The girl with the kitten – no black and white matter!

This is a post about ethics.

At the train station in Lviv (more about trains in the next post…) on my way to Krakow Poland, I did a bit of people watching – I LOVE people watching.

There were the usual suspects: the old grannies trying to sell stuff, the young kids waiting for their boyfriend/girl friend to arrive, the travelers, the commuters, the backpackers…

There was a gaggle of children that particularly caught my attention. I watched the older sister discipline her 2 younger brothers, and keep them in line while grandma caught a couple winks. At one point, the girl went sprinting across the station and disappeared. A few minutes later she returned with a kitten! Super cute, super young little black and white kitten.

The first thing she did was kiss it and promptly swaddle it up nice and tight in her jean jacket. She sat with her near mummified kitten rocking it and kissing its head. Her grandmother opened an eye and spotted the new “bundle” there were some words exchanged that I didn’t hear – and probably wouldn’t have understood – but I guessed that the little girls asked about keeping the cat. The grandmother gave a lazy nod and an eye roll and went back to sleep. The little girl went back to loving her kitten.

My first instinct was to be concerned for the kitten. The kitten was young; really young; too young to be taken from its mother. I was trying to find the words to expleain to the little girl that the kitten needed to be with its mother or it would survive. And then I paused.

For those that don’t know there is a serious problem with stray animals in Ukraine. The stray dog problem seems to be worse than the feral cat problem, but stray dogs tend to be easier to spot –the cats stay out of the spotlight. Nothing is done to sterilize, feed or catch the stray animals that roam the streets in every Ukrainian city.

This little kitten was being taken away from its mother way too young, but it actually had a shot at a much more satisfying and safe life with the little girl. I was torn. I pulled out the camera, and walked over to talk with the little girl. The kitten had woken up and her and her brother were playing with it and cooing at it the same way middle aged women do with newborns. I asked if they were going to take it home, they said yes; I asked if the cat had teeth yet, they said yes; I asked if they had cats before they said they live on a farm and have lots. I had satisfied my curiosity, and also satisfied myself that the kitten would be much better off without its mother and with the little girl than with its mother and without the little girl.

I took quite a bit of time to reflect on this experience. The experience discombobulated my moral/ethical compass a little bit. I really had to work to decide what was in the best interest of the little kitten. Of course there was the concern for the kitten being taken from its mother before it was ready, and also the identification of a teachable moment with the young girl: an opportunity to teach her a quick lesson about life and how life happens and that it must be respected; on the flip side there was the concern for the kitten ending up as just another stray kitten and also the idea that this girl may have found her first pet and have the opportunity to learn more about life by taking care of the kitten than by letting it loose. What a brain workout – AND I did it in Ukrainian! I finally came to the decision that the kitten and the girl would be better off left alone: the kitten was better off being taken care of by a human, and the human was better off learning how to foster life.

This was a wonderful experience for me, and really reinforced the idea that right and wrong are not as black and white as we sometimes want them to be. The kitten and the little girl fell into that grey space we often forget about.

I have given my brain a similar workout in the first couple weeks at the orphanage. We Canadian students swoop in on these girls (at the Internat) take them on (essentially) as pets for a few months and then hightail it out. Sure they leave an impression on our lives, and the experience looks mighty fine on a resume/CV but for them we leave big holes in their lives. A few of the girls cried when talking about how much they miss former Canadian students. I really wondered, at first, how much good we are actually doing by sending a new student every summer, or whether the placement was more self-serving than anything else.

Again with this issue so many different variables had to be considered. It was another case of ethical/moral calisthenics. At the very least it is it was a question of enrichment vs. emotional trauma for the girls. Eventually I reached the decision that that enrichment that that Canadian students offer to the girls in the short period they are in their lives is well worth the heartache that results from leaving.

The grey area in the middle can feel a bit strange. It’s a challenge to be really sure that you are doing the right thing when you are deciding between different shades of grey, and I DO like to do the right thing. The mental calisthenics throw off the moral compass, but it seems that the recalibration is the hardest part. I know that I am comfortable being uncomfortable, and I am getting more used to being caught in the middle.

