Gaddafi the Guinea Pig
United Nations Security Council unanimously passed the resolution to enforce a "no-fly zone" over Libya. In spite of the impression of support by all members given by the media, five of the eleven abstained from the vote. These members included two permanent members Russia and China and three others - Germany, India and Brazil. Would Russia and China have abstained and not voted against if they knew the ferocity of Western attacks will never be known. Comments from Russian Prime Minister Putin do indicate that there is some regret there in not having done that.
I am not a supporter of Gaddafi or any other despot anywhere else. However, the fact remains that compared to the situation before him, the country prospered under him because he took the lead in early seventies in the battle to raise the price of oil. High prices produced wealth and hospitals, schools and post secondary institutions were built everywhere, infrastructure and public housing were improved as were social services. The foreign companies were forced to hire and train Libyans and Gaddafi supported emancipation of women at all levels. Unfortunately, and much to his discredit, he also supported till recently the terrorists acts against the civilians in Europe and monopolized political power in the country. But no one would say that he was more repulsive than many current and former leaders in the developing world - Mobutu Sese and White regime of Verwoerd in South Africa and current leadership in Equatorial Guinea and Zimbabwe for example. Why was he picked for removal then - first by fomenting protest movement against him and then by exercise of Western military power to bolster the protesters?
You don't have to look far for an answer. High oil prices continue to shift the wealth of Europe and the United States to oil exporters in the Middle East. To save debt ridden economies of these countries it is essential that oil prices be brought to a $50 range to reduce the drain to a manageable level. To achieve the reduction in price of this essential commodity, strong leaders of oil producing countries and their supporters have to be replaced by more malleable individuals. Mubarak had to go and be replaced by weak 'democratically elected' leadership and Gaddafi has to go and be replaced by another softy. If support of democracy without any self-interest is guiding the West, why does the West not support the protesters in Bahrain and Yemen and encourage protesters in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait? The answer is two fold. In Bahrain, the current leadership is pro West and in Yemen the protesters are worse for Western interests than the current leadership. The case of Libya has another angle too. It serves as a lesson to Iran, and to any new leaders in other 'democracies' not to start having ideas of their own and counter Western interests. They need to see the destructive impact of Western missiles and modify their independent policies lest they are punished. No terrorist attacks, no more threats to Israel, no protests in
Palestine, no hikes in oil prices or cut in production. Or else!
The Western leaders decided that it is not practical to topple the regime in Iran but it can be softened. To do this they needed a guinea pig and they found one in Gaddafi. All Arab countries, perhaps other oil producers as well, who are supporting the West against Libya have been sucked into supporting the attack without due consideration of their long term interests. I am afraid that the time to regret it, like the Russians are doing now, is not far into the future. Before long the overproduction from Iraq, new Libya, Saudi Arabia and the Emirates will drive oil prices to the bottom with no recovery in sight. When this happens, Western oil producers, Russia, Norway and Canada will suffer as much as the producers in the Middle East. Canada will suffer the most because at $50 a barrel you can kiss oil sands goodbye.
Comment:
I disagree with the support of new nuclear power stations by Doug Saunders (Globe and Mail, March 19, 2011) for two reasons. First, many nuclear plants have been and are planned in communities which are much less prepared technically and financially to cope with an accident of even a lesser magnitude and the disaster will reach far beyond the area where it takes place. Second, the emphasis, even in the developing countries, must be on more efficient use of energy, less waste and better engines, not on increasing production of potentially calamitous energy. The recent discoveries of huge reservoirs which have made natural gas abundant, new methods of coal usage which reduce emissions drastically and more efficient vehicle engines have the potential of providing needed energy without another repeat of Chernobyl or worse.
Also, the reason fewer deaths occurred in the tragic events in Japan was the smaller populated area affected by the quake and Tsunami. Can you imagine the toll if it occurred a couple of hundred miles south, whatever the preparedness level?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Crushing Blow to or the Agent of Recovery
‘A deadly quake, a crushing blow to recovery’ screamed the front page of last Saturday’s Report on Business Section in the Globe and Mail. No doubt other finance and commerce media all over the world had similar headlines. But is this really true? Of course ten thousand dead can not be brought back to life. The human suffering caused by the disaster is immense and can never be compensated. But is it a blow to economic recovery – and crushing one at that? I disagree. I suggest that it may turn out to be just the opposite.
The loss of life and property at this scale is indeed a great tragedy and we are all shocked by it. It is the medium term economic impact that is open to debate. No doubt the production from damaged factories and power plants has ceased and will cause disruption. However, this will probably be temporary. The production will be ramped up elsewhere in underutilized facilities in Japan where the long recession has created spare capacity. Much bigger factor than the loss of production will be the economic activity due to reconstruction which will follow.
