That’s the way the cookie crumbles

I bet Stephen Duckett never in his wildest imagination would have ever thought that he could get fired due to a few flippant words that he threw to a horde of media minions while rushing out of a high profile Alberta Health Services board meeting. By now, every Albertan has heard the infamous five little words that would become the proverbial nail in the coffin of his tenure as the figurehead of the Alberta Health Services.

Yesterday, Premier Stelmach, in between voicing his disappointment over the loss of Edmonton’s chance for EXPO 2017 and oh, I don’t know… maybe something about the oil sands haters, exclaimed with much exasperation that he found Duckett’s words to be quite offensive. Then, less than 24 hours later, I hear the breaking news on CBC radio on the drive home from work – Dr. Stephen Duckett is officially fired.

Really?? Really?? Since when was brushing off media just cause for job termination? As for offensive, Dr. Duckett could have said far worst things. For instance, how about “Leave me the hell alone, you red neck Albertans – perhaps the emergency rooms wouldn’t be nearly as busy if you didn’t hurt yourselves on snowmobile, quads, and hunting accidents!” Perhaps, he was actually thinking something more along those lines, but he decided to bite his tongue, err…I mean, cookie instead. Oops.

Isn’t it rather common to see government officials on the news refusing to comment to reporters, and I can’t recall any of them in the past being let go for it afterwards. Many would agree that Ducket’s comments were quirky and rude, but does it warrant sending him packing back to the land down under.

Personally, I think his comments don’t hold a candle to some of the other truly scandalous shenanigans that have been recently exposed.

For instance, Gary Holden, the CEO of Enmax, a large utility company owned by the City of Calgary did not get the boot when it was reported that he had been using company funds to host lavish parties featuring “rock stars” (albeit B-list Canadian ones) in his private residence. The only fallout from that was that the company is now required have better reporting of their executives’ earnings to the public, annnd… I heard that they recently begrudgingly cancelled the Blue Rodeo Concert / staff Christmas Party, due to budget cuts. (Why can’t Mr. Holden just pay the band the $70,000 that they demand out of his salary of $2.7 million?)

Tony Hayward was the CEO of BP during the April 20th explosion aboard the Deepwater Horizon rig off the gulf shore, which killed 11 workers. The spewing rig was finally plugged three month later, but not before discharging 4.4 million barrels of oil into the ocean. Throughout the ordeal, Hayward, too, couldn’t help but make a few asinine comments.

One month into the spill (mid-May), Hayward thought he would try the “look at the bright side” approach and said "The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume." Then two weeks later he whines publicly to reporters “I'm sorry. We're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused their lives. There's no one who wants this over more than I do. I'd like my life back.”

As a result of Hayward’s failure to project an acceptable and humble image of himself and the company during this unprecedented environmental catastrophe, he was relieved of his duties as BP’s CEO. But guess what? He still didn’t get totally fired. The company just demoted him to a cushy director level position with a BP subsidiary.

During a recent BBC interview, Hayward said something that I thought really mirrored Duckett’s plight. Hayward claimed that he understood why he had been "vilified and demonized" by the media. "You know, it's very difficult to hate a company; it's much easier to hate an individual," he said.

In Duckett’s case, the media might have overblown the situation, but Alberta’s Health Minister and Premier still could have chosen to ignore the media and remained loyal to him. But instead, they made him the scapegoat for all of AHS’ current woes. Our health care troubles are chronic and systemic. They stem from years of poor planning, inability to balance short and long term priorities, lack of funding to disease prevention and health promotion programs; and are aggravated by the consistent pattern of making of rash, costly decisions based on immediate political pressures rather than on best practice evidence from research and other jurisdictions. Our problems did not suddenly come about after we hired the cookie-loving, Australian health economist in 2009.

One of the senior engineers at my work loves to say, “an ounce of image is worth a pound of performance”. I’m starting to think that this could be our provincial government’s mantra.

Going to vote?

Two news stories this morning captured my interest. The first was in regards to the winner of the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize, Liu Xiaobo, a 54-year-old Chinese writer and democracy activist. Liu is currently serving an 11-year jail sentence for penning and spreading a political document, Charter 08 that called for democratic reforms and an end to China’s one-party rule. Charter 08 garnered much support via the internet and attained thousands of signatures from university students to professors, to even those within the Communist Party.

