Silent Prayer
My work as a cab driver is hard but not without compensation. The hours are long but not necessarily boring. In between passengers I have time to work out in my mind the outlines of amusing stories I like to write for the enjoyment of my family and friends. I accidentally left one of these on the back seat a few weeks ago. A bookish type passenger read it and suggested I submit it for publication. Thus encouraged, I sent it to the editor of our community magazine. I felt that it was good to start at the bottom and establish a publishing record before attacking the appropriate venues for my literary work. Another positive in the job is that the passengers are often interesting. I serve people in all walks of life from all corners of the world. Businessmen traveling alone can be a drag because as soon as the seatbelt is fastened, blackberry comes out and they are connecting to the bosses or the bossed with the results of the latest meeting. It is funny how they feel free to discuss the most confidential matters completely oblivious of two ears in the front taking in everything. If they think that the cabbies are bound by some code of ethics, no one told me about it. But I do feel honour bound not to broadcast the latest twists in the hot takeover battles although I am not beyond whispering the critical details in well heeled ears, for appropriate tip of course. As for benefiting from such information by indulging in stock market activity, I keep away from it. Firstly it is illegal to trade on confidential information; secondly I don’t have any money left after paying for the gas.
A few weeks ago, all these considerations were thrown out of the passenger side window. Two fellows with loaded not so brief cases hailed me and jumped in giggling to themselves. The cell phones came out and both started talking whether to their clients or bosses, I couldn’t tell. With both talking at the same time it was hard to make out what they were saying. It seemed important and I strained my ears without appearing indiscrete. I did not understand the details but this much was clear: They had just negotiated a deal which would give the bondholders of a company in receivership full value for their money instead of twenty five cents in the dollar the bonds were trading at. The opportunity to quadruple the money in a few weeks looked too good to pass. Only problem was that old cliché: you need money to make money. After depositing my informants at the airport, I parked the car at a remote taxi stand where I could think with little chance of interruption. The owner of the taxi company was a gambler and spent all his time checking his portfolio. However, he was a skinflint. He would use the information, but he wouldn’t even thank me let alone share the profits. I knew that Jamila, my wife, had been saving for a trip home. But she never told me where she secreted the money and there was no way I could find out without leaving telltale signs. The only possibility was Alibaba, the owner of the pawn shop in the community. According to rumours Alibaba lent you the money at hundred percent interest and ten percent fees to be paid in advance. He got his money with interest even from the hardest cases without ever going to court. The muscular collectors he hired were more efficient.
Even if I paid the standard interest and fees, I calculated that I would more than double the money. I drove straight to the pawn shop and asked alibaba to lend me a couple of grand for something urgent. To his credit, he did not ask the reason. He took me to a dingy room in the back and told me the terms, “You are borrowing 2,500, including 500 in fees which are paid in advance and you have twelve months to pay me back 5,000. A year from today, Big Bull will call on you and if the money is not there, the consequences would not be pleasant for you or the family”. I did a quick calculation; 2,000 becomes 8,000, I give him 5000. That leaves me 3,000, enough for a deposit on my own cab. “It is a deal,” I said. We shook hands and I left the shop with twenty dirty hundred dollar bills. However, dirt didn’t have time to stick to my fingers. Within a few minutes, bills had been converted into 8,000 dollar bonds.
The business news now became my main interest. My car radio was turned on to the business channel. At home I disregarded Jamila’s protests and turned TV on to the Report on Business station. The company’s restructuring was big news. A week later the deal on bonds was reported. The bonds shot up to 80c. I calculated that I could sell and walk away with 1,400. “Not enough for the deposit, a good investor must be patient” I thought. A week later the bonds crashed to 20c. I was perplexed. There was no news but there must be some reason for such a fall. I called the company. After keeping me waiting for a long time, enough for me to miss two fares, I was connected to an accountant type. He told me something about senior bonds claiming all the money and leaving little for my junior bonds. I didn’t follow the gobbledygook but my heart sank. Something was seriously wrong.
