In these dark days of winter, the need has arisen in me again to travel beyond the boundaries of country and culture to gain a fresh perspective. I’ll be leaving soon for a five-month sojourn in Central and South America. Without wishing to offend anyone in my community, I simply have to get back to the real world, where people are taking seriously the threats facing their communities and are coming together in solidarity to confront them. The New Year’s Eve blue moon seemed auspicious as I moved the last of the contents of my apartment into storage, knowing that if I never returned, I wouldn‘t miss a single item.
But, of course, I expect and hope to return. This community has felt like “home“ to me for almost nine years. I’ve met some kind, generous, open-minded, interesting, spiritually aware people here. I’ve met others who are nasty gossips, chronic complainers and greedy scammers. In some ways, it's a community of opposites. Even so, tolerance is considered to be one of the characteristics of this community, along with a fair degree of love and appreciation of our environment and our lively arts and music communities. There is abundant clean water here. There are mountains and forests, eagles, ravens, crows, seagulls, deer, bears and coyotes, as well as llamas and even peacocks. There are palm trees, and banana trees that grow tiny bananas. On the whole it‘s been a pretty tolerable place to live. On pleasant days, it’s not uncommon to hear people greet each other on the street with, “Just another day in paradise.“
But it’s not paradise for everyone. The natural beauty of the environment aside, for many it’s not even close to paradise. There are residents of this community caught in various “Catch-22” situations -- with their housing, with the medical system, with welfare (“income assistance“ in this province) and with social services -- largely the result of measures instituted by our provincial government. A significant portion of our population is poorly housed, inadequately nourished, under the surveillance of barely functioning government bureaucracies, living with chronic illness and pain, and unable to enjoy the quality of life that many take for granted. Health care is administered by doctors who, in large measure, are more interested in prescribing pharmaceuticals than in advocating for healthier conditions for their patients. The small, beleaguered groups of dedicated individuals who advocate for those being dragged to the bottom of our little society are overwhelmed by the work of navigating complex bureaucracies on behalf of their client-neighbours. Depression is endemic. It’s impossible not to notice the heavily medicated people who walk like zombies among us (not to mention those who self-medicate with crack cocaine, methamphetamine and heroin, as well as morphine and other prescription medications easily available on the street). In general, however, most people prefer to ignore our social malaise in the name of “tolerance.” But there is trouble in our tolerant little paradise.
My community seems to lack a sense of connection to the wider world. If North Americans live in a bubble of materialism, we live in a bubble within a bubble. And within this bubble, I am a fish out of water. The common people living in the countries I’ll be visiting have been struggling for many decades to preserve their lands, their water and their cultures from imperialism and corporate exploitation. Until now, it has been pretty much a losing battle. They have been trying to alert us to the dangers they face, and now they are cautioning us that these same dangers are soon to arrive at our doorstep. At this moment, a mining company, taking advantage of the liberalized mining regulations that backed our Premier’s declaration that our province is "open for business," holds a claim to the minerals beneath 19,320 hectares of land in one of our local communities. Although individuals and small groups have spoken out against the proposed mining operations, they have failed to ignite the interest of the general community.
Although the words of environmental activists from so-called third world countries seem to have fallen upon deaf ears until now, recent actions taken by a some of their governments, as well as the worsening social and environmental conditions throughout the so-called first world, offer a ray of hope. Our communities stand at the brink of a new awareness of reality. Perhaps (and I sincerely hope so), we will find a true sense of community in our common struggle to preserve our land and water unpolluted.
But, of course, I expect and hope to return. This community has felt like “home“ to me for almost nine years. I’ve met some kind, generous, open-minded, interesting, spiritually aware people here. I’ve met others who are nasty gossips, chronic complainers and greedy scammers. In some ways, it's a community of opposites. Even so, tolerance is considered to be one of the characteristics of this community, along with a fair degree of love and appreciation of our environment and our lively arts and music communities. There is abundant clean water here. There are mountains and forests, eagles, ravens, crows, seagulls, deer, bears and coyotes, as well as llamas and even peacocks. There are palm trees, and banana trees that grow tiny bananas. On the whole it‘s been a pretty tolerable place to live. On pleasant days, it’s not uncommon to hear people greet each other on the street with, “Just another day in paradise.“
But it’s not paradise for everyone. The natural beauty of the environment aside, for many it’s not even close to paradise. There are residents of this community caught in various “Catch-22” situations -- with their housing, with the medical system, with welfare (“income assistance“ in this province) and with social services -- largely the result of measures instituted by our provincial government. A significant portion of our population is poorly housed, inadequately nourished, under the surveillance of barely functioning government bureaucracies, living with chronic illness and pain, and unable to enjoy the quality of life that many take for granted. Health care is administered by doctors who, in large measure, are more interested in prescribing pharmaceuticals than in advocating for healthier conditions for their patients. The small, beleaguered groups of dedicated individuals who advocate for those being dragged to the bottom of our little society are overwhelmed by the work of navigating complex bureaucracies on behalf of their client-neighbours. Depression is endemic. It’s impossible not to notice the heavily medicated people who walk like zombies among us (not to mention those who self-medicate with crack cocaine, methamphetamine and heroin, as well as morphine and other prescription medications easily available on the street). In general, however, most people prefer to ignore our social malaise in the name of “tolerance.” But there is trouble in our tolerant little paradise.
My community seems to lack a sense of connection to the wider world. If North Americans live in a bubble of materialism, we live in a bubble within a bubble. And within this bubble, I am a fish out of water. The common people living in the countries I’ll be visiting have been struggling for many decades to preserve their lands, their water and their cultures from imperialism and corporate exploitation. Until now, it has been pretty much a losing battle. They have been trying to alert us to the dangers they face, and now they are cautioning us that these same dangers are soon to arrive at our doorstep. At this moment, a mining company, taking advantage of the liberalized mining regulations that backed our Premier’s declaration that our province is "open for business," holds a claim to the minerals beneath 19,320 hectares of land in one of our local communities. Although individuals and small groups have spoken out against the proposed mining operations, they have failed to ignite the interest of the general community.
Although the words of environmental activists from so-called third world countries seem to have fallen upon deaf ears until now, recent actions taken by a some of their governments, as well as the worsening social and environmental conditions throughout the so-called first world, offer a ray of hope. Our communities stand at the brink of a new awareness of reality. Perhaps (and I sincerely hope so), we will find a true sense of community in our common struggle to preserve our land and water unpolluted.
I love to travel, but I don't feel like a tourist. My travels are always for the purpose of experiencing and expressing solidarity with other daughters and sons of Mother Earth. In April, I will be in Cochabamba, Bolivia, to attend the Alternative Climate Conference. I hope that my recorded observations will stir a heightened consciousness of the truly desperate condition of our world -- as well as a conscience concerning the role that our (often willful) ignorance is playing in the hardships of the most exploited countries and the hardships soon to befall us. The times they are a-changin’, and the change is not starting in the over-developed countries, where “reality TV” trumps reality. Rather, it’s starting in some of the most economically exploited countries, where true wealth is manifested in the spirit and solidarity of their communities.
I hope to be able to bring some of that spirit and sense of solidarity home with me when I return in a few months.
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