The 11-year sentence which started in December 2009 is the stiffest and longest that he has received. Previously, he had been jailed for 21 months for taking part in the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. He also served another three years in a “re-education” camp between 1996 and 1999, for seeking the release of his cohorts in the Tiananmen Square demonstrations.

Apparently, the Chinese News networks were live streaming the award announcement but programming was immediately cut off upon the announcement of Liu’s name. Chinese government ministers were quick to express their anger over the award being handed over to “a criminal” and even suggested that this will have negative consequences for China-Norway relations.

The second story was about the Edmonton civic election and how election administrators have installed hands-free voting devices at advance polling stations. Because of this technology, for the first time, people who don’t have the use of their hands or fingers will be able to cast their votes anonymously, without requiring assistance from others in marking their ballots. The City representative sounded almost apologetic in explaining that due to financial constraints, the devices will only be available at advance polling locations rather than at all of the voting stations on October 18th.

What stark contrast between the two news stories?

In one culture, the political voice of each individual is so highly valued that its authorities are willing to make unique and expensive accommodations for even a small proportion of society, so that their ability to choose their civic leaders will not be hindered – even if the hindrance is as slight, yet valid, as the experience of perceived judgment or the awkwardness of having another person physically mark the ballot.

In another culture, the honor of a paternalistic government, and the peace and order of its entire society (at least the perception of it) are of such utmost importance that there may be no room for even a single voice of dissent.

On October 18th, I am going to vote. If not for any other reason, then simply as a sign of respect to all those that have sacrificed so much for the sake of bringing freedoms to their society that we already enjoy in ours.

"Tubahumurize" - to console and give hope

Last night I attended a presentation hosted by U of A’s School of Public Health. I had received information about the event on my email a few days ago and I knew that the talk was going to be about some sort of collaboration between the U of A’s Green and Gold Community Garden, located at south campus, and some NGO in Rwanda. Prior to the talk, I had learnt from the garden's website that all proceeds from the sale of produce grown there goes to support this particular NGO.

Being a former Global Health master’s student, I have gone to dozens and dozens of these types of “community development” presentations, and to be honest, over exposure can lead to a certain level of desensitization to matters that should otherwise be heart breaking for a person with a normal functioning sense of empathy.

So half heartedly and cynically I went, yet minutes into the presentation, I could not help but be drawn into the presenter’s touching personal story and be moved by his love for his country, a place known as “the Switzerland of Africa”, and what he describes as a beautiful land of a thousand hills.

Eloge Butera, the speaker, was only 10 when the 100-days genocide broke out, during which the brutal ethnically-fueled attacks led to the slaughter of nearly one million of his Tutsi countrymen, among which included his best friend, his father, and up to 100 members of his extended family. During this time his mother did her best to provide for her three kids and to keep them safe, and but years later when the post-genocide tension and volatility did not subside, she decided to send her eldest son, Eloge, alone to Canada in hopes of a brighter future for him. Now 26, not only does his future seem bright, he also seems to be a man that knows his purpose in life. Other than being an international law student at McGill University, Eloge has been a passionate spokesperson for human rights and has also been working tirelessly to garner awareness and support for his mother’s NGO, Tubahumurize, a technical training and counseling centre in Kigali that provides education and rehabilitation to women whom have been victims of gender-based violence, war and genocide.

Eloge spoke poignantly about many things that I found to be foreign and incomprehensible. He spoke of the fear, distrust and anguish that many Rwandans feel when they still have to live side by side with neighbours that might have been responsible for the death of their family members. He spoke of the indignation that one feels when one's government is doing little to bring the perpetrators of genocide to justice. (Although he did recognize the challenge of trying to administer justice when the number of perpetrators are in the tens and even hundreds of thousands.)

He also spoke of the intense feelings of turmoil and disbelief in his own survival that have regularly engulfed him in the years following the killings. "Right after it happened, you think that everyone is dead and soon you will probably die too. But then a year passes, and you find yourself still alive. Two years pass, and you think surely I will not survive much longer. Now it's been ten years, and sometimes I still can't believe I'm alive and I wonder how much longer I am going to live."