The due date came and went without any money showing up. I called the accountant directly. He said that the two types of bondholders are taking the matter to court. The case will be heard in two months and the judge will issue his verdict a month later. He said things didn’t look good for “juniors”, they may not get anything. Then he gave me the number of the lawyer representing juniors. The lawyer happened to be one of my regulars and was very friendly. He was much more hopeful but he had another wrinkle, “The judgment will almost certainly be appealed by the losing side and it may not be settled for years.” Just when I was going to collapse I heard, “But it may be settled out of court too.” I gave him my number and lay down on the backseat till the cop ordered me to move.
I had a call three months later, “I have just received the judgment. We have lost the case. I will call you again after I have studied the document.” My world went dark I owed Alibaba five grand and there was no way I could repay it. However, I still had eight months to plan my strategy. “May be my story will be published; some publisher will read it and offer me an advance for my book.” Crazy thoughts, but these were my only hope. I spent the day in a daze, taking my passengers to the wrong addresses and receiving deserved scolding from them. After work I walked up the stairs to our apartment pondering my next move. Fortunately Jamila was wrapped in her own concerns, something about her kid sister in Lahore wanting to immigrate to Canada. Then my heart took a leap. There on the table was the letter from the Editor. I tore it open. Just one line, “Your story was not considered suitable for our journal.” My world was coming to an end for sure.
I am as resilient as the next man. Next morning I got up earlier than usual and drove to the taxi stand at the Grand Hotel. Who should come out of the hotel but the lawyer of the “juniors”. He looked happy for someone who had lost a big case. He settled himself into the back seat without looking at me, took out his cell and dialed a number. My cell rang and I heard in both my ears, “I was hasty calling you yesterday. We did lose the case but only partially. The judgment allows us fifty cents and will not be appealed. You should get your money in a few days. I thanked the caller and quickly worked out that I would be one grand short. Working two shifts over weekends for next eight months should make up this difference. “Allah is great, He teaches us lessons in the form we can learn” I thought. I said a silent prayer when the car was facing east. I now had another proof that Allah looks after the poor and the meek.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Return of the Hawks
It must have been ten years ago. It was a beautiful winter afternoon, bright warm sun, sky the shade of blue I have never seen anywhere outside Calgary; dripping water from the snow-laden trees which would form brilliant icicles the next morning. I tried to move my cat to the deck to laze in the sun but it resisted. Several fat squirrels were rushing around the yard having fun and the cat did not feel safe with those boisterous critters around. It upset me that my own pet, a legitimate resident of our home, was too scared to enjoy the glorious sunshine and I decided to do something about it. I fired a letter to the local newspaper demanding that the city controlled the furry pests who had taken over our neighbourhood. The editor obligingly published it a couple of days later.
To tell you the truth, I did not expect a response from the pest control department and was not disappointed when I did not receive any. The newspaper did get at least one irate letter which they published a few days later to show their broadmindedness. The letter took me to task for hating the squirrels, may be plump and scary in my prosperous neighbourhood but slim, dainty and no threat to her cat in her community, and for wanting to disturb their equanimity by putting a cat among them. She, in turn, demanded that before the city even hurt a single squirrel in the prosperous part of the city, the noisy magpies that woke her and her cat up at an ungodly hour every morning in her poor and deprived corner of the city should be laid to rest.
I was annoyed by the response of the lady but it did not cause a wave in the pest control department any more than my letter had done. The squirrels kept multiplying as I expect did the magpies. A neighbour whose garden was suffering from the assault of the greedy creatures took the bull by the horns, trapped a couple and released them in the park a few kilometers away. By a strange coincidence, a park ranger happened to be passing by. He saw the grave violation of the city code and charged him with the offence. Fortunately, the kindly judge took the accused’s long record of community service into consideration and did not hand out an exemplary jail sentence demanded by the prosecutor. He did impose a hefty fine though.
