Incite Magazine - November 2006

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2 incite

S

EDITORIAL

ome seconds are longer than others.

Yesterday, down at Princess Point, I watched a gaggle of geese take off.

Their heavy bodies miraculously lifted into the air above the parking lot at the mouth of the trail. But one goose was limping. She took off last and flew drunkenly behind the others. As they arched up and over the electrical lines, the last goose misjudged and smacked into the taut wires. The dull sound of soft feathers on hard metal made my stomach hurt. She tumbled towards the road and skidded in front of a truck bearing quickly down on her.

I saw the goose wearily lift her head towards the oncoming wheels.

Her wing lifted and settled to her side more tightly. I looked into the cab of the truck and my eyes and the driver’s locked. Everything suddenly seemed so tired; the goose was exhausted, the leaves were drying up, even the tires were struggling to stay awake long enough to respond to the brakes.

My hand was still covering my mouth as the truck lurched to a stop centimeters from the goose. Time

snapped to attention. The goose waddled awkwardly to the grass, and the driver and I smiled at one another, shaking our heads a little. He drove away and I ran on.

But that second before the truck stopped seems to take up a disproportionate amount of my day. That moment has condensed the time around it in order to stretch wide, full of lucid detail.

There was a time in high school when I left a party alone, in an area I didn’t know, and waited at a vacant bus stop. The stop was on the corner of an empty lot, across from a closed gas station, and adjacent to a wooded area. There was no one around and no phone booth. A car of guys—windows down, cigarettes dangling, music throbbing—drove by. A minute later the same car drove past again very slowly. Time started to get sluggish.

The car stopped. A man got out and came towards me. His shoes crunched on broken glass.

“You okay?” He asked. My mouth was dry. Then we both heard the sound of a bus coming.

“I was going to offer you my cell to call a cab,” he told me, holding out his phone. I said I’d just take the bus. I

Editing and Production Co–ordinator

Kerry Scott Editors

Samantha Green Rob Lederer

Kate MacKeracher Jacob Stewart–Ornstein Layout Co–ordinator

Sylvia Andreae Graphics Co–ordinator

Erin Giroux Graphics and Layout

Rob Gregoris

Isabelle Huang

Irfan Pirbahi

Steve White

incite

INSIDE

6 The Election and You 8 Fan-dom of the Opera 12 Imaginative Geography 14 Beasley Blooms 16 Hair Razing Reviews 18 Big Man on Campus 22 McMaster’s Art Scene A who’s who of candidates

There’s more to it than a fat lady A Treeplanting Tale

You can’t see me

Community garden for immigrants Hamilton haircutters

Rahim Jamal

Interview with Stephen Lewis

Printing

Hamilton Web Printing

What’s up in the arts on campus

Impact Youth Publications 97 Sterling Hamilton, ON L8S 4J3 incite@mcmaster.ca http://phispace.net/incite Incite is published six times per academic year by Impact Youth Publications. 10,000 copies are distributed in the McMaster University–Westdale area. Entire contents copyright 2006–2007 Impact Youth Publications. Letters up to 300 words may be sent to the above address; they may be edited for length and clarity and will not be printed unless a name, address, and daytime phone are provided.

Opinions expressed are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Incite’s staff or Impact Youth Publications.

water rushing over rock. Chris Evans proclaims his love of opera in Fan– dom of the Opera and reports of his journey through Wagner’s 16 hour opus. While 16 hours of opera may make some of us wish for a fast forward button, there is an undeniable connection between great music and the distortion of time. When a voice swells to fill the air with sound, or when an electric guitar, after roaming the scales, wails its highest note, seconds relax and clocks seem foolish.

Perhaps time slows down to help us remember and store up the tiny moments that shock, amaze, or comfort us. Like a garden blossoming in Hamilton’s greyest neighbourhood or a lone blue flower in a barren, clear– cut field, we are able to punctuate our gallery of hazy memories with instants of vivid colour.

It is a difficult trade off, losing hours and days in exchange for seconds of sparkling clarity. But I think that a handful of long seconds are worth a hundred short hours. Whether terrifying or awash with beauty, there is no substitute for moments vibrating with life, so spectacular in their content that even time slows down in respect.

FEATURES

Boram Ham Andrew Mok Jennifer Torosian

Contributors

Muneeb Ansari Jeanette Eby

Chris Evans Zsuzsi Fodor

Nikol Harber Katie Huth

Elaine Logie Emma Love

Alexis Moduz Sugandha Nagpal

Ana Nikolic Debjani Poddar

Meaghan Smith Alexandria Stalteri

Brad Wentworth Valary Yaguchi Assistant Editors

Ben Freeman

Dave Matyas

was buzzing with nerves, adrenaline, and relief. I didn’t even thank him.

Only later did those endless seconds of dread come to represent something more than sheer fear. That moment stretches on in my memory not only as a reminder of my vulnerability and bad decisions but also as a testament to the kindness of those guys who chose to stop and offer help.

It is often the seconds of great anticipation and fear that slow to such a degree that we record urgent heartbeats, ruffled feathers, dawdling responses, and the heady smell of gasoline in autumn air. But there are also moments of intense beauty and creativity that ask time to kick back and let events unfold in luxurious slow motion. I once watched a lightening storm crackle maniacally in the distance while sitting safe and dry in a grassy field with a friend. The hour of conversation in deliciously calm air before the wind picked up and brought the storm to us exists timeless and perfectly preserved in my memory.

In this month’s Wanderings, an afternoon of exploration up the Mountain takes a team of writers to Webster’s Falls, where the rush towards deadlines is slowed by the sound of

DEPARTMENTS

4 10 23 24

Happenings: News from Near and Far Letter From Norway Column: Pop Poetry: I found your blue

Cover by Rob Gregoris

incite 3

HAPPENINGS

MINUTES FROM LAST MONTH selected news from near and far

inside the bubble Who puts the $ in re$earch?

Breaking news—the ubiquitous maroon flags dripping from every McMaster lamppost have been lying to us for two years. Indeed, students have long speculated that, tucked into an inconspicuous corner under the signs’ bold declaration, “Research University of the Year”, is a disclaimer in electron– microscopic fine print: “Say Peter George and his Mother.” Now Incite can provide the straight facts of this disreputable attempt to squirm out from under our dismal Maclean’s standing. Contrary to popular opinion, this much–celebrated title did not emerge from a mouth on McMaster’s payroll; the reputably–named RE$EARCH Infosource Inc. has indeed elected Mac “Research University of the Year”—but not since 2004. Our beloved institution has been sitting in a resounding third place for the past two years; apparently bragging rights have no expiry date. To compound the sketchiness of it all, RE$EARCH Infosource Inc. is a consulting firm that vends its fine “information, analysis, and advice” skills to upstanding Canadian cor-

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porations, non–profit organizations, and—oddly enough—institutions of higher education. In other words, some of those schools competing for the honour of top research university are paying customers. Also, Peter George’s mother may or may not be the president of RE$EARCH Infosource Inc.

Mass grave unlikely Amid a flurry of rumours concerning the mysterious wooden blockade between ITB and everyone’s favourite transient concrete bunker, T–13, intrepid Incite reporters engaged in some cutting– edge investigation to unearth the truth. Let us set your minds at ease: this great wall was not constructed to conceal a mass grave or to hold back the barbarian hoards, but merely announces yet another incredibly inconveniently–placed McMaster construction project, namely, the new engineering building. Still enigmatic is the decision to abandon the traditional spindly wire fence boarders that protect such dearly loathed no–go zones as the eternally–out–of–reach path between BSB and GS, and the lit-

tle–kids–in–a–sandbox–esque operation at the side of ABB. Perhaps this formidable wooden barrier is “green” in some arcane way, as the building is intended to convey McMaster’s commitment to innovative environmentally–friendly design. Although the engineering website’s description mentions a wall and plaza dedicated to prominent “donors,” we’ll give you three guesses what the building’s name will be, and the second two don’t count.

the clock to restore our splendid hospital towers to their customary pristine perfection.

Metastasis

No longer will McMaster’s name evoke steal–mill smog and 72 waterfalls; Mac is set to open a satellite campus in downtown Burlington. The city and university have signed a detailed new memorandum of understanding for the construction of a $35 million building near the Burlington Smoke Signals City Hall. Intended to open by September 2009, the new campus If the occasional gusts of un- will offer McMaster’s part–time sightly yellow smoke wafting from Master of Business Administration the picturesque stacks of the Mc- program, a centre of advanced Master Hospital have been keep- management studies, and a “family ing you up at night, fear no more. medicine unit” staffed by medical Our zealous Bay Area Health students. Burlington, hoping the Trust vice–president launched an campus will infuse new life into its investigation into the golden bil- downtown core, has agreed to put lows, and Environment Canada forward $10 million towards the confirmed the chromatic clouds new building. Hamilton’s downare non–toxic. Apparently new town core, however, has been left generators designed to power the to rot. hospital and the Michael G. DeGroote Centre for Learning and Discovery have backfired somewhat— but engineers are working around Compiled by Kate MacKeracher

Learn to walk lightly EARTH—Canada is playing a disproportionately large role in depleting the earth’s resources. According to the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF)’s Living Planet Report 2006, our country has the fourth largest ecological footprint in the world. Defining “ecological footprint” as the number of hectares per person required to support our average lifestyle, the WWF predicts that by 2050 humans will be degrading the earth’s resources twice as quickly as it can replenish them. The organization released its report in China, to emphasize its hope that emerging economies will make more sagacious economic choices than developed nations such as Canada and the United States (if all nations had the ecological footprint of the US, we would need five earths to support us). Indeed, Cuba is the only nation in the world to meet the WWF’s minimum standards for sustainable development—using less than the maximum amount of resources while at the same time maintaining a high

level of development as measured by the United Nations Development Program’s Human Development Index. Apparently we need to borrow a shoe from Cuba’s foot, and trade in our wedge–heal–hooker–boots–from–the–nineties for a pair of moccasins.

U of T studies sexuality TORONTO—Canada is a step closer to getting an undergraduate major in sexual diversity studies after a one million dollar gift from Canadian wine maker Mark Bonham to the University of Toronto’s sexual diversity program. “It’s not sexy sex sex, where we’re talking about whips and chains, but we will talk about whips and chains,” said one student when asked to describe the curriculum. Spanning the gauntlet from theory to practice, the program includes courses on “Sexual Diversity Politics” and “Sexual Performance: Case Studies in S/M.” The program began eight years ago and aims to boast a full masters and doctoral program by 2008.

Silicone Valley

in canada...

CANADA—Pamela Anderson wannabes across the nation have been saying their amens. After a more– than–13–year partial ban, the Canadian government has decided to again permit the sale of silicone gel breast implants. Two American companies, Mentor Corp. and Inamed Corp., have been allowed to advertise their implants in Canada.

In 1993, Health Canada said that silicone breasts wouldn’t be allowed back on the market until further tests had been administered. The agency reviewed cases in Britain and America over the past decade and found no evidence that silicone implants are the source of systemic illnesses, while two other sources concluded that they do not increase the long–term risk of cancer nor death rates. Although these reports seem promising, Health Canada maintains that withdrawing the ban “does not mean the device is risk– free,” rather that the problems have been minimised. Saline breast implants, the only implant licensed in Canada during the silicone ban, re-

main a possible alternative. At least now, when you’re looking to buy this very special birthday present, you’ll be able to shop around.

Salty is not sweet HALIFAX—The ancient nemesis of cardiac patients everywhere has finally revealed itself as the scourge of civilization: sodium chloride has been holding the Halifax region hostage in its salty grip. Nova Scotia Power, known for such creative excuses for interrupted service as “a flock of crows bedded down on our generator” and “streamers from the Halifax Gay Pride Parade blew into the power lines,” is blaming recent power–outages in the Halifax area on sea spray and fog. Apparently a particularly nasty storm left sections of the grid crusted in salt, which, in combination with later humidity, caused a short–circuit. Kudos are due to NSP officials, for announcing to Halifaxians with a straight face that the sea turned the lights off.

Compiled by Rob Lederer, Sam Green, and Kate MacKeracher

...and around the world Why study when you can play?

FLORIDA—When 18–year–old gamer Tom Taylor dropped out of high school to play video games many people scoffed at him; it wasn’t until he started earning a six–figured salary that they reconsidered. Taylor, now known as Tsquared on the gaming circuit, took a risk that paid off gloriously. He is now one of about one hundred professional gamers associated with Major League Gaming, a video gaming league founded in 2002. In Major League Gaming, if you’re playing well, it is entirely possible to earn a few thousand dollars per month. In addition to his lucrative gaming career, Taylor has product endorsements, and a video game tutoring business.

Morphing in the sky OHIO—Research is currently under way to design an aircraft that changes shape during flight. Funded by a $580 000 defense contract to further the development of a “morphing” aircraft, engineers are taking a fresh look at the idea of an aircraft that can flex, twist, or change shape to make them more manoeuvrable. Both NASA and the Defense Department are funding the research programs. Presently, the research includes flexible–skin

concepts, which may enable wings to change shape, and devices within the wing skins to recover energy as the wings move.