It is unfortunate but true that the destruction is good for the system in our economic model. It creates more jobs, puts more money in the system and adds more to general well-being if a building were destroyed and rebuilt rather than merely repaired. This is particularly true if the cost were shared by many either as investment or through insurance payment. The tragic event in Japan is a similar case only it is replicated millions of times. Its impact will be huge requiring the pooling of resources from most of the developed world. It will be done by contributions to the charities from average citizens, particularly those with Japanese connection; local and overseas governments and institutions contributing directly as assistance and by buying Japanese government bonds. Fortunately, unlike Haiti and better than other recent casualties Chile and New Zealand, the country has the political, social and economic structure to benefit, in spite of the vast damage, from the combined efforts of thousands of organizations all over the world.
Thus, the disaster may actually carry the seeds of recovery of Japan and its trading partners. Thousands of homes, office buildings, factories, cars, trucks, power plants and the infrastructure damaged and destroyed by the tsunami must be repaired or rebuilt from the scratch. And this will be done as soon as possible, not debated in political circles for ever more. Hundreds of billions of dollars will be spent in this massive reconstruction, much of it financed by insurance companies, some foreign. Billions of dollars in humanitarian aids will flow in, as indeed they should. There will be jobs, not only in construction but everything, be it planning, administration or execution. For a few years employment will soar. It is not inconceivable that thanks to this rebuilding effort Japan may even regain its number two status among the world’s leading economic powers.
One huge negative from the quake could be the damage to the nuclear power plants. We are fortunate that there are resources and know how in Japan to deal with the problems in the plants and a repeat of Chernobyl is not likely, if it is at all humanly possible. The absence of any significant leak will help the supporters of nuclear power. On the other hand, if there were to be a major leak from even one of them, and it is early days and the after shocks are not over yet, it would provide fuel to the opponents and would delay the construction of new plants for long periods. Even this scenario has a silver lining. It may help in development of alternate power sources and in ways of more efficient use of energy and save us from irreversible calamity. In any event, location of future nuclear facilities must avoid earthquake belts and low lying sea shores and they are not suited to the countries unable to cope with such accidents.
Comment:
Wish I had learnt at school what I discovered so late in life: when I am furious with some one for doing something wrong, most likely the fault really was my own.
‘A deadly quake, a crushing blow to recovery’ screamed the front page of last Saturday’s Report on Business Section in the Globe and Mail. No doubt other finance and commerce media all over the world had similar headlines. But is this really true? Of course ten thousand dead can not be brought back to life. The human suffering caused by the disaster is immense and can never be compensated. But is it a blow to economic recovery – and crushing one at that? I disagree. I suggest that it may turn out to be just the opposite.
The loss of life and property at this scale is indeed a great tragedy and we are all shocked by it. It is the medium term economic impact that is open to debate. No doubt the production from damaged factories and power plants has ceased and will cause disruption. However, this will probably be temporary. The production will be ramped up elsewhere in underutilized facilities in Japan where the long recession has created spare capacity. Much bigger factor than the loss of production will be the economic activity due to reconstruction which will follow.
It is unfortunate but true that the destruction is good for the system in our economic model. It creates more jobs, puts more money in the system and adds more to general well-being if a building were destroyed and rebuilt rather than merely repaired. This is particularly true if the cost were shared by many either as investment or through insurance payment. The tragic event in Japan is a similar case only it is replicated millions of times. Its impact will be huge requiring the pooling of resources from most of the developed world. It will be done by contributions to the charities from average citizens, particularly those with Japanese connection; local and overseas governments and institutions contributing directly as assistance and by buying Japanese government bonds. Fortunately, unlike Haiti and better than other recent casualties Chile and New Zealand, the country has the political, social and economic structure to benefit, in spite of the vast damage, from the combined efforts of thousands of organizations all over the world.
Thus, the disaster may actually carry the seeds of recovery of Japan and its trading partners. Thousands of homes, office buildings, factories, cars, trucks, power plants and the infrastructure damaged and destroyed by the tsunami must be repaired or rebuilt from the scratch. And this will be done as soon as possible, not debated in political circles for ever more. Hundreds of billions of dollars will be spent in this massive reconstruction, much of it financed by insurance companies, some foreign. Billions of dollars in humanitarian aids will flow in, as indeed they should. There will be jobs, not only in construction but everything, be it planning, administration or execution. For a few years employment will soar. It is not inconceivable that thanks to this rebuilding effort Japan may even regain its number two status among the world’s leading economic powers.
