Cultural Differences in Snow

UPDATE: Classes are cancelled tomorrow because it’s cooooold. Brrrr. Places outside London seem to have been hit even harder than here with the white stuff.

Today is the kind of day when I enjoyed being a Victorian: yes, it might be cloudy and there is a good chance it is at least lightly raining, but it is above zero and the grass is still visible. I may have also been was one of those Victorians who enjoyed flaunting that in the face of the rest of Canada.

Now I really don’t like those people. Rest of Canada: I’m sorry for being like that. (Though I will probably return to that once I move back to Victoria!)

In semi-atoning for my gloating, I’ve come to some conclusions.

(Southern) Ontario freaks out about snow just as much as Victoria does. Which is strange, because they KNOW it is coming – it snows EVERY YEAR, whereas it usually catches Victoria by surprise. (“Will we have snow this year?” “I don’t know, we didn’t last year.”).

The difference of freak out is to about a magnitude of 10:

1cm of snow: Victoria freaks out and wishes they still had a snow plow in town. Police advise people to stay off the roads and some schools and businesses will likely close for at least part of the day.

10cm of snow: London finally deploys its full fleet of snow plows (this is the threshold that the city managers reported on the radio this morning), long after police have advised people to drive carefully if they have to leave the house. But they should probably stay home. Schools might be cancelled, depending on how much the snow is blowing.

Contrast this with my memories of high school in Lethbridge:

Cancelled school?!? What are you, a wuss? We’ll only cancel snow if the temperature is below minus 30 C. And then only if the busses can’t start.

…Or my college days in Prince George:

Why would we cancel college? You can still get here right? So Gillian cross-country skis to school.

Happy New Year

I’m writing from work on what will probably be the first New Year’s Eve midnight that I will be awake for in years. It is a quiet night, and the remote log in to work-related things is not working at the moment, giving me time to do a bit of reflecting on the year that has passed (sorry. I hate those posts too).

A year ago I was desperately trying to sleep as music blasted at the next camp over from where we were staying in Maun, Botswana. We had enjoyed a beautiful day of travelling around the Okavango Delta by makoro and were anticipating a long day of travel to the other side of the country the next day.

How things have changed. From the desert of southern Africa to the cold and blowing snow of my walk into work this evening, a lot has happened this year. I have spent time in several different countries this year and I have moved nearly all the way across this one. I have started the formal educational path towards ordination. My first term of school is over and, all things considered, it seems to have gone well. I am adjusting to life here in Ontario and am finding my way around town quite easily now. Day after day of snow no longer seems strange and unusual and I have been enjoying the beautiful quiet that comes with a late night walk in falling snow.

One term of classes is over: I passed Hebrew with flying colours and am reasonably happy with the other grades I have received back. I have begun to find my place within the school atmosphere and am enjoying the academics of being back in school and the challenges that come with that. The biggest bonus: I have access to an entire university full of library books! Most of my papers this term, with the exception of church history, were looking at various angles on postcolonial feminist discourse. Its been a lot of fun (school, fun?!? I know!) immersing myself in that world and I have learned a lot.

Next term will be more of the same, with some scheduled class-skipping. One year to the day that I returned from South Africa I will be taking off for ten days in El Salvador. This will be my first Latin American adventure (unless you count a week at an all-inclusive in Cuba. Which I do not) and likely the only adventure of this sort in 2014. I will be travelling down with a group of people from London to be elections observers and then will spend some time visiting the Cristosal foundation, a partner with PWRDF.

It is weird how these things work out: Latin America has never been one of the “must visit” destinations for me (though I said the same thing about China before I went there for the first time and I LOVED it there) and I know very little Spanish. Following conversations with a former coworker, I began to do some more research on the history of the region. Then, out of the blue, this opportunity to go to El Salvador landed in my lap. Not usually being one to pass up an adventure, I hesitated a little bit because of the school I would miss, but in the end I have signed on and will be headed off in just under a month. Hopefully that will be the impetus I need to do a little more non-school-related writing as I plan to blog for PWRDF and justgeneration.ca while I am away.

So 2013 has been a year of change and transition and I am excited to see what 2014 might hold.

Thoughts on Food and Society

Two things, posted on the Internet in close succession, from completely different sources, yet somewhat related and looking at some of the deepest needs and structural problems within our society.

The Foodbank, by cartoonist Dave Walker: The problem is just getting worse (and not only in the UK from where Dave Walker is drawing). People don’t have enough to eat around the world. This is one of the reasons why PWRDF started the Fred Says campaign, to highlight the problem of food security. But it is looking internationally. The problem is right in our own backyard and continuing to fill shelves of foodbanks helps, but it merely puts a bandaid on a gaping societal wound.