Malasia deploys grammar police MALAYSIA—The Malaysian Government has recently decided to levy fines on those incorrectly using the national language. A specialized division has been set up to identify and prosecute offenders who mix Malay with English in what is widely known as “Manglish”. After giving a first warning, the Government will impose a fine of up to 1000 ringgit ($271) for displays with any mutated Malay. The government is making attempts to replace commonly used English words with Malay substitutes. Critics of Malaysia’s decision to favour Malay over English have said that the policy will hurt its global competitiveness and limit opportunities for students.

Too sexy urinals AUSTRIA—After facing pressure from politicians demanding their removal, an Austrian businessman announced that he would be getting rid of urinals shaped like a woman’s mouth from a public toilet near Vienna’s national opera. The urinals are located in a lavishly decorated public

restroom and feature thick lipsticked lips, a set of teeth, and a bright red tongue. Many have called the urinals highly sexist, misogynistic, and offensive towards women; the Vienna Department of Women’s Affairs is especially distraught over the issue. The urinals have been available for three years, but only recently became an issue of public interest when they were the only available facility during campaigns for national elections. Surprisingly enough, no man has ever made a complaint against them. The owner of the public restrooms himself thinks the urinals are humourous, but has agreed to have them removed in efforts to avoid hostile reactions.

School is just a game?

BEIJING—Ever daydream about playing a relaxing game of golf while sitting in class? If so, a university in Beijing may be the place for you. Xiamen University, in the southeastern city of Xiamen, is among a growing number of Chinese schools offering golf lessons, but differs by making it a required course for students in law and business. This course is based on the idea that in the business world, many deals are made on the golf course, and lessons prepare students for post–university success. Some students have complained that the

sport is too elitist, but defenders of the golf lessons claim it as a healthy social activity.

Mother Nature’s an Ally OSLO—A trip to the Oslo Natural History Museum now offers a lot more than broken clay pots and dinosaur skeletons. Eyebrows have been raised and taboos have been broken by a new exhibition on homosexual behaviour in animals entitled “Against Nature?” This Norwegian show purports that “homosexuality is a common and widespread phenomenon in the animal world” and has been observed among 1500 species. Photographs of one male giraffe mounting another, of apes stimulating others of the same sex, and two aroused male right whales rubbing against each other further support the exhibition’s claim that sex between animals is often not for procreation alone, but rather for enjoyment and companionship. While met with some hostility, including the suggestion that that organizers of the project would “burn in hell” and that the exhibition is an example of “propaganda invading the scientific world,” the show has been well received.

Compiled by Kerry Scott, Alexandria Stalteri, and Jacob Stewart–Ornstein

incite 5

FEATURE

Hamilton Votes

A Primer

on the

Upcoming Municipal Election

By Muneeb Ansari, Sam Green, Meaghan Smith,

I

offer you a challenge. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s certainly not going to be quickly accomplished.

You will need persistence, patience, and thoughtful decision-making skills. Your efforts may not be directly recognized and you may not always get what you want, but nothing can compete with the experience. You will be part of a process that is key to the existence of a democratic society. My challenge is for you, my fellow students and peers, to become more politically aware and enthusiastic citizens in preparation for the upcoming municipal election.

If we were to examine a day in the life of an average university student we would witness a lot of sleeping, a lot of eating, and perhaps a bit of time put aside for some homework. Then there are the nightly television shows, and we can’t forget about talking on MSN. We don’t often see, however, much time spent watching the local news, or reading the paper about our municipal government and what Larry Di Ianni has been up to lately. In fact, most of the students here at McMaster probably wouldn’t know who Larry Di Ianni is, nor would they be interested in our municipal government as long as the HSR bus picks them up to go to school every day and the City trucks pick up their garbage every week.

Students tend to overlook municipal politics and municipal government.

Our municipal government is responsible for providing essential social and health services, along with economic and local development activities that improve our community. For those of you who are not familiar with their exact role, allow me to explain.

The municipal government manages roads, public transit, childcare, local policing, water and sewers, ambulances, and parks and recreation, among other essential community affairs. It is important for us to also realize that the municipal government plans new community developments and enhances existing neighbourhoods. It will be the decisions that our municipal government make now that will directly affect and influence our age group in the future.

It is far too easy to take these daily privileges for granted. As a student-community, we need become more involved in our city’s government. We are educated young adults who have the opportunity to have a voice in our government and we need to snatch and hold onto it. The true definition of a student is a person engaged in learning. So then why do we limit ourselves by our lack of knowledge of such an important subject as our government?

Many of the bright, young minds of today know everything about this season of The O.C. but not that a candidate up for re-election this year has six electoral fraud convictions—talk about drama! There is plenty of information readily available about the candidates for the upcoming November election. There are even clubs at McMaster that are involved with Hamilton’s municipal elections. It is not difficult to make a concerted effort to be more involved in municipal politics. In fact, if you are worried that it will be too boring or you would rather sit down and watch the requisite scandals of The O.C. unfold, just give Hamilton municipal politics a chance. I am certain that the council members will

6 incite

and

Jacob Stewart-Ortnstein,

with files from

Valary Yaguchi

entertain and amuse you.

Winston Churchill once said, “the best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.” As adult citizens of Hamilton, we should be wary of political ignorance; we must work to counter, not abet, Churchill’s statement. So many students here are so buried in the “McMaster Bubble” that they can’t see what’s going on around them.

I beg you now, burst those bubbles, let this information in, become involved with the municipal government, and come out on Monday, 13 November to vote.

In order to vote, you must be 18 years of age or older, a Canadian citizen, and either a resident of the municipality or a property owner or tenant. Your name must also be present on the list of eligible voters. If you are on the voters list, you should have received a card in late October telling you that you are eligible to vote. If you think you are eligible to vote but have not received your card by the end of October, call the municipality of Hamilton to find out how you can still vote.

Ward One “The McMaster community needs a councillor who will act as a mediator between the students and Westdale community. Someone who can calm the WADS of this world and tackle student housing in a constructive way.”

Ward One—there’s no place like home

Hamilton is divided into 15 wards, each represented by one councillor. McMaster University falls into Ward One, a large, 15 square kilometre area. In addition to Westdale, Ward One encompasses Ancaster and Dundas, and stretches down to the Escarpment in the south and to Queen Street on the peripheries of downtown in the east. There are three candidates running for Councillor: incumbent Brian McHattie, Fred Spencer, and Tony Greco.

The major constituencies are the McMaster students and the other residents. There are a number of

issues in the ward specific to the McMaster community. One of the main concerns facing non-student residents is the fear that their family neighbourhoods are becoming student ghettos. Recently, tensions have been rising among the two groups. Some residents are becoming more active to combat what they allege are students disrespecting the community by engaging in loud, drunken behaviour. This increased discontent has manifested itself in the creation of the group Westdale Against Drunken Students (WADS).

So far WADS has raised over $10,000 for a possible lawsuit against McMaster and has begun lobbying the MSU to close Quarters. WADS uses aggressive tactics such as filming and confronting students at night. The candidates by and large agree that this issue needs to be addressed. Greco and McHattie both say that it can only be resolved through more open communication among the two parties. They agree that there is a lot of unacceptable student behaviour but that it is not representative of the wider student population. “There are only a few rowdy students who taint the name of the others” Greco told Incite.

Student housing is another major issue involving McMaster students. As the size of the student population grows year by year (there has been a nearly 50 percent rise in the number of McMaster students in the past five years), accommodating the students in the surrounding neighbourhoods is becoming a challenge. Many of the existing homes are in poor shape, causing some students to live in substandard and, at times, dangerous conditions. Absentee landlords intensify the problem, as they take longer to resolve housing issues and further a sense of detachment from the community. Greco’s solution is “zero-tolerance enforcement” of by-laws and an increase in on-campus residences. McHattie proposes a shift of student accommodation from landlordowned lodging to housing built specifically for students. Spencer is on the same page, supporting multi-unit student housing like the residence going up on Main Street West. Achieving these goals will take co-operation between the City, the University, and student housing developers. The support of all three parties is needed to resolve the issues surrounding students and their relations with the Hamilton community.

As is common with municipal elections, transportation issues are also central to the debate. Westdale residents often feel disconnected from the downtown core and the Mountain. McHattie wants to implement a BRT (Bus Rapid Transit) system, emphasising direct bus routes between destinations, in contrast to the current system of buses converging on the downtown. He is also encouraging the use of cycling and walking and has already created a cycling infrastructure co-ordinator position in the City’s traffic department; the new Hamilton Pedestrian Committee that McHattie spearheaded will start functioning next year. Greco says that transport must be improved by making it more direct and more efficient.

He also recognizes the need to encourage alternative transportation methods. Spencer says that all City employees, instead of getting parking spaces, should

get bus passes; he would like to see City employees taking public transport to work.

The candidates agree that City Hall is in need of reform. Inefficiency is widespread and there is tremendous conflict among the different people and groups who operate there. Greco, who likes to go by the more genial “Mr. Tony,” has made unity the main theme of his campaign. He believes that no one benefits from infighting, least of all the citizens, and that all the talk needs to be translated into action. McHattie stresses the need for “open and transparent” government. He endorses fair electionfinancing rules, and says he demonstrates this commitment by refusing to take donations from corporations or trade unions. Spencer has deemed City Hall “a mess,” and has attacked McHattie for the job he has done over the past three years. He believes that City resources need to be distributed and allocated more effectively. He points out as an example that downtown residents receive inferior services compared to Ancaster residents, despite the fact that all members contribute equally through taxes.

Greco has staked his claim to a Council seat on his reputation as a locally involved, concerned citizen of Hamilton. He says his experience as a small business owner will help him address the issues that citizens face. McHattie’s ideas outline a vision of environmental economic sustainability for the City while Spencer believes that aggressive reform of City Hall is necessary, and that such reform will help tackle the City’s severe poverty problem.

Spencer and Greco believe in pursuing their goals through strict enforcement of the existing rules and regulations. Greco, however, is focused on strengthening existing relationships in the City government, while Spencer wants to pursue reform. McHattie’s comprehensive platform has a more conciliatory approach to the issues.

While the councillor we select on 13 November will serve as the voice for Ward One in City Hall, larger issues such as public transportation and urban development policy are usually beyond an individual councillor’s control. For example, financial problems have plagued the City, but councillors have little say in acquiring external funding through appeals to the provincial and federal governments.

It is Hamilton’s Mayor who must find the money and guide key policy decisions for the City.

Choosing the big cheese

Since the last municipal election three years ago, Hamilton’s Mayor Larry Di Ianni has supervised the construction of the Red Hill Creek Expressway, made Hamilton’s businesses more competitive by cutting taxes, and improved relations within the still divided municipality. Charges of election violations have, however, dogged Di Ianni throughout his term.

He recently pled guilty to six counts of electoral malfeasance—a further 35 counts were dropped—giving him the dubious distinction of being the first Mayor to be sentenced under the Ontario Municipal Elections Act. Additionally, residential taxes have risen ten percent under his watch and relations with the provincial and federal governments have deteriorated.

Di Ianni is running for re-election on a platform that emphasizes bringing more jobs to Hamilton, aggressively tackling poverty, and reducing the tax burden on residents. Specific pledges include returning Hamilton’s 20 percent cut of the National Child Tax Benefit (NCTB) to people living in poverty, reducing taxes on rental accommodations, and creating 4000 jobs over his four year term. Many of his other promises, such as reducing homelessness or returning the full value of the NCTB, are explicitly dependant on federal government support—a difficult thing to guarantee given the current instability of federal politics.

A 19 October poll indicates that Di Ianni enjoys

The Front Runners Ward One Tony Greco www.mrtonygreco.ca

Brian McHattie www.electmchattie.ca

Fred Spencer

Mayor Michael Baldasaro

Larry Di Ianni

Fred Eisenberger www.fredformayor.ca

Diane Elms

Photos of Steve Leach, Gino Speziale, and Martin Zuliniak unavailable Images From C andidate Websites, Hamiltonspectator .com, and D undasstarnews .com

an impressive lead, with the support of 63 percent of decided voters. Former city councillor and business development consultant Fred Eisenberger is a distant second at 12 percent, followed by Diane Elms, Michael Baldasaro, Steve Leach, and Martin Zuliniak.

After running unsuccessfully for the federal Conservative party in 2004, Fred Eisenberger has returned to municipal politics promising to make City Hall work more transparently, efficiently, and effectively. Eisenberger promises “honesty, integrity, and bold decisive leadership.” He aims to tackle

governmental inefficiency with a full review of bureaucracy and the appointment of an independent Integrity Commissioner. He also promises to limit urban sprawl and support local farmers by developing an initiative to encourage Hamiltonians to buy local produce. Like Di Ianni, Eisenberger pledges to reduce Hamilton’s crime by increasing Hamilton’s police force by 100 officers. Eisenberger boasts of some high profile supporters, including former Hamilton MP and Deputy Prime Minister Shelia Copps.

Diane Elms, the candidate currently in fourth place, has a slightly different take on what Hamilton needs in its next Mayor. Her first act would be to “ask God to forgive all of us, especially those in authority who have misused their authority.” This novel approach would be followed by tightening campaign finance laws to provide more accountability. This 47 year old iridoligist—iridoligy is the study of the iris, with the belief that it gives insight into the functioning of the brain—pledges that if elected she will avoid property tax increases and follow an open door policy.

