cashewman

Ethiopia

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 05:49:50 GMT

I'm going to Ethiopia. It's going to be crazy cool.

I'm also going to move this blog over to www.cashewman.com, within, hopefully, a couple days. Although livejournal has been good to me, it's time to continue my migration to self-hosted wordpress sites. This should be better for photography, as well as more flexible in general.

www.cashewman.com. Soon.

B

....cue maybe tomorrow by the sterephonics....

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 22:33:35 GMT

A few months ago Colleen, who has within 9 months become one of the most important people in my life, urged me to complete our course learning log. Sounds corny, but she claimed it helped her a great deal to place all that she has learned this year. Typically, I didn't do it. I also realised, in the cloudy space just before sleep the other night, that failing to update the journal has left me with only photos as record of the year.

Now is a very good time to make amends.

The basics:

Life has continued happily for several months. I still feel fortunate to have 40 quality people around from my course. I've fostered a good circle of friends from the college. The dissertation, which seeks to gauge the extent to which environmental assessment tools are being used in industrial design, is progressing reasonably well. I'm excited that I can tackle a fairly large gap in the research, and feel fortunate to have a great supervisor, Claire Barlow, behind me. I'm learning tennis and cricket (dad-apparently all those years of baseball have paid of with cricket, second day and I'm slaughtering the ball!), and representing the college in ultimate. (Once the sun reemerges), there are few more content places to be than Cambridge in the summer.

Exams have hit the school with a vengeance. I have none, but I feed off the others urgency to fuel my own work. Honestly, I've never seen students work this hard. I certainly never did at UBC, and neither did my classmates. Dozens and dozens have nearly camped out in the library for months. Books are arranged to almost obscure their readers. Papers and folders are piled to surfaces that physically should not be able to hold them. Territory is defended. Three times a week the student society offers free doughnuts and tea outside the library. It's like watching animals emerge from the forest into the light, for a few minutes of social contact and sustenance.

But this week has brought more. On Tuesday I attended a reception for recipients of funding from the Cambridge Trusts. The highlight was meeting Prince Charles. This was mainly entertaining, until he spoke for 20 minutes. He spent about 10 minutes demonstrating his passion for fighting global warming, and then noted how pleased he was to see so many people from my course. A nice validation of what we're doing.

On Friday I learned that I got a place in Oxford's MBA program next September, hopefully to concentrate on social entrepreneurship. The price is daunting, but I'm developing an audacious fundraising plan. Tonight after rehearsal with my choir I asked whether they would help by composing and recording a song for the website. Unhesitatingly, to a person they agreed. This meant a lot. I have been through a lot with this group in the past month.

The choir. What began as a very random connection (a capella group needs a beatboxer - 2 hours a week), has developed into a phenomenal experience. We were one of over 1000 choirs to submit an audition tape to a BBC show caller 'Last Choir Standing' which will air in August. We competed about three weeks ago in front of the judges. A crew had visited Cambridge prior to get interviews, shots, etc. The day of, if was full camera, in preparation, chatting with the (apparently celebrity) hosts, filming and after. We made it through, with enthusiasm from teh judges, and competed again yesterday in London at the BBC studios. This time even more cameras, studio audience, studio lights, the whole bit. What an amazing and exhausting experience. There's something I've never experienced, the aspect of being part of a group who has achieved this, somehow being showcased for doing something very well, publicly and enthusiastically. Who has prepared amidst the pressure of exams, and brings something unique to a very public and unique competition. Within this, there has been the formative experience of going through this with a group, and emerging a little stronger, more enriched, and with a snapshot of yet another aspect of life that I wouldn't have had in Vancouver. This might be the theme of my year. The group is Cadenza. The show will air on the BBC in August.

I think that's a good point to leave it. I certainly didn't expect this week to be so rich. And it continues with projects I won't detail yet. I'm a little proud, humbled, very inspired, and thankful that I can push so hard, and when I ask, so many people I care for help without hesitation. I'm very grateful for this, and it charges me to attack the future without reservation.

B

The Challenge of Cambridge

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 12:29:09 GMT

...lies in managing time.