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The Many Faces of Rock Bay Landing: An article in the Victoria Times Colonist about the shelter at which I used to work. Again, it outlines some of the deficits in our current social systems and the problems that has created for a lot of people. That shelter operates over capacity every day of the year. That alone should be enough to cause us to pause and rethink how we define ourselves as a community and country.

Some Lines Scribbled Down in Class This Morning

The sun came up pink this morning
Pink with shoots of golden orange
Peeking through the branches

Shoots of light infiltrating the sky
Blindly pushing through
That fog that comes on crisp winter mornings

Looking down into the city
Hazy shapes are but towering shadows
Visible from the hills

I lift my eyes to the mountains
To see where I might find help
But these are not mountains
These enclosing building

Rather than rising sun reflecting from snow-covered peaks
Towers of concrete absorb the light
And leave darkness

And yet
The sun is still here
Rising pink
Pink with glowing golden orange

O Oriens

I can’t remember where I first heard the sonnets of Malcolm Guite. I bought his book Sounding the Seasons earlier this year but decided to wait until the beginning of the church liturgical year before pulling it out to read. This morning over coffee I opened it for the first time.

This is from his The Great O Antiphons series for Advent.

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dawn, Easter Morning, over the Salish Sea

O Oriens
 
First light and then first lines along the east
To touch and brush a sheen of light on water,
As though behind the sky itself they traced
The shift and shimmer of another river
Flowing unbidden from its hidden source;
The Day-Spring, the eternal Prima Vera.
Blake saw it too. Dante and Beatrice
Are bathing in it now, away upstream . . .
So every trace of light begins a grace
In me, a beckoning. The smallest gleam
Is somehow a beginning and a calling:
‘Sleeper awake, the darkness was a dream
For you will see the Dayspring at your waking
Beyond your long last line the dawn is breaking.’

A Sermon for November 17, 2013

I was invited to speak about the work of PWRDF at two churches this morning, in Woodstock and in Huntingford, Ontario. As last week was the launch of our new “Fred Says” food security campaign, I focused on food with the stories that I told.

This is, more or less, the text of what I said. Typos are likely and I know I ad-libbed as I went – for one thing they used the old lectionary (and only read 2 of 29 verses of the OT reading) so I had to quickly make up a connection between what I’d prepared (Isaiah) and what they read (Micah) and the gospel. And, as I was told they wanted to have pictures, I had to write it out to give to the person controlling the powerpoint slides so that they would know when to switch from one picture to the next. Most of the pictures I used were my own, from trips to Kenya and South Africa, though I took some from the PWRDF Flickr account (licensed under Creative Commons).

We seem to be at that time of year when we our readings get “all end-timesy”. (That is the technical term I learnt in seminary.)

I hear the gospel this morning and it is a little disheartening: wars and insurrections, earthquakes, plagues, and, if I can add one, typhoons… There is enough devastation in the world, we don’t need any more.

And then I went back to the Isaiah reading and was a little encouraged: That is going to end. In the words of a social media campaign, “It gets better”.

But what about the here and the now. I’m not one to sit and wait for that switch because I believe that God has called us to be involved in our world NOW.

Reflecting on that change between the destruction in the gospel and the hope in Isaiah, I was reminded of a technique I’ve used in my counselling practice called  “The Miracle Question”.

The Miracle Question goes something like this:

   After church is over today, we’ll all head to the hall to have coffee and then you’ll head home, have lunch, and do whatever you need to do the rest of today:  finish the crossword, take the dog for a walk, help your kids with their homework. You’ll eat dinner, maybe watch some TV. Then it will be time to go to bed. Everyone in your household is quiet and you are sleeping in peace.

In the middle of the night, a miracle happens and the problem of world hunger – the availability of food – is solved! But because it happens when you are sleeping, you have no idea that there was an overnight miracle that eliminated world hunger!

So when you wake up tomorrow morning, what might be the small change that will make you say to yourself, “Wow! Something must have happened! The problem is gone!”

It might be something as simple as not seeing the guy who is usually panhandling on the corner or not having anyone show up at the soup kitchen for lunch. It might be a little closer to home, and your kitchen pantry actually has food in it.

This is the question and the contrast that I hear echoed in the words of our readings this morning.

And then there is a follow up question, one that needs to be asked in my counselling sessions as much as it needs to be asked this morning:

“What are we going to do about it?”

We have identified the problem, we know there is a solution, and so now we are called to action.

So let me tell you a little bit about the work that you are already doing – yes, that’s right, I said you are already doing!

The Primate’s World Relief and Development Fund is working on behalf of Canadian Anglicans on issues relating to food security – whether someone has access to healthy food every day – both within Canada and around the world. This is your Fund! And we rely on your support, both in prayer and finances, to support the amazing work that is going on around the world.