Her fellow candidate, Michael Baldasaro, has a long history of political involvement. Not only has Baldasaro run federally as an independent and for the Libertarian and Marijuana parties, but he has also made a short-lived bid for leadership of the Progressive Conservative party. He criticizes Di Ianni for standing idle while the downtown core has crumbled and vows to “put the heart back in the downtown.” He suggests that money saved by not hiring additional police officers—he accuses the police of living off municipal tax dollars—could be used to revitalize the downtown core. Baldasaro would also seek federal dollars to clean up the core by treating substance abusers and helping the homeless.

Steve Leach is running a campaign focused on public transportation and greening the city—he envisions Hamilton as the most forested city in Canada within 100 years. He also insists that raising the Hamilton and the Scourge, 1812 warships, is necessary to “save the honour of the city.” Michael Zuliniak plans to cut taxes on residents by ten percent while maintaining services by cutting Flamborough free; he claims that Flamborough costs Hamilton 24 million dollars a year.

More fun than scantrons

The mayoral election is a one horse race, but this should in no way discourage one from voting, as the council composition is still up for grabs. The next council—which will be in power for four years—will make crucial decisions about urban sprawl, the airport development, and how to transition Hamilton’s economy from industrial to service based. Decisions taken over the next term will either revitalize the downtown or reduce the city to a hollow shell.

Furthermore, the McMaster community needs a councillor who will act as a mediator between the students and Westdale community. Someone who can calm the WADS of this world and tackle student housing in a constructive way. Only 38 percent of Hamiltonians voted three years ago, and even fewer students. Lets see if we can do better this time.

If you have any questions, visit the City of Hamilton’s website at www.myhamilton.ca.

incite 7

PERSPECTIVE

Fan-dom of the Opera ~ Composed by Chris Evans ~

Overture

I

am a victim of persecution. In one of the most culturally diverse campuses in one of the world’s most culturally diverse countries, this is a shocking, intolerable reality. While discriminatory, once widely–held beliefs regarding race, religion, and culture are being phased out of our society, this struggle has failed to reach one critical frontier: anti–waspyness. Hypocritically we celebrate “preppiness”—a diluted offshoot of waspyness—with private school, golf, and the popped collar. But dabbling any further, and merely exploring this concept more fully, makes one the subject of ridicule. I am not talking about elitist, exclusive things like trips to the summer lodge in Aspen, men–only lawn bowling, and haemophilia. Some aspects of waspishness are not linked to socio–economics—music, for example.

I like opera. More specifically, I genuinely like opera; this article isn’t some pretentious façade to make myself seem smart and cultured. I try to be discreet. Being an opera fan is about as socially awkward as being a Dungeons & Dragons fan. But only so many times can I dodgily explain why my iTunes library starts with Bach, Beethoven and Brahms. Only so many times can I evasively satisfy my roommate’s curiosity over where I was last night, and why I was mumbling “Amadeus” in my sleep. You’re right Dave, there is somebody else, but it’s not what you think. I’m tired of living this charade. There’s nothing wrong with opera; there’s something wrong with a society, and a McMaster student body that stifles this delicate blossoming of diversity. Opera has been the victim of baseless slander for too long!

The opinion that opera is a dated, dying art form is far too entrenched in our society, especially—I note with great concern—in our present generation.

Therefore hear my desperate plea on behalf of opera and its patrons. Let me prove to you that opera can be an exhilarating experience. Opera deserves your attention, or at the very least, your respect.

The opera is fun not just because of the music, but also because of the sheer novelty of ca-

8 incite

vorting with Toronto high–society. For example, at what other event will you see octogenarian scalpers? This article, in fact, will talk rather little about the opera itself, but more about the entr’acte shenanigans that the young operagoer must face. This is where the true drama unfolds. Furthermore, explaining how to appreciate classical music runs the risk of being dry and boring, which is enough of a danger as it is for an article on opera. It’s better just to get your feet wet on a choice occasion, as I will discuss later.

I thus invoke the power of the case study. Fortunately, the Canadian Opera Company (COC) in Toronto has provided the jackpot: Richard Wagner’s (pronounced Vogner) Ring Cycle. The Ring Cycle, or properly, “Der Ring des Nibelungen” is indisputably the single largest, most monumental contribution to the opera repertoire. Wagner, who thought rather highly of himself, proclaimed it to surpass all other opera by so much that it belonged in its own genre, the “music drama.” In fact, the COC has made a saucy statement to the rest of the world by performing the Ring to inaugurate its recently completed opera house.

It was the first full performance of the Ring Cycle in Canada. As the Cycle weighs in at about 16 hours over four nights, and includes such diverse settings as the bottom of the river Rhine, a castle in the clouds with a rainbow bridge, and my favourite—the entire world being simultaneously engulfed in fire and flood—only a handful of opera houses and opera companies are able to properly perform it. In short, the Ring is a big deal. This is opera—and the opera experience— taken to the extreme.

Making An Entrance

The first thing you will notice when you arrive at the opera is your fellow patrons. They are old. The average age of the Torontonian opera–goer is of biblical proportions. To flourish in this environment, you will have to play their game. If this was simply a question of wearing orthopaedic shoes and taking pills with your wine, I wouldn’t mention it. If you want their respect,

you need to shuffle the shuffle, and mumble the mumble.

When old people come to the opera, they leave their grandmotherly and grandfatherly instincts at home. You are a minority, an outsider, and possibly an impostor attempting to weasel your way into their inheritances. Be prepared to receive withering glares, perhaps aided by the intensifying power of bifocals. Expect no solidarity amongst the scattered young folk. There are always a handful of teenagers who have clearly been dragged out by their parents in a warped attempt at character–building; by the end of the first act, their spirits have been broken.

It’s up to you to endear yourself to the old people.

This endeavour is made difficult by the cultural rift between you and them; you’ve never experienced back pain, and their nursing home isn’t yet registered on Facebook. The only thing you can really talk about is the opera. Thus, the only way you can strut your stuff—and win their respect—is by portraying yourself as a well–informed, precocious opera fan. For example, if you are asked, “Are you very familiar with the Ring Cycle?” respond, “Oh naturally. I adore the Levine interpretation.”

Of course, you are referring to the acclaimed 1992 performance at the Met under the baton of James Levine. Deft manoeuvres such as this neutralize any snobby attitude you might receive through sheer one–upmanship. More importantly, this sort of friendly tête–à–tête endears you to your fellow patrons, and helps them overlook the fact that because you occupy that particular seat, one of their friends had to spend yet another quiet night with the cats.

Although a night at the opera is always a classy affair, the Ring Cycle kicks the intensity up a notch.

The COC, in a token effort to dispel its stuffy image, declares that you can wear jeans to the opera if you so choose. Don’t be misled. While “business casual” usually prevails for the regular season, the dress code at the Ring Cycle was probably closest to “coronation.” As we mingled on the first night, it was pointed out to me that Ex–Governor General Adrienne Clarkson and philosopher John Ralston– Saul were in attendance, chatting with a judge from the Supreme Court. The event also drew many pilgrims from around Canada and the world. A handful of

them, who wore horned Viking helmets, travel the world to catch the handful of Ring Cycles that are staged each year. I, in contrast, had forgotten to iron my shirt. The mood was similar to the start of a marathon, one of excitement mixed with apprehension due to the enormity of what lay ahead. Each of the Ring’s four night runs from two and a half to five hours—the equivalents of five and ten episodes of Matlock, respectively. I could detect a trace of anxiety in the air. I guess when you’re as old as a Toronto operagoer, you can’t plan to last that far into the future.

The Intermission Intermissions tend to be rather long, probably so there’s time for everyone to go to the bathroom.

The opera house is one of those rare venues where

the queue for the men’s washroom is as long as for the women’s. It takes a while to get those prostates rolling. Unless you want to wander between the water fountain and the bathroom for half an hour, your first priority is to latch on to some opera buddies. This was an easy choice at the Ring Cycle, as I was to be spending the next four days at the side of the same two gentlemen. Even better, they were in their 30s, and therefore, about as young as opera– goers generally get. Mark and Bill are professors at UWO, and did the honour of including me in their discussions of how each act had gone. Furthermore, they purchased me wine. I greatly appreciated this, though if I’d tried to buy it myself, I might have earned the distinction of being the first person ever to be ID’d at Toronto’s new opera house.

I must admit I was a little out of my league. One night, Bill remarked that Richard Bradshaw, the conductor, was doing a better job of adapting to the new opera house’s acoustics. He concluded this observation saying, “The orchestration is crunchier.”

From the murmurs and nods of the others, I determined that this was evidently a very thoughtful, well–articulated compliment. I pondered the wis-

dom of this zen–like statement for the remainder of the intermission. Next, a friend of Mark and Bill’s—a professor in medieval German literature—cut into the conversation. He applauded the singer playing the character Brünnhilde for her pronunciation of German, which far bettered the singer who had played the role last night. The Ring Cycle is sung in German, but in a strange dialect of Wagner’s creation which he felt better encapsulated the primordial, timeless essence of the drama. Apparently, the best tools to accomplish this are alliteration and non–existent words. The opening words to the Ring run (in translation), “Weia! Waga! / Waft your waves, ye waters! / Carry your crest to the cradle! Wagala weia! / Wallala weiala weia!” These are the sorts of things I was learning. Not all of us are lucky enough to have an erudite panel of intellectuals at our disposal, but be sure to strike up a conversation with a neighbour when an act finishes, using words like viscous and rough—apparently music can be described in terms as diverse as texture. (There is one word, however, that you must be sure not to use. My grandmother, in a well–intentioned but incorrect effort to connect with the young peoples’ vernacular, told me the Ring was “sketchy.” What a faux–pas.) Use the conversation to segue into the reception hall, where the booze is sold.

On that note, I recommend that you smuggle in your own hooch if you cannot find a benefactor. On the last night, I magnanimously resolved to buy the wine for Mark, Bill, and their friend, who had graciously kept my buzz going for the previous three days. I figured the 35 dollars I had brought would suffice for three glasses of the house white.

Instead I found that it—a Jackson Triggs white which I am quite sure sells for $13 a bottle at the LCBO—cost $16 a glass. Thinking it would be bad form to choose between Mark and Bill, or to nip into the bathroom and redistribute two servings of wine into three glasses, I indignantly withdrew from the line. Bill and Mark ended up buying once again, to which I say only that the ends (us getting our wine) justify the means (their paying for it). Had they been moved by Wagner’s touching portrayal of compassion? Had that music exhibited the elusive trait of “crunchiness?” The mystery torments me to this day.

Enjoying Opera I had an odd experience the other day. My roommate was jamming with a friend.

They are both very talented, and were creating some beautiful music of a folk–rock variety. Having gotten all riled up musically, I nipped over to the piano after they finished, and launched into a Bach fugue.

With their music still ringing in my ears, I heard my piece as they must hear it. It sounded like crap. It sounded dry, cerebral, and entirely unmoving. Perhaps opera sounds like that to you. Do not despair, or more to the point, do not become bored with this article! All this means is that you

have to get used to the sound of classical style. Modern music is generally a lot more “busy” than classical music; the “strummy,” resonating instruments, the strong beats, the mixing and computer effects, the sheer volume, and so on all create a lot more sound. This makes it difficult to go back to classical music, which sounds tame, thin, and lacklustre in comparison. But classical music is not boring, you just have to adjust to its expressive language. I will try to put this next part diplomatically. Classical music—in my opinion—is capable of being far more intense than a lot of music today, simply because its language has a lot more subtlety and variety. If you’ve ever gotten the feeling that some music is just a matter of hammering through the same hackneyed progression of chords while yammering through lyrics that were mainly chosen, you suspect, because they rhyme, then you belong at the opera, where hammering and yammering are discouraged. Regardless, the opera can have a very surprising power and intensity.

Don’t buy into the stereotype that opera is three hours of bewigged, pantaloon–clad buffoons making delicate puns and crooning gently about true love. Operas can be worse than late–night TV for violence and sex. In a given night, it is safe to expect at least two onstage murders and/or two seductions, also possibly onstage. This is not to say that operas of, for example, Mozart’s stock are not extremely charming and uproariously funny. But if you’re looking for an extreme experience, opera can provide.

An upcoming opera that will certainly hold your attention is Strauss’ “Elektra” in Toronto. Its length (1.5 hours) makes a reasonable demand on your attention span, and the music will ravage you.

Strauss is bombastic to the extreme, relentlessly intense and savagely, chaotically gorgeous. These are not the words of an octogenarian, which might be used to describe “The Wheels on the Bus.” If you’re free, and looking for a cultural experience, I suggest you give it a shot. And heck, it’ll only set you back 20 bucks with the COC’s (coc.ca) killer student deal. It’s in May, so my timing isn’t wonderful, but keep it in mind. I’ll keep an eye out.

After all, I have my own reasons for wanting to see more young people at the opera. Perhaps you could buy me a drink?

G RAPHICS BY A NDREW M OK

incite 9

LETTER FROM

Letter from Norway!