Example:

Today:

Work on dissertation or
Work on assignment due Friday or
Work on essays and photography submissions or
Prep for grad school interview

This evening:
Go to lecture on UN reform from high-ranking official or
Go to free yoga or
play ultimate for the college

Tonight:
Go to watch the Chelsea v Liverpool with friends group 1 or
Go to watch the Chelsea v Liverpool with friends group 2 or
Go to celebrate a birthday with friends group 3

Tomorrow day:
Work on dissertation or
Work on assignment due Friday or
Work on essays and photography submissions or
Prep for grad school interview or
Go to Rehearsal for BBC TV competition

Tomorrow night:
Go to Lecture on Sustainability (course) or
Go to lecture on the digital divide in developing countries or
Go to lecture on War Crimes with UN General in Kosovo

The challenge of Cambridge lies in time management and prioritizing.

B

To be a Canadian Overseas

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 19:41:52 GMT

This was written in December when, outraged and discouraged by our actions in Bali, I gave up on writing my paper on the UK electricity sector and began to vent. Although thankfully Bali is over, my opinions certainly haven't changed, so it's worth sharing.

B

----------------

Sitting in a library in Cambridge on a late December night seems like an unlikely place to be able to change anything in Canada. Distance hinders direct action, but does provide the benefit of perspective: Once we get outside the bubble, we can see it for what it is more clearly. Only when I leave Canada and compare it with the other places I’ve lived, Australia, Senegal or the UK in my case, can I truly see the extent of my country’s precarious, still-innocent and naïve beauty, and fret at its subversive, emerging ugliness.

Only from outside can I clearly see the awe-inspiring base of decency we have, the level of tolerance and respect we’ve established and enshrined in many of our societal structures. I am fiercely proud of my ability to vote, freely and without fear, and that my country’s political spectrum still includes empathy for different cultures, religions and sexual orientations. I am fiercely proud of the belief of my fellow Canadians that universal health care is a basic Canadian right. I am fiercely proud of our ability to accommodate English and French speaking cultures, albeit sometimes with a few hiccups. I am fiercely proud that Canada ranks among the highest in the UN Development Programme rankings and Vancouver consistently ranks as one of the best cities in the world in which to live. I am fiercely proud of our reputation for humanitarianism, and the willingness of many past great Canadians to stand up for causes that represent the best of pure human strength, decency and empathy, both at home and on the world stage. I am fiercely proud of our history of peacekeeping, our involvement in the fight to ban land mines, and our commitment during two World Wars. I am fiercely proud that we don’t have a Vietnam, an Iraq or a history of colonialization. I am fiercely proud of Stephen Lewis and Romeo Dallaire.

The benefit of time and space away from my country allows perspective on these points, and provides the balance to see the emerging ugliness that my fellow Canadians may not get the chance to see. I am proud of my right to vote freely, but discouraged that my political process allows a party to rule with a majority, having only obtained a minority of our votes. I am proud that our political spectrum includes tolerance of different views, but discouraged when those views are wasted by politicians consumed in a seemingly rabid self-interested struggle for power. I am proud that we accommodate English and French Canadian cultures, but feel that there is enough room for our aboriginal population as well, long since marginalized, ignored and impoverished in society, but still conveniently presented for cultural heritage when the world is watching. I am proud that Canada is one of the best countries to live in, but am painfully aware that our prosperity largely stems from a fortunate abundance of natural resources. I am proud of Vancouver but amazed that it can also be home to the Downtown Eastside, with one of the highest rates of poverty and AIDS in the country. I am proud of our reputation of promoting basic human rights around the world, but distraught that this reputation is based on actions that largely ceased a decade ago. I am proud of our peacekeeping heritage, but depressed that we have long since failed to offer much help, pathetically ranking behind 30 plus countries in our commitment. I am proud of a history without Vietnam or Iraq, but worry about Afghanistan and shake my head at our government’s overt support of one side in the recent Israel-Lebanon war.

I am proud of Stephen Lewis, but wonder why people like him are the exception, rather than true representatives of our foreign policy. I am proud of Romeo Dallaire, but distress that we haven’t learnt from Rwanda, watching the scourge of ethnic cleansing with every passing day in Darfur.

Every poll that comes out ranking our trust in politicians at 14% causes me to shake my head, but is shortly followed by another painful example of political posturing, childish bickering or corruption, causing me to wonder how they even managed 14%. As politicians, when we gave you the responsibility on election day, we put our trust in you. When you engage in corruption in an advertising scandal, you abuse that trust. When you falsely accuse your opponents of criminal activity during a campaign, you’re abusing that trust. When you are elected under one party banner and switch immediately following the election, you’re abusing that trust. This is not an attack on any one party: all have proven themselves unworthy of the trust and support of Canadians. And most politicians: for every Chuck Cadman we get 10 Stephen Harpers, Jack Laytons or Belinda Stronachs. Canadians don’t want a minority government to be a constant power struggle with each party trying to score political points. We expect our politicians to respect the distribution of our votes and get to work on running our country.