One huge negative from the quake could be the damage to the nuclear power plants. We are fortunate that there are resources and know how in Japan to deal with the problems in the plants and a repeat of Chernobyl is not likely, if it is at all humanly possible. The absence of any significant leak will help the supporters of nuclear power. On the other hand, if there were to be a major leak from even one of them, and it is early days and the after shocks are not over yet, it would provide fuel to the opponents and would delay the construction of new plants for long periods. Even this scenario has a silver lining. It may help in development of alternate power sources and in ways of more efficient use of energy and save us from irreversible calamity. In any event, location of future nuclear facilities must avoid earthquake belts and low lying sea shores and they are not suited to the countries unable to cope with such accidents.
Comment:
Wish I had learnt at school what I discovered so late in life: when I am furious with some one for doing something wrong, most likely the fault really was my own.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Multiculturism in Canada
British Prime Minister David Cameron said in a speech to European leaders earlier this year that the multiculturism has failed in Britain. This prompted me to review my thoughts and consider to what extent it has succeeded in Canada.
I immigrated to Canada from India via UK, Libya and the US. I married a white woman of British parentage in England forty five years ago and we have lived in a prosperous neighbourhood in Calgary for thirty six years. We have brought up three daughters here who are totally integrated Canadians. It is my observation that multiculturism in Canada among first generation immigrants amounts to different cultures existing together with very little mingling or cross fertilization. Surely, it was not the intention of politicians who encouraged immigration from the third world that different communities will work together whenever unavoidable but live in their own enclaves. But this is the situation that exists at present.
My social circle is that of educated and bright professionals in their fifties and sixties. I know several people of Indian origin but will count only one of them in my social circle. And he makes it only because his Irish wife is a close friend of my wife. My preference for the society of invisible majority is entirely due to the cultural indoctrination by my wife. My major interests are opera, classical music and English literature; tastes shared by very few of my ex-countrymen. My wife being English is a minor factor.
It may seem strange but it is true that I am the only visible minority resident in the “village” part of our community. It is not due to any racial prejudice among sellers or real estate agents; there is none. It is entirely because the prosperous members of former Indian, Chinese, African and other communities have congregated in specific areas. What worries me more is the lack of cultural cross-fertilization. A proof of this, if one were needed, is that I am usually the only visible minority representative in the parties we go to. As far as I can tell all my friends are completely unbiased racially but even when working together with people of different cultures, they do not make the jump to social togetherness. There are rare cases when this takes place. The problem in Western countries where Asian and African immigration has been significant is that the cases of social interaction are not common enough.
A big positive in Canada is that by and large people of different cultures work together with very few problems. In spite of the tendency to congregate in the same areas, there is no exclusivity and people with different cultures live happily in the same neighbourhoods and apartment blocks. Asian restaurants are patronised by invisible majorities as are McDonalds and Dairy Queens by visible minorities. While there are aggrieved individuals who feel that the race has held them back, there are very few who would feel that they have been pushed to the back of the line. The cases are rare where a minority candidate was refused a job when she was better qualified although they are equally rare when she was offered the job when merely equal. This is a tremendous step forward compared to thirty five years ago when two friends advised me against setting up the consulting practice because they feared that the prospective clients would be prejudiced against me. Fortunately, the prejudice for and against neutralized each other over the long term and I made a reasonable living. Today, this question would not arise at all.
While first generation immigrants are relatively aloof, second generation is coming closer. There is considerable interracial socializing and frequent cohabitation and marriages among younger generation. This is a very encouraging sign on the landscape. In the sixties of last century we had to overcome many impediments. These seem to have almost disappeared among white collar and professional families although still present to a variable degree among blue collar and less educated groups. The young integrated families generally adopt the Canadian way with some adaptation in food habits but they maintain congenial relations with family and friends on each side. In my observation, such relationships are stronger than homogeneous relationships if only because there is a stronger will to overcome problems when they crop up.
There is a flip side to this integration, however. If the overtures of a young visible are rebuffed at school or playground, the sense of rejection is acute and sometimes leads to antisocial behaviour. The ex-Jamaican gangs in Toronto and the ex-Indian gangs in Vancouver have their origin in this rejection. In most of these cases the parents are working long hours at making a living and are not able to help their kids settle in a strange environment and often are too busy or untrained to spot the problems when they arise and act on them. This is why school and social welfare agencies have to be watchful and attempt to deal with such situations before they become serious. The problem in UK was that the extremist religious groups took over disenchanted young people when schools and social agencies turned a blind eye. Fortunately, the extremist organizations are not as active in North America as in Europe. We need to stay vigilant that they do not get a foothold among disenchanted immigrants by encouraging the twains to meet rather than develop separately.