Intrepid Canadian explorer Bradley Wentworth on top of Løvstakken mountain

m

o r f o l Hel

! y a w r No

A

ctually, I should really say “Hello from Bergen” because Norway’s medieval capital, cultural epicenter, and second largest city—Bergen—has a fierce but tempered west–coast–of–Norway pride. Don’t dare confuse Bergen and Oslo or you may rouse the latent Viking esprit that pillaged Western Europe and put the first Europeans in North America at L’Anse aux Meadows, Newfoundland.

“What in blazes are you doing in Bergen, Brad?” is my most FAQ. Ostensibly, I am completing Level III as a guest student at the University of Bergen (UiB), but in reality I am having the time of my life making friends and eating food from all corners of the world while trying to Norwegianize myself. On the exterior, my dormitory looks like something from 1984, but where else can I walk into a kitchen and hear two girls talking in Czech, see my Swiss friend making Indian food, and find a Filipino speaking in Norwegian with a Bostwanan med student? Yes, this did happen—last week. Welcome to Fantoft.

In the first L to R: Michael (German) week I met new and Florian (Swiss) Sleeping friends from six on top of the Lydehorn continents and I have heard doz- mountain at midday ens of languages.

Luckily for me, English is the lingua franca both of Fantoft and of all foreign students at UiB. There are about 200 courses offered in English, with many more in Norwegian for the brave, foolhardy, or Scandinavian. The reason I study and live with so many international students—about 560 all told—is because Norway’s social democratic openness and abundance of oil money makes a vibrant community of foreign students culturally and financially viable.

As a deep–rooted Torontonian–Canadian, I sometimes feel that I have no culture that isn’t associated with Hollywood or MTV. Aside from the numerous and ostentatious flags that the few other Canadians whom I have met and I display on our backpacks and in our rooms, there was not much else I could contribute. Until, that is, I made batches of plain, chocolate, and apple– cinnamon pancakes topped with fruit and maple syrup from my private stash; with a few dozen rashers of bacon on Pastoral Norway the side I was able to serve twelve Fantoft friends a truly Canadian all–day breakfast at dinner. “What do we do with this?” they asked, gawking at the bottles of maple syrup. The small taste of Canada that I concocted turned out to be a culinary success as well as a good bonding experience.

I have rediscovered just how important it is to make bonds with new friends: I flung myself across an

10 incite

ocean without a single soul as an acquaintance.

Ninty–five percent of my new friends speak a language other than English as their mother tongue, so meticulous and nurtured communication is especially important. I am lucky to have both a single room and my own bathroom, but share a kitchen with eight people: two Norwegian men (which luckily for me is more than usual), two German women, one German man, one Swiss man, and one Dutch woman. There are about seven fluent languages among us, but we all speak English, with me in the role of walking dictionary and benign grammar police.

I have had to alter the way I speak somewhat so that I am well understood: rapid speech, idioms, an abstruse lexicon (hard words), and North American analogies are all guaranteed to confuzzle. Did I mention neologisms like confuzzle are also a bad idea? One illustrative anecdote of the North America–Europe cultural–linguistic difference: when I said to my floormates “New York City is in New York State, so that’s why it’s New York, New York” they all leapt up in enlightenment with an “OHHH!” As the only North American, I usually play the role of culture dunce. Apparently city football (soccer) teams don’t move around here. They think I am crazy when I mention that the Quebec Nordiques are now the Colorado Avalanche. Did you know that comedians here make fun of Arnold Schwarzenegger for sounding American?

I am doggedly struggling to really integrate—that is, absorb Norwegian culture and language, by osmosis if necessary. Fantoft has precious few Norwegians, and almost any Norwegian I meet will speak fairly good English to me, so I really have to make an effort to learn the language. My language barrier has already produced some amusing situations. In my first Norwegian language course essay I accidentally wrote “in my personal opinion, Toronto has 4.5 billion people” when I wanted to say “I think Toronto has 4.5 million people,” the latter being the population of Norway too. Why learn a language that only 4.5 million people speak?

Other than free school, there’s a lot to laugh about here.

The most common joke in Bergen reveals the number one obsession of the city.

It goes like this: “Two American/German tourists arrive in Bergen and it’s raining. After more than a week’s holiday in the city, it hasn’t stopped raining, so they stop a Norwegian boy in the street and ask him, ‘does it always rain in Bergen?’ to which the boy answers ‘I don’t know, I’m only 10.’” It’s no great hyperbole—Bergen has rain on two out of every three days in a year! The inhabitants gloat—yes, they gloat—that they live in the only city in the world that has umbrella vending machines.

Making pancakes and bacon for twelve. Note the kitchenduty Viking marker on the cupboard.

Because I’m here, because it’s a challenge, and because it has the letter Ø. Yes, Ø. Round your lips, stick them as far out as you can and say euh and you might approximate the Ø. Sort of like the eux in the French word deux. The letters Æ (ah) and Å (oh) are extra incentives; note that Norwegian has nine vowels: A E I O U Y Æ Ø Å. Luckily, though, my Norwegian friends are going out of their way to help me learn and they never stop saying du er flink i Norsk Brad (you’re good at Norwegian Brad), to which I answer takk (thanks) or nei (no) depending on my mood.

Not even the incessant rain and Haligonian unpredictability of the weather makes me miss smog–ridden Toronto– Hamilton. Mostly I miss my family, because we are really close, get along well, and have genuine common interests. Although my two brothers and I hang out all the time, this year marks the one that the Wentworth brothers become international. My little brother Greg (17) spent six weeks studying in Italy, came back to Toronto the day before his birthday and the next day said goodbye to me. Two weeks before that, my older brother Jeff started his new life in Tokyo, Japan, with a full–time job and small but fantastic central–Tokyo flat; he had lived in Japan for a year as a student too. Thank goodness for Skype and webcams. Watching my brothers travel and hearing their stories is part of the reason I up and left to Norway. If they could pull it off, so could I. And if we can pull it off, so can you. I am serious: Canadians are extremely lucky—the travel bureaucracy is nothing compared to that for a Florian (Swiss), Hege Somali or a Sudanese or

Nobody’s mood can stay grouchy very long in Bergen. Some say it’s the most beautiful city in Europe. All I say, when I have free time, is “which of the seven mountains on our doorstep should we hike up today?” Two of them are literally a 10 minute walk from my L to R: room. Thanks to Canada and Norway’s (Norwegian), Kathrin (German), shared climatic great–grandfather—the Ice Age—it’s impossible to build any- Jantine (Dutch) and me begin to thing in Norway that’s not next to a dig into pancakes. Note bottle of mountain or a fjord. I have picnicked and swam in the fjord at Gamlehaugen, maple syrup in the foreground. the Royal Residence of the King while he is in Bergen, several times now, though my teeth chatter a little more with each dip. You aren’t Norwegian if you don’t love nature; my Experiential Education advisor Dr. Bob Henderson even wrote a book about that concept. The Norwegian word for it is friluftsliven, crudely “the free, open air life.”

a South African (all of which are represented at Fantoft). Don’t use the excuses “I’m still young”, “I don’t speak the language in _____” or “I am not sure I will get equivalent credit.” All those are true in my case and so far, I have utterly no regrets. If it’s at all possible, go for it. For my European and especially Norwegian friends, studying abroad is so common it’s sometimes a rather humdrum subject.

Enough of a rant—there is, I confess, one more thing that I miss: Ultimate Frisbee. Anyone who has spent more than five minutes with me already knew that was coming, so it’s mandatory that I include a snippet about the nascent Norwegian Ultimate scene. The University has a club, but it’s the only group and there are no leagues. Even though Ultimate is not as widespread or diverse as in Canada, there are some upshots: everybody knows everybody else, so it’s a great way to meet Norwegian friends.

Also, it gives an excuse to travel, since the nearest tournament opportunities are in Oslo. If I had not gone to Norway I would probably be on the Mayfair Oval right now practicing with the powerhouse men’s Ultimate team. In stark contrast, I was lucky enough to witness a sport at its grassroots level when a Norwegian friend appeared unexpectedly at my door and said “Brad, we’re playing Frisbee—want to come?” In the sun, on a hilly field with endzones marked by backpacks, I got to play a remarkably spirited and grassroots Frisbee game with Norwegians from the age of 10 to 20.

There is so much more I am planning to do in my all–too–short year here. I wish I could write this letter with more coherence and sagacity, but I’ve been here barely five weeks so I have started a lot and finished little. Now for my shameless plug: if you liked any of the above anecdotes or want to learn more about how I ended up here, visit my website that chronicles my year abroad at http://bradinbergen.googlepages.com or drop me a line at bwentworth@gmail.com.

a! r b t e d Ha orthway III w t n e W Brad aster & Nor McM

But in my short time here I have learned bigger things than just pleasantries in another language. For starters, there are times when life makes no sense. None whatsoever. Example one: my broken spoken skills in French have been far more useful to me in Norway than they have ever been in Montreal. Example two: I currently have two valid student cards and am registered as a full–time student at two universities, but am paying tuition at neither—see the end of this letter for more details on that oddity.

incite 11

FICTION

Imaginative Geography; A Tree

By Nikol Harber

S

tanding at the edge of my land, I survey the day’s work ahead. This is by far the most beautiful piece of land I have gotten all season; row upon row of golden earth so neat and pristine, gleaming underneath the friendly morning sun. By noon the soft fog will have abandoned the sun, and the clouds will have moved on. Friendless, it will take its rage out on me, beating mercilessly on my exposed skin. No matter, this late in the season, my skin stretches deep brown over my newly muscled back, wise to the sun’s mood swings. Besides, it doesn’t bother me so long as it is not on my eyelids. I hate the sun on my face and I particularly despise it on my eyelids. But I have my trusty hard hat which makes my scalp itch and my hair mat together in sweaty clumps, but keeps the sun off my eyelids.

By four I will no longer be at the mercy of my sweaty scalp or the sun. By four the bugs will come out into the cooling day to take up where the sun left off. Bug season in Northern Ontario.

There are two types of bugs: black flies and mosquitoes. The mosquitoes dine and dash before you even feel the sting. It is the black flies that do the most physical damage, ripping out tiny chunks of skin. They leave spots, which must look like gaping sores to other black flies because after you’ve been bitten once or twice you are swarmed for the rest of the day. Whereas the black flies are simple creatures, the mosquitoes are more creative. They bite the areas that will cause the most mental anguish; the ankles, between the fingers, and that nameless strip of flesh connecting the inner thigh and genitals, right where the friction between your underwear and skin is most acute. It is this creativity in placement that ensures that each minute bite will be a memorable one. And indeed each mini injection of poison into my burnt, sweaty skin is most memorable at two AM when I awake in frenzy. I have to climb out of my tent, naked and on the verge of tears, and allow the night’s coolness, along with my dirt encrusted fingernails, to “work their magic.”

It is obvious that Mother Nature is trying to drive me insane, trying to drive me

G RAPHICS BY ERIN G IROUX

12 incite

out of the land. I have tried on numerous occasions to explain to her that I am not the one that chopped her trees down, I am simply putting them back in. Not out of the goodness of my heart, I know, but because I need the 7.5 cents per tree in order to pay back my student loan. I beg her to differentiate between me and the lumberjacks, but she remembers one bitterly cold day last winter: the big man in a yellow machine, chopping down each and every matured tree, that some planter just like me planted 60 years ago. She can’t tell the difference; he’s doing his job and I am doing mine, all one big cycle, comrades working for the same team. Canadian Silva culture.

The only teammates she has are the bugs and sun for me, and the snow and bitter cold for him. Snow and bitter cold did not stop him last winter, as sun and bugs won’t stop me this summer. Today I will plant the trees that will bring him back in another 60 years.

I throw my shovel into the earth and it obliges without resistance. (The electric ting of hitting rock has a way of reverberating up your arm, into your skull, so that your brain knows what it’s like to taste metal. It penetrates into the subconscious of the bones and joints so you never hold the shovel as tight again). I place a two inch tall sapling in the hole and stomp it closed with my heel. All in one swift motion. A good planter appears to be swimming through her land. Step one, two, three, throw in shovel with right hand, cut the parched earth in a c–motion, bend, the tree is already held in the left hand, and place tree in hole, slide hand up to hold tip of tree straight, and heel close, keep moving. By the time you’ve kicked the hole closed, you should have taken another tree from your hip sack and another step forward with your left foot. One fluid motion. Each individual tree loses its value; it’s not whether or not this tree will live, but being able to step on the bus at seven PM and proudly proclaim “I have planted 3000 trees today.” It’s about getting the cheque that reflects that proclamation.

Sink or swim, garden or plant. Hunched over and slow–moving I do not think I look like I am swimming, but more like a drowning gremlin. I am lucky to plant

2000 trees in any given day veterans tell me it’s because a “gardener”; I care too muc true. After I have planted the ing. Where there was nothin Like the tiny flowers and pla bugs that scurry away from tree will somehow survive i land. The angriest land ma planting. And by beautiful, is known as “clear cut” lan once grew has been cut clea burning in order to make m living vertical thing. A tiny the horizon. Me and the “ch than me, the cheekos are living. They are the dead, b are simply too stubborn to ing down to their horizo Dark and gothic–looking, t be alive, but they don’t see dead. Ghosts. You can so catalyze their movement fro limbo into tree heaven by flicking them with your for Hence, the hard hat. A plan once killed by a cheeko lan his unadorned head. One gone, one point for vengeful Earth.