*love*

(PS for those that are wondering – I did my research – grey and gray are both acceptable spellings of the colour. “Grey” tends to be a more Canadian…. )

A funny thing happened on the way to the post box….

I have this thing about sending postcards. When Felix and I travel instead of buying souvenirs (most souvenirs are tacky made in china junk that no one wants in their house) we send a post card at least once a day from every major attraction/stop. Everyone loves getting mail (no one knows this better than you Janet, thank you soooo much) and it’s our way of keeping our loved ones in our thoughts along our journey. I have tried to keep up with this while here in Ukraine, but post cards are just not as easy to come by as they are at home. I have sent as many as possible (I end up buying 50 post cards any time I find them anywhere and people look at me funny) and today noticed something a little peculiar…

Nearly a month ago I visited Lviv to send off my Canadian travel buddies (you’ll remember Sean and Mike from a previous post). In Lviv there is this lovely restaurant called Криївка (krayeevaka) which is housed in a piece of history - the location used to be a hidden base for the Ukrainian Insurgent Army in the time of Stepan Bandera. When you get to the door, you must knock; a little window opens and you are asked who you are; You must say that you are Ukrainian and give the password: "Слава Україні!" (slava ookraeenee - Glory to Ukraine). Once you are let in, at "gun" point you must take a shot of Horilka (vodka) and then you are lead down into the base. It's a pretty neat experience and I noticed they sold post cards!!! Excitedly I bought up a whole bunch featuring either Stepan Bandera or photos of the Insurgent Army in Lviv. I also found a little gift shop in the center of Lviv (horrendously overpriced) where I bought other postcards featuring shots of the city. I cant remember how many I sent out; perhaps 18 ish some from Криївка, and some generic ones from Lviv.

As noted with the Fedex post, Mail is a particular problem here. There is a whole lot of corruption, and it’s not state regulated like Canada Post is at home, it is unbelievably unreliable and for Ukrainians it can be pretty expensive. All in all it is a terrible system that most Ukrainians try to avoid at all costs (Tanya recently traveled to Kiev to drop off a document – a nearly 24 hour turn around trip – because the post here is just not reliable enough to use).

When I send post cards, I always date them: partially so that I document my travels, but also to keep tabs on the various postal systems and how long they take to ship to Canada. Sometimes post cards from Ukraine to Canada travel in as short a period as a week and a half, but can and have taken over a month.

Aside from having a thing about post cards, I also have a thing about conspiracy theories/stories and I definitely enjoy implementing any government in maniacal plans to meddle in the lives of the people. To that end, Tanya and I have had many conversations about the political climate here in Ukraine, particularly the bitter and unfortunate ongoing relationship with Russia which is being coveted by the recently current president. When I showed her the Insurgent Army post cards we joked about putting them in envelopes to send them so that they don’t get stopped by “big brother” so to speak…

Within two weeks of sending my Lviv postcards I started receiving thank you notes from people – but I was only hearing from people who had received the regular Lviv postcards. At that point I didn’t think much of it…. ready for my terrible prejudiced assumption: I sent the Криївка cards mostly to my friends who are my age, a large majority of them male, and assumes that perhaps a thank you had slipped their minds. Then my best friend Nick thanked me for his parent’s post card and I detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. He was sad that I sent his parents a post card (a beautiful shot of the Lviv opera house) and not him – but here’s the thing I had sent him a card – a Stepan Bandera card because I thought he would appreciate that more! I promised him that his was on its way and didn’t think about it again. Then today I got another thank you message from Matt, who finally (a month later) received his Stepan Bandera post card and it hit me: the “rebel cards” have all been significantly delayed in getting to their destinations!!!

I am not sure what is really going on, perhaps it is just a coincidence, but I can assure you that my brain has runaway with stories that would make 1984 look like a child's fable!

IF you get one of these post cards in the mail, please make a note of the date, and save it: I want to make sure that none of what I wrote was redacted!!!!

I’ll keep sending post cards, and I’m definitely going to try and find some more rebellious ones to see if it happens again *grin*

*love*

DON'T talk to strangers?!?!?!

