Posted on May 10, 2021 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

 

 

 

Flashback. Turning on the new water taps in Kanyakumari, India 2017

 

Do you ever have vivid flashbacks? Of course, you do, and they seem to come more frequently the older you get. Not to be confused with hot flashes. I know my demographic and most of my readers would like to forget that phase of their lives!

When my cable is working (Oh Lord, grant me patience dealing with technology issues in the north), I watch news, sports and one or two television programs. I quite like one of the series , Call the Midwife. “Are you serious, Len? Did your brain freeze the day you and your colleagues did a 7km walk when the temperature was -50?” Why would I be watching a show about midwifery?

Why not. I attended four births so it’s not like I’m going to be shocked by what I see.

The program is about a group of nurse midwives working in the east end of London in the late 1950s. It tells of the pressures of their day to day lives while trying to cope with the changes in the world around them. The show takes place at a Catholic convent. The nuns are nurses and there are also a handful of civilian nurses living and working with them. Every cast member is unique, and the writing is exquisite. A narrator’s voice cuts in from time to time, always with some insightful words. While I find all of the roles quite interesting, Sister Monica Jones is my favorite. She is old, slightly demented, and always in the middle of some mishap. She is the resident philosopher of Nonatus House, the name of the convent.

A recent episode of the show was the one that triggered a serious flashback. A group from the convent travelled to South Africa to do some charitable work. Living and working in a rural village they discovered that poor quality, and an almost non -existent, water supply had created a crisis. There was a source of clean water nearby but between the spring and the village stood an embittered landowner who refused to allow the village to have the water piped across his land. The logistics of circumnavigating his large acreage made a water project virtually impossible. At the end of the episode, he finally relented. The final scene showed a young polio victim wearing leg braces struggling to walk up to the new water tank to turn on the tap.

Bang! I was back in Kanykumari, India.

Most of us never think about water. We turn on our taps and we have a constant supply of clean, safe water. This is not the case for many people around the world including our own country. Poor water quality in the north seems to always make national news headlines. I am extremely fortunate to live in a community that has really good water. It comes from a nearby lake and is piped into the village’s water treatment plant before being transported to homes and businesses by tanker truck. During stormy weather, we are always conscious about our water consumption when delivery of water is not possible.

Many of you followed my every move during my six- month stay in India so the next part of my Musings is well known to you. I was living and volunteering with an order of Catholic Sisters. Twenty-five years ago, they built 50 homes on their property for many people suffering the scourge of leprosy. In addition to providing every manner of support for these people, including food, medical supplies, education and electricity, the Sisters supply water to the community. There are a handful of water taps scattered throughout the village. Every day of their lives, the residents have to line up at one of the pumps to get water for their daily needs including drinking water, water for bathing, cooking etc. Many of these folks have severe impairments including loss of vision, loss of limbs and disfigurement. Some have to literally crawl to get to the taps. This was a source of great frustration and fights over the years.

After visiting orphanages, schools and nursing homes with the Mother Superior, we concluded that the single greatest need was additional water supply to the leprosy community. Spoiler alert. This next part is NOT about me. I agreed to try and raise the money for the installation of taps to every home in the community. The “Fifty Taps” project was launched online. Initially, the estimates to complete the project was $5,000 and within days of starting the fundraiser, the amazing folks at the Wishing Wells Society from St. Andrews, just outside my hometown, stepped up and agreed to fund the project. As construction began, it became apparent that the estimates were on the low side but luckily many friends from all over Canada provided the additional money to complete the work.

All of the labour required to install a new water storage tank and the lines to people’s homes was of the manual variety. I watched as men dug the trenches using picks and shovels, often in temperatures in the mid -30s. Not only were they able to bring water to the doorsteps of every home but for those residents most severely affected by leprosy, the water was brought inside their homes. Besides providing easily accessible water, the biggest benefit was providing dignity.

I will never forget the day that the project finished, and it was time to turn on the taps. It was quite early in the morning and the unofficial “mayor” of the community went to every door to make sure that every person came to witness the event. The new water tank, of course, was on a slight rise and I watched as people struggled to make their way up the hill. A local priest came to bless the tank and the new water lines.

Long after I left India, the head Sister informed me that all fights had ceased instantly after people had their own water supply.

I have been involved in quite a few fundraising projects over my lifetime, but none have come close to providing the level of satisfaction as this one. My role was quite easy. A few pictures, a couple of videos of the work in progress, and a good internet connection was all it took to change the lives of fifty families.