I plant another tree a maybe, conceived and grown sided greenhouse, this tree to be a cheeko. Transplante thetic home, amongst clone real world, my c–cut motio little hole, a social niche. H tree brothers and sisters, a not her own, but at this p After 60 years she gets a to her. My tree will grow even past his grave, se ter he has come crashing head.

Thus, with thoughts like I am gardening, unlike Kell as all the bosses say, “givin’ motto. To me it looks like th I once watched from my lan this wrong. She was up on grass. I don’t know how, b long beaded earrings w swim, but kind of hop shafted shovel that is a spear, and she thro hop, two, three and a grab back onto the sha of the whole body, then bend into the long grass. She po She has short wild hair and yells or grunts when she t

eplanting Tale

y, land “good” or “bad”. The e I am not yet a planter, but ch about each tree—which is e tree, I pause. I find it amazng there is now a little tree. ants here and there, and the my encroaching blade, this n this burnt, cracked, angry akes for the most beautiful I mean “easiest.” The land nd because everything that ar by machine and chemical my job easier. I am the only y vertical speck against heekos.” A lot taller vertical, but not burnt trees that come crashontal fates. they can’t em quite metimes om tree simply efinger. nter was nding on planter l Mother

and think, n in a glass– will grow up ed from its synes into the actual on has created for it a He can chill with his little and his mom. She knows it’s point she is willing to adopt. a little attached, as they do w up to protect his momma, eeking eternal rest only afg down on some trespasser’s

e these, I move too slowly. ly, who is planting. Who is, ’ her.” “Just giv’r,” the camp his land has given all it can. nd as Kelly planted, proving n a hill and planting in tall but she is able to wear these when she works. She doesn’t ps or jogs, and she uses a long s taller than her. It looks like ows it like one. A determined a ferocious toss of the spear, aft, and a strong twist d, disappearing ops back up. sometimes tosses the

spear. I think if I walked up that hill I would find a trail of dead animals rather than trees. And that’s “givin’ her.” This is something I need to learn how to do, an idea I can’t quite connect to the land.

It’s usually when I am doing the opposite, like watching someone else “giv’r,” that Andrew, my boss, sneaks up on me. He is lean, but muscular, with a big, bushy beard. He looks like Jesus, or what we are told Jesus looked like. And like Jesus, Andrew simply appears out of nowhere. After planting alone for seven hours I will look up and he will just be standing there. A vision, he’s gorgeous. Maybe he is Jesus. (There are rumours that two years ago he was the company’s best planter, and that in one day he planted 8,050 trees.) He sneaks up and simply stares at me and I think maybe he has come to deliver me from this living hell. That he felt my pain all the way from heaven and decided that this was too important to leave in the hands of an angel–messenger like he usually does and has decided to come rescue me himself.

He speaks: “Nikol, stop fuckin’ staring at your trees and plant… you’re gardening when you gotta giv’r.” He then grabs

the shovel from me and begins to swim as I stumble behind him, handing him trees and trying to keep up.

When Andrew plants, he’s all thrusting motions: thrust of s h o v e l , thrust in tree, heel thrust… step, step, s t e p , thrust, and repeat.

Where I am led forward by my hunched shoulders, and Kelly is led by her solar plexus, Andrew is led by his pelvis. Thrusting.

I realize he can’t be Jesus. Jesus probably would not say “fuckin’” or “giv’r,” and he most definitely would not plant trees like that. Andrew’s trees will definitely grow. But I don’t think he really cares. He’s been doing this for so many years that it has lost its romance. Now it’s purely lust. Purely about the end result.

The profit. The payoff. Wham bam thank you ma’am.

I learn from Andrew, the five year vet who doesn’t seem to feel nature’s wrath or resentment, and who doesn’t pause to notice how cool it is to spot a single blue flower growing when everything seems to be against it:

If you move so quickly that each tree loses its individual value, you’re also moving too quickly to be bitten by bugs. If you move really fast you can almost put the trees in as quickly as the big yellow machine will chop them down, at that rate you’ll probably never get struck dead by a cheeko. Then you’ll be so speedy that you will be the well oiled machine that doesn’t notice how much the land hates you. That’s giv’n her.

incite 13

PERSPECTIVE

Beasley Blossoms Exploring a Community Garden for Hamilton’s Immigrants

By Debjani Poddar, Sugandha Nagpal, and Ana Nikolic

H

amilton’s Beasley neighbourhood is the poorest in the city and among the poorest in Canada. An urban mosaic of housing, social services, and abandoned buildings hemmed in by Barton street to the north and King street to the south, Beasley is roughly 20 percent immigrants and more than 30 percent visible minorities. Beasley is a destination for impoverished immigrants of all types, but particularly Somalis, 80 percent of whom are refugees. Hamilton’s Somali community faces endemic poverty and extremely high levels of single parent families, but they have also formed tightly knit and highly organized support groups.

Breaking new ground

14 incite

Community Support

The Somali Women’s Garden has many champions, but perhaps the most valuable has been the Hamilton Community Foundation.

Since it was founded in 1954, the HCF has been dedicated to investigating and alleviating the social problems affecting Hamilton by providing grants for a variety of programs that address the needs of its citizens.

The Foundation’s “Growing Roots, Strengthening Neighbourhoods” program offers between $100 and $1500 to resident–led groups interested in starting community programs. Four neighbourhoods in Hamilton were selected as foci for the program, based on their significant structural problems, but also on their incredible potential for improvement. Among the four selected was the neighborhood of Beasley.

In a conversation with David Derbyshire, the Neighbourhoods program coordinator, he men-

tioned that the Garden originated from a chance meeting at an event in the Urban Core Health Centre one year ago, where he met a group of newly–immigrated Somali women. After introducing himself, talking about the purpose of the HCF, and hearing what the women had to say about the state of their neighbourhood, talk quickly shifted to opportunities for collaboration. Through a series of five meetings, the

“The women worked tirelessly on the patch of grass for four weeks in May 2006, transforming it into a diverse vegetable garden with mint, squash, sweet basil, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, and peppers.” women identified five of their principal needs, which they felt were closely tied to their integration into Canadian and Hamiltonian society: a sewing group, learning to drive, a homework club for their children, a community garden, and a place where they could socialize.

Though the other needs suggested were addressed by connecting the women and their families to existing services in the city, the idea of beginning a community garden had not yet

Graphic By Isabelle Huang

One group of Somali women in Beasley approached the Hamilton Community Foundation (HCF) for startup money to establish a garden to grow food, utilizing the farming skills they learned in Somalia before the civil war. With the help of the HCF—which provided $400 and hired a facilitator, Matt Thompson—and Ward Two councilor Bob Bratina, the women’s group found a homeowner in Beasley who was willing to lend his backyard for the garden.

The women worked tirelessly on the patch of grass for four weeks in May 2006, transforming it into a diverse vegetable garden with mint, squash, sweet basil, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, and peppers. The first thing that strikes an onlooker about the garden is the enormous assortment of crops co–existing in a modest–sized backyard—the whole area is roughly 1200 sq ft.

Without knowing the first thing about gardening one can instantly appreciate the methodical structure of the garden’s layout; there is a degree of art inherent in the overlapping crops and tightly organized beds.

The garden is intended to serve as a pilot project and supply the women with a free source of fresh fruits and vegetables. Next year the women plan to sell surplus fruits and vegetables to supplement their income.

Also, due to their success, HCF may support the expansion of the project, and look for ways to solicit greater involvement from the community.

While the garden has been beneficial in integrating the Somali women and providing a fresh food source for them, it has also been able to involve their children.

When the women came to work on the garden every Sunday, their children accompanied them and played in the city park next to

the house. This accessible play space is particularly important given the large proportion of single mothers in the Somali community.

In addition to the assistance from HCF, they also received support from the entire Beasley community. While working on the garden, the boarding house for mentally ill patients next door lent them gardening tools and the women have received significant support and encouragement from their local city councilor. But key to organizing the whole enterprise was Anel Agure, the only Somali translator in Hamilton.

Anel has worked very closely with the women, assisting them with essential tasks such as navigating the school system for their children and speaking to officials and community organizations.

Beasley’s List Population of Beasley ~5000 Size of Beasley 42 blocks Beasley residents living in poverty 56% Hamilton’s visible minority population 9.6% Beasley’s visible minority population >30% Number of Somalis resettled in Hamilton in 2001 400 Percent of recent immigrants living in poverty 52 Change to welfare under the Harris government -21% Percent after adjusting for inflation -37% Percent change under Liberal government +3% been realized. Mr. Derbyshire analogized this process of meeting the needs of the community to eating an elephant. “And how would you do that?” he asked, replying: “one bite at a time.”

In his eyes, addressing large problems, such as poverty and hunger, with small initiatives is the most effective way for individuals and community groups to tackle these issues. Not only would the community garden allow the women to tangibly give back to their own community— through the garden’s yearly harvest, but it also involves the women in their city, offering them a way to give back to Hamilton. Mr. Derbyshire noted that “this was very much a grassroots initiative which had community leadership as its goal. The project served as a means to that goal.”

Over the course of a few months, the women and Mr. Derbyshire met with many other organizations and individuals who offered their expertise on how exactly to create this community garden and ensure its sustainability. Budgets were crafted, the layout of the garden decided upon, and a location donated by a member of the Somali community, who contributed his backyard. But when it came time to begin construction, they found their request for funding for gardening tools was lost in the City’s bureaucracy. The women’s dedication to the garden’s success, however, was too strong to let the minor issue of proper tools get in the way, and they did the work by hand. “I was amazed… just blown away by their determination that this was going to happen. We were already up against the clock… and they got it done by hand,” Derbyshire recalls. During three weeks spanning June and July this past summer, the women successfully completed the garden.

After their first harvest, the HCF assisted the women in their first evaluation of the garden’s successes and shortcomings and in making suggestions on how to improve for the next year; the women are also currently re–applying for funding. Mr. Derbyshire responded enthusiastically to questions about the success of the

Beasley women: “To me, they’re the bravest people I’ve ever met: to travel [somewhere]… where there’s a land and a culture that they have no understanding of, and to see it as the promised land.

What we see as a challenged neighborhood, they see as a beautiful place.”

Though many people would immediately assume the selection of the Beasley neighborhood to participate in the Neighbourhood Program

“I was amazed… just blown away by their determination that this was going to happen. We were already up against the clock… and they got it done by hand” was due to its visible challenges—it is the 12th poorest neighborhood in Canada, and looks it— Derbyshire strongly emphasizes that the neighborhood has one of the highest potentials in all of the country for positive contribution by its

citizens. Over the last five years, the HCF has funded 37 community programs in the Beasley area alone. “Things aren’t happening in a vacuum; the soil is fertile in the Beasley community. It’s through capitalizing on the assets of citizens that makes all of these things possible.

[It involves] helping them see themselves not as victims [but] as assets to their community.

They’re so often seen as takers, [but when you] change that perception to givers, you see them flourish.”

Derbyshire pointed out that even though the women have already taken on a huge responsibility with the garden, they also continue to be contributing members of other Hamilton groups. Although not everyone in the Beasley community has reacted warmly to the garden, most have been extremely excited about the initiative, offering help and advice whenever needed and forging bonds with the Somali community. Though they may be new to the area, the women responsible for bringing the idea to fruition have contributed immensely to their community and have enabled people to scrutinize the negative assumptions that many have of newcomers. Derbyshire noted that the HCF’s initiatives are ultimately about allowing those in disadvantaged areas to create a new story about themselves,” and the Somali Women’s Garden has done just that.

Graphic By Jennifer Torosian

Somalis and Ontario’s mosaic Ethnic groups that are composed primarily of refugees, such the Somali population, occupy the bottom rung of Canada’s economic ladder. A 2001 census conducted in Toronto revealed that Somalis fall far below the Ontario averages of income, poverty, single parent households, and general quality of life. The percentage of Somalis from 25-34 who have not completed high school is an astounding 33 percent. More than half of Ontario’s Somalis are younger than 18, and more than half the Somali families surveyed are female lone parent families. Additionally, 35 percent of Somali women and 21 percent of Somali men are unemployed. Ultimately, a staggering 72 percent of Somalis are below Statistics Canada’s low income cutoff, daily facing the disheartening challenges of poverty. The causes of poverty among Somalis are relatively clear: many fled the civil war in Somali in the 90s with little more then the clothes on their backs, many are not fluent in English, and an abnormal proportion are young and lacking sufficient formal education. Ontario is trying to tackle the problems of the Somali community through offering support programs of all sorts, operating primarily in large urban centres such as Hamilton. But given the dependence of the community on social assistance, which the Ontario cut back under Mike Harris and has yet to be addressed by the Liberal government, the assistance programs have had limited effect.

incite15

REVIEW

Bangs For Your Buck G RAPHIC BY Boram HAM

By Emma Love

B

eing a student and looking good sometimes seem mutually exclusive. When sweatpants start to seem stylish and showering before class becomes a luxury, a new hairdo may be just what you need. It’s probably been a couple of months since you got a hair cut at home, and it’s sometimes hard to find a stylist in a new town. Which ones are reliable? Which ones are cheap?