Right now I feel we have nowhere to turn politically. None of the three main parties have shown themselves to be remotely worthy of our support. Polls show a constant disillusionment with politics among young people. Can you blame us? We are a cynical and realistic generation. We have less illusions of idealism. We understand that extremes are not healthy, and expect our society to be managed rationally. We appreciate competence. And principle. It’s tough to get passionate about rational, moderate, principled leadership. So rarely will we be on the streets in protest. More likely is that our leadership will hear the deafening silence of a low voter turnout. Our leaders fail to address the root causes of our disillusionment, glossing over it condescendingly with ‘get out the vote’-type campaigns.

I have crossed the country twice by car, and I am fiercely proud of or boundless oceans and stunning mountains, our prairies and forests. On the TransCanada 7 days in one car isn’t a challenge, it’s a brief glimpse at the unique and varied lives of my fellow Canadians. I bask in the knowledge that most Canadians identify themselves as environmentalists. I appreciate that our resources, the forestry, mining and fishing industries, provided the base that allows me to live with prosperity, education and security. But I am in disbelief that we have managed our forests so unsustainably, allowed fish stocks to crash and, while holding decent standards in Canadian mining, allowed our mining companies to trample human and environmental rights in other countries.

We have allowed our international reputation to crumble, from exemplary integrity to hypocritical bickering in Bali. And while our declining reputation is cause for distress, it is purely a symptom of a deeper lack of collective responsibility towards the world. Few countries are so perfectly set up to constructively engage the world, and help its many cultures work together. We have no history of colonialism overseas. We speak two of the most widely spoken languages. We still have the vestiges of a reputation of patient, intelligent, tolerance in engaging the rest of the world. To a degree, we still have the respect of the world. But we must earn it, not simply inherit it from the last generation’s courage and integrity. Although I have lost most faith in our politicians, I still believe in the power of normal Canadians to make a difference, within our borders and abroad. I still believe that, in spite of the thousands of miles that separate us from most of the world, we share a connection with them that hasn’t been extinguished. I still believe that passion can triumph over indifference, that collective good trumps self interest, and that Canada has an important positive role to play in the world. And if its ordinary Canadians that stand up and seize that role, then even better.

The Rabbit Hole

Sun, 16 Dec 2007 13:26:32 GMT

Some know my common refrain that I better understand something once my perspective has shifted towards the outside. That’s certainly true with Canada, where once in Senegal or the UK I feel I can more accurately grasp our culture. In a way the same applies to Cambridge, a bubble of a world, where it’s very easy to forget the world outside of the unique 1200/2007 era combination even exists. So now, contentedly sitting in the heart of Paris at Tom’s place, is a good tome to reflect on the first term at Cambridge.

It began as euphoric. Not culture shock like I’m a little used to, but plenty of mild amazement, at everything form the obvious buildings and history to the abundance of academic expertise and bounty of amazing conversation with intelligent people from around the world. Life at Jesus College has been an easy one, combining a stunning 1400s backdrop with some good emerging friendships. There has been an excessive amount of gown and tuxedo-wearing, and ‘amen’s following latin graces, but these idiosyncrasies can be taken in stride: in a sense I can get my life’s fill of gown wearing now. The college system has a positive influence on the experience. Serving of a centre of social life and support, not to mention serving fodder for countless conversations of comparison and reputation among friends, it provides a decent balance to the university.

My course is wonderful. Not perfect, but its advantages outweigh any nagging doubts of it being time and money well spent. There is an emphasis on participation, fostering class dialogue, challenging complex socioengineering (what a beautiful word I just made up…) problems and delving into issues in depth through copious essays. At 43 people, there are almost too many, but the range of diverse backgrounds makes it worth it. We have people form policy, engineering and finance, representing probably 15 countries. There is constant interesting conversation, and my class has easily overtaken my college in providing my strongest group of friends. With two field trips and several group projects next term, this trend is sure to continue.

Then there are the random outlets: beatboxing to ‘It’s Raining Men’ by Shania Twain in an a capella group, punting down the river trying not to hit other boats on the Cam, sampling from among the myriad of local beer options or exploring medieval turrets in other colleges. Racing my 40 dollar bike through town, head-shaking at the uselessness of the library system (even though it has every book ever published in the UK), performing at open mics and entertaining three very welcome visitors so far from home. Buying cufflinks, dining at Harry Potter-like formal halls, watching rugby and negotiating life in a 16-person house. Life has been shades of the previously mentioned euphoria, contentedness, fatigue, flu, interest, disappointment, comfort from home, and inspiration. Relentless, and nearly uncontrollable inspiration. It’s probably for that that I can’t fathom not having jumped at this opportunity. It’s becoming difficult to believe that I could have coasted through my life without experiencing this. And that’s probably a good sign.