Comment:
The New Yorker is reputed among the literary circles as an outstanding magazine. Almost every piece in the weekly publication is a testimony to its excellence, not only is it a joy to read, invariably it is thought provoking even if one may disagree with the conclusions.
David Brooks contributed a superb essay “Social Animal” in the issue of January 17, 2011. It is a delight to read and an example to learn from to all budding writers in all genre’. Brooks cites numerous studies to show that the happiness springs from listening to the deep subconscious and from the empathy for fellow humans. While no one will dispute that these are the keys to happiness, unfortunately they are the source of misery as well. We share in the happiness and the misery of the loved ones through our “Emotional Intelligence”. Since most humans share their misery more often than their joy (perhaps there is more misery than joy in an average life) a high coefficient of emotional intelligence is likely to make us more miserable than happy.
As for people in seventies who had unhappy childhood being three times more likely to be solitary, perhaps they would rather spend the remaining few good years in their lives doing what they love and not what their ‘friends’ wish upon them.
Monica’s Comment:
“eGuru Swami Dharyanand taught me that the only purpose in human life was to make other life forms feel better every time there was a contact. I do not know how much I succeeded in my efforts in promoting general well-being; I do know that the stresses induced by sharing the strains in the lives of the loved ones take their toll. It takes a special kind of selflessness and humility to tolerate tantrums, snappy retorts, derogatory comments and unfair accusations with a smile and not be tormented by simmering resentment. I am taking a virtual course from the Swami to learn how these qualities can be inculcated.”
British Prime Minister David Cameron said in a speech to European leaders earlier this year that the multiculturism has failed in Britain. This prompted me to review my thoughts and consider to what extent it has succeeded in Canada.
I immigrated to Canada from India via UK, Libya and the US. I married a white woman of British parentage in England forty five years ago and we have lived in a prosperous neighbourhood in Calgary for thirty six years. We have brought up three daughters here who are totally integrated Canadians. It is my observation that multiculturism in Canada among first generation immigrants amounts to different cultures existing together with very little mingling or cross fertilization. Surely, it was not the intention of politicians who encouraged immigration from the third world that different communities will work together whenever unavoidable but live in their own enclaves. But this is the situation that exists at present.
My social circle is that of educated and bright professionals in their fifties and sixties. I know several people of Indian origin but will count only one of them in my social circle. And he makes it only because his Irish wife is a close friend of my wife. My preference for the society of invisible majority is entirely due to the cultural indoctrination by my wife. My major interests are opera, classical music and English literature; tastes shared by very few of my ex-countrymen. My wife being English is a minor factor.
It may seem strange but it is true that I am the only visible minority resident in the “village” part of our community. It is not due to any racial prejudice among sellers or real estate agents; there is none. It is entirely because the prosperous members of former Indian, Chinese, African and other communities have congregated in specific areas. What worries me more is the lack of cultural cross-fertilization. A proof of this, if one were needed, is that I am usually the only visible minority representative in the parties we go to. As far as I can tell all my friends are completely unbiased racially but even when working together with people of different cultures, they do not make the jump to social togetherness. There are rare cases when this takes place. The problem in Western countries where Asian and African immigration has been significant is that the cases of social interaction are not common enough.
A big positive in Canada is that by and large people of different cultures work together with very few problems. In spite of the tendency to congregate in the same areas, there is no exclusivity and people with different cultures live happily in the same neighbourhoods and apartment blocks. Asian restaurants are patronised by invisible majorities as are McDonalds and Dairy Queens by visible minorities. While there are aggrieved individuals who feel that the race has held them back, there are very few who would feel that they have been pushed to the back of the line. The cases are rare where a minority candidate was refused a job when she was better qualified although they are equally rare when she was offered the job when merely equal. This is a tremendous step forward compared to thirty five years ago when two friends advised me against setting up the consulting practice because they feared that the prospective clients would be prejudiced against me. Fortunately, the prejudice for and against neutralized each other over the long term and I made a reasonable living. Today, this question would not arise at all.
While first generation immigrants are relatively aloof, second generation is coming closer. There is considerable interracial socializing and frequent cohabitation and marriages among younger generation. This is a very encouraging sign on the landscape. In the sixties of last century we had to overcome many impediments. These seem to have almost disappeared among white collar and professional families although still present to a variable degree among blue collar and less educated groups. The young integrated families generally adopt the Canadian way with some adaptation in food habits but they maintain congenial relations with family and friends on each side. In my observation, such relationships are stronger than homogeneous relationships if only because there is a stronger will to overcome problems when they crop up.