Most parents teach their children not to talk to strangers. Parents do this in order to protect their children from strangers who might in fact be predators looking to harm the child in some way. My family had an awfully difficult time impressing this lesson upon me (you shouldn’t be that surprised). When I was of school age my morning walk to school was usually a source of great anxiety for my family because I wanted to hug and kiss everyone who walked by; my favourite people on my way to school were the Garbage collectors (all men at that time). We tell stories now about me chasing the garbage truck to get my hug and kiss from each of the men! I vividly remember being chastised for this: “Denise don’t hug and kiss strangers!!” To which I would always reply “they AREN'T strangers, they are my friends!!”

Last night I lay in bed thinking about connecting with people and uncovered another piece of my personal philosophy: I am intrigued but the potential for connection in every interaction. I believe that every interaction holds the potential for a connection and moreover, a positive outcome. (Like the chicken and the egg) I am not sure whether I think this way because I am a humanist/Humanitarian, or if I became a humanist/Humanitarian because I have always thought this way, but I believe that every human being in the world has something positive to offer or share with every other human – however small or large.

Some of you have received one of my “e-troductions” – I will often send a little note introducing friend A to friend B by telling them a little bit about each other and explaining what they have in common and how they might be able to help each other. My goal is to create space for positive interactions that benefit all people directly involved as well as add to a collective consciousness that moves in the direction of positively impacting the world as a whole. Some of you think I’m crazy when I do this, but those of you that have followed up on them realize quickly that it can be helpful to connect with someone who is travelling a similar path (PS: Mike, have you sent that E-mail yet?!).

I still haven’t learned my lesson about strangers, and I’m all the better for it. Here in Ukraine I have made some unlikely friends with people :

William the Welshman – William was a wonderful (albeit very drunk man) Mike and I met one night while out at the bar. He was charming, and entertaining. William told us about hie time spent as a soldier, losing his friends, marrying, divorcing, remarrying, divorcing and remarrying, he told us about his children, and his family. For mike and I he added distraction from a very unfortunate event, and livened up a lethargic evening. Sadly we haven’t heard from William again but the connection had a positive impact on Mike and I and we on him if only for one evening

Jim - Jim is an American I met yesterday at the train station. I heard him speaking English and struggling to find his way around, and instead of minding my own business I piped up “it’s nice to know I’m not the only one lost around here!” Jim has been in Ternopil for a month doing business (software design) but doesn’t speak a WORD of Ukrainian (this is a reoccurring trend with Americans, and slightly disappointing). Jim had a friend write out what he needed (a ticket on the next train to Budapest) but there was a problem at the ticket counter. It’s a good thing I had decided to talk to a stranger because I was able to help Jim and the ticket seller communicate and figure out his travel arrangements. Jim and I went for a walk afterwards and shared travel stories and reflections on Ukraine and Ternopil. For Jim the connection between him and I was essential to him getting to Budapest, and for me I had a positive 2 hours spent in the company of someone who spoke English and understood the reflections of a Westerner abroad.

André – my “friend at the bizarr” as my family calls him was one of the first “Ukrainian strangers” I connected with. I met André in the beginning of my trip. I walk through a small bizarre on my way home everyday and am always tempted by the wonderful fruit. In my first weeks purchasing things was a problem because I knew very little Ukrainian and still to this day struggle with numbers. Andre was kind and helpful he struggled to use long forgotten English training to help me and make me feel more at home. He always asked about my day, what I was learning and what kind of adventures I was up to. I have met his wife, and his son, and am always greeted warmly and treated with kindness. Now I don’t come home without fresh fruit from Andre. Our conversations have helped me significantly with my Ukrainian skills, he has connected me with some of his friends who have taken me sight seeing and taught me a lot about the culture here. For him I am a friendly face, a positive Canadian contact, and a loyal customer.