Right now is an interesting point in my life/career. Cambridge is a solid base from which to explore other options, but can be paralysing in the range of potential paths. I am trying to plant as many seeds as possible, hoping that in a few months I’ll have some good choices about the next steps. In short, these broad avenues include more study (PhD or MBA), finding work (areas of interest include electricity, technology or design consulting or maybe something more random), or starting something of my own. On the last note, an unexpected surprise about Cambridge is its importance as an entrepreneurial hub. I have been willingly sucked into this world, attending many sessions with fellow potential entrepreneurs and funders, joining clubs and projects, entering competitions, etc. It has had the effect of pushing one of my business ideas forward a few years, to the point that it has the small chance of happening directly following my masters.

Term 1 has served as a taster, setting the scene for what I know will be a socially and academically intense next term, with additional classes, projects, extra-curricular commitments, job-hunting, sports and growing social life. It’s time to recharge, reconnecting with my foundation of family and friends. Then it’s back to Cambridge for another trip down the rabbit hole.

Brendan
Paris, December 15, 2007

G&M

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 09:05:05 GMT

A couple of my shots are up on the Globe and Mail today, travel section. Follow the three brightly dressed women.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/travel/

Brendan

Senegalese Grandpa

Wed, 17 Oct 2007 00:14:05 GMT

Many have been entertained by Pouba, my Senegalese neighbour. He didn't speak french, so we'd basically just yell and grunt at each other across the road, but I was always happy to go say hi. I was having a second look at some photos to show online, and decided to try the mediocre original in black and white. Gold. It reminds me of that popular shot of grandpa, only slightly less grumpy.

Pouba

Grandpa

Cheers,
Brendan

More pics

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 21:03:27 GMT

There are some new shots up at flickr and a couple old ones on jpgmag. The night ones were taken last night when, surprise, there was mist and I was sucked into spending 2 hours shooting. Coming back home from a party at 2 am, half drunk...didn't get a lot of sleep when the night was done.

www.flickr.com/brendanbaker/show
www.jpgmag.com/brendan

cheers,
B

Busker and Owner, Cambridge

Yes, another long-exposure night shot. Hey, at least I didn't show you the trees and mist shots I took last night.

Incompetency and Burocracy, Together at Last.

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 15:37:28 GMT

In Canada if you want a bank account, you open it. Get a card immediately. If you want a cell phone you get one immediately. It's activated within an hour, if not instantly.

I need both here.

Thursday

After stopping by 3 banks and giving up because of lines, I walked into NatWest. They have an account for new students that offers a free rail cars (discounts on travel).
"Oh sorry, you can't get a free railcard if you're an international student"
"OK, can I open an account? I have my letter of acceptance, contract for accommodation and evidence of fairly massive funding from home and the University."
"OK. Well no, we need a letter from you college stating your study term, address, etc"

OK. I go to get this. Return and fill out the form to open an account.
"I need to get a mobile, can you get this done today?"
"Sure, it should be done this afternoon. We'll send you confirmation and your card in the mail"
"OK, thanks"

I visit T-mobile, as they have a phone I want (a specific smartphone).
"Sorry sir, they haven't arrived. They promised us two weeks ago"
"OK"
So there's no need today.

Wednesday (6 days later)

I head back into NatWest to inquire about the status of my account. The man takes my ID and disappears into the back for 15 minutes. He returns with my paperwork.
"You filled out the 'Student Account' form. You needed to fill out the 'International Student' form. Can you fill this out please?"
"OK. You have my contact info, you couldn't email me to tell me this?"

I fill out the form.
"Thanks Sir, we should be able to get that set up in about 10 minutes"

I disappear for 20 minutes to get some stuff done, and return. The man sees me, and hands me off to another minion, who gets me into an office to manually fill the form out in his computer.
I manage to get a letter confirming my account.
"Your card will arrive in the mail. But you are aware that Royal Mail is on strike, so we can't tell you when you'll get it"

Fuck. Oh well. At least I have the letter. I head off to the phone company

"I'd like this phone with a monthly plan please"
"OK, do you have your bank card? We need to run a credit check"
"No, I have a letter confirming my account, won't that work?"
"No, we need the card"
"I can't give you a cash deposit or my credit card number?"
"No sir, we need your bank card”
“So I have to wait for my bank card in the mail and then come back int?”
“Yes”
“And then I’ll be able to have the phone?”
“Actually no, we don’t actually have any in the store, at that point we’ll mail you the phone. And there’s a postal strike on right now, so it may take longer. We can’t say when you’ll get it”
Through gritted teeth: "I'm aware of that"

So the only people more incompetent than the post is… everybody else.