Earlier this summer I observed a reduction in squirrel activity in our yard and more birds on the feeders than in recent years. I pointed it out to my gardener wife who had noticed that fewer of her plants had been damaged this spring. She also observed that a small golden squirrel she had become fond of had not been seen for some days. “Hope the poor thing is OK and some cat or the neighbourhood trapper did not get it,” I said without really sharing my dear wife’s sense of loss.
At last the situation became clear as sometimes happens. Our daughter was visiting from Vancouver last week to help us celebrate our wedding anniversary. She is a keen birdwatcher and after breakfast on Sunday she took out the binoculars to look for birds in the tall poplars bordering the yard. It was not long before she called us in the hushed voice of an experienced birder, “Come and look, a hawk.”
We had seen a variety of birds on our feeders as well as a hummingbird hovering near the window. The only hawks we ever saw were on the fence posts on our way to the mountains. But there it was. Nonchalantly examining the surroundings from its perch on the top branch of the tree like a monarch of all it surveyed. As I admired the majestic bearing of the hawk, it dawned on me that there on the other side of the lens was the perpetrator of the disappearance of the golden squirrel before it had laid any eggs and, along with its associates, the cause of the decline in squirrel population and activity. Lo and behold, Nature had stepped in where the parks department feared to tread and no law-abiding person would dare after the harsh punishment of a long suffering citizen for taking the issue in his own hands. We had the confirmation a couple of days later when four young hawks were sitting on the back of the lawn chairs surrounding a squirrel busily feasting on the birdseeds from the ground. Strangely, the hawks did not look as if they needed the breakfast within easy reach of their claws and the squirrel did not seem at all anxious, her only acknowledgement of the youthful predators being a puffed up tail. After a few minutes of hopping about the yard, the hawks took off; perhaps to return after they had worked up an appetite. Or they felt like magpies for lunch and knew where to find them.
It must have been ten years ago. It was a beautiful winter afternoon, bright warm sun, sky the shade of blue I have never seen anywhere outside Calgary; dripping water from the snow-laden trees which would form brilliant icicles the next morning. I tried to move my cat to the deck to laze in the sun but it resisted. Several fat squirrels were rushing around the yard having fun and the cat did not feel safe with those boisterous critters around. It upset me that my own pet, a legitimate resident of our home, was too scared to enjoy the glorious sunshine and I decided to do something about it. I fired a letter to the local newspaper demanding that the city controlled the furry pests who had taken over our neighbourhood. The editor obligingly published it a couple of days later.
To tell you the truth, I did not expect a response from the pest control department and was not disappointed when I did not receive any. The newspaper did get at least one irate letter which they published a few days later to show their broadmindedness. The letter took me to task for hating the squirrels, may be plump and scary in my prosperous neighbourhood but slim, dainty and no threat to her cat in her community, and for wanting to disturb their equanimity by putting a cat among them. She, in turn, demanded that before the city even hurt a single squirrel in the prosperous part of the city, the noisy magpies that woke her and her cat up at an ungodly hour every morning in her poor and deprived corner of the city should be laid to rest.
I was annoyed by the response of the lady but it did not cause a wave in the pest control department any more than my letter had done. The squirrels kept multiplying as I expect did the magpies. A neighbour whose garden was suffering from the assault of the greedy creatures took the bull by the horns, trapped a couple and released them in the park a few kilometers away. By a strange coincidence, a park ranger happened to be passing by. He saw the grave violation of the city code and charged him with the offence. Fortunately, the kindly judge took the accused’s long record of community service into consideration and did not hand out an exemplary jail sentence demanded by the prosecutor. He did impose a hefty fine though.
Earlier this summer I observed a reduction in squirrel activity in our yard and more birds on the feeders than in recent years. I pointed it out to my gardener wife who had noticed that fewer of her plants had been damaged this spring. She also observed that a small golden squirrel she had become fond of had not been seen for some days. “Hope the poor thing is OK and some cat or the neighbourhood trapper did not get it,” I said without really sharing my dear wife’s sense of loss.