There is a flip side to this integration, however. If the overtures of a young visible are rebuffed at school or playground, the sense of rejection is acute and sometimes leads to antisocial behaviour. The ex-Jamaican gangs in Toronto and the ex-Indian gangs in Vancouver have their origin in this rejection. In most of these cases the parents are working long hours at making a living and are not able to help their kids settle in a strange environment and often are too busy or untrained to spot the problems when they arise and act on them. This is why school and social welfare agencies have to be watchful and attempt to deal with such situations before they become serious. The problem in UK was that the extremist religious groups took over disenchanted young people when schools and social agencies turned a blind eye. Fortunately, the extremist organizations are not as active in North America as in Europe. We need to stay vigilant that they do not get a foothold among disenchanted immigrants by encouraging the twains to meet rather than develop separately.
Comment:
The New Yorker is reputed among the literary circles as an outstanding magazine. Almost every piece in the weekly publication is a testimony to its excellence, not only is it a joy to read, invariably it is thought provoking even if one may disagree with the conclusions.
David Brooks contributed a superb essay “Social Animal” in the issue of January 17, 2011. It is a delight to read and an example to learn from to all budding writers in all genre’. Brooks cites numerous studies to show that the happiness springs from listening to the deep subconscious and from the empathy for fellow humans. While no one will dispute that these are the keys to happiness, unfortunately they are the source of misery as well. We share in the happiness and the misery of the loved ones through our “Emotional Intelligence”. Since most humans share their misery more often than their joy (perhaps there is more misery than joy in an average life) a high coefficient of emotional intelligence is likely to make us more miserable than happy.
As for people in seventies who had unhappy childhood being three times more likely to be solitary, perhaps they would rather spend the remaining few good years in their lives doing what they love and not what their ‘friends’ wish upon them.
Monica’s Comment:
“eGuru Swami Dharyanand taught me that the only purpose in human life was to make other life forms feel better every time there was a contact. I do not know how much I succeeded in my efforts in promoting general well-being; I do know that the stresses induced by sharing the strains in the lives of the loved ones take their toll. It takes a special kind of selflessness and humility to tolerate tantrums, snappy retorts, derogatory comments and unfair accusations with a smile and not be tormented by simmering resentment. I am taking a virtual course from the Swami to learn how these qualities can be inculcated.”
Friday, March 4, 2011
I Love Your Teeth
Daoud was a Somalian Arab doctor who had married a Canadian nurse on the staff at the hospital in Tripoli, Libya where he was the chief medical officer. The sensible nurse had insisted that Daoud first get a divorce. I have always had a suspicion that my friend just packed his former wife and four children back to his tribe rather than follow the tortuous path of divorce in a foreign country. I met him when Monica and I were living in Tripoli thirty years ago and we became close friends. He had been there for a few years before us and helped us settle in the land where customs were, to say the least, different. There were several factors which had brought our families closer. Both couples were interracial and the white wives had a lot in common. For one thing both were expecting their first babies within a week of each other. Also, there were no close or even distant families within a thousand miles and expatriates in similar circumstances became proxies for siblings. I came to know him quite well during our frequent lunches of shish kabob followed by baklava with espresso coffee in a restaurant with a view of sparkling azure Mediterranean and a bright blue sky. I don’t know why I am saying all this because it has nothing to do with the story I am about to tell. What is relevant though is that both families ended up in Calgary and the relationship was maintained. As often happens some distance grew between Daoud and me because of our diverse interests. But we continued to meet for lunch once every few weeks. Just as in old days at Tripoli harbour, our menu was fixed but due to changed circumstances it had become wiener schnitzel and cheese cake with cappuccino and our view was the paintings of lakes and peaks of Rocky Mountains on walls covered with lustrous gold wallpaper. We exchanged notes about our wives, our children and grandchildren although his wife in Somalia was never mentioned. He bragged about his progeny and I nodded to show my appreciation.
I don’t know why but I was a little nervous this morning about the prospect of spending an hour or more on lunch with Daoud. Perhaps the stories about his family and the demanding patients were becoming tiresome. But the gods smiled at me for a change and the lunch turned out to be a lot of fun. It began just like our previous lunches did. We ordered our drinks, French red wine for his cultured taste buds and Okanagan white for my uncultivated palate. He then asked me how my family was. However, instead of the usual ‘OK, nothing changes with me, you know. How about yours?’ I said something quite different.
“You have met Suresh at one of our gatherings. That short, fat, bald brownie with a really elegant wife.”
“Yes, I have. I remember him very well. He pulled a fast one on me the first time we met.”
“Did he? What happened?”