Slavic is my bus driver. Every day I take 2 busses to get to the orphanage the second of which is a tiny little bus driven (#33) by an older man (he said he’s been driving a bus for 44 years). A tidbit of information is that Ukrainians are very stoic – they don’t smile, they don’t talk to strangers, they don’t say thank you, or please, or excuse me. I have done my best to fit into the culture, but I refuse to give up smiling and salutations! Everyday when I get on the bus I greet my driver with a smile, and a friendly salutation and never depart with out a thank-you. Slavic caught on quick that I wasn’t from around here. We one day had a conversation about where I’m from and what I was doing there. Over the last 3 weeks our relationship has become more friendly – he gives me candies, I bring him cookies or treats, he sometimes wont accept a fare from me (despite my insistence) and always tries hard to engage in conversation. Today it was pouring rain out and the central dispatch called to tell Salvic he didn’t have to work for the rest of the day (the route to the Internat is not heavily travelled), and I happened to get on the bus on his last run. At my usual stop he told me not to get off – he was going to take me home. He said he wanted to take me out for coffee and show me the city. Truth be told, I was a little nervous at first just me alone on the bus with the driver and he was going to “take me out” because I really wasn’t sure of his intentions. I stayed on the bus… I don’t know enough Ukrainian to decline politely soooooo I went with it. Thank Goodness I did. Slavic drove me around the city showing me all sorts of new and interesting things. I then found out that we live a couple blocks from each other and he took me to a wonderful little bar run by a nice woman where we had coffee, and ice-cream and candies; Slavic introduced me to some of his friends. It was so nice to be out and meeting people and talking about their lives. He wouldn’t let me pay for anything, and insisted that he get my phone number s we can go out more often. Then he drove me home. I now look even ore forward to my commute knowing I have a friend along the way.

I realize that we all have to have our wits about us and be aware when engaging with people that we don’t know, but the vast majority of people out there are kind hearted and wonderful. I think I am writing this post to erase the idea of "stranger danger" and advertise how enriching a new connection can be. Human beings are social creatures (so we’ve all heard again and again) but that doesn’t mean being social just within out own groups, that involves being social and widening our networks. This adventure has really impressed upon my how big the world is and how much lies beyond our tiny little Canadian existance. I think that being a social creature dictates that we break out of our small reaities and socialize with all Humans.

I really enjoy these connections, and I enjoy the adventures that every interaction carries. Some of you, readers, are related to me so I had no choice but to know you, but many of you were at one time strangers (some of you still are!) – isn’t it wonderful that we didn’t listen to our parents?

Hugs and kisses cause you aren't strangers, you're my friends!

*love*

Unexpected lesson

Slow down, you’re moving too fast. You’ve got to make the morning last; just kicking down the coble stones, looking for fun and Feelin’ Groovy – Simon and Garfunkle 1966

Infinite wisdom contained in that short little verse.

My mission in life, and what drove me to get here has always been “to help others” (come hell or highwater). Carm Desantis (one of my [amazing] profs) always asked “Denise, what about self care?”. The question used to frusturate me because I really didn’t know what that was or how to achieve it I was always in the “help others" gear. In my Beyond borders interview Joanne asked “when you’re stressed and over worked, how do you take care of yourself?” and I responded “I look for more to take on because helping others charges my batteries”. My mission is still to help others (it takes up the bulk of my day especially here in Ukraine), but it seems to me that I have learned an unexpected lesson here in Ukraine: Self Care. It has come as a bit of surprise to me that while I am here in Ukraine carrying out the ultimate project (so far) of my life’s mission I have learned an awful lot about helping me.

At first I felt kind of guilty for “slowing down”. My first month and a half here was spent trying to keep myself busy and focused on the orphanage and ‘helping’ the girls. In doing so I was knocking my head against the wall and starting to feel like I wasn’t actually accomplishing anything. I had a week or so of struggle where I was doubting myself and my ability to accomplish ANYTHING during my time here.

Then this strange motivation came over me to focus some of my time inwards (I have no idea where this came from, it just happened organically). Then all of sudden within a week of being a little bit more self focused, it all clicked. I now have a renewed energy in regards to the Orphanage and the girls, I am feeling less defeatist and all of the things that I had been struggling with (like how to plan activities, where to get materials, a significant language barrier…) have just fallen into place.