At last the situation became clear as sometimes happens. Our daughter was visiting from Vancouver last week to help us celebrate our wedding anniversary. She is a keen birdwatcher and after breakfast on Sunday she took out the binoculars to look for birds in the tall poplars bordering the yard. It was not long before she called us in the hushed voice of an experienced birder, “Come and look, a hawk.”
We had seen a variety of birds on our feeders as well as a hummingbird hovering near the window. The only hawks we ever saw were on the fence posts on our way to the mountains. But there it was. Nonchalantly examining the surroundings from its perch on the top branch of the tree like a monarch of all it surveyed. As I admired the majestic bearing of the hawk, it dawned on me that there on the other side of the lens was the perpetrator of the disappearance of the golden squirrel before it had laid any eggs and, along with its associates, the cause of the decline in squirrel population and activity. Lo and behold, Nature had stepped in where the parks department feared to tread and no law-abiding person would dare after the harsh punishment of a long suffering citizen for taking the issue in his own hands. We had the confirmation a couple of days later when four young hawks were sitting on the back of the lawn chairs surrounding a squirrel busily feasting on the birdseeds from the ground. Strangely, the hawks did not look as if they needed the breakfast within easy reach of their claws and the squirrel did not seem at all anxious, her only acknowledgement of the youthful predators being a puffed up tail. After a few minutes of hopping about the yard, the hawks took off; perhaps to return after they had worked up an appetite. Or they felt like magpies for lunch and knew where to find them.
Friday, September 10, 2010
A Medical Check Up
It saddens me that I hardly ever get a phone call. Therefore, my spirits revived somewhat when I returned soaking wet after what I had hoped would be a pleasant walk and noticed that there were messages on the voice mail. The excitement turned out to be premature though. There was only one message, dry and to the point, “Dr. Shepherd’s office. It is to remind you of your appointment for physical check up tomorrow at 3:00 PM. Please arrive a few minutes early. Penalty for late arrival $25, for no show $75. Click.” The threat worked on this pensioner barely surviving on the meager Old Age Security and I reported to the receptionist half an hour early.
Just as the clock in the reception area ticked to 2:55, a white coated nurse called my name. I followed her to the far corner of the hall where she scaled my height and measured my weight, jotted them down on the chart and directed me to an examining room. It was a small rectangular room furnished identically to thousands in the city with one exception; the window overlooked city’s exclusive golf course where the mighty mingled. “Strip down to underwear, Doctor will be with you shortly,” I heard just as the door closed. Having learnt from the unpleasant experiences in the past, I did as I was instructed and shivered till there was a gentle knock on the door.
The appearance of young doctor in a form hugging sweater with strategically placed stethoscope warmed me all over. She looked at numbers on the chart and observed, “You have more weight to throw around but less stature to carry it. You have gained ten pounds in six months since the last exam and lost an inch in height.” I must have looked sheepish because I knew she had a point; my pants felt tight and dragged along the floor rather than rest fashionably on the shoes. She grimaced at my blood pressure reading, “You need higher dose of blood pressure pills and you must go back on cholesterol medication,” she suggested with considerable firmness.
“But the cholesterol pills cause aches and pains all over my body,” I protested.
“Well, aches and pains are par for the course at your age, high blood pressure and cholesterol are not,” she replied.
I know when to shut up and did. She then projected a beam of light in my ears and observed, “You need to put a drop of olive oil in each ear for a month. They are plugged with wax.” She now put a thin plastic glove on her left hand and said, with a little awkwardness I thought, “Now lie down on your side facing the wall and bend your knees.”
No sooner had I followed the instruction I felt a poke in my behind. The doctor considered for a long moment before pronouncing, “We have to monitor that closely. Book a check up in three month.” She scribbled the prescription, handed it to me and moved towards the door.
“Dr. Shepherd, what do you think of my condition, physical condition that is,” I asked just as she opened the door.
