The dragonboat tournament is over. We did fairly well, for a new team. But Marcel’s team did even better. Here they are winning their final heat… (If you listen carefully at the beginning, you’ll hear Julie shout “go Dad!” And if you watch Marcel’s boat cross the finish line, you’ll see Marcel at the back of the boat throw his arms in the air in victory.)
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5dT9-SXc8M]
Reading the comments on my last post reminded me that I WORE RED at the big press conference last week. What was I thinking?! Ha! Kinda funny actually!
If you haven’t worked in communications for the federal government, you probably don’t know what a faux pas that is. You see – all the politicians at that gathering were Conservatives. BLUE conservatives. See the t-shirt Minister T. is wearing in the photo below? Yeah, it’s blue. That wasn’t just a casual half-asleep choice when he rolled out of bed in the morning. He would NEVER have worn red to an event. I’m sure the moment he got elected, he burned all of his red clothing, if he had any in the first place. It’s the colour of the enemy. The Liberals.
I was, in essence, branding myself as “the enemy”. Unwittingly. Perhaps THAT is why they are gazing at me so intently in that photo. It wasn’t that they were hanging on my every word (though I do like to fantasize that perhaps it’s because I’m such an irresistible conversationalist).
My communications mentor (back in my early days in the federal government) would be so disappointed in me. She reminded me every time we did an event that the colour of your clothes MATTER. How could I have forgotten? Not only did I have a rooster tail and a zit, but I was also wearing the wrong colour!
Thankfully, I DON’T work for the government anymore and I can wear whatever colour of clothes I WANT. Even IF I’m standing at a podium introducing politicians. So THERE! (This is where I stick out my tongue like a three year old and chant “nyah nyah nyah”.)
Oh well – at least my husband will be proud! Perhaps he was sending me subliminal messages when I was getting dressed that morning.
Two little girls. C & C. One’s in Julie’s class at school, and the other is Maddie’s friend from daycare. They live across the street. They’ve been to our house for play dates and birthday parties. The older C wants to grow up before her time. We see her wandering the street sometimes, looking more like a teenager than a little girl. She misses too much school for reasons unknown to us. She’s wearing sadness and the weight of life before her time. The younger C is shy and sweet. She has the most delightful smile that creeps onto her face when Maddie makes her giggle.
The other night, Marcel was taking the garbage out at midnight and saw the ruckus across the street. A man – we’re not sure which man – father of the kids or boyfriend of the mother – got handcuffed and hauled off in a police car. The older of the two C’s was there – in the parking lot with her older brother – talking to the policemen. There was no sign of the mother – a beautiful young woman who draws too much sadness to herself and her children.
That’s all we know. We haven’t seen the children since. I want to go looking for them, but I don’t know what to say. Do I knock on the door and say “we saw the ruckus and we want to make sure the children are safe?” Or do I simply send the girls across the street looking for a play date – just to make sure all is well?
Sometimes, I feel paralyzed when faced with other people’s pain.
I’ve been meaning to tell you a bit about my week, but by the time things got a little slower, and I managed to catch my breath, I didn’t feel much like hanging out on a computer. But today it’s stifling hot outside, and since the beach trip didn’t work out because of a sick kid, I’m hiding in the pleasantly cool basement with the computer.
It started last Sunday with a flight to Toronto… oh wait – let me go back a bit. For those of you who don’t know, I have a very cool job that I love most of the time. This week was one of those times. It was crazy busy, but it was the kind of fun adrenalin rush that makes busy worthwhile. We’ve just had some major developments that are managing to change the face of the organization. We’re an ecumenical organization with a lofty mission to “end hunger”, and we just signed on two new member agencies. BIG agencies, which represent huge numbers of Canadians. So that was what my travel was all about – meeting the new kids on the block.
Getting back to Toronto… Taking the subway downtown on Sunday night on the way to the hotel room my contact had booked for me close to her office, I kept wondering why “Church Street” sounded so familiar. Had I stayed there before? Was it close to my favourite downtown bed and breakfast?
When I left my hotel room a little later to get a bite to eat, it didn’t take me long to have that “a-ha” moment. “Oh yeah, I remember now – It’s the gay district.” (And yes, it turns out it’s also close to my favourite b&b.) Well, talk about an interesting place to wander at 10:00 at night! I had dinner at a lovely Thai place, and then bought an ice cream cone at Baskin Robbins and wandered around doing some serious people watching. Hmm… cross dressers and lots of gay men with expensive tastes in clothing – makes for fascinating watching. It was quite enjoyable knowing that this was one street I could walk down that late at night and not worry one bit about being harrassed or hit on. If I’d been a man, it might have been a different story.