It took me some time to be comfortable with the idea of spending sometime with myself and for myself; this is not a concept I am particularly used to. But, in watching the changes I realized quickly how effective "helping me" was in realtion to my helping of others! Now, I no longer feel guilty for taking the time out for me, and have learned over the last few weeks that if I care a little bit for me, I am so much better prepared to carry out my goals of helping others. Great things are happening at the orphanage and I am witnessing a change in the girls: how they act, how they interact, how they carry themselves… I'm excited to see this continue for the next 62 days.

Last night I watched “The Princess and the Frog” (my goodness I’ve forgotten how terrible Disney movies can be… ) but one of the messages that came through from Mama Odie was don’t focus on what you want (in my case to help others every waking second), but try and find what you really need (I needed self care to help me be more effective at helping others)

I hope that this lesson is something I can bring home with me and keep in the habit of doing. If not I will hear Carm's ever repeated message: “Denise what about self care?” and actually know what it is she is talking about!!


Personal accomplishments:

Completion of a paper that was due in NOVEMBER and getting an A+ on it

26 days of non smoking

Booking a backpacking trip to Poland and Prague

2 weeks of Running
13 days of training (2 days of rest)
Average run – 4.5km
Average direct Calorie burn 275

Total distance 55km
Total direct calorie burn 3519


Energized...

*love*

EX-clusive Language

I've been toying with this idea for a while, but reading this article (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-berkshire-10728912) about two Muslim Girls being denied access on a London (UK) bus because of their head coverings has helped my idea to boil over.

I have posted before about the use of language and how it can negatively affect others. But for now, let me define "Inclusive Language": inclusive language means using language that doesn't single out any person by their age, gender, orientation, ability, religion or anything else. Using inclusive language ensures that all humans are spoken about as equals, and are not excluded in any way based on language. For Instance I refer to Felix as my "partner" rather than my boyfriend or husband or any other gendered term. I do this mainly so that I am using a gender neutral and orientation neutral term that allows all members of any group to talk about their partner without having to identify the gender of their partner, and in tern their sexual orientation. Inclusive language includes terms like firefighter rather than fireman (or firewoman), and identifying that a person HAS a disability rather than IS disabled. Language is powerful - we must be so careful because of the power we wield with our words. Here I propose something completely opposite... Exclusive language.

Please think back to swine flu. Swine flu was renamed in the media because it was causing problems in Jewish communities - first because observant Jews thought they were immune to the swine flu because they had no contact with the animal in question, and then secondly because of the shame and stigmatism connected with the virus if it was contracted by observant members of a community. There was a campaign to rename Swine flu to Mexican Flu in order to circumnavigate these problems.

Now to my point: I think a very strong case can be made for the renaming of one of two groups of people - Either we should start calling the Muslim Extremists by a different name, or we must find a new (positive association) moniker for the rest of the Muslims out there. The differentiation I speak of is in hopes of excluding members of one group of Muslims from inclusion in the other group.

I could go into a diatribe about the Muslim faith and how the image of the Muslim extremists is so totally opposite to the fundamentals of Muslim faith, but I’ll let you do that research on your own. I do want to bring another incident of this term mix up to your attention though: in New York City there is a plan to build a Mosque and Muslim Community Center two blocks away from the World Trade Center site. This plan has sparked outrage from some American, and they have chosen Sarah Palin as their champion to ‘tweet’ requests that “the peaceful Muslims” “refudiate” (a wonderful Palin-ism) their plans to build there because the pain of 9/11 is still too raw. She went through a series of tweets on the subject, and eventually got to “Peace-seeking Muslims, pls understand, Ground Zero mosque is UNNECESSARY provocation; it stabs hearts. Pls reject it in interest of healing.” I have two questions to ask here: 1) how large should the ‘no Muslim’ zone be in NYC? Because 2 blocks away ISN’T ground zero I am wondering if all of Manhattan should rid themselves of “peace seeking Muslims” so that hearts are not stabbed? My second question is why are we painting the whole Muslim faith demographic with the same brush as the Osama Extremists? Ms Palin shows here that she has very little knowledge of the group of people (1,100,000,000 – 1,271,000,000 people strong) that is the second largest faith demographic in the World. If all 1.3 billion Muslims had the same mentality as the very few Extremists… well, I won’t get into potential situations… but really think about what the planet would look like if all 1.3 billion Muslims were cut from the same cloth as the extremists… Case in point here (that not all peaceful muslims are the same as the extremists), the plan is not for an artillery factory, the plan is for a community center with a swimming pool, an auditorium and art gallery space to enrich the lives of the community; I cant find anything at all provocative about that…. (Here’s one of the ground zero mosque articles: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/a-rolling-twit-gathers-no-mosque/article1650127/)