“I only know of your physical condition. Your accountant can tell you about your financial health. The best I can describe it is to say that I have some patients of your age who need more attention.”
The door closed gently. I dressed myself with shaking hands wondering whether to worry about the poor state of my health or be pleased that there are others lying helplessly at the base of the pyramid.
It saddens me that I hardly ever get a phone call. Therefore, my spirits revived somewhat when I returned soaking wet after what I had hoped would be a pleasant walk and noticed that there were messages on the voice mail. The excitement turned out to be premature though. There was only one message, dry and to the point, “Dr. Shepherd’s office. It is to remind you of your appointment for physical check up tomorrow at 3:00 PM. Please arrive a few minutes early. Penalty for late arrival $25, for no show $75. Click.” The threat worked on this pensioner barely surviving on the meager Old Age Security and I reported to the receptionist half an hour early.
Just as the clock in the reception area ticked to 2:55, a white coated nurse called my name. I followed her to the far corner of the hall where she scaled my height and measured my weight, jotted them down on the chart and directed me to an examining room. It was a small rectangular room furnished identically to thousands in the city with one exception; the window overlooked city’s exclusive golf course where the mighty mingled. “Strip down to underwear, Doctor will be with you shortly,” I heard just as the door closed. Having learnt from the unpleasant experiences in the past, I did as I was instructed and shivered till there was a gentle knock on the door.
The appearance of young doctor in a form hugging sweater with strategically placed stethoscope warmed me all over. She looked at numbers on the chart and observed, “You have more weight to throw around but less stature to carry it. You have gained ten pounds in six months since the last exam and lost an inch in height.” I must have looked sheepish because I knew she had a point; my pants felt tight and dragged along the floor rather than rest fashionably on the shoes. She grimaced at my blood pressure reading, “You need higher dose of blood pressure pills and you must go back on cholesterol medication,” she suggested with considerable firmness.
“But the cholesterol pills cause aches and pains all over my body,” I protested.
“Well, aches and pains are par for the course at your age, high blood pressure and cholesterol are not,” she replied.
I know when to shut up and did. She then projected a beam of light in my ears and observed, “You need to put a drop of olive oil in each ear for a month. They are plugged with wax.” She now put a thin plastic glove on her left hand and said, with a little awkwardness I thought, “Now lie down on your side facing the wall and bend your knees.”
No sooner had I followed the instruction I felt a poke in my behind. The doctor considered for a long moment before pronouncing, “We have to monitor that closely. Book a check up in three month.” She scribbled the prescription, handed it to me and moved towards the door.
“Dr. Shepherd, what do you think of my condition, physical condition that is,” I asked just as she opened the door.
“I only know of your physical condition. Your accountant can tell you about your financial health. The best I can describe it is to say that I have some patients of your age who need more attention.”
The door closed gently. I dressed myself with shaking hands wondering whether to worry about the poor state of my health or be pleased that there are others lying helplessly at the base of the pyramid.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Some Controversial Views
Zoos are there for humans, not animals. Animals would be happy in the wild and can look at a zoo only as a prison. It is great that Peter Karsten (former Director)was able to improve animal’s conditions (in the Calgary zoo), but he did not set them free. Being a creation of humans - either for education or entertainment or both - and even more importantly, being paid for by humans, zoos have to represent what humans want The ‘70s and ‘80s were good times to have liberal and benevolent views, whether in politics or as a zookeeper. The pendulum swung hard the other way in the ‘90s and human likes and dislikes became the prime consideration. Once again animals became playthings with no persona. All that animal lovers can hope for is that the pendulum will swing again -but I am not holding my breath.
(Alberta Views, 09/10)
***
If you think I am becoming right wing in my old age, you may be right. I can not bring myself to vote for Harper Conservatives because I would like to see a less divisive leader who is more interested in the good of the people he rules than in gaining absolute majority in the next election. The reason for my transformation from a bleeding heart liberal is that I have seen so much abuse of well--intentioned programs like support for the poor families and worker’s compensation that I now doubt their utility to the society in the long run. The programs that discourage individuals from preparing for or returning to work after injury need to be modified and tax dollars put to some other use. I worked hard for whatever little I earned and to think that so much of it was taken from me to be handed to cheats and scoundrels makes me more than a little upset.
