choices (and contrary to what I first thought and experienced, there are MANY relish choices). On top of being convenient and satisfying, this has taught me a lot about cooking, markets, prices and availability.

I moved into a house with both an outdoor and indoor kitchen, fully equipped and bustling with activity. I also moved into a house with a very good cook. (Brenda’s cooking is delicious and certainly some of the most varied I’ve had here.) Furthermore, as chance or fate would have it, I moved into a house of people willing to learn and try new things. Most women want to (and Brenda does) teach me to cook some of the local dishes. We go to the market together and pick out what we need and then go home to prepare it. And while I enjoy it, my mind still wanders off on tangents of possibility.

So occasionally, I burst out with a “Oh, did you know you could cook [this item] like this? Here, let me show you / Can I try!?” And if that’s not possible at that time, I usually describe the dish and the way of cooking it in detail. Sometimes I think it’s a good thing Brenda is patient and has a good sense of humour.

But as I said, my family is pretty open to trying new things, so occasionally, I get to whet my appetite on Canadian style food. We have sandwiches with avocados, tomatoes, lettuce (I found lettuce here!!), chicken and cucumber or egg-salad sandwiches on bread that I toasted in a pan. Usually, it’s just Brenda and Tears who join me in this, while the kids eat normal Malawian food, which has sometimes left me feeling like rather than helping I’ve actually created more work.

This Sunday though, I had a breakthrough cooking experience with the kids. I found/was given spaghetti earlier that afternoon, and we happened to have bought lettuce and green pepper the day before. (I should point out that all three of those ingredients are rather rare.) My mind instantly turned to my all-time favourite comfort meal of pasta and salad. I was pretty excited, and Brenda agreed to let me cook dinner. I started washing and breaking the lettuce as Johns walked into the kitchen. After watching for a minute, he came over and started to help. I turned to cut tomatoes; he watched for a minute then found a stool and extended his hand for the knife so he could do it. The same went for the sauce, with me instructing a bit, giving some encouragement and stepping back as he happily cut up everything. The same for the pasta. So by the end of it, I knew he was going to want to try some. (Johns has already shown an interest in doing/going/eating/talking whatever or wherever I do/go/eat/say). What I did not expect was that the whole house was going to be interested to try it. Even little Akuzike declined her nsima to eat some pasta when she saw us eating it.

This mixture of cultures and unexpected help left me feeling pretty excited and satisfied. Tears was shocked that Johns was cooking. Brenda was amused and accepting. The kids were content. When asked, John’s rationale, beyond wanting to do what I do, was that if anything happened to the family, he’d be able to feed Akuzike. It was my turn to be shocked as that’s pretty astute and insightful for a 10 year old.

Tutoring

I mentioned that one of the easier ways to better understand anything is to learn the language. Living with children is probably the best way and motivator to do so. While I’ve been rather slack in this area, occasionally I get Brenda or Tears or various people I meet to help teach me.

However, Brenda has just gone back to school. She came home the other day, confused and head hurting from science class. I asked to see what she was learning, and realized that I could probably help. I have spent a fair amount of time going to school and studying engineering. So now, Brenda is teaching me Chichewa, and I’m teaching her atomic structure and matrices.

African Style

The same thing goes for African style, where the mixing and meshing of cultures is at once normal and shocking.

Most people in Malawi wear western style clothing, although the women wear a chitenge wrapped around their skirt and sometimes have blouses, skirts and dresses made from the local material. I figured that since I was living and working in Malawi, it was time for me to have a suit made. I found some lovely Chitenge material (which actually reminds me a lot of Canada since it is white with red leaves and gold and black detailing) and went with Brenda to find a decent tailor to get something made. After a few deep breaths (as far as I can tell, what you end up with is never quite what you asked for… an experience echoed by every lady I talk to), a fair amount of negotiation and some trial and error (I really wish I had hips as small as that tailor seems to think I have!) I received a beautiful suit. Two skirts and a top, sewn with a little creative licence, but looking good none-the-less.

Happy and feeling good, I went to work. I thought I’d fit right in, like any good Malawian lady. As usual I was wrong! I have NEVER received so much attention as I did that day. Ladies on the street stopped me to complement my dress. Women I walk by daily called out to me and introduced themselves. Conversations about fabric and tailors ensued. Men nodded in approval. My female colleagues gave me two thumbs up. As I walked home, the neighbours greeted me a bit more than usual, waved and stared. A girl, probably 14, walked past and in halting English quietly said “Madame, you have a beautiful dress.” I made it home, closed the door and looked around in wonder… so much for fitting in!

Being home didn’t last for long since I still needed to go out and get some bread and peanut butter for the next mornings’ breakfast. The kids were home and decided to accompany/escort me. Akuzike, being the princess she is, hates getting dirty, but had left her shoes somewhere. Johns was carrying her, but was struggling, so I went back and got a chitenge so that I could carry her on my back. This was happening in the middle of the street, so some kind ladies came by to help, laughing all the while. Then off we went, getting even more stares as people had NO idea what to do with the white lady wearing a tailored Malawian suit, carrying a baby on her back with a chitenge, escorted by two boys and trudging up the hill.

It didn’t stop there because later that night Brenda told me that she had been approached her whole walk home by the same ladies who told her they had seen her sister (me) walking by in my Malawian dress, that I was looking good and for Brenda to keep up the good work.

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This is my experience with integration.