I went to buy headphones to use Skype. On the way I ran into my Australian friend who was having the same problem. I asked him if it's better in Australia.

"Of course. In fact I set up a phone in India as well, and got it over the counter. English love their paperwork."

yup.

B

Feedback...

Sun, 07 Oct 2007 21:56:23 GMT

I went for a late night lazy photoshoot tonight. Nothing earthshattering to write home about, except I'm liking this series on the boardwark. I'm digging the odd angle and shadows, and I've been trying to improve my textures, so the grain of the wood is pleasing.

I'm having a tough time figuring out which approach to post processing and angle I like best though, so I thought I'd throw it out there: which one do you like best (or none might be an answer - I don't get offended) and why.

Boardwalking I

Boardwalking II

Boardwalking III

thanks,
B

Photos

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 16:58:12 GMT

A few photos of Cambridge are up on my Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brendanbaker/show

Enjoy,
B

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 22:45:24 GMT

Thank you Africa. For many things.

Right now, thank you for teaching me the level of patience that navigating the world of visas. Thank you for teaching me how to be uncomfortable in a calm and dignified way. All has been required during the past 10 days.

I stood in line at London Gatwick airport today, waiting for my passport to be checked, and glanced sideways to the inconspicuous white door. I knew exactly what was on the other side. Two detention rooms, a storage area for bags, and a handful of guards, lazily adhering to the rules, providing dry sandwiches and chatting about nonsense between themselves. I remembered the paperback novels, useful only as a pillow, cheating over the edge of the short laminate bench while I curled up in and out of doze. And finally the immigration officer who knew all along that I was a goner. Who nonetheless went through the motions of search and interview, only to share the news that I was heading back over the Atlantic with a noticeable trace of sympathy.

And so I had sat in Ottawa, waiting. Waiting for an interview. And then waiting for the package, initially in waiting front of television and magazines, but finally succumbing and waiting on the driveway for two hours before it arrived. Cathy was good to bring me lunch while I waited. I was preparing myself for it not to come, planning to cancel tonight's flights and sink deeper into frustration. It should be noted how surprising it is to have an unexpected support network, this time friends of the family (and a couple of my own friends as well) pop up when needed. But nonetheless, it was satisfying to board that flight to the UK this morning.

I've lost count of the 'you must be excited' comments about Cambridge. Yes. Sort of. Actually, to be honest, not really. As I often answered, I'm the type who gets excited when I arrive. And I did as the train pulled up. As the taxi rolled through crooked and narrow brick-paved streets. And as I walked into my college. Jesus College is something. Expansive, exacting squares of perfect grass between buildings reminiscent of the middle ages. Men playing rugby a few hundred yards off. Thin hallways, alcoves and duck-inducing doorways. Jesus College is something.

Now, after shopping, sorting out up to #4356 of 45982 details to sort out, and rearranging my room, I'm ready for bed. It's been an interesting day.

Since I've spent so much of my time in airports, I thought I'd share a couple of the last pictures. The first I like for its colour and composition, but it certainly isn't riveting. The second was another I took while killing time by practicing my panning on travelers on the moving sidewalk. I might add a third if I feel like it, but it's a sunset photo. We'll see how I feel after the first two.

1/8 of a Moving Sidewalk

Fast Woman

OK, changed my mind. You get one while I was waiting for my tea to cool at the National Gallery. There's one of the sunset ones up on my flickr site.

Overexposed Shoes

From Vancouver to Toronto to London to Ottawa to Toronto to London to Cambridge:

I'm out.

B

Knee knee knee

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 20:45:49 GMT

Messed up my knee again. But got a visa. So today's even.

Couple more pictures from my 'trip' from Toronto to London to Ottawa to London:

Anyone who's seen some of my work knows I a sucker for cool colour. And when there's a fully orange room with odd neon and clean lines, I can't help it. National Gallery, Ottawa, War Memorial by Dan Flavin in the background. I wasn't suposed to take photos, but nobody knew.

Self Portrait, National Museum, Ottawa.

