The Citizen, 2008-07-17, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JULY 17, 2008. PAGE 5.
Bonnie
Gropp
TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt
Living in a war zone
By the time you read this the weather
will probably be great. Right now it
sucks. Has sucked for months and
threatens to continue to suck for the
foreseeable chilblained, goose pimpled, damp
and mouldy future.
I knew what to do. I would write to my
friend John. He fled these damp and dreary
shores a few years back, plucking various
cushy and well-paying jobs in (sunny – always
sunny) places like East Timor, southeast Asia
and finally, last year, in Dubai.
Dubai! Glorious, exotic, sun-drenched
Dubai, awash in petrodollars and vacationing
rock stars, where the millionaires are
outnumbered only by construction cranes.
I wrote a po’ me letter to my friend John,
whinging about the sodden fate of stay-at-
homes like me and congratulating him for his
perspicacity and sense of adventure. So what’s
it like to live in Paradise, I asked him. Here’s
part of the letter I received:
“God I miss the real world! Everywhere else
I’ve lived and worked overseas I’ve loved the
people and the place (yes, even Afghanistan).
But this place, this part of the world formerly
known as “The Arabian Desert” is truly a
world apart.
I’m writing this more as therapy for me than
a simple note to you. You can do the things that
humans are meant to do and are energized by.
Go for a walk, or a bike ride, or even a
leisurely drive. Throw a stick in a lake and
share some moments of real enjoyment with a
happy dog.
My God! A lake! What a concept! I have
vague memories of clear shimmering water,
shaded by tall leafy trees.
Oh my God! Trees! I’d almost forgotten
about them! Do you still have some? We don’t.
And we can’t go for runs or bike rides. Or
even walk without taking a break every 50
steps to duck into an air conditioned ATM
cubicle to cool down to a temperature closer to
the normal human range before setting out
again for another quick march to the next
(man-made) oasis. It’s still early June and
yesterday we reached 49 f-ing degrees! July
and August see the mid 50s!
I’m forming a theory that gives a historical
explanation (for me, anyway) for the root
difference between this culture and our own.
In essence, parts of the world where nature
provides aplenty, cultures succeeded by
revering nature and the abundance, the life, it
provided. The natural world was (is) an ally, a
close friend, the giver of life.
In the sands of Arabia nature was an enemy;
in order to live society had to defeat it and
even rule over it.
Which explains why Dubai was and is being
created not within its natural surroundings but
by destroying them. Scrape the dunes away
and build monuments where they stood. Take
the sand from those dunes and dump it in the
ocean – billions of tons of it – to create low,
flat, barren, fake islands. Solely to erect more
monuments, more concrete receptacles for
consumers; more hotels, apartments, villas,
and shopping malls.
And pull all the trees down (what few there
were) and pave the place.
The main roads throughout Dubai are all
what we would call freeways – minimum six
lanes, many eight and several 12 or 14.
Downtown! No concept (or even concern)
about pedestrian movement at all. No
overpasses or underpasses, and very few
sidewalks.
So even if the outside temperature were
bearable one can’t get to where one wants to
go by bike or foot without putting oneself in
real danger of being killed outright, or worse
dragged for a few miles under a speeding red
Ferrari, Hummer or Mercedes; then killed by
the next one that zipped over you at 200kph.
(The locals are rich, ostentatious and virtually
exempt from traffic laws.)
Combine that notion with the ultimate
consumerism (some say “greed” is a more apt
word). A culture/society where the philosophy
of life is to buy everything, build everything
and do everything, bigger, faster, higher, more
expensive than the next guy.
To let someone merge into your lane, or pass
you, is to be defeated in battle. To use a turn
signal (other than as a deception tactic before
turning the opposite direction) is an admission
that you have no faith in Allah to protect you.
A smile from an Arabian (man or woman) –
even in response to one given – is as rare as a
camel in Colwood.
In summary, living in Dubai is like living in
a 3D movie, which is playing on fast forward,
of what the future will be like when we have
destroyed all other natural life forms, and all
the mountains and rivers and trees and lakes
are gone. And the humans no longer care. And
the air conditioning on the movie set is broken.
Thanks . . . I needed that. John.”
So did I, John. So did I.
Arthur
Black
Other Views Counting my sodden blessings
Ontario’s Liberals have taken a giant
stride toward making elections fairer
by banning government from paying
for advertisements that promote its own party,
but people are quickly finding a way around it.
The law Premier Dalton McGuinty
introduced before the 2007 election requires a
government to submit ads it plans in
newspapers, magazines, TV, radio and
billboards, and printed materials for
distribution to households, to the provincial
auditor.
This official, who has proven non-partisan,
can reject any he judges boost the
government’s political interests.
McGuinty brought in his law because
successive governments over decades spent
hundreds of millions of dollars on ads praising
their own parties, which gave them an
advantage over opposition parties who have to
spend their own money.
The most infamous included Progressive
Conservative premier Mike Harris in the
1990s plastering almost every refilled pothole
on highways with signs informing “Your Mike
Harris government is working for you.”
An earlier Conservative premier, William
Davis, filled TV screens with the message
“Life is good, Ontario – preserve it, conserve
it,” with emphasis on the conserve.
The Liberals and New Democrats in
opposition protested, but proved unwilling
when they got in government to give up the
advantage of being able to spend taxpayers’
money on ads boosting themselves.
