PHIL the harmonic hummingbird, by Dave McIntosh

By Moonyeen King

President of the Board for Tepehua moonie1935@yahoo.com

An Intergovernmental Government was formed in 1998 under the United Nations to draft legislation that would directly address and com-

bat transnational crime. By 2000 they had drafted the Palermo Protocol which outlined the three P’s: Prevention-Protection-Prosecution aimed at combating human trafficking (Partnership came later).

Throughout the world, women and children are at greater risk than men, the unequal rights of women world-wide places them in vulnerable positions to become victims. Of the world’s 20 million exploited people, only 1.9 million come from Latin America. The Asian Pacific Region has the highest number at 11.7 million and the Middle East the lowest with just 600,000 victims.

In comparison to the cities, local areas like Tepehua have very little evidence of human trafficking as most sexual abuse of children takes place in the home. The homes are overcrowded, the inhabitants lack education and, since they qualify for very few jobs, most of the family is at home all day with time on their hands. Teenage girls that parents cannot afford to send to school become very early victims at the hands of brothers, uncles and fathers, who besotted with alcohol, make choices they regret later. Booze and drugs are the solace for the frustration of lack of labor.

Although this abuse is still a number one problem in the homes, it is changing with education and the right choices. There is a long way to go but it is happening and the people of the barrios are looking for change. As the Internet makes pornography easier for the evil to spread, so does it make it easier for people to see there is another way of living. It comes with knowledge. Everyone has a TV no matter how poor. TV’s, computers, telephones and cell phones all can be found in the local dumps of a throw-away society, and the poor are entrepreneurs and fixer- uppers. Nothing is wasted. From the dark side pictured above there is huge promise.

Giving the people the right tools they can take the path to a better life through knowledge, no matter how brutal that knowledge can be. It takes courage to ask for help and courage to give it, to commit to it. But if you look at history, change is all based on people helping people. Local governments seem to be the cause and not the cure.

Once change is instigated, it is like a rolling stone. There is no turning back especially for the young, who are very resilient. They have to be because life in poverty can be very raw.

Lakeside Chapala, where the living is easy...even if you are poor, you have the sun, fruits growing which everyone can share, and you can live outside most of the time under an incredible sky. At this time of the year in the distance you can hear in the evening the impatient grumblings of storms to come as Spring leads us into the rainy season. We celebrate water here as we celebrate the sun... and it is we the people who dirty our nests, so let’s clean them up ourselves.

Spring is a new beginning.....

PHIL the harmonic hummingbird

By Dave McIntosh

Painting by Ruth Kear

On an early spring morning, when the day was just dawning, And the air was as still as a pond, Two hummingbirds dated, and in seconds had mated, Creating a natural bond.

No time for formalities, or talk of moralities, Four seconds is all that’s required. Dad quickly took flight, it was a “quickie” alright, He’d done his job: it was all he desired.

Procreation achieved and PHIL was conceived, Mum hummed off to build a small nest. Two eggs she did lay, quite common they say. She thought her brief life had been blessed.

She nursed them and cherished, but one of them perished! SID Snake was rather hungry that day. So, when PHIL looked around, no sibling he found, And his mother had just flown away!

PHIL gave a small squeak as his future looked bleak, With no adults to show him the way. But he emerged from the nest, to give his wings a good test, And something special occurred on that day.

It was almost ironic, that the Royal Philharmonic, Were practicing their music next door. PHIL got quite excited, and within him ignited, A curiosity he just couldn’t ignore.

He flew to a tree so he could listen and see The source of all the attraction. He whistled along and chirped with each song. It gave him so much satisfaction.

But when a crescendo did rise, there were tears in his eyes, And frustration that he couldn’t take part. But as the notes rose and soared, it was a sound he adored, And music had stolen his heart.

Yet he had limits in choice, that gave him no voice, And he flew back and forth for some time. But was suddenly aware of a strange noise in the air. The humming he made was sublime!

With each beat of his wings, he heard brass and heard strings, For percussion he’d tap with his beak. When he swooped through the trees, woodwinds filled the breeze, His orchestra was simply unique.

PHIL’s symphony was rich, it had perfect pitch, As he danced from flower to flower. He needed the nectar and was an avid collector, As it gave him more musical power.

His Allegro was cheerful, his Adagio tearful, His solo Cadenzas astounded! The more that he flew, his confidence grew, And the better and better he sounded.

He had recently heard there was many a bird, That inspired orchestral creations. Nothing seemed wrong, with a bit of birdsong. He worked hard at his humming vibrations.

There was Lark Ascending by Vaughan, Sibelius’s Swan, Beethoven’s Pastoral collection. The Nightingale Song would make PHIL hum along. With others he felt a connection.

The trills of Ravel would make his heart swell. Delius’s Cuckoo was a work of esteem. PHIL thought it absurd, that a small hummingbird, Could join such an illustrious team.

Yet progress was steady, and soon he was ready. And this may sound a little bizarre! He thought it was vital, that he give a recital, To show the public his full repertoire.

If he could find a presenter, the renowned Lincoln Center Could well be the start of big things. Then perhaps he could get a firm date at the Met, To show off his musical wings.

Alas, there was sadness, emerged from this madness, PHIL had enjoyed his brief moment of levity. His musical feat was short and was sweet. Hummingbirds are not known for longevity.

It was amazing how fast two years had gone past, PHIL’S tempo had started to change. And he had to agree, that a high middle C Was now completely out of his range.

He’d enjoyed flying high, with his friends in the sky, Creating music as he hummed along. He’d not missed a beat, and his life was complete, But it was time for his final Swan song.

PHIL’s humming creations gave him great expectations, But we know they were just a delusion. But the lesson we learn gives no need for concern. If dreams are only illusion.

They sometimes come true, and whenever they do, Particularly if they are euphonic, Our fantasy flights can be filled with delights. Just like PHIL’s, the humming harmonic.