My friends gave me a Chili Thom (www.chilithom.com) print for my birthday, one of my favorite artists. This shot, about a 4 second exposure while taking off from Toronto a few days ago reminds me of his brilliant sunrise painting (See Gallery, Summer, 3rd painting).

Sunrise at Night Takeoff, Toronto.

London on Thursday, Insha'allah,
B

Thoughts on Photos

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 17:51:35 GMT

Took this one at Kits about a month ago. I'm getting tired of shooting sunset scenes, having spent all summer on the ferry. But I'm still stuck on greens, so once I got the small shade of green into this one it worked out well. I'm still trying to make sure I'm not just using saturation and contrast as a crutch, only when it really fits. I think this one counts.

Kits

This is another form Grandpa's. Trying to communicate the feel of his workshop, hand worn tools, low ceiling and slow, deliberated progress was difficult, especially while trying to help him work. This is the best I could do.

Grandpa's Workshop

Cheers,
B

Photos

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 17:11:34 GMT

Spending hours trying to get a visa sorted out has left me time to play with photos. I'm resurrecting my Flickr account (www.flickr.com/photos/brendanbaker). I've started contributing to another online photo community JPG (jpgmag.com/people/Brendan), which has some phenomenal work up from many photographers. Working on a pro site too, anybody who feels like designing a basic site for me, let me know!
B

www.newchecmicalhistory.com/brendanbaker
www.jpgmag.com/people/Brendan
www.flickr.com/photos/brendanbaker

Cathedral Grove, July 2007

BAM!!!

Tue, 28 Aug 2007 03:20:16 GMT

I'm back. Today I finally found, sitting on my kitchen table when I arrived home this evening, a battered package from Jesus College with roughly a dozen guides about my new home. Yes, Jesus College. Or its formal name: The College of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint John the Evangelist and the glorious Virgin Saint Radegund, near Cambridge. Damn.
Whatever. I'm excited and relatively proud as well, to be making this change.
More news, more reflection, more discovery will come. True to form, travel (or at least the prospect of it) compels me to write. But for now (and this may be the onyl time I say this):, Jesus, I'm coming!
HA!
B

Flux

Tue, 13 Mar 2007 07:10:14 GMT

Time for change. Time to create change. Those close to me know this, and know of the next steps. But after a pathetic day of engineering I awoke to a cathartic Bloc Party show at the Orpheum. Music has a way of reinforcing to me what I already know. Time for change. If I hadn't committed to the summer, both with work and a friend, I'd be gone tomorrow, flying away to Liberia with MSF, or Senegal again with my friends, or the middle east with myself. I'd be seeing life through a lense and the hazy cacophony of underdevelopment, or maybe a conflict zone. Somewhere more energizing than certifying payments, arranging progress meetings and delivering specifications, late again. Time is flying, there's less and less time to waste behind a desk.

As a sidenote, I've been blindsided by the social networking site Facebook. I thought my circles, both tight and far, had bypassed the whole social networking phenomenon (think myspace). But apparently everyone and their dogs are on Facebook. This is how it takes over, like a happy virus, infecting your friends with clever faceshots and far-flung networks based on parties in 1995. Fascinating, really. So I've signed up, and I'm interested: if I don't seek out any friends at all, how quickly will I be absorbed by random networks? An interesting experiment. Maybe I'll keep you posted.

Time for change. Original readers (oh, the faithful, checking in for that twice-a-year post) probably know that I tend to write when I'm moved, positively (Senegal) or negatively (breakups and restlessness). Expect more writing.

Oh yeah, a decent article: http://www.ewb.ca/e-news/articles/bakerprovince.pdf

Peace and love,
Brendan

Recovery, Senegalese Style

Mon, 18 Dec 2006 17:58:38 GMT

Hello all,
Yesterday before I left Senegal I bought my neighbours, wonderful (and quite poor) people a 50kg bag of rice, at about 30 bucks. It was to last their family probably a month or more. They were quite surprised and touched. Without knowing I was going to do this, they had given me a couple kilos of peanuts that they had prepared as a gift, what would have been sold at market to make a little money.

Today I got a message from my friend Mansour that the day I left they had a housefire. Gone is the bag of rice, many of their belongings, and much of the house. They were able to spend the night in my small room, which is paid for until January. Senegalese don't have insurance. There's no government support for this type of thing, it's all family.

I will be sending them some more money in early January to buy some more rice, some new stuff and help them get their life back together. Maybe not a huge amount, but it's amazing how far 20, 50 or 100 bucks goes over there.