The next day I was in meetings all day, and then I flew to Montreal to meet with the head of the second agency that just recently joined our ranks. When I got there, one of my contacts took it upon herself to serve as my personal tour guide. (I’d been to Montreal before, but never had much chance for sightseeing.) We drove up the “mountain” that the city was named after, and ended up at a delightful little park jutting out into the St. Lawrence where we watched the sun set over the city. Aaaahhhh…. Then we headed to Old Montreal to try to find a place to eat. My tour guide couldn’t find either of the restaurants she’d considered taking me to, so after much wandering, while our tummies grumbled in complaint, we ended up at a Greek place where we ate in the garden and sipped wine until nearly midnight. Yes, it was another lovely evening.
Tuesday was another day of meetings, and then I flew home. On Wednesday I worked all day preparing for a big event we were hosting on Thursday morning. It was a media event, so I had to do all the prerequisite work like sending out press releases, working out the details with the political big wigs, etc.
Thursday morning – the big event. A couple of politicians flew out from Ottawa to attend a celebratory event we put on where they announced that the government was increasing our annual funding from $16 million to $20 million. Yikes! Plus we gave a sneak preview of the video we’ll be releasing with Steve Bell. (Remember the trip to Ethiopia with the film crew? The first of two videos from that trip is basically completed. I’ll share the link once we have it online.)
The event went smashingly well. Lots of people showed up, everyone was in a good mood, there was good food to eat, the sound system worked well, the media showed up, nobody screwed up their speeches, I didn’t forget the names of any of the important people (I was the MC), and there were warm fuzzies all around. Whew! I made it!
So, with a busy, intense week behind me, I celebrated by taking Friday off. We took the bikes to Assiniboine Park and rode the trails there, and ended up at the local ice cream joint. Felt like a fitting end to a crazy week.
Remember a few posts ago when I made a rather cryptic comment about trying to plan a trip to meet some “important” people, but also needing to be here to plan a big event with some other “important” people? Well, it’s ALL happening. IN ONE WEEK. Two major meetings and one big media event in three different cities in three provinces in the course of FOUR DAYS.
Yes, I expect to be a little stressed this week. But a good stressed, if that makes any sense. It’s all exciting stuff – the kind of stuff I thrive on. The organization is growing, the program I lead is growing, we’re throwing a big party and inviting lots of people including the media, we’re showing off a new video project on which I am listed on the credits as “Executive Producer” (yikes!), I’m meeting two sets of new partners who are excited about the chance to work with us, I get to fly on a few airplanes, and I get that familiar rush of feeling that I, and the many people I work with, have done well. That’s the kind of stress I can handle.
I’ll try to come back and tell you all about it when it’s all said and done, but for now, don’t look for me on this here little ol’ blog. Or in the comments boxes of yours.
Sometimes you meet someone, and you see a spark – a special light – something that shines through them and draws you to them in a unique, powerful, and almost irresistible way.
Nestar is one of those people. She is a rare gem, a force to be reckoned with, an inspiration, and an ambassador for truth. She is bold and beautiful, gracious and sweet, intelligent and strong. She is all of these things, but yet she is humble.
Nestar is from Uganda. She grew up in one of the most difficult environments any child has ever lived through. Her village was attacked when she was three years old. Family members were killed. They had to escape to save their lives. She has lived with the sounds of gunfire nearly every night of her life. Gunfire. Nearly every night. Let that sink in for a moment.
Nestar has been in Canada for 11 months. When she first arrived, her host family took her camping. She lay there in the tent, terrified, but too shy to say anything. At home in Uganda, sleeping in the bush was the equivalent of suicide. Rebels live in the bush. Murdering rebels. She wondered if she’d see morning.
Nestar has spent the last 11 months as an ambassador – bringing a little bit of Africa to Canadians. People across the country have fallen in love with her – and with good reason. You almost can’t resist loving her. But at the same time, you stand in awe of her. She is powerful. She is gifted. She is brilliant. She will change the world.
You can hear Nestar speak here. If you have a few minutes, you really must listen. Hearing Nestar speak will change you, even in just a small way. She will open your eyes to injustice. She will inspire you to act for change. She will change the way you think of Africans. She is no victim. She is no weakling. She is none of those things ethnocentric North Americans often attribute to Africans. She is grace and power all wrapped in one beautiful young woman.
Note: If you don’t have time to listen to the whole interview (and you really should find the time – it will be some of the most valuable time you’ll spend today), at least listen to the second half where she so brilliantly and graciously responds to narrow-minded callers who say things like “isn’t the hunger in Africa the result of their own sin?”