It is hard to imagine the confident, eloquent young man that stood in front of me last night ever going through the depths of despair. But I guess one of the most admired human attributes is our potential ability to persevere through trials and tribulations. It is amazing how the human spirit can survive even the most horrendous tragedies, albeit damaged, but not destroyed.

Eloge lastly shared about how Rwandans are moving on and moving forward. Some Hutu's and Tuti's are covering hatred over with love through inter-ethnic marriages, which were not uncommon before the genocide. Some Hutu’s are actively seeking forgiveness and reconciliation in their communities. Others like Eloge’s mom have devoted their lives to rebuilding their country. In her case, it’s reaching out to traumatized women in Rwanda regardless of their ethnicity and nationality – in fact Tubahumurize serves both Hutu and Tutsi women as well as refugees from neighbouring countries like Burundi and Congo. Eloge also finds hope in the generosity of overseas supporters. “Volunteers of the Green and Gold garden in Edmonton are such enthusiastic contributors. They freely put in many hours of labour and tolerate countless mosquito bites, for the sake of Rwandans that they don't even know. All of this gives me hope and faith in the good of people.”

The experience last night kind of helped me expose my initial cynicism for what it is - a disguise for laziness and perhaps a bit of unjustified self-righteousness. He reminded me that, like the garden volunteers, I can vote for the kind of world that I want to live in through my actions. Yes, it is true that the volunteers' sweat and toil are not on the same level as the women in Rwanda, and they may not be able to ever completely identify with their pain and hardship. But through every seed sown and every weed pulled they are showing solidarity and love. His sharing reminded me that there is so much work that needs to be done and so many ways that one can live a life that counts.

For more information on the U of A Green and Gold Community Garden and how you can get your hands on some fresh produce, while supporting an excellent cause, go to:

http://www.publichealth.ualberta.ca/green&gold.cfm

EPIC fun

Last night was the third time that I have attended an event held by EPIC, a U of A student church, and every time I go, I come out of it feeling a bit more encouraged, refreshed and motivated to hang on to God just a bit tighter.

The event was held at an acreage just east of Sherwood Park, and the evening started off with a lamb roast. Julianna and I were running a bit late, and by the time we got there, the lamb had already been roasted, taken off the spit and carved. A few of the guys actually had been there earlier to either help out or just to witness the slaughter and preparation. Many people mentioned that they don’t think they could have eaten it had they first seen the lamb alive. 

(On a side note, isn't it typical for people to love their meat, but they would rather not have to think about the process by which it arrived on their dinner plate?  However, if the consumption of flesh is so normal, and an integral part of being an omnivorous  human being, then why does thinking about how the meat got there gross people out?  Could it be that there is a sort of underlying, persistence guilt associated with meat eating that each of us harbor? Nevertheless, people, including myself, will continue to try their darnest to compartmentalize the aspect of killing from the eating, until I guess they become vegetarian.  But I digress.) 

After supper, I had a great conversation with two girls that I had just met.  Literally within minutes of meeting them, the three of us had squeezed onto a swinging wooden bench overlooking a small lake surrounded by a dense, lush border of wetland greenery; and carrying on as if we had known each other for years.  The splendid conversation aside, every time that I find myself in the countryside, I am struck by the idyllic, enchanting ambience - especially its ability to quickly draw out and dash whatever worries or anxiety that happen to be enslaving my mind and spirit at the moment.

Anyways, I had about 7 years on these girls, both of whom had just finished 2nd year. But I marveled at their maturity, and passion for God and life. One girl had already traveled extensively and gone on several short term missions trips, but what really impressed me was when we were discussing her travels, she said she was really hesitant to make any statements about the people and cultures that she has encountered. 

“How can I only spend one or two weeks in a place, and think that I understand their culture enough be able to make generalizations or have an opinion about how they live?” she said.

I was utterly impressed.  It’s not often that I meet people who can humbly realize their own potential biases and ethnocentrism, and acknowledge that our western worldview, at least aspects of it, might not be the only right worldview out there.