I'm not necessarily asking for money - I'm not into that. All I'm saying is that if you see my over Christmas and have a couple extra bucks in your pockets to give, you know where it will be going.

Cheers,

Brendan

moving, moving...

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 13:29:41 GMT

Now in Paris, sitting glancing out at the 6 storey typically parisian rooftops across the street, this is clearly a time of reflection, blurred only by no sleep in over 24 hours of travel. These 24 hours, like many during travel or life in Africa, has been full of extremes. I left Ziguinchor as the Mayor, Robert Sagna was returning from Dakar, where he announced his candidacy for President in 2007. Roughly a thousand people were at the airport to greet him, many singing and dancing, many others wearing clothing with his picture. He departed in the same truck that brought me to the airport, in fact, as Mansour's brother is hte assistant mayor in Ziguinchor.

Leaving with me on my plane was one of the most powerful religious leaders in Senegal, Mansour's marabout. The phenomenon of marabouts, islamic leaders with followings of millions, is somewhat unique to Senegal. They have great power and command impressive respect. I was nervous about losing my spot on the plane because of this, but in the end it worked out.

In Dakar just a few hours ago, I was eating a pork stew with Cisse and his friends in one of the city's many three-storey, tightly packed grey concrete appartment complexes. As is typical we shared one large plate, sitting on whatever was nearby, the bed, a couple chairs, and various buckets. As was also typical, we did this in candlelit darkness, as there was yet another power outage. The lack of dependable gas and power has hit the entire country very hard. The people don't understand the workings or reasons behind the shortages, but they suffer when they can't work, can't travel, and are constantly reminded how shaky their infrastructure is.

Hanging around Tom's place with him and Andre is nice; so many memories abound. I'm not sure how many more times I'll be able to pack myself in the corner of the tight kitchen, my back against a cool window wet from condensation, and watch Tom and his father cook together in the kitchen. Soon Tom will have moved out, marking somewhat of an era's end for Mark, Matt and I, who have visited many times since 1994. In any case, the chance to sit and drink real coffee as Tom cooked breakfast and Andre squeezed me some fresh orange juice was very welcome after a sleepless overnight flight from Dakar.

Another trip to Senegal is now complete, although it'll be 4 more days (and 4 cities) before I'm home for christmas. More posts should follow though, as I have a small backlog of thoughts and impressions that will likely find their way into the open.

Congratulations are due to Alice, and strength is wished for Mark. Take care of yourselves, both of you.

Brendan

Soccer in Africa

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 18:05:33 GMT

Another video is up, this time at a friendly city soccer final.

enjoy,

B

Corruption price is right

Tue, 12 Dec 2006 18:20:03 GMT

A few entries ago I mentioned I was heading up through the Gambia to northern Senegal and back. This involves a slough of customs crossings:

Senegal leaving
Gambia arriving
(35 km later) Gambia leaving
Senegal arriving
(return trip) Senegal leaving
Gambia arriving
Gambia leaving
Senegal arriving

For each one I get out of the ridiculously tight 7-person car and wander into a small sunbaked post to show my citizenship. Stamps from these two countries are quickly covering my passport.

I asked everyone how much they thought I'd pay in bribes. Guesses ranged from ... I can't remember, I think around 4000 FCFA (about 10 bucks) to 20000 FCFA.

And the total paid:

1000 FCFA. At one crossing only.

Senegalese don't ask, which is nice. The Gambians do, 1000 FCFA every time for their pockets. The first time I agreed. Then I started refusing:

(stamps passport)
- 1000 Francs
- I'm not sure that's the case.
- Excuse me?
- I understood that for Canadians travelling in Gambia a visa wasn't necessary, and in this case I'm only passing through. So I believe I don't have to pay.
- Uhhh, ohhh, Canadian... (flips through passport)... Canadian...
(hands passport back)

The last one got contentious though: 'Who told you that?!' 'Who told you that?!'... I still got through for free though.

I was a little like (nerd warning) star wars when they're telling folks what people are going to say back to them:

- I don't need to pay a fee because I'm Canadian
- So, it seems you don't need to pay because you're Canadian

Sweet as (as aussies wuold say),
B

Taxis

Wed, 06 Dec 2006 16:23:26 GMT

Taxis

My life here is connected by taxis. The story from the folks in Washington was that since the rebellion has popped up again, they don’t want to let me use the project motorbikes, lest I get into trouble somewhere. Not an incredibly convincing story, but hey, they brought me here, so I can’t really complain.