***
It is argued by theoreticians that it is illogical to target all Muslims in terrorist safeguards just as it was in case of North Americans of Japanese descent. In a normal case when stakes are small, that logic holds. But if it is true that some of a visible minority are suspect, these few intend to and can cause incalculable damage to society and for whatever reasons they can not be isolated; it is preferable to subject the minority in question to safeguards than the whole population. It is preferable, both on moral and economic grounds, to inconvenience as few of your citizens as possible. To inconvenience all when it is necessary to inconvenience just a few may be logical to some, it is not sensible to most.
***
If you consider how much of your income is directly siphoned off by various levels of governments, you will join the TEA party as well. To begin with, a third or more of your income is withheld to pay the income tax and other withholdings. Every item you buy there is a surcharge of up to 15 percent that goes directly to the government. Every year there is a tax for the home you live in which amounts to the net earnings of several weeks in addition to monthly charges for the services the city is supposed to provide. Of course the businesses pay similar taxes and pass them on to the customers. You add it all up and you are paying to the governments more of what you earn after working hard than you are left with for your loved ones. After paying all that, not only is it hard to access the services a government exists to provide, the quality of services is declining precipitately. If that does not make your blood boil, you must be a true Canadian.
***
The poor response to flood relief funds for Pakistan has nothing to do with Islam, the history or the geography. People are reluctant to donate for two reasons: the region where floods first hit has been one of the bases of Taliban and the general perception that the government of Pakistan has played a duplicitous role in Afghan war. It is hard to empty the wallet for people who comfort your enemies. Speaking for myself, I will sign a check only when Pakistan has liquidated Taliban and El Qaeda bases from its territory. It is unfair to the suffering flood victims, but these are the same people who cheer when our soldiers are killed in Afghanistan and when their terrorist brothers cause the death of innocent people in Kashmir, London and Mumbai, not to mention Karachi and Lahore in their own country.
***
The vituperative coverage of CTV’s rival CBC in the Globe during the past week may be a good business practice by the owner CTV globemedia, respectable behavior by a self-proclaimed national newspaper it is not.
***
While it is gratifying to see so many people risking their lives to live in Canada, we should note that these were not desperate people. The real refugees escape to India a few hours away on a rowing boat and merge with the fellow Tamils there. The shipload consists mostly of lower middle class farmers and tradesmen who were persuaded by crafty smugglers to part with all they had in exchange for a promise of life in the land of colour TV, free education for the kids, free medical care and hefty welfare cheques. While severe penalties for smugglers might help, what we need is to change the perception of the easy life once they get here and I am afraid not much is being suggested in that direction.
***
Privacy act, along with the Bill of Rights, provides criminals strong shield while leaving honest law-abiding citizens unprotected. One does not have to be a loony on the fringes of right wing to demand that changes be made in these laws to make them more balanced.
After all is said and done, laws are intended to protect all citizens, not just those who victimise innocent and helpless citizens.
***
Let us face it; the summer vacation is for teachers not students. It is the teachers who need a long break from the arduous routine and the problems associated with kids who only go to school because they have to. Please leave kids out of it. They are not a factor in summer vacation issue.
Zoos are there for humans, not animals. Animals would be happy in the wild and can look at a zoo only as a prison. It is great that Peter Karsten (former Director)was able to improve animal’s conditions (in the Calgary zoo), but he did not set them free. Being a creation of humans - either for education or entertainment or both - and even more importantly, being paid for by humans, zoos have to represent what humans want The ‘70s and ‘80s were good times to have liberal and benevolent views, whether in politics or as a zookeeper. The pendulum swung hard the other way in the ‘90s and human likes and dislikes became the prime consideration. Once again animals became playthings with no persona. All that animal lovers can hope for is that the pendulum will swing again -but I am not holding my breath.