“When I asked him what he did for a living, whether he was a doctor like Monica or a professor like you he replied with a straight face that he was a cab driver. In spite of his smart suite his face reminded me of one who took me to the airport last month and I believed him. To tell you the truth I was acutely embarrassed when Monica set me right, having been confused in that way myself.”
“That is so like him. He does have a weird sense of humour. He plays tricks of that kind with every one. Still, he is a likeable sort. He has some fine qualities and some very annoying habits. His life is an odd mixture of good things and bad. One doesn’t know whether to pity him or to envy him.”
“This is turning out to be interesting. May be there is a story in it,” Daoud encouraged me to carry on. He adopted the manner of a celebrated author although, as far as I knew, none of his stories had ever been published and not even his family looked at his ‘literary’ blog.
“Suresh is a strange bird. He has a doctorate from an Ivy League college in Philosophy. But apart from some post-doctoral work here in Calgary when Diane, his wife, was studying law, he never did any work to earn a living. He never felt any need. Diane is a renowned criminal defence lawyer and money is one thing that family is not short on. However, Suresh has no idea how rich they are. Diane manages her savings through a chain of financial advisers and does not discuss financial matters with her husband. It is not that she does not trust him just that it is not his business. She does make him a reasonable allowance and he is always dressed in the latest style, lunches in high end restaurants where he insists on picking the tab and showers her and his friends with expensive gifts.”
“That is odd. All the successful women I know have equally successful partners.”
“When Diane married Suresh he was a rising star on the horizon. Somehow the star crashed somewhere on the way up. There was no blinding flash of light, but crash it was. Soon after Diane won her first case by getting a big name client off the hook for murder he had probably committed, he gave up his position and focused on making his dear wife’s life pleasant in any way he could. He woke up half an hour before the time she specified for the wake up call and served her a cup of tea in bed with the first kiss of the day, had dinner ready when she called to let him know she was on her way, massaged her legs if she had been on her feet all day pleading for some gangster or the other. He relieved his beloved wife of any worries about bringing up their son and made sure she heard several times during the day how wonderful, how loveable, how cherished, how competent, you get the idea, she was. She was all of these things and she knew that. And she was sure that her husband believed them as indeed he did. That is why she liked these compliments and in return, you can call it a tip if you are that churlish, she made sure he lacked for nothing.”
“I envy the guy. I wish I had a wife like Diane, not just a nurse who only worked part time and that too under protest. I would also shower her with all the praise if it provided such healthy return.”
“Daoud, keep investment terminology out of my friend’s affairs,” I mildly rebuked Daoud and added, “I do envy him when Monica complains about us not being able to afford a new set of living room furniture she would like to have. But I pity him more. Just imagine having to swallow your pride and flatter your wife when you would rather be mad because it is your bad week. Men have menopause too, you know.”
“Well, I grant you there is time to be mad and time to be sweet. It is the combination that makes life worthwhile. You got to have wiener schnitzel if you want to enjoy the cheese cake as it should be enjoyed,” Daoud pontificated before putting a large piece of the former in his mouth.
I continued, “As I was saying, Suresh brought up their son Mitch almost on his own. He helped with home work, encouraged him when he had trouble with biology, drove him to swimming and piano lessons, kept him off the bad company when he was a teenager and guided him towards a lucrative profession; dentistry. Mitch has worked as a locum since his graduation and now he is setting up his own practice.”
Daoud had some experience in this direction. Being a healthcare professional himself he had some support for Mitch although his own children, with the nurse of course - he never mentioned his children in Africa, chose business management. He now told me what I should have known but did not, “When I came to this blessed country I did locums for a few years. It was tough although things have changed since the walk-ins opened in every shopping centre. Dentists do not have walk-ins, not yet anyway, and it must have been hard for Mitch.”
“Suresh says that Mitch was happy in both practices he worked at. He thinks that he is now ready to be his own man and he is working hard at setting up the clinic the way he wants it. Suresh is helping him with advice whenever he gets the chance. As an expression of his gratitude Mitch asked his parents to be the first patients in his clinic. Diane expects to be in court but Suresh agreed with alacrity. He showed me the letter from Mitch setting the appointment date and time. An official card printed on the computer stated in bold letters, “A week’s notice is required for cancellation and $200 fee is charged for no show.” On it there was a hand-written note in green ink, ‘I love you and love your teeth, xxx Mitch.’”
Daoud smiled, “Patients put food on our table and we all love them. Dentists much more so than us poor doctors because each patient hands them a thick bundle while we get a pittance from Healthcare.”
I disregarded the appeal for sympathy and carried on. “Suresh told me that Mitch had pulled out two of his teeth a couple of years ago and has saved them in a box which he keeps in the drawer next to his check book. Suresh was more touched than most men would have been by the love behind the simple act of Mitch.”