India is struggling mightily as Covid rages through the country. If you would like to help out, please consider this GoFund me project. Our money goes a long way in India. And donation, large or small will make a big difference. https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fgofund.me%2F5e724038%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR1y-WhSxX-6pS3NFc4copWoIBSzcRmR8SXxv9pabsIvZaA5FzJCCFAS7aY&h=AT35Dl_YKUa_djJi5fp2Nhq7Xdbh0Qvv_TeWTdFxieAeml7IcWwi6CLWkz_j9sPATwLhbRH03aXX_H0rNTpZmAS8xENhvN97ahaYwl4DbpVE3EMoIMbTqih5Z3YmR1rStRNOJw

 

Thanks.

Have a great week.

 

 

Posted on May 6, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

 

Ulaakut

 

“Regrets, I’ve had a few,

But then again, too few to mention.”

My Way – Frank Sinatra

Words matter.

We all have regrets. If you don’t, then you are either living in a cave (alone), you are delusional, or you’re a saint. Who among us can say with a straight face that we’ve haven’t made some bone headed decisions over the course of our lives? Relationships? I can check off that box… several times. Financial decisions? Yup. Food choices? Affirmative. Vices? Too many to list on one page.

I have chosen, wisely I think, not to dwell too much on regrets. It’s just part of living. Actually, I’m with Frank. Overall, I had regrets too few to mention.

But there is one that remains with me to this day and that is my inability speak more than one language. Some would argue that I struggle with English.

Now, if I was living alone in a cave with my pet dinosaur, the only words I might possibly need to know are sit, heel and fetch me some food. For better or worse, I don’t live in a cave. Far from it. I’m not a home body and have a bad case of wanderlust which has taken me to some interesting places.

In high school, my French teacher, Sister Allana Beaton, did her best to drum some French into us. I actually did quite well in French and liked the subject, in part because my mom’s mother from Montreal was French. My yearbook says that I was part of the French Club, but I think that was a misprint. I also took a few courses of French in university and that ended my illustrious career in modern languages.

I grew up in a small Nova Scotian town which, until Covid reared its ugly head, had the longest continuous running of a Highland Games (156 years and counting). Just up the road a bit is the Gaelic College. My Scottish ancestors would be horrified that after all those years and all those Highland Games, the only three Gaelic words I ever learned were Ciad Mille Failte. (One hundred thousand welcomes). Even now, I’m not sure how to pronounce it. Just eat a bit of haggis, wash it down with a dram of single malt scotch, and no one will know or care what you said.

“I’ve lived a life that’s full,

I’ve travelled each and every highway.”

I can trace my earliest beginnings of wanderlust to my trips by train to Montreal to watch the Canadiens play. This was NOT glamourous travel. We were too poor for a sleeping berth and sat up the whole way on bench seats. Mercifully, there was a bar car to pass away some of the time.

The first time that I really noticed the importance of language was when I travelled to India in the fall of 2016. I was bombarded by Telugu and Hindi in Hyderabad and then Tamil in southern India. While I certainly learned a great deal during my six months there by observation and the assistance of translators, if I had known a smidgen a of one of these languages the experience would have been all the richer. Yes, English is still the working language of most large countries but being able to communicate in other culture’s languages is a huge asset.

Spain in 2019 was yet another awakening. People come from all over the world to walk the Camino and one of the greatest joys of this experience is sitting around at the end of a long day of walking, having a beer and sharing stories. It is a virtual meeting of the United Nations. Most Europeans speak multiple languages and easily conversed with complete strangers. Often, I sat back wondering whether they were talking about politics at home, their day on the Camino, or the mute bald guy with the Canadian flag on his Tilley hat. I have a few friends who are studying Spanish in their “golden years”. I can see why. Spanish is a very popular language.

And now, I live in the land of our founding people. Inuktitut is their mother tongue. I vowed to learn this language when I came up here, but I have been preoccupied with surviving in the classroom. It is a huge disadvantage not knowing the language. My students are chattering all day long in Inuktitut and I haven’t a clue what they’re saying. I can tell by their body language when they’re mad at me. Last year, I had the luxury of an Inuit classroom aide who kept the students in check, all the while simultaneously translating many of my lessons.

Regrets, I’ve had a few, too few to mention, but only speaking one language is definitely on that list.

“You think that I don’t even mean,

A single word I say,

It’s only words and words are all I have,

To take your heart away.

Words – The Bee Gees

(Not a particularly relevant song but it had the word ‘word’ in it!)