(Alberta Views, 09/10)
***
If you think I am becoming right wing in my old age, you may be right. I can not bring myself to vote for Harper Conservatives because I would like to see a less divisive leader who is more interested in the good of the people he rules than in gaining absolute majority in the next election. The reason for my transformation from a bleeding heart liberal is that I have seen so much abuse of well--intentioned programs like support for the poor families and worker’s compensation that I now doubt their utility to the society in the long run. The programs that discourage individuals from preparing for or returning to work after injury need to be modified and tax dollars put to some other use. I worked hard for whatever little I earned and to think that so much of it was taken from me to be handed to cheats and scoundrels makes me more than a little upset.
***
It is argued by theoreticians that it is illogical to target all Muslims in terrorist safeguards just as it was in case of North Americans of Japanese descent. In a normal case when stakes are small, that logic holds. But if it is true that some of a visible minority are suspect, these few intend to and can cause incalculable damage to society and for whatever reasons they can not be isolated; it is preferable to subject the minority in question to safeguards than the whole population. It is preferable, both on moral and economic grounds, to inconvenience as few of your citizens as possible. To inconvenience all when it is necessary to inconvenience just a few may be logical to some, it is not sensible to most.
***
If you consider how much of your income is directly siphoned off by various levels of governments, you will join the TEA party as well. To begin with, a third or more of your income is withheld to pay the income tax and other withholdings. Every item you buy there is a surcharge of up to 15 percent that goes directly to the government. Every year there is a tax for the home you live in which amounts to the net earnings of several weeks in addition to monthly charges for the services the city is supposed to provide. Of course the businesses pay similar taxes and pass them on to the customers. You add it all up and you are paying to the governments more of what you earn after working hard than you are left with for your loved ones. After paying all that, not only is it hard to access the services a government exists to provide, the quality of services is declining precipitately. If that does not make your blood boil, you must be a true Canadian.
***
The poor response to flood relief funds for Pakistan has nothing to do with Islam, the history or the geography. People are reluctant to donate for two reasons: the region where floods first hit has been one of the bases of Taliban and the general perception that the government of Pakistan has played a duplicitous role in Afghan war. It is hard to empty the wallet for people who comfort your enemies. Speaking for myself, I will sign a check only when Pakistan has liquidated Taliban and El Qaeda bases from its territory. It is unfair to the suffering flood victims, but these are the same people who cheer when our soldiers are killed in Afghanistan and when their terrorist brothers cause the death of innocent people in Kashmir, London and Mumbai, not to mention Karachi and Lahore in their own country.
***
The vituperative coverage of CTV’s rival CBC in the Globe during the past week may be a good business practice by the owner CTV globemedia, respectable behavior by a self-proclaimed national newspaper it is not.
***
While it is gratifying to see so many people risking their lives to live in Canada, we should note that these were not desperate people. The real refugees escape to India a few hours away on a rowing boat and merge with the fellow Tamils there. The shipload consists mostly of lower middle class farmers and tradesmen who were persuaded by crafty smugglers to part with all they had in exchange for a promise of life in the land of colour TV, free education for the kids, free medical care and hefty welfare cheques. While severe penalties for smugglers might help, what we need is to change the perception of the easy life once they get here and I am afraid not much is being suggested in that direction.
***
Privacy act, along with the Bill of Rights, provides criminals strong shield while leaving honest law-abiding citizens unprotected. One does not have to be a loony on the fringes of right wing to demand that changes be made in these laws to make them more balanced.
After all is said and done, laws are intended to protect all citizens, not just those who victimise innocent and helpless citizens.
***
Let us face it; the summer vacation is for teachers not students. It is the teachers who need a long break from the arduous routine and the problems associated with kids who only go to school because they have to. Please leave kids out of it. They are not a factor in summer vacation issue.
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