I looked at Daoud to sense his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he said in a worried tone. “Suresh needs to watch that Mitch’s love for his teeth stays within reasonable bounds. When I love something I want to make sure it is at its best at all times and I keep it in a safe place. Mitch might love his father’s teeth so much he may want them in his locked drawer before they wear out any more and before Suresh is ready to part with them.”
“Good point. We need to warn Suresh. Will you call him? Here is his number.”
He took the card and placed it carefully in his wallet. Then he burst out laughing and ploughed into the cheesecake.
Comment:
The idea that every one should drink filtered, fluoridated, chlorinated and otherwise treated water supplied through expensive pipes is a gross violation of our democratic rights. Every one should be able to get the water they wish – from the rain barrel, stream, a well on their property or in the community. The way our governments are going, I dread the day when all our food will be delivered in the form of gruel through another system of pipes in the name of nutrition and hygiene, its taste determined by a committee in Edmonton or Ottawa consisting of ‘experts’ bursting with the knowledge of what makes us healthy and with no taste buds and with no idea of fun.
Daoud was a Somalian Arab doctor who had married a Canadian nurse on the staff at the hospital in Tripoli, Libya where he was the chief medical officer. The sensible nurse had insisted that Daoud first get a divorce. I have always had a suspicion that my friend just packed his former wife and four children back to his tribe rather than follow the tortuous path of divorce in a foreign country. I met him when Monica and I were living in Tripoli thirty years ago and we became close friends. He had been there for a few years before us and helped us settle in the land where customs were, to say the least, different. There were several factors which had brought our families closer. Both couples were interracial and the white wives had a lot in common. For one thing both were expecting their first babies within a week of each other. Also, there were no close or even distant families within a thousand miles and expatriates in similar circumstances became proxies for siblings. I came to know him quite well during our frequent lunches of shish kabob followed by baklava with espresso coffee in a restaurant with a view of sparkling azure Mediterranean and a bright blue sky. I don’t know why I am saying all this because it has nothing to do with the story I am about to tell. What is relevant though is that both families ended up in Calgary and the relationship was maintained. As often happens some distance grew between Daoud and me because of our diverse interests. But we continued to meet for lunch once every few weeks. Just as in old days at Tripoli harbour, our menu was fixed but due to changed circumstances it had become wiener schnitzel and cheese cake with cappuccino and our view was the paintings of lakes and peaks of Rocky Mountains on walls covered with lustrous gold wallpaper. We exchanged notes about our wives, our children and grandchildren although his wife in Somalia was never mentioned. He bragged about his progeny and I nodded to show my appreciation.
I don’t know why but I was a little nervous this morning about the prospect of spending an hour or more on lunch with Daoud. Perhaps the stories about his family and the demanding patients were becoming tiresome. But the gods smiled at me for a change and the lunch turned out to be a lot of fun. It began just like our previous lunches did. We ordered our drinks, French red wine for his cultured taste buds and Okanagan white for my uncultivated palate. He then asked me how my family was. However, instead of the usual ‘OK, nothing changes with me, you know. How about yours?’ I said something quite different.
“You have met Suresh at one of our gatherings. That short, fat, bald brownie with a really elegant wife.”
“Yes, I have. I remember him very well. He pulled a fast one on me the first time we met.”
“Did he? What happened?”
“When I asked him what he did for a living, whether he was a doctor like Monica or a professor like you he replied with a straight face that he was a cab driver. In spite of his smart suite his face reminded me of one who took me to the airport last month and I believed him. To tell you the truth I was acutely embarrassed when Monica set me right, having been confused in that way myself.”
“That is so like him. He does have a weird sense of humour. He plays tricks of that kind with every one. Still, he is a likeable sort. He has some fine qualities and some very annoying habits. His life is an odd mixture of good things and bad. One doesn’t know whether to pity him or to envy him.”
“This is turning out to be interesting. May be there is a story in it,” Daoud encouraged me to carry on. He adopted the manner of a celebrated author although, as far as I knew, none of his stories had ever been published and not even his family looked at his ‘literary’ blog.
“Suresh is a strange bird. He has a doctorate from an Ivy League college in Philosophy. But apart from some post-doctoral work here in Calgary when Diane, his wife, was studying law, he never did any work to earn a living. He never felt any need. Diane is a renowned criminal defence lawyer and money is one thing that family is not short on. However, Suresh has no idea how rich they are. Diane manages her savings through a chain of financial advisers and does not discuss financial matters with her husband. It is not that she does not trust him just that it is not his business. She does make him a reasonable allowance and he is always dressed in the latest style, lunches in high end restaurants where he insists on picking the tab and showers her and his friends with expensive gifts.”