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Last weekend was particularly dreary. It snowed, it rained, it hailed, and it was foggy. After spending much of the weekend in my apartment, I knew I had to go for a walk on Sunday afternoon.  A few days earlier, we had received a warning on the community Facebook page about fresh polar bear tracks at the landfill. The landfill is only 5Km from town and polar bears pose a serious risk to one’s health and well-being. Our favourite walking trail takes us to within one kilometer of the landfill. Even dedicated walkers take these warnings very seriously. Luckily, local hunters found the bear and had to put it down…. before we went walking! Good thing. We ended up getting caught in a full -scale blizzard with whiteouts. Even knowing that the polar bear was no longer a threat, we still kept looking over our shoulders.

Posted on May 3, 2021 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Any port in a storm. A “Hurry Tent”

(With thanks to GW)

 

Potty talk.

If you are offended by the delicate subject of human waste, then you’re shit out of luck. Go and do the Soduku or the New York Times crossword puzzle.

“Oh my god. The stress of teaching in the north has finally gotten the best of Len.”

No subject has been untouchable over the years in this space. I have talked about menopause, how to launder bras, love, death, heaven and hell so why wouldn’t I tackle this one?

Those of you who took the time to read my Thursday post (here it is https://www.week45.com/thursday-tidbits-275/) know that I spent a full day out on the land and frozen lakes on an ice fishing expedition. Part way through the day the call of nature came. I needed to pee. Our students were all engaged, lying on the ground with their heads peering into the fishing holes carved out of the ice by an auger. Now, I wasn’t embarrassed and concerned at all because, let’s face it, when you gotta go, you gotta go. Sometimes you’re out on the land or a large bay and there is no cover. No big rocks for privacy and no trees! It’s not a big deal. You just wander off and pee. On this day, the weather was perfect , and the temperature was zero. I was able to remove my parka and slip down my heavy duty skidoo pants. There was also an outcropping of large rocks close by so that I could be discrete.

But… what if you don’t have cover, and your business is more serious and urgent… and it’s -50? The phrase “freezing your ass off comes to mind”. Removing a Michelin Man outfit with your bare hands would be problematic enough. I will ask somebody and get back to you.

I am aware that when people go camping (in tents), they carry a “honey pot” with them for people to do their business. The Armed Forces coined this term in the 1940s. It’s military slang for a makeshift toilet. I almost forgot to add the letter f to makeshift!

Speaking of the military, a retired army friend of mine (I’ve actually never met GW but we correspond regularly) sent me some stories about missions in the north. He told me that they used a “Hurrytent” designed by Alex Tilley, as their portable toilet. Apparently the tent could be deployed very rapidly.

I grew up with indoor plumbing ,so it was a bit of a surprise when I first went to out cottage in Bayfield as a young boy and discovered the wonders of an outhouse. It was called “The Half Moon Hotel” and yes, I remember a large edition of the Sears catalogue sitting close to the hole by the wooden seat.

Many years later when I was teaching in Northern Alberta, I was visiting a friend who would be considered a “back to the lander”. She had no electricity or running water. It was a bitterly cold night. Her outhouse was a good 100 yards from her house. Nature called (1&2)That’s as close as I’ve come to literally freezing my ass off.

I hadn’t thought much about toilets for the next 50 years or so until I travelled to India 5 years ago. On one of my first days there, I went to use the bathroom in my host’s home. To my great alarm, there was no toilet paper. I saw a contraption attached to the toilet but didn’t know what to make of it. Luckily, I had some Kleenex in my pocket. When I inquired about toilet paper, my host said, “What do you need that for?” I quickly learned about Indian toilets and the hose, and adapted, as one must.

My first experience of a toilet on an Indian train is covered in my book about my time in India. In brief, I had to go badly. The train was hurtling along, bobbing from side to side. I was rather horrified when I entered the bathroom and saw a hole in the floor and next to it a small sink. It didn’t look like the maintenance crew had done an hourly cleanliness test. I removed every stitch of clothing and put the pile into the sink. I did my business, got dressed again, washed up and went back to my seat rather shaken. I later discovered that at the other end of the car, was a modern North American style toilet.

In 2019, I took a leisurely stroll (713km) across Spain. One of the hostels that I stayed in had the tiniest toilet stalls that I have ever seen. Honestly, I had to enter sideways. There was barely enough room to sit down. Anyone bigger than me simply would not be able to use this bathroom.

So, there’s my take on toilets.

Do I have a preference?

Depends?!

Have a great week.