Our primary mode of operating is through partnership, which means we link up with local, grassroots organizations who are doing incredible work around the world and support them in whatever ways they need.

We participate in relief work:

Right now, as you may know, there is an incredible amount of relief needed in the Philippines. Our partners there have already delivered 5000 food packages. As of Thursday, PWRDF had received $47,000 worth of donations towards typhoon Haiyan relief – every dollar of that to be matched by the federal government.

In 2009 I was able to visit Kenya through our partners, the Canadian Foodgrains Bank. There I spent a month with a food distribution project in rural Kenya.

Each community was unique, though the stories we heard were all the same: the big rains had not come in over three years. The small rains had come, but the big ones, which sustained life, hadn’t fallen.

In each community we would sit with the villagers and hear their stories, hear about their families, their hopes and their dreams. One man cried as he told us of the shame of not being able to feed his family.

Through the Canadian Foodgrains bank, families would receive giant bags of dried beans, dried maize, and a 3L jug of oil.

It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is nutritious and will feed a family of eight for a month.

The challenge of a food distribution project is that you can’t go to everyone. The distribution centres were chosen for their centralized location, but people still had to travel to get home. So they would strap the food onto their donkey, or figure out some other way to carry it, and begin the long trek home. Some would walk all day to get to and from the distribution point.

Some of the communities requested to have a “food for work” program whereby we would help them develop their community in exchange for food: they would work and we made sure they had food.

So one community we visited had begun an irrigation project: they put canals through the fields and had dug a reservoir. Their hope was that they would be able to capture what rain did fall and prevent such a dire situation from happening again.

Our international and national development work is less of an emergency response to disaster and more partnership with communities to develop their capacity to support themselves.

This past December and January I had the opportunity to visit a partner in South Africa, the Keiskamma Trust.

The Trust is based in Hamburg, in the Eastern Cape. This is a part of South Africa that was badly affected by the apartheid years.

Decades of neglect and mismanagement and a lack of basic healthcare and education means that this is a very impoverished part of the country.

The HIV/AIDS rate is around 40% here, with at least one in three pregnant mothers being HIV positive.

Up until about 10 years ago, this part of the Eastern Cape did not have access to any antiretroviral medications (ARVs) to make living a healthy life with HIV possible and to prevent the transmission of HIV from mum to babe.

In the early 2000s, South African physician, Dr Carol Hofmeyr, came to live in Hamburg. She quickly realized the need for ARVs in the community and started the Trust as a way of educating and providing health care to people in the community.

One of the things she did was train community health workers who do HIV testing and education as well as go into people’s homes and ensure that they continue to take their ARVs as prescribed.

Through their efforts, the HIV/AIDS rate has dropped in this region and they have been able to, in many cases, prevent the transmission of HIV from positive mum to baby.

One of the things that we have come to realize with ARV treatment is that it only works if you have food. Our partners at Keiskamma have approached that in a unique way: living in a place that is fertile enough to grow food, they have begun an organic gardening project that teaches gardening skills to community members, employs community members, and feeds the community.

However not everywhere is that fortunate. Our partners in Mozambique are also working with people affected by HIV/AIDS. Except they don’t have the same ability to do gardening. What our partners were finding is that people were having to stop taking their life-saving medication because they didn’t have any food.

So they began to give out food baskets of beans, corn flour, oil, and fresh vegetables – enough to last for two months – to people taking ARVs and the difference was night and day. Life and death.

As of right now, they have been able to give out 400 foodbaskets to people in the community living with HIV so that they can continue to take their ARVs. Our goal as PWRDF is to raise enough money for 600 more baskets by the New Year.

Food baskets. Organic gardening. Training Community Health Workers. Irrigation projects.

On their own, they can seem like small steps towards eliminating hunger. But together they add up to a beautiful vision of what is possible if we all work together to make that “overnight miracle”  a reality.

Amen.

Ten

1992 14 May, JanetA lot can happen in 10 years.

In the last 10 years I have moved first to Victoria and now to London.

I received an Associates Degree from the College of New Caledonia in Prince George, a Bachelors Degree from the University of Victoria, a Masters Degree from Yorkville University and am now working on another Masters at Huron College.

I hung out at a university in China for two months, spent three months backpacking through Europe with a friend and lived on a tall ship and circumnavigated the Pacific Ocean over 54 weeks while cooking for 35 other people. Thirty of the 36 countries I’ve visited have been in the last 10 years.

I’ve worked as an optometric assistant, cook on a sailboat, counsellor, and case manager in a homeless shelter.

Most of the friends that I currently have I have met in the last 10 years, and they’ve never met you.

And these are just the outward things that I can point to.

Would you still recognize me now? Ten years later? Would I still recognize you?