I think it should be up to the (peaceful) Muslims of the world to either chose a new name, or rename the extremists something that is befitting (the right thing bay be to think up a vile name for the extremists, but if I were a non extremist Muslim I would choose a new name, because “Muslim” has been so sullied by fundamentalist groups but that just my personal opinion). This linguistic exclusion of regular Muslims from the extremists is an exercise in training the brain to see humans as humans, and not stereotyping 1.3 billion people based on the action of a handful (America has the highest rate of adults who have sex with children in the world, but we do not think of all Americans as pedophiles – we call pedophiles ‘pedophiles’ and non pedophilic Americans ‘Americans’). As I have said, words are powerful and “Muslim” has taken on a life of its own and invokes images that lead to prejudice. Something HAS to be done about the racism and prejudice that so many Muslims are faced with as every person can conjur up and image (usually unfavourable) when they hear the word “Muslim”.

If you are Muslim, and reading, drop a line: lets begin a dialogue….

*love*

The Tale of a Mouse

Here is a little fable about a mouse and his troubles....


A mouse looked through the crack
in the wall to see the farmer and
his wife open a package.

What food might this contain?'
The mouse wondered - - -
he was devastated to discover it
was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard,
the mouse proclaimed the warning :
There is a mousetrap in the house!
There is a mousetrap in the house!'

The chicken clucked and scratched,
raised her head and said,
'Mr.Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern
to you, but it is of no consequence
to me. I cannot be bothered by it.'

The mouse turned to
the pig and told him,
'There is a mousetrap in the house!
There is a mousetrap in the house!'
The pig sympathized, but said, I am
so very sorry, Mr.Mouse, but there
is nothing I can do about it but pray.
Be assured you are in my prayers.'

The mouse turned to
the cow and said
'There is a mousetrap in the house!
There is a mousetrap in the house!'
The cow said, 'Wow, Mr. Mouse.
I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin
off my nose.'

So, the mouse returned to the
house, head down and dejected,
to face the farmer's mousetrap . . .
alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout
the house -- like the sound of a mousetrap catching
its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see
what was caught. In the darkness,
she did not see it was a venomous
snake whose tail the trap had caught.
The snake bit the farmer's wife.

The farmer rushed her to the hospital,
and she returned home with a fever.

Everyone knows you treat a fever
with fresh chicken soup, so the
farmer took his hatchet to the
farmyard for the soup's main ingredient.
But his wife's sickness continued,
so friends and neighbors came to
sit with her around the clock.
To feed them, the farmer
butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well;
she died.

So many people came for her funeral,
the farmer had the cow slaughtered to
provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from
his crack in the wall with great sadness.



The next time you hear someone
is facing a problem and think it
doesn't concern you,

remember ----

when one of us is threatened,
we are all at risk.


here's the rest of the advice the viral email forward included
(which is more appropriate than usual)

We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra
effort to encourage one another.


Each of us is a vital thread on another person's tapestry
Our lives are woven together for a reason.




I'm happy to be here to lend a hand when you've got a problem...

*love*

Worth a closer look...

It turns out that this upcomming week happens to be Special Education week (it something that I would celebrate DURING the school year... but I dont make the rules...). I would like to encourage you to spread awareness about mental, emotional and physical disabilities if you can.

One of the ways that you can do that is to watch this video, and share either it, or the information contained within it with at least one other person....



Thank you to Lauren Jane for bringing it to my attention.

*love*