“That is odd. All the successful women I know have equally successful partners.”
“When Diane married Suresh he was a rising star on the horizon. Somehow the star crashed somewhere on the way up. There was no blinding flash of light, but crash it was. Soon after Diane won her first case by getting a big name client off the hook for murder he had probably committed, he gave up his position and focused on making his dear wife’s life pleasant in any way he could. He woke up half an hour before the time she specified for the wake up call and served her a cup of tea in bed with the first kiss of the day, had dinner ready when she called to let him know she was on her way, massaged her legs if she had been on her feet all day pleading for some gangster or the other. He relieved his beloved wife of any worries about bringing up their son and made sure she heard several times during the day how wonderful, how loveable, how cherished, how competent, you get the idea, she was. She was all of these things and she knew that. And she was sure that her husband believed them as indeed he did. That is why she liked these compliments and in return, you can call it a tip if you are that churlish, she made sure he lacked for nothing.”
“I envy the guy. I wish I had a wife like Diane, not just a nurse who only worked part time and that too under protest. I would also shower her with all the praise if it provided such healthy return.”
“Daoud, keep investment terminology out of my friend’s affairs,” I mildly rebuked Daoud and added, “I do envy him when Monica complains about us not being able to afford a new set of living room furniture she would like to have. But I pity him more. Just imagine having to swallow your pride and flatter your wife when you would rather be mad because it is your bad week. Men have menopause too, you know.”
“Well, I grant you there is time to be mad and time to be sweet. It is the combination that makes life worthwhile. You got to have wiener schnitzel if you want to enjoy the cheese cake as it should be enjoyed,” Daoud pontificated before putting a large piece of the former in his mouth.
I continued, “As I was saying, Suresh brought up their son Mitch almost on his own. He helped with home work, encouraged him when he had trouble with biology, drove him to swimming and piano lessons, kept him off the bad company when he was a teenager and guided him towards a lucrative profession; dentistry. Mitch has worked as a locum since his graduation and now he is setting up his own practice.”
Daoud had some experience in this direction. Being a healthcare professional himself he had some support for Mitch although his own children, with the nurse of course - he never mentioned his children in Africa, chose business management. He now told me what I should have known but did not, “When I came to this blessed country I did locums for a few years. It was tough although things have changed since the walk-ins opened in every shopping centre. Dentists do not have walk-ins, not yet anyway, and it must have been hard for Mitch.”
“Suresh says that Mitch was happy in both practices he worked at. He thinks that he is now ready to be his own man and he is working hard at setting up the clinic the way he wants it. Suresh is helping him with advice whenever he gets the chance. As an expression of his gratitude Mitch asked his parents to be the first patients in his clinic. Diane expects to be in court but Suresh agreed with alacrity. He showed me the letter from Mitch setting the appointment date and time. An official card printed on the computer stated in bold letters, “A week’s notice is required for cancellation and $200 fee is charged for no show.” On it there was a hand-written note in green ink, ‘I love you and love your teeth, xxx Mitch.’”
Daoud smiled, “Patients put food on our table and we all love them. Dentists much more so than us poor doctors because each patient hands them a thick bundle while we get a pittance from Healthcare.”
I disregarded the appeal for sympathy and carried on. “Suresh told me that Mitch had pulled out two of his teeth a couple of years ago and has saved them in a box which he keeps in the drawer next to his check book. Suresh was more touched than most men would have been by the love behind the simple act of Mitch.”
I looked at Daoud to sense his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he said in a worried tone. “Suresh needs to watch that Mitch’s love for his teeth stays within reasonable bounds. When I love something I want to make sure it is at its best at all times and I keep it in a safe place. Mitch might love his father’s teeth so much he may want them in his locked drawer before they wear out any more and before Suresh is ready to part with them.”
“Good point. We need to warn Suresh. Will you call him? Here is his number.”
He took the card and placed it carefully in his wallet. Then he burst out laughing and ploughed into the cheesecake.
Comment:
The idea that every one should drink filtered, fluoridated, chlorinated and otherwise treated water supplied through expensive pipes is a gross violation of our democratic rights. Every one should be able to get the water they wish – from the rain barrel, stream, a well on their property or in the community. The way our governments are going, I dread the day when all our food will be delivered in the form of gruel through another system of pipes in the name of nutrition and hygiene, its taste determined by a committee in Edmonton or Ottawa consisting of ‘experts’ bursting with the knowledge of what makes us healthy and with no taste buds and with no idea of fun.
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