Which ones will keep you entertained while you’re in their chair? Read on to find out.

Vince Haircutting 1217 Main St. W Guinea Pig: Ken Price: $16 for a cut, a neck massage, and a mini Italian lesson

I’ve always enjoyed walking by Vince Haircutting to see what enthusiastic hair–related message will be displayed on his loud black–and–neon sign next.

My recent favourite was, “Last hair cut disaster? Vince will fix it!” since I found it funny that he advertised not so much his own skills as his ability to make the best of a bad situation.

Unfortunately, when we arrived to visit Vince’s, his sign had been rearranged by some prankster to show, “Ass hair? Vince will fix it!” I hope nobody has taken him up on the offer… On the other side, however, was the more promising, “See Vince for Sexy Haircut!” I tried to convince Ken, our hair cut guinea pig, to ask for this so–called “sexy haircut,” but he chickened out at the last minute. Fortunately, Vince seemed to know exactly what Ken needed, and whisked him into a chair where he instructed his “lovely assistant” to begin the job (she also gives each client a free neck massage!). Vince, attired in pinstripe pants, a tuxedo shirt, and a bowtie, then stepped in and gave Ken a classy, standard haircut that somehow managed to avoid the awkwardly–too–short dorky look that most guys end up with for the first week or so after a visit to the barber. While I waited, I read Vince’s board of Italian phrases, on which he later tested me and offered pronunciation hints. I can now tell any Italian that “tonight I am going to dress elegant” and ask “what time does the airplane leave?” I don’t know when I would need to ask an Italian stranger for the departure time of my plane, but at least I’ll be prepared in case such a situation arises. Vince did a great job for Ken and was friendly and attentive.

When your hair is in Vince’s hands, “la vita e bella!”

Ken’s verdict: “Vince is awesome.

I feel less like a hobo now.”

Anne’s Boudoir Guinea Pig: Jacob Price: $17 for barber’s scissors; time & hilarity free Before this article was written, Jacob, one of Incite’s dear editors, hadn’t had a hair cut for nearly two years. Although we agree that the wild man look suited him, Jacob decided to sacrifice his bushy locks for the sake of the magazine. So where did we send him for his reintroduction to the world of haircuts? To a posh salon? An experienced styling master? No, we sent Jacob to our friend Anne’s bedroom salon, and he willingly obliged. Let’s examine this situation. Number of past clients Anne has styled: one. His review: “Uhh, it was okay. I managed to… fix it.” (He shaved his head.) The look she was going for on Jacob: “The Ashton Kutcher.” Jacob’s reaction to this: half bemused, half terrified.

Anne’s salon wasn’t exactly as glamorous as those of the professionals. Instead of a smock, Jacob wore a garbage bag; instead of washing his hair in a sink, Anne dumped a jug of water over his head. But what the experience lacked in glamour, it made up for in hilarity. Particularly good were the midway points during which Jacob looked like a pageboy, an emo kid, and a puffy–haired mad scientist. In the end, while Jacob didn’t exactly get “The Kutcher,” he did get a shaggy, trendy cut. I am surprised to say that it actually looked like it could have been done by a real stylist—although I’d like to be there the next time someone with actual experience takes a look at his hair. All in all, if you’re short on cash and don’t get easily frazzled by people pointing and laughing hysterically at your head, maybe give a friend a try.

Jacob’s verdict: “While my long hair gave me street cred in the Biochem Department, the short cut is a refreshing change. I’m glad I didn’t panic too much when I caught my ‘stylist’ googling ‘how to cut hair’ minutes before my cut.”

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First Choice Haircutters 1331 Main St. W Guinea Pig: Emily Price: $13 for shampoo, cut, and style In an ironic twist to our adventure, First Choice wasn’t actually our first choice. Emily and I originally went to look at Dina’s on Emerson. After being stared at by an elderly couple on our way in, we met with a similarly confused reception from a bunch of big–haired older ladies in the smoky salon. “Do you want something?” they asked, as though they were asking us, “Are you lost?” Realizing that we, being neither above 60 nor smokers nor fierce users of Aquanet, were completely out of place, we decided to look for something else.

Next, we were turned away from the salon in the hospital because it was completely booked.

To First Choice we went. Emily was taken in by a tall, tough–looking stylist with an asymmetrical blonde Mohawk streaked through his black hair. While I waited, I watched the nonstop stream of clients moving in and out of the salon and noted nervously that all but Emily were men.

My favourite customer was an older gentleman with grey hair who left with a rather spunky fauxhawk. Although the décor and atmosphere left a lot to be desired, Emily’s stylist happily followed the picture she had brought in, while the other stylists oohed and ahhed over his “seamless layering technique.” We were impressed, and surprised to find that the whole thing only cost $13. First Choice was quick, cheap, and got the job done just fine. If you’re looking for personality, though, you may want to give Dina a call.

Emily’s verdict: “I like it. They were surprisingly funky for a corporate salon chain.”

Emerson Barber Shop 116 Emerson St. Guinea Pig: Rob Price: $18 for a cut

Albert Snow 1036 King St. W. Guinea Pig: Emma Price: $43 with student discount for shampoo, cut, and style Feeling like I should splurge a bit since I hadn’t had a hair cut for more than six months, I decided to give Albert Snow— which I knew only as the seemingly swanky salon in Westdale—a visit. I was able to make an appointment the day of the cut, which was excellent for me and my procrastinating ways. When I arrived, the inside of the salon was less glamorous than I expected.

The walls are adorned with a variety of abstract art that didn’t quite grab me, especially when I noticed that the small, drab one near my chair was advertised for $400. No thanks. After I was whisked to the shampoo sink and treated to nearly ten minutes of a pleasant shampooing and scalp massage, I started to feel like I was getting the luxury treatment I was paying for. My stylist, Anna, was very helpful and managed to transform my vague request of, “It’s too long… Can you help?” into a nice sleek style. She worked quickly and had me out the door in less than an hour, which almost never happens with my thick, unruly hair. I’ve gotten lots of compliments on the cut, but I can’t help wondering whether $13 and some “seamless layers” at First Choice couldn’t have done the same thing. The fancy stuff they put in my hair—it still feels all soft and nice— might convince me that it’s worth it.

Emma’s verdict: “The hair cut is great. I’d come here before special occasions like grad photos.”

You may know Emerson Barber Shop as the impossibly tiny building on the West side of Emerson.

I had long been intrigued by this white and blue shack and was looking for an excuse to get in there, as the shop only serves men. Tagging along with Rob presented the perfect excuse. The barbershop wasn’t what either of us expected. The tiny room was decorated with Irish memorabilia, violins, a fake gas fireplace, and a sign advertising 28 years’ experience. Blues played soothingly over the stereo.

Instead of a gentleman’s club, we found a distinguished–looking female barber cutting the hair of a pre–teen boy and chatting amicably with his family. She had clearly cut his hair for a long time and managed to strike a good compromise between the kid’s desire to have his shaggy hair left alone, and his mother’s desire to have him look semi–respectable. For a few minutes, the boy’s hair was verging on mullet territory; I saw Rob eyeing this and the big Bible sitting prominently next to him and suspected he was going to make a break for it. He managed to quell his fears long enough to get into the chair, with good result. The barber moved competently and asked Rob lots of questions to make sure she was doing what he wanted; she even offered to trim it the next day if he changed his mind about length. Two other customers arrived during our stay and both were obviously long–time clients. Rob might even become a regular himself.

Rob’s verdict: “Although mullet–boy gave me pause, I managed to avoid the same fate by maintaining a dialogue with the barber. It didn’t hurt that her hair cutting skills are razor sharp.”

incite 17

INTERVIEW

Stephen Lewis on Social Activism Complied by Sam Green, Kerry Scott, and Jacob Stewart–Ornstein

S

tephen Lewis holds 22 honorary doctorates, was leader of Ontario’s NDP party, and had a position as UN envoy for AIDS in Africa created for him. Son of David Lewis, one of the founders of the NDP, Stephen has always been a political and social activist.

After flirting with university, Lewis ran for and won a seat in the Ontario Legislature as an NDP MPP in 1963 at the age of 26. He stayed in parliament for the next twelve years, assuming leadership of the NDP in 1970. Lewis resigned as the NDP leader in 1978. In 1984 Mulroney’s Conservative government appointed Lewis as Canada’s ambassador to the United Nations. While at the UN, Lewis chaired the first International Conference on Climate Change, which implemented the first UN policies on global warming. After his term ended in 1988 he spent ten years as a columnist Incite: What inspired you to become a social activist? How did your time as leader of the NDP and as the UN ambassador prepare you for and propel you towards the novel position of UN envoy for AIDS? Stephen Lewis: I’m a genetic social activist. I’m a democratic socialist. I believe in social change. I believe in the struggle for social justice and equality at all times in the world. I believe it to be the only reason one is on this planet. And therefore it just flows quite naturally. It’s a matter of ideology. It’s not a matter of preference, it’s not a matter of instinct, it’s not a matter of compassion or humanitarianism. It’s a matter of ideology. I am a social activist because I don’t like the nature of contemporary society and I would like to change it.

I pursued the work at the United Nations and the role with UNICEF in that context. I can’t say that it created the social activism because it was always there. It gave me the opportunity to participate in international social activism, which I was always partially engaged in through my younger life. I joined anti–Vietnam protest marches and the campaign for nuclear disarmament and I went down to Little Rock, Arkansas when Authorine Lucy crossed the line into high school, the first black kid to cross into the school for integration.

I was standing outside on the lines at the time and I was just in my first years of university then.

My whole life was part of that. But I was lucky enough to get an international job. The appointment as the envoy was unexpected and wasn’t coincidental, because I was doing work on AIDS; but I didn’t expect to have the envoy role. Indeed there was no such role; it was a new position.

Incite: How do you see your role as a scholar–in–residence at McMaster?

SL: You know that’s interesting because I’m not entirely sure. What is happening is actually what I anticipated would happen—that there would be some formal requirements like the course I’m going to be doing on Globalization and the Human Condition. I’ll make a few opening comments and then have an exchange with twenty or twenty–

18 incite

and media personality—he a was a common presence on the CBC—before taking the position of deputy director of UNICEF, which he held from 1995-99. In 2001 Lewis was appointed as the first UN envoy for AIDS in Africa, a position that finishes later this year. In this capacity, Lewis has aggressively argued for expanding treatment programs and for the need to empower women. More controversially Lewis has drawn the ire of the United States for slagging their support of abstinence based prevention programs, and for attacking the South African government for their failure to more aggressively promote anti-retroviral treatments.

Stephen Lewis has also recently taken up a position as Scholar-in-Residence at McMaster. He sat down with Incite on 10 October and discussed HIV/AIDS, the UN, and what he is doing at McMaster.

five students for three hours. That kind of thing I believe should be a part of it and there will be further lectures this term and next term—a limited number of lectures in each term, but significant and serious in their content. There are also two major pubic lectures, one of which I’ve already done, at the Royal Botanical Gardens, and the other of which I will do in the spring.

But I always assumed, and it was a product of the discussion with the faculty here, that there would be other invitations to speak to political science classes, to speak to the School of Medicine, to speak to Social Work, to do a variety of things

of globalization. The undergraduates are working on material related to UN agencies and gender, because gender is a centrepiece of what I’d like to pursue on campus. I think it’s a good mix.

Incite: What are the most significant barriers to reducing infection and fatality for HIV/AIDS? SL: Political will on the one hand, particularly amongst the major Western nations who will not supply the continuing flow of resources that are necessary. And human capacity on the other; so many lives have been lost in so many crucial occupations—doctors, nurses, pharmacists, clinicians, et cetera, that the ability to keep the society going is compromised and so you get drugs and no one to disperse them. I mean there are problems of stigma, and there are problems of behaviour change, which causes everyone perplexity; no one knows quite how to achieve it. In particular to change male sexual behaviour. But fundamentally the overriding impediments would be, I think, sustainable resources on the one hand and human capacity on the other.

Incite: What new HIV/AIDS initiative do you consider to be the most important?

on campus with individual classes and groups of students. That I am already doing; I already have half a dozen additional commitments. So you become an itinerant lecturer in the general field that interests students. I consider that to be an obligation in the context of the job. And then there’s the matter of working closely with two undergraduate interns and a post–graduate assistant. The post–graduate assistant is helping me in the field

SL: Treatment. It was first promulgated by the WHO at the end of 2003 and it began to be rolled out incrementally in 2004–2005. There was the famous three–by–five campaign, putting three million people into treatment by the end of 2005.

They didn’t make it, but they did unleash momentum, which is now irreversible. So that was a tremendous contribution. And I think treatment should be seen as one of the propelling features now to counter the pandemic.

I think the search for preventative technology, particularity microbicides, and the prevention that they give to women, the sexual autonomy that they give to women. That’s really, really important if scientists discover a microbicide for women in the next five to six years.

I think finally the determination to focus on prevention of mother–to–child transmission. To roll that across each country so that children are not born HIV positive, that will reduce a huge

number of infants and children who are HIV positive.

