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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2017-08-24, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 24, 2017. PAGE 5. Other Views A story to inspire, foster empathy Local journalist, photographer and foreign aid worker Mark Nonkes shares a wonderfully inspiring story about the resilience of the human spirit in his guest column in the August issue of The Rural Voice. Currently in Kenya, Mark tells of meeting Muhammad while working in a community garden of a refugee camp that holds more people than the city of Guelph. Muhammad is a farmer. Like his father and grandfather before him he had grown fields of corn, sorghum and millet on what he described as a "large scale" in Sudan. But then civil war broke out and people were attacked, women were raped and houses burned. Muhammad's sisters and brothers were killed. He fled south, taking his family and only one possession from his old home — a collection of seeds he'd been saving. He found safety in the city of Juba in the new country of South Sudan where he gave up farming and repaired shoes while his children went to school. That lasted only two years before the war enveloped his new home and he had to flee again, still taking with him that package of aging seeds. In 2014, Muhammad and his family arrived at the refugee camp in drought -stricken northern Kenya. A proud man, he was forced to live on hand-outs for the first time because refugees in Kenya aren't allowed to take jobs outside the camp. But looking around he noticed an area outside the camp's boundary that was overgrown with weeds and thorn trees and didn't seem to belong to anyone. The farmer in him came out again. With his older sons' help, he cleared the trees and dug out the roots. Next he dug a well to provide water for his little garden. Finally he took the seeds from that package he'd carried with him from Sudan and Keith Roulston From the cluttered desk planted them. Despite their age, a good number of the seeds grew into healthy crops of okra and ombra, locally popular vegetables. He saved seeds from these crops and traded with farmers in nearby towns and soon he added sweet potatoes, corn and watermelon to his garden. But in 2016 the drought worsened and the well he'd used to water his crops ran dry. He dug deeper but found no water. He had to watch his crops wither and die. Earlier this year, however, a non-profit organization arrived to drill a deep well. This group organized a garden project with 200 people sharing seven acres of land. Muhammad volunteered and soon became the group's unofficial leader, being trusted with the key to the garden — arriving before anyone else in the morning and being the last to leave at night. Since The Rural Voice is a farm magazine, many readers of Mark's column were bound to relate to the drive Muhammad shared with them to work the land and grow food. They could admire his determination to fight through hardships, his distaste with having to accept help from others. They could see their similarities rather than the differences (Muhammad has two wives, seven sons and three daughters). Too often we see refugees in masses, whether it be the thousands who pour out of flimsy boats onto the shores of Europe every day, or the hundreds who walk across our own border from the U.S. We seldom get to hear their individual stories, to learn about their bravery and their simple desire to fmd a place where they can live in peace. For instance, Canadians didn't really get behind the need to help Syrian refugees until they saw the photo of little Aylan Kurdi, the three-year-old refugee whose body washed up on a beach after he, his brother and his mother drowned after the sinking of the flimsy boat in which they were trying to get to Europe, with a dream of coming to Canada. We heard many of the stories of the Syrian refugees who first arrived but many new issues have crowded those accounts from our minds since then. Individual stories can be forgotten while we watch mobs of people flooding across borders. We seldom see the massive refugee camps like the one Muhammad lives in and imagine ourselves facing the reality that many of these camps' residents live with — that they will likely spend their entire lives there. Even for those who are fastest to respond to help others, it can be so overwhelming sometimes. Canadians who generously opened their wallets to assist Syrian refugees were soon getting messages from aid organizations seeking money because the drought situation in Africa is putting millions in danger. The flood of Haitian asylum seekers from the U.S., on top of the refugees from Syria seems too much for many. We need to see people as people again, not as statistics. We need to hear the stories of brave, hard-working, persevering people like Muhammad. We're lucky we have people like Mark Nonkes, not only to work to help people like Muhammad but to bring us their stories. Worlds colliding? George was right When I grew up, Seinfeld was a staple of television. It was on many, many channels and you could probably catch it any time after 5 p.m. if you wanted to. I don't know if I've watched every episode but if I haven't, it must be close because I've probably watched it more than any other television show out there except for Scrubs (which I go out of my way to watch). There were a great many plots that I could call fantastic, but my favourite was when George's relationship and independent worlds begin to overlap with each other (or collide, as he put it in a very dramatic fashion). The first time I saw the 1995 episode, it was in syndication and, as a teen, I could only relate it to my job in a concrete factory, pizza place or burger joint clashing with my personal life. When it came on the television more recently, however, I had to laugh, thinking back to a time when I didn't believe worlds could collide, especially that of work and home life. When I looked at how much time I spend working while on vacation, how many times I race out to cover some last-minute event or emergency or how much time I've spent at council meetings, I realized that my life and job are intertwined. It gets to the point that, sometimes, you feel a little bit guilty when you finally have to say no to covering something that's happening. Last week, for example, something came up when my wife and I were signing on the dotted line to buy our first vehicle together. With Mary Jane getting bigger every day, it became obvious to us that we needed a vehicle a little more suited to conveying a family on winter roads (especially winter roads like County Roads 4 and 25) than my Elantra. So, with a heavy heart, I bid adieu to the car that had borne Ashleigh and me to Toronto to catch a flight to Scotland for our honeymoon, the vehicle that had ferried me time and time again to the Greater Toronto Area to visit Ashleigh when she worked there and, most importantly, the car that took us to the hospital in Goderich when Mary Jane was born. As I was signing away the car that has been (for the most part) reliably there for me for a long time, my phone started to ring. It was work. Someone had called in with a tip about something happening that they felt should be covered. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the coverage area and Shawn was similarly tied up. The end result was that the person calling in felt a little under -appreciated I guess. They felt we weren't giving the news item they were telling us about the proper coverage. It doesn't happen very often — usually someone will be available to cover these kinds of events, but in this particular instance, things didn't go as they normally would. At the time, I felt guilty that I wasn't able to get to this newsworthy event. That night, however I realized that, at some point a balance does need to be struck. Sure, maybe buying a new vehicle isn't exactly a wedding day or the birth of a child, but it was an important milestone for me and Ashleigh: We had just bought our first family -minded vehicle together. I shouldn't feel bad about the fact that I have a life outside the walls of my office space and I need to remember that work is just one part of my life. That said, if you call the newspaper and, for one reason or another, we can't cover what you're calling about, it doesn't mean we don't find it important. It just means that, at that particular point in time, our schedule is full or we're out having a life. If it's the latter, trust me, it's important. I like to consider myself a fairly hardy person, mentally — stress doesn't result in me not showing up to work or anything like that — but even the hardiest people have to come face to face with the growing pressures in their life. The longer that face-off is put off, the more likely it is that it will result in some kind of time off being necessary, if not a change of career. I've seen it before and likely will again before my tenure is over. Having a life — whether it be family, friends or a comfortable space to unwind in — is an important part of any job, but it becomes especially important when you can't draw a line and say "My work life ends at 5 p.m." Without those kinds of people and places to come home to, it doesn't take long for someone to start thinking they need a less intense job. So don't take it personally if we can't make it to whatever you're calling about right away. It doesn't mean it isn't newsworthy. If what you're calling about is a time -sensitive issue, feel free to snap a photo and send it to us. If we can't have a time and a space we can dedicate to not working, things get stressful and, just like with George's worlds colliding, that's not a good thing. Shawn Loughlin Shawn's Sense Simpler times On Sunday night Major League Baseball did a really good thing with its first-ever Little League Classic, held in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, as the Pittsburgh Pirates and St. Louis Cardinals played each other to a 6-3 Pirates win in front of just 2,600 fans. Under normal circumstances, such an attendance figure would likely raise red flags in every Major League Baseball office, but under these special circumstances, 2,600 was the perfect number of fans — a sell-out crowd as it were. The league returned to its roots, in sandlots and in parks all around the world, and played a professional baseball game between two of the world's best baseball teams at the home of the Williamsport Crosscutters, an A -ball franchise affiliated with the Philadelphia Phillies. The game was held in conjunction with the Little League World Series, which is must - watch baseball for any fan of the game, held every year in the small town of Williamsport. The two teams arrived to the town early and players, in uniform, attended Little League World Series games, signed autographs and talked with the 12 -year-old players about the passion they share. Then, the Pirates and Cardinals played at Historic Bowman Field just five miles away from the Little League World Series complex to a crowd comprised of little leaguers, all in their uniforms, and their coaches and families. Fans of the in-state Pirates, could be seen standing atop ladders in the outfield, as very, very few tickets were made available to the general public. What makes the Little League World Series so great is the passion behind the play. Money is a non -factor (even umpires volunteer their time and talents to the tournament and attendance to all games, even the final, is free) and, of course, no players are being paid. They are kids chasing their dream. We can all relate. It might not have been baseball — though, in my case, it was — it could have been hockey, figure skating, dance or even music. But we've all been there. We've all been young and passionate about something, wondering if we might be good enough to do what we love for a living under the brightest lights in the world. This return to the passion of the sport was first done by the National Hockey League a few years ago when they started hosting the Winter Classic every New Year's Day. Players, just like they did when they were kids in Canada, the United States or Europe, strapped on their blades and went for a skate in the open air, all trying to keep their stick on the ice and find the back of the net. Seeing the Pirates and the Cardinals play for a bunch of little leaguers or two professional hockey teams play in the open air so cold you can see their breath brings the beauty back to the sport. It's no secret that the world of sports has become bloated and unsustainable. It's all about stadium sponsors, seat licences, signing bonuses, strikes and lockouts and $18 beers. It's easy to look at professional athletes and miss the passion of the game and see a bunch of spoiled brats. We've all rolled our eyes at news stories detailing athletes complaining about being "underpaid" or "underappreciated" under circumstances we could only dream of for ourselves. But, there's always a way to get back to basics, and Sunday's Little League Classic was one of those times.