My life here is connected by taxis, but sometimes only barely. They arrive through a cloud of cars, bicycles, donkeycarts and walking people, often pulling U-turns when they see me, of backing back into busy intersections to turn around. Cars in Canada tend to roll with the body parallel to the ground. Not so with taxis in Senegal. The axle, struts, wheels and tires sometimes conspire to place the body at an unnatural angle to the road (often at unnatural angles as well, now that I think of it – nothing is straight in Senegal). Like grandpa’s old pickup they are often handpainted, yellow and black, and sometimes covered with unnatural phrases. ‘Basic Ziguinchor Sound System’ on one. ‘Best Friend’ on another. The less adventurous go for a safe ‘Thank God’ in bold letters. I often agree when I arrive alive at my destination.

When I get in, provided the taximan agrees to take me (not all accept to go to my area as it’s tough on cars), I sink into a seat that could be worn leather, burlap, dotted with exposed foam. One taxi I took had a passenger seat that pivoted, like a bobblehead doll. The timing was horrible as I was sick that day, but I made it. The inside of the door can be upholstered properly, partially, or more likely ripped through to the naked metal skeleton. I have yet to see a door that has nothing welded on, usually an extension to a broken handle or some kind of reinforcement. Probably a third of the doors can’t be opened from the inside, one has to reach through the window to use the outside handle. A couple doors have been held closed with a rubber inner tube section wrapped around the frame and post. One had a basic hand latch, like you’d find on a public washroom door. That one cracked me up, but I didn’t have the courage to ask to take a picture of it. One door flew open en route a couple times.

In Canada we sometimes have well-worn floor mats. Senegalese taxis have these too. Or bare metal. Or linoleum. Or linoleum patterned with metal. Windshields can be clean or scattered with stickers of religious leaders or random objects and phrases. Sometimes the windshields are unbroken, but more often there’s a crack or two. I remember driving my friend Torsten up to Whistler in the pathfinder back home, with it’s own fair share of windshield cracks. He was amazed that two cracks could cross without merging into one. Well, the pathfinder is no unique case, as I’ve seen every array of patterns cracked into windshields here. Rarely do they completely obscure the driver’s side, but sometimes mine. Some windshield cracks have been bridged with packing tape. My favourite was one that actually protruded, like a mountain range outwards into the dusty streets. It was also completely covered in packing tape, thankfully. I can’t remember ever seeing a third dimension to a windshield before.

The record so far is about a honk every 30 seconds on one trip. Even with my understanding of the general health of taxis in Ziguinchor, there are some I get in, where the wheels rattle in the wheelwells, and the jarring clunks rattle the dash, and I think with a grin, there’s no possible way this sucker’s gonna make it to where I need to go. So far every one has. Without fail, taxis connect my life here.

still alive,
B

Corruption (in small doses)

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 12:09:11 GMT

I'm heading up to Sokone next week. This means I'm taking a taxi to the Gambian Border, crossing the border, taking abother taxi across the barge to the second gambian border, crossing that border, then catching a taxi to Sokone (near Kaolack on the map), on the other Senegalese side. I'll do it all in return on the way back.

The transport should cost about 6000 FCFA each way (maybe 15 bucks).

How much is it going to cost me in small bribes at the borders, over the entire trip?

This is 'Price is Right', African style. Closest guess gets a bottle of bissap juice (like wonderfully sweet cranberry juice), served in an old break fluid container.

Get your guesses in!

B

Rice

Fri, 24 Nov 2006 18:30:24 GMT

So I'm here to improve upon a low cost, portable build a rice dehuller. The idea is that it can be taken into the smaller villages where it can much more easily convert grown rice into edble form by removing the husks.

Our current designs basically spin the rice outwards against a rubber pad (the car tires if anyone's watching the videos), where the husk is blasted off.

We completed the second version of the dehuller today (viewers weren't notified of the first, because, frankly, the results weren't anything to notify about!), and we had time for a quick test. Very encouraging. The rice isn't 100 percent clean in one pass (98 percent is one of my deliverables), but it is above 95 percent. The shop owner was excited enough to try to convince me to build a case around the body so no one tries to copy our design. He would obviously like to build these, if he we allow him to use the design.

So we'll start village testing hopefully Tuesday, and keep working on the winnowing device (to separate the husks from the rice - a very time-consuming task for women in the villages) at the same time. I'm really looking forward to getting back into the villages.

So far on time and on budget. I'm amazed, both for Senegal and me personally.

Brendan

Assembly

At work

another video

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 10:54:10 GMT

Waking up

B