The area where we have made almost no progress at all is women. The level of sexual violence, the degree of discrimination, the disproportionate infections around women, it’s all still appalling. I was meeting with the Secretary General of the UN yesterday in New York just to spend a little time with him and say goodbye as it were, because we’ve worked together over the last five years. And we were talking to some extent about women because there’s a reform panel at the UN which is going to recommend the creation of a new international agency for women. But I was saying to the Secretary General that in Africa it continues to be absolutely appalling. He has to take the recommendations and deliver them to the General Assembly and he can modify them if he wishes. I was trying to encourage more rather than less.

Incite: You don’t mention a vaccine.

SL: A vaccine is at least a decade off but there is no passivity because of that. Indeed if anything everybody’s trying harder to discover a vaccine.

But the question is what do I see that has emerged now, and I think the microbicide is much closer to reality. I sit on the board of the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative—IAVI, it’s called. It’s quite fascinating. I mean I’m out of my depth to tell you the truth; I’m sitting around the table with people who know quite a lot scientifically. But it’s evident that even with a number of vaccines in first and second phase trials, it’s still very far off, and no one is confident that there’s anything in the pipeline yet that is significantly promising. There are some that are hopeful but no one would lay bets on anything yet, I don’t think.

Incite: John Bolton has described the UN as a dysfunctional organization.

Do you agree with this characterization?

Incite: You have advocated for the formation of a new UN agency devoted to women’s status and health.

Do you see the prospects for this goal with the election of the new Secretary General Ban Ki–moon as good? More generally, do you see the prospects for reform of the whole United Nations in terms of Security Council make–up as something that’s likely to occur?

SL: I doubt it. Again, on the Security Council side they’ve been talking forever about reform.

Everybody thought they had

PHOTO BY SAM G REEN

SL: There’s a lot of the UN that’s dysfunctional. For instance, for 60 years it has failed to do anything significant for women. That’s pretty darn dysfunctional since that’s more than half of humankind. But Bolton is talking largely about the peace and security side of the United Nations. He’s talking about Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, North Korea, Lebanon, the West Bank, Gaza, Israel, he’s talking about all the hotspots.

He’s talking about the dysfunctionality of the Security Council—and part of this dysfunctionality he’s responsible for. The position of the United States is often an obstreperous and difficult position. That’s always been true of the permanent members; they have their own axes to grind. And since each of them can exercise a veto they can pull things to a halt or they can take weeks and weeks and weeks to resolve an issue that should be resolved more quickly. And then they say the UN is dysfunctional. What they really mean is that they are dysfunctional because the UN is merely a manifestation of the member states.

Kofi Annan and his secretariat do what the member states tell them to do. I think they could exercise a little more independent initiative personally, but fundamentally they

are the servants of the member states. If the place is dysfunctional, the member states are dysfunctional and John Bolton has no right to call the UN dysfunctional; he can call the Security Council dysfunctional of which he is a member and should do something about.

However, that’s the peace and security side of the equation. There are two other sides of the equation. One is human rights, and that has been dysfunctional because very often countries that are the greatest violators of human rights are on the Human Rights Commission and [new] Human Rights Council, although under Louise Arbour, the Canadian commissioner, it has improved greatly.

But the other side is development and humanitarianism. I’m very very critical of what they’ve failed to do on the development side but objectively that’s the best side of the UN—from the immunization of children, to rolling out treatment for HIV, to providing bed nets for malaria, to getting vitamin A tablets to strengthen immune systems. All the things that are done in humanitarian and development terms, including good governance and agriculture, everything. When people in the developing world think of the UN they do not think of the Security Council. They think of UNICEF, they think of UNFP and sexual and reproductive health, they think of the World Health Organization, they think of the World Food Program which delivers them food to keep them alive. They do not think of Afghanistan. It’s a big divide and you have to remember that this polarity is constant. For me the interesting side is the development side.

a formula. India thought they had a formula, Brazil thought they had a formula, every sort of major emerging power; Nigeria, South Africa thought they could be part of a formula and everything fell apart. The current members have a veto, and they are not going to give veto power to others. So there’s tremendous negotiation to be done on the Security Council side if it is to continue to reform at all.

I don’t know about the new Secretary General.

I just have no knowledge of him. He seems very circumspect, very careful. He would obviously have to be acceptable to the United States, because I think they were aggravated by Kofi Annan’s pronouncements on Iraq. So they wouldn’t like that to happen again. I’m speaking Real Politik now; it’s not a judgement, I think it’s just objectively true.

The women’s agency is in some ways remarkable, because this coherence panel was meant to bring things together and integrate them rather than to create something new. So for them to create something new, which runs counter to integration, means that they were persuaded that a new agency was really needed.

The two flaws in the recommendation, which are very very critical flaws, are one, the amount of money—they’re talking about only $200 million, and that is less than ten percent of what UNICEF has, for example. It’s a great deal more than what the women’s entities that exist now have; they have about $50 million now, so $200 million is a great deal more. But it’s nothing in terms of what is required. And second, they’re very very reluctant to allow the agency to have operational capacity on the ground in country—to have targeted programs for women. They use words like catalytic and experimental—all the words that mean pilot project, but not real, fundamental change.

Not enough clout to be able to influence government or indeed influence the United Nations family. Those are very serious deficits and we’re doing as much as possible to improve on what is being recommended.

I have to admit that the recommendation itself is good. There’s going to be an Under–Secretary General. There’s going to be a global and transparent selection process. It is more money, we’ll have a separate and independent body. On the face of it, it looks like progress. And I guess it is. But they’re falling significantly short on a couple of critical areas. So those of us who feel strongly will keep hammering away. We’re not going to give them any peace just because they created an agency and we asked for one. We asked for a particular kind of agency, and if they don’t give us that they will be in trouble.

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Incite: The Canadian government has been accused of not doing enough for HIV/AIDS in Africa or, more broadly, for development in Africa. If they were serious about combating HIV/AIDS in Africa, what would their first steps be?

SL: I think that they would have produced the [anti–retroviral] pills from the legislation they passed three years ago. They would have actually made it possible, by issuing what we call a compulsory license—in other words telling the brand name pharmaceutical companies, who are making the trouble here, we’re not going to let you stand in the way. So we’re going to make this legislation work, and we’re going to start delivering generic drugs to Africa at very low prices. That would have been a tremendous contribution.

And then, just continuing to subsidize all of the key elements: vaccines, microbicides, the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria, money for the World Health Organization treatment program, all of the things that they implied they would do at the International AIDS Conference and then closed down when the Prime Minister failed to show up. The announcements will probably come around World AIDS Day, I suspect, but everybody’s hanging fire, everybody’s waiting.

I think two things are crucial. [The first is] the delivery of generic drugs, which would have been fabulous, to have a Western country do that. And we actually made a decision to move, but we failed to act on it. And the second thing is to reach the 0.7 percent GNP for foreign aid. We’re the only Western country that has endorsed the target but refuses to set a timetable. So those others who have endorsed the target—France, the UK, Germany, Italy—they have all set a timetable. There is a date that we can look towards. I was just in Berlin this last week. I had a press conference with the Minister of Development and Cooperation. She was saying in my presence, “We will meet the target by 2015, as we promised. We’re moving it up slowly.” Canada refuses to set a timetable. We’re the only ones.

Incite: Do you see any of these steps happening under the current Conservative or future Conservative or Liberal governments?

SL: I doubt it. I think it could happen under another government. I refuse to sully the conversation

by saying a Liberal government. But I believe it could happen under another government. You know, Paul Martin’s government was pretty good on AIDS. They made a lot of significant contributions. But they failed on the drug stuff completely. Because, when it comes to the brand name pharmaceutical companies, everybody runs. But I think it’s possible. I do not think it’s likely under the present government. I think the present government will be in great trouble to hold on to its mandate after the next election. It will be at the latest the spring of 2007. But sooner, we’ll know what the competition is.

Incite: What do you think of abstinence only programs for HIV prevention such as those advocated by the American Administration? Countries like Uganda have claimed that they have been successful.

SL: There’s tremendous scientific controversy over what propelled the decline in prevalence in Uganda. And it’s generally agreed, I think, that it was a combination of abstinence and being faithful and condoms—all three of them. Certainly fidelity was important, because the ringing mantra from President Yoweri Museveni over the years was “Zero Grazing”, which meant no extra–curricular sexual activity. So all of the three ABC components were really used.

And to be fair to the United States, they’ve rarely said abstinence only. They’re too smart for that.

They have preferred abstinence in the availability of funding. And they have therefore indirectly depreciated the use of condoms. And abstinence obviously doesn’t work in marriage, and it doesn’t work in sexually active young people. So abstinence as the predominant vehicle is really suspect. It is perfectly legitimate to advocate abstinence in young people because it tends to delay sexual debut, as they call it. So if you delay first sexual act for a year or two, the chances are that you will reduce infection—you know, if it becomes 18 rather than 16 or 17 rather than 15. And that has happened in a couple of countries, and in Uganda. So there is a place for abstinence, but it runs out, I think pretty quickly. And then you have to rely much more on condoms.

Incite: Malaria and HIV/AIDS both cause a significant number of deaths.

PHOTO BY SAM G REEN

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Given this fact, is the funding around HIV/AIDS as compared to other diseases in the developing world like malaria, tuberculosis, or sleeping sickness disproportionate?

SL: Actually, at this point, HIV is causing rather more deaths in Africa alone than malaria. There are three million deaths a year now from HIV/ AIDS. Probably 70 percent of those are in Africa.

The huge tragedy about malarial deaths is that they are overwhelmingly children; that’s really what’s shocking. And it takes so little; it’s like 60 cents to intervene medically.

You know, I think it was inevitable that HIV would command the highest share of the interventions for a period of time, because people are so frantic to live. It’s a historical truth. You have 26 million people on a continent desperately wanting to live, and the pressure for treatment is absolutely overwhelming. I remember people sometimes saying to me rather cynically, “They’re going to die anyway; why waste the money? Put the money into prevention.” And my answer to them was, that this is almost Marxist. It’s almost like social determinism. You have vast numbers of people pressing to survive. There’s no way of stopping that tide. It builds and builds. And therefore, for God’s sake accommodate it and get it over with. Get them onto treatment and get it over with. And focus then on all the other things you want to do as well.

What happened, interestingly, was that the tide in favour of [HIV/AIDS] treatment was quickly moderated by the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria, because the Fund has been doing tremendous work on malaria, less on TB. TB is really worrying because there are more than nine million new cases every year. So in fact, there has been a tremendous amount of work on malaria, huge numbers of bed nets have been distributed. And the World Health Organization just approved a return to DDT, to be sprayed in huts intermittently. There’s controversy of course with the environmentalists, but it’s interesting that they were driven to that, partly because of the epidemic nature of malaria. There’s a new extreme form of tuberculosis that has emerged, a real killer, which is drug resistant to the present drugs.

Those three diseases, they are horrendous in their toll. I don’t care about the exact numbers; all of them are awful killers. And there is a new awareness around malaria, which is pushing interventions very strongly. And I’m glad of that. And you know people who are HIV positive, about 50 to 60, sometimes 70 percent of them are carrying TB. And people who are TB–infected—you cannot discover whether or not they have HIV, or vice versa, because the sputum test doesn’t work when it’s compromised in the body by HIV. Everywhere you go in adult medical wards, you hear the low, gravelly coughing, which signifies that all the people with HIV are also co–infected with tuberculosis.

lls e Fa

WANDERINGS

Falling for th

With Jeanette Eby, Katie Huth, and Zsuzsi Fodor

T

hree bikes, spandex pants, and a digital camera were all we needed for our trek to Webster’s Falls. Although she insisted that her confidence was lacking, Jeannette fearlessly led us down the Cootes bike path, a paved vein beginning on the outskirts of campus and ending at the foot of the escarpment. We zipped past the Dundas core and expertly maneuvered around the numerous senior citizens perusing the downtown businesses. Surrounded by shops, restaurants, and the daily downtown crowd, we fixed our eyes on the quickly approaching beast at the end of the city strip: Hamilton’s infamous “mountain.”

We appreciated the switch from pedestrians and traffic lights to forestry and clear paths as we drew closer to the base of the mountain. Our relief dissipated, however, upon looking up at the threateningly vertical slope. In that instant, we understood the skepticism we had encountered from the woman at the Off–Campus Housing Office when she handed over our map. She had warned us about a “steep” hill, but her choice of adjective did not do the mountain justice.

This leisurely ride began to seem more and more like a treacherous mission. Not only did we have a minimal sense of direction, but the incline ahead seemed insurmountable.

We unanimously decided to ditch our bikes in the woods and continue on foot in pursuit of the falls. Step by step, we trudged up the narrow shoulder of the winding escarpment, wary of the cars whipping by. We stopped short at the stony steps to the Bruce Trail. With the promising idea of a shortcut, we decided to deviate from the travel plan that the woman from the Off–Campus Housing Office had set for us, excited to plunge into nature rather than walk beside it.