Self + Image

The thought first occurred to me when I was meeting people at my new job for the first time.

“So, what brought you to London?”

     “I’m studying at Huron College”

“What are you studying?”

     “Theology”

And just like that, I am the Christian kid. I can see it happen. I am immediately in one of two boxes: the “oh brother, here we go” box or the “interesting, tell me more” box. My time on the West Coast has conditioned me to assume it will always be the former, though I’ve been pleasantly surprised when that hasn’t always been the case.

It is strange for me to be reconstructing myself in a new place. I knew very few people in London before moving here and so have been starting over in a lot of different ways. A lot of the things that were central to my way of life and who I am in community are no longer with me. I am re-finding myself but also reconstructing myself and reconstructing the self that others see.

In my last job in Victoria I was just another person working alongside people with similar values and beliefs. It was over time that it “came out” that I was a Christian and, for the most part, people were pretty cool with that. In fact, it became a great way to break down some of the bad stereotypes of Christians not caring about marginalized populations. However I was able to start from a place of presenting myself without the preconceived notions of who I should be as a Christian person. In my new job I don’t have that and it feels like an added pressure or weight on me as I go about my work.

Every church that I visit in London soon discovers that I am a new theological student and suddenly I am no longer looking for a place to call home and worship but am seeking a potential field placement for second year.

School is the other place where I find myself having to forge an identity. I rewrote a paper three times before submitting it today. It was a reflection paper that was meant to delve into the question “What I bring to ministry” but I did not agree with the starting point for the paper and thus struggled with the whole thing. How does one gracefully reject the premise of the first paper submitted for a course, make a good impression, but not present a false self? On a graded assignment? (That reflection papers can even be graded is another source of tension for me.)

I know that all I can do is “be myself”. However self is formed in relationship with others and when new relationships occur, especially a lot at once, self has to adjust. It is a lot like a mobile: when some of the figures shift, all of them must move around until a new balance is achieved. It is hard not to be reactionary and head to one polar extreme when faced with something so different from what feels normal. It is tempting to be someone I am not just to make the point of what I am really not…

I came to Ontario to challenge my West Coast worldview. I guess I am getting what I asked for!

Bicycling in London

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I like my bicycle and I enjoy cycling all over the place on it. Cycling has become a really good way for me to get to know this new city. Some roads have bicycle paths (and some of those are in better shape than others) and there are trails all along both sides of the river that I use to get to and from downtown.

I’m not going to rant about bad London drivers, though there are a few of those (the lovely SUV that drove into the curb in order to prevent me from passing him during rush hour comes to mind), but I will share the ongoing saga that has been my bicycle since I moved.

Due to the message not getting to the driver of my moving truck, I ended up being out of town when the movers dropped off my belongings in London. Thankfully friends stepped in to receive my things and everything arrived more-or-less in one piece. When I returned to London I was overjoyed to have my bicycle to get around on again (I don’t know what I’m going to do when it snows. Apparently I can’t ride all year around like I did in Victoria!). The first day we were reunited in London, the seat fell off: I was riding through the parking lot at school and the seat fell off while I was sitting on it. I stopped to look and to pick up the pieces and discovered that the bolt holding the seat to the seat post had sheared in half, leaving part of the bolt in the clamp and rendering it useless. Fortunately there is a bicycle co-op on campus and we were able to jury rig a fix.

The next week I was cycling early morning along some trails on the way to sort out an Ontario driver’s license when I finally discovered why I was experiencing some unusual friction around my front wheel. It turns out that the brake was lose. Not having my tools with me, I stopped at the nearest bike shop for them to tighten it and make things a little safer.

A little later the same day I bicycled through a puddle and got wet. Generally speaking that wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the fact that I have excellent fenders – as is required of all West Coast cyclists. Upon further inspection I realized that the front fender was completely gone. My suspicion is that the movers took it off when they removed my front wheel for packing, and then lost it, which also explains the loose brake. They couldn’t find the fender when I called and so sent me money to buy a new one.

And so everything was fine. I thought. I’ve known for awhile that I may have to replace my derailer at some point. I took my bike in to the shop a couple of weeks ago for them to fix my jury rigged seat and to look at the derailer as my chain had been slipping quite a bit as of late. It turns out the derailer is fine but I needed to replace my crank wheel and gears. Ouch.

Safety first! It shifts and rides quite smoothly now and is all ready for winter. Until I got two flats in two days. I now have a new front tire.

Some might say that I’ve sunk more money into this ancient bicycle than it is worth. But it is a bike that I love, it is sturdy and rides well, and it doesn’t look like anything much so it likely won’t get stolen. We’ve cycled through Victoria and Vancouver, Seattle and San Juan Island, and are now exploring London together. Hopefully, with all of her new parts, we have many more trips to come!