McGuinty surprised therefore when he
brought in his ban – parties rarely surrender
something that gives them a significant
advantage – and to his credit set up a system
that has virtually stopped government itself
running partisan ads.
But the law is not working as well as it
should, because some grateful and perhaps
hopeful recipients of Liberal government
largesse are spending lavishly on ads praising
the government and using taxpayers’money to
do it.
Ryerson University paid for costly, full-page
ads in Toronto newspapers informing the
government generously gave $45 million to
further its dream of having a “student learning
centre.”
The ads mentioned McGuinty and the local
Liberal MPP, deputy premier George
Smitherman, by name, and published pictures
of them smiling, as well they should at this
inexpensive-to-them self-promotion.
The University of Toronto took out similar
ads proclaiming in huge letters it had a new
state-of-the-art addition to its library “thanks
to $15 million from the Government of
Ontario.”
Surely a government’s job includes
providing funding to universities according to
merit and ground rules, not as a favour to the
university. Is there any need for public
institutions to spend public funds thanking
government?
The University Health Network of three
major hospitals in Toronto took out full-page
ads congratulating two doctors who won an
award to fund research that included “$5
million over five years from the Province of
Ontario and other sponsors.”
Providence Hospital in Toronto, run by
Roman Catholic clergy, paid for a four-page
insert in community newspapers thanking
McGuinty for a $6.5 million funding increase
it said will help with hiring 56 new staff.
It also mentioned Smitherman and a visit he
made to the hospital – not every minister who
visits a hospital gets his name in a lot of
papers.
An association representing accountants
paid for a six-page insert in a Toronto paper
claiming it helps immigrants with skills in that
profession and find jobs here. It provided
space to two Liberal ministers, Attorney
General Chris Bentley and Citizenship and
Immigration Minister Michael Chan, to blow
their own trumpets.
They assured they do all they can to help
qualified immigrants get work, which
probably impressed some readers, but there
are doctors and engineers driving cabs who
would dispute it.
These ads do not break McGuinty’s new law
banning the province paying for partisan ads,
because they are financed by organizations
outside government. McGuinty’s government
may be encouraging them to give itself
favourable publicity or those placing the ads
may feel their praise will assure them of
further government handouts in future.
But they break the spirit of McGuinty’s law
and he should discourage this practice of
recipients of government grants paying for ads
praising a government for doing its job.
Eric
Dowd
FFrroomm
QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk
The images are familiar. A gravelled road,
rutted and scarred. Large craters dot the
landscape. Dust chokes the air, stirred by
the traffic of trucks and assorted heavy vehicles.
Traffic, pedestrian and automobile, proceed
cautiously. The usual quiet is now a steady din
of bangs, blasts and drones.
In their homes, people boil their water, and try
to ignore the disorder that has come to their
lives.
No, not a war zone. Just summer construction
on a quiet residential street.
No question it has to happen. My only
question is why my street?
I’m joking, of course. In the end, those who
live through it will be quite grateful for the new
road and updates. While the crew is certainly
bringing disruption to normal existence, they
have done so in as courteous a manner as
possible. They continue on while we gawk and
watch. They keep us abreast of the need-to-
know details.
But there is also no question that the
construction can certainly take you back a bit in
convenience. Assumed comforts are removed or
at best, less comfortable, most notably easy
access to your driveway. Older people find
themselves walking distances to their homes.
Carrying groceries can replace an hour at the
gym.
And crossing two lawns during a heavy
thunderstorm is not exactly a calming
experience.
But it was after a few days of this that my
typically hyperbolic look at life came up with
the battlefield scenario. It was one of those
perfect summer days. I was coming home to
rest, eagerly anticipating those much-loved,
stress-releasing moments on my deck. Until
rounding the corner.
Oh, yes. They’re working on the streets.
Now able to make it to the driveway, I
bounced slowly along the road, easing in over
the grade. The gaping wound in my lawn was
filled, but the scar of hard, dried earth remained.
Up the sidewalk my quiet tread, my quiet
thoughts were intruded on by a noxious
cacophony, coming at me from a new direction.
The assault had begun on the intersecting street.
A yellow bulletin on my front door hollered
to me, bringing yet more good news. A
watermain had been broken and now until
further notice, it would be wise to boil any
drinking water.
While supper cooked, I grabbed my book,
thinking that the construction day should be
ending soon. Unfortunately, however, these
guys are hard workers and the day’s job I gather
doesn’t end with the day, but with the job. No
tinkling fountain, no soft music provided my
background, deafened as they were by the
auditory assault.
It certainly put into perspective how spoiled
I’ve become in my easy life. I cherish routine
and order and am fortunate that generally I have
them. There are people in this world who know
nothing but discomfort, who never know for
sure what each day will bring, but pray that they
will survive it. There are people who would be
happy to turn on a tap and boil their water.
There are people who would never have any
disruption to the luxuries in their lives, because
there are no luxuries.
It never hurts to have disorder and chaos
introduced to us. It’s a good reminder that we
should never take things for granted. And yes,
my street may resemble a war zone, but I know
that this war will end and in its place, I will once
again benefit.
Grateful recipients evade law
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to
change often.
– Sir Winston Churchill
Final Thought