We came to a clearing and wandered aimlessly through the woods for a while. There was no waterfall in sight; the biggest flow that we encountered was that from Katie’s nose when she blew it on a maple leaf. After taking a couple of pictures for posterity, we resumed our original route. With renewed determination, we continued the climb up Highway 8, through Flamborough, referring to our heavily creased map at every crossroad; Webster’s Falls was close, we could feel it— we just had to find it. Our growing exhaustion lent credibility to the conclusion that we had gone too far. Looping back, disheartened by our navigational ineptitude, we arbitrarily chose a road to our left. Best described as a rustic subdivision, the houses within the confines of the Webster’s Conservation Area were the antithesis of Hamilton’s downtown core and Westdale’s clustered student housing. The backyards seemed boundless and the sound of a chainsaw tackling a carpentry project permeated the air. We knocked on

the door of a picturesque country home and were warmly greeted by a woman and her daughters. We explained our predicament and were informed that we were, in fact, on Webster’s Falls Road, less than 500 feet from hearing the sound of the rushing water.

We walked into a wall of mist, a clear indication that we were at last nearing the falls.

In the last 200 feet or so of the home stretch, we got distracted by an abandoned, historic– looking blue brick house, an outcast among its contemporary suburban neighbours. We later found out that this uninhabited blue abode was the Webster family manor. The Webster family purchased Webster’s Falls and Baby Webster’s Falls in 1819. Who knew waterfalls were a consumer commodity?

The mist thickened; we crossed a wooden bridge, and at last—we found ourselves encircled by the splendor of Webster’s Falls.

Unable to contain our excitement, we rushed down the slippery stairs to get closer to the falls. Although we were heights above the Hammer, we felt exponentially further removed, nestled in this pocket of dynamic nature. We were awestruck, and thrilled that we had finally found this wonder. Webster’s Falls is huge: with a crest of 30 meters, it is the largest in the region. It is one of the waterfalls in the Spencer Gorge, and is formed by the main branch of Spencer Creek.

Our adventurer’s spirit was at its peak and so we did not hesitate to get as close as possible without falling into the rapids. We traversed a running stream by tip–toeing across stepping stones. On the other side, we were ecstatic at the sight of another waterfall. Much smaller, Baby Webster’s Falls is a simple flowing ribbon of water down a rocky precipice, a hidden inlet off to the side of the dominating Webster’s, but with a character all of its own.

We scrambled over the boulders away from Baby Webster’s Falls to get right next to the rapids, with torrents of Webster’s water pounding down into the rocky ravine and spraying our faces. It would have been too easy to be carried away from the slippery shoreline, but as waterfall comrades we were watching out for each other. We could have stayed there forever; we had just seen another face of Hamilton, and the nagging of time had seemed to disappear. Unfortunately, we remembered our responsibilities, and trekked back down the escarpment to our bikes. The trip back to the McMaster bubble was quicker this time, since our sense of direction had greatly improved.

Escape the routine and stress of school— stake out your route and go chase some waterfalls. Of course, if you are hesitant to venture far from campus, you could always trek over to MDCL and check out the DeGroote Falls: biking optional.

Hamilton – City of Waterfalls

We discovered that our so–called Steel City has another claim to fame: Hamilton’s city limits embrace over 70 waterfalls, making it a contender for the urban municipality with the world’s most waterfalls. They are concentrated along the Niagara Escarpment—due to the ideal geological conditions—and stretch from Flamborough to Stoney Creek.

If you find yourself in a waterfall–chasing mood on a weekend afternoon, there are certainly many destinations to choose from. Not all are publicly accessible, but many are bike–able or hike–able. Here is a list of some of the most spectacular and easily accessed, as outlined by the Hamilton Conservation Authority, that will certainly be worth the trek.

Webster’s Falls: We can attest that this grand display washed away any thoughts of aching calves and uncompleted assignments. It is the widest waterfall in the region and has the highest volume of flowing water.

Tew’s Falls: Neighbour to Webster’s Falls in the Spencer Gorge, Tew’s is the highest waterfall in the city with a height of 41 meters. It can be accessed from the Dundas section of the Bruce Trail, leading to two platforms from which the falls can be viewed in all its glory.

Devil’s Punchbowl: Get a two–for–one deal from the rivers plunging over the Stoney Creek escarpment, where you can marvel at both a classic and a ribbon waterfall rushing to the gorge below.

Tiffany Falls: Who knew that a cascade waterfall is nestled in the Ancaster area? Wilson Street, an extension of Main Street, takes you up the escarpment to the Tiffany Falls Conservation Area, and a footpath follows the creek towards the scene of rough waters tumbling down into a V–shaped ravine.

For complete directions and more information, check out: http://www. conservationhamilton.ca/parks/visit/waterfalls.asp

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ARTS

Art Attack At Mac

By Elaine Logie

T

he School of the Arts (SOTA) offers theatre performances, art shows, artist talks, and an array of concerts, many of which are free.

There is so much going on that you could easily have something to enjoy every week. SOTA’s office is hidden in the deepest recesses of Togo Salmon Hall (no that is not a type of sushi!), but the arts scene is an integral and far-reaching part of the McMaster campus.

The Celebrity Concert Series is one of the longest-running music series in Hamilton, having begun in 1972, and features first rate national and international musicians from classical to jazz to world. A total of eight Friday night concerts take place from September to March in Convocation Hall (UH 213).

The fourth concert on 17 November will feature the ever-popular Kiyoshi Nagata Ensemble from Toronto, whose masterful ability to harness the raw power of the Taiko Drum consistently leaves audiences amazed. Students can get into the evening Celebrity Concerts for only five dollars—less then the price of a movie.

For even less monetary investment, the Free Lunch Concert Series takes place a few times a month from 12:30–1:30 PM, so bring a lunch and bring some friends—just don’t bring carrots! If you like jazz then you will enjoy the Hugh Hartwell Trio on 7 November, with their innovative take on tradi-

Tea Party By Erin Giroux

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tional jazz arrangements.

If what you have read so far has piqued your interest, then make sure you block off every Tuesday lunch for fourth-year student recitals. They get underway on 14 November in Convocation Hall and continue until the end of March. Other student concerts feature the Chamber Orchestra, Concert/Jazz Band, the Vocal/Flute Ensemble, and the Concert Choir. The Chamber Orchestra, for example, will be performing Mozart’s Gounod and Champagne on 12 November; the McMaster Choir Christmas concerts take place on 25 November at Westdale United Church and on 26 November in Convocation Hall.

McMaster also boasts a stellar theatre team.

This year’s Major Production, In the Kitchen, running 16–25 November, mixes improv and scripted theatre with surprising results. Starting in the new year, make sure you drop by Robinson Memorial (CNH 103) during the Director’s Series and support theatre students as they adapt existing plays or write their own and present them from January until March.

You have undoubtedly passed the McMaster Museum of Art many times while trying to catch one of the elusive, standing-room-only HSR buses, but did you know that the Museum and SOTA jointly hold a Visiting Artist Series on Thursdays from September until March? On 16 November from 6–7 PM

Ihor Holubizky will give an exhibition talk at the Museum about what it means to be a curator and writer for the exhibit The Past is Forgiven: Herman Levy and Joseph Herman, in their times. On 23 November, from 6–8 PM, the Museum will have an art opening for the exhibition entitled Arnaud Maggs: Nomenclature. Canadian artist Arnaud Maggs is a photo-anthropologist and cultural historian who uses his camera to represent and order aspects of the past. He is best known for his serial photographs of everything from mug shots and death notices, to French hotel signs. This exhibit is not to be missed— at the very least you can probably schmooze your way to the wine and cheese table.

The Museum is also holding By Design: Fine Craft Sale just in time for the holidays on 8 November 11 AM–5 PM and 9 November 11 AM–7 PM. The sale will feature an eclectic array of gift items including pottery, jewelry, crafts, sculpture, and glass at great prices by local artists.

Instead of making a pilgrimage to Limeridge Mall, stick around campus and check out the dynamic art scene. Once you graduate you might never see such an array of talent in one place again.

For more information check out the School of the Arts website at http://sota.humanities.mcmaster.ca or visit us at Togo Salmon Hall 414 and pick up a brochure.

COLUMN

WITH ROB LEDERER

I

n my relatively short lifetime, I’ve seen some incredibly influential movements come and, sometimes, go. I witnessed the internet in its infancy and can remember when it was possible to get a “yourname@yahoo.com” email address without using a hodgepodge of numbers and underscores, nor having to resort to your hairdresser’s cat’s nickname in desperation.

I’ve trained with a Tai–Bo master, seen someone I know on Oprah, experienced spectators’ criticism during my Magic Cards match, and watched pre–Clinton episodes of What Not To Wear. Less recognized than the other revolutions, but equally if not more influential, was the “Frankly” movement.

Seven or eight years ago on her talk show, Rosie O’Donnell and her real life family competed against the cast of Party of Five in a game of Family Feud. Even though Rosie’s sister was the biggest Party fan of the bunch, she failed to make the filming. So Scott Wolf said a few words to express his disappointment in her, and I remember them very clearly: “Frankly, I expected more from you…”. This moment, not his six years as Bailey Salinger or brief appearance on Blossom, is Scott Wolf’s greatest contribution to modern culture.

He is the voice of the “Frankly” generation.

Scott Wolf’s appearance on The Rosie O’Donnell Show inspired me and, I’m sure, countless others to use “frankly” in everyday life; eventually it eclipsed every other entry in my witty comment cannon, and then it started sprouting from the lips of more and more students around the school. “Frankly” became my catchphrase for grade seven, but like Devil Sticks and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, the obsession came with an expiration date. Like many exhausted retirees, “frankly” had its day but, overworked and underappreciated, it took a much–needed vacation to the tropics.

L i n g o

There are countless words like “frankly,” sayings that permeate public lingo at least for a little while. Who hasn’t, in the last few months, called a situation “awkward,” a person “sketchy,” or a comment “random”? Yet their popularity is doomed to die down, and then they’ll join “Cowabunga” and Michelle Tanner’s “How Rude!” as catchphrase casualties.

Sometimes these phrases act as personal identifiers, becoming part of the personality of the person who utters them. Ebenezer Scrooge’s “Bah humbug” or the Power Rangers’ “It’s morphin time” remained their own, but that’s often not the case. If they’re catchy, sayings can’t belong to one person for long; like a pack of peppermint gum after garlicy Italian, everybody wants a piece of the action.

That’s one of the great things about catchphrases: they can unite a community or group of friends in the same way as an inside joke without the downfall of social segregation. Everyone can understand the word “frankly,” although not everyone will appreciate it like Scott and I do.

Last year I lived with two girls who constantly came up with catchy comments; our apartment quotation board overflowed with their wittiness, while my remarks only made it up out of pity.

In my first year, one of them said “Oi!” religiously—when someone scared her, she tripped, or even when she dropped a pen in class. Soon after meeting her, I caught the “Oi” bug, and, within a few weeks, everyone I knew was uttering it at least once a day. What once was her own Secret World of “Oi” was appropriated by all of us. As time wore on, however, “Oi” began to die out.

Now it’s but a distant memory, like neon–coloured scrunchies and Goosebumps novels—a fallen fad. At the time, however, it was something special that we all shared.

Shortly after the novel A Complicated Kind-

i n

ness was published, my other housemate began using the book’s title to describe moments in her own life. Her new usage didn’t catch–on in quite the same way as “Oi,” possibly because complex acts of kindness just aren’t as common as moments of exclamation. Regardless, it still evokes a kinship between those involved, perhaps even more so because there are so few of us.

It is rare to be able to identify the true origin of a catch phrase: “Oi” is short–form Yiddish, while “a complicated kindness” began with the book and was appropriated by my friend. These cases, however, are about as rare as an HBO show without a gay subplot. For the most part, catchphrases are just sort of there. Somebody might introduce one to a group of friends, like the first kid on the block with a snap bracelet, but he certainly didn’t invent it.

Everyone has a friend who lays claim to “awkward” or says “I feel like…” was coined at her camp. Let’s be honest, a movement of that magnitude did not begin with your stoner co–counselor Ben in a brief moment of clarity.

These sayings began in a better place, from a source with greater influence than your best friend—unless your best friend is Lindsay Lohan, in which case please tell her to try to put her life back together and make another movie of Mean Girls quality.

In the end, language is like every other fad.

Leg warmers were 80s–aerobics–class chic, Skip–It kept us busy for a little while, and “yada, yada, yada” was a great way to say a lot in only a few words, but none of them lasted for long.

There’s always something new and exciting just around the corner, and you never know what it’ll be or where it’ll come from. So watch your words carefully; you, like the original Valley girl or first person to wonder “WTF?”, could begin a brief but defining movement in the evolution of language.

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I Found Your Blue

for Miles Davis

I found your blue in the belly of a Spanish guitar.

In soil pregnant with irises. In La Saeta played through tinny speakers.

In the wind-blown dunes of Colorado, New Mexico.

I found your blue bundled in garbage bags, sleeping on a freight car.

Penciled on a vodka label, lying in an alley.

In cigarette smoke spiraling up from the tuna tin still flecked with fish. In the last swig of whiskey before you tossed it to sea glass. In the coil of Van Gogh’s ear.

I found your blue In Sao Paolo, on the cross overlooking Brazilian shores, clacked by castanets, in leather heels resonating flamenco.

In the resin on Paganini’s last string.

When the last Jew left Harlem.

I found your blue G RAPHIC BY I RFAN PIRBAHI

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- Alexis Motuz