Following the lovely girl talk session, I joined in on a few rounds of 2-on-2 Picko-ball, a fun hybrid version of tennis and ping pong, which I had only discovered for the first time! I found it orders of magnitudes more fun than tennis, ping pong or badminton combined - all of which I suck at.  But perhaps, a part of fun was that no one was taking it seriously and that we had spent as much time goofin' off and taking jabs at each other as playing the game. 

At around 9 o'clock, we wrapped up the games of Picko-Ball and beach volleyball, and gathered around a camp fire to listen to the brief sermon, given by Aaron, an intern from Taylor Seminary.

Keeping in mind what we had for dinner, it was very fitting that his talk would be about Jesus, as the Lamb of God. Of course I knew of the parallels between the Passover lamb in the Old Testament and Jesus. But his talk got me thinking about extending the parallels between the Jews’ subsequent exodus out Egypt and entry into the Promised Land, and our Christian walk. Yes, Jesus is our Passover lamb and because of his precious blood, God permits the punishment of death to passover us, but the story certainly does not end there. Just as the Jews had to leave their old life in Egypt and journey towards the Promised Land, we must also follow God out of our old ways and lives, in order to enter into our new life with Him. Just has the Jews’ disobedience, fearfulness and belligerence kept them in the desert for much, much longer that was intended, my own spiritual stagnancy, and neglectfulness of God can keep me from living life abundantly and being able to bask in His full glory.

Another good reminder came up during the sharing time, when one girl had spoken about the fear and uncertainty that she felt over making decisions about her future especially since her graduation. She really just said she wanted to surrender her desires. The concept of surrendering is nothing new nor earth shattering, but it still resonated with me. Surrendering is a fundamental part of being a follower of God. It is often at the back of my mind, but not something that I actively practice all the time.  Truth be told, I have not been surrendering my desires over to God lately; if anything, I have been holding them captive.  I have been fooling myself into thinking that God doesn’t know or care about them, nor does he know how to deal with them, and apparently I can do a much better job by obsessing and micromanaging them.  How scary that if I’m not careful, surely these desires and plans are bound to become my idols, won't they? 

Her words, though so simple, was a powerful prompt for me to re-orient myself and to make an intentionally effort to hand over my desires and plans to God everyday. I find great comfort in knowing that we do hear His voice and will for our lives through the simple truths spoken daily by the Godly people around us.

More importantly, I praise him for being infinitely gracious, and lovingly relentless in working to transform me to become the person that He wants me to be.

A Staycation to Remember

Some of the most fun moments in life can happen unexpectedly. The past Saturday was an example of such a day, one filled with a random assortment of wonderful activities.

Being an early bird, I, not uncharacteristically, woke up around 7:30 with massive hunger pains! Upon a quick scan of my fridge, I decided to make a quiche from what remained of my week-old produce collection. A red onion, a green pepper, a bunch of limpy asparagus, two roma tomatoes, and half a container of freshly grated parmesan cheese. As I started chopping the veggies, I thought what a pity that there was going to be so much leftovers. Why not call up some friends to come over for breakfast? 

About an hour after being rudely awakened, my friends Greg and Jessica arrive, both in cheery spirits, but understandably, still just a bit groggy.  Between bites of quiche and sips of tea, we had a lovely conversation that drifted between a number of lovely, lighthearted breakfast topics.  Ha! Not really.  We mostly chatted about the G8/G20 protests actually. For instance, the heavy-handed actions by the authority towards protestors; and how the media made it sound like the police arrested anyone that moved. Violent protestors, peaceful protestors, protestors that looked like protestors, protestors that were under disguise as tourists and joggers, along with any actual tourists and joggers.  We theorized about the circumstances under which we would ever consider joining a protest. Greg, ever the diplomat, acknowledged his appreciation of living in a country that allows for free speech and public expressions of dissent, but he didn’t know if he’d ever partake in a protest. While Jessica shared her thoughts and rationale over joining a recent protest that was held in response to Canada’s refusal to sign the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. As for me, I have yet to find myself so passionate or personally vested in a cause to have joined in a protest over it.  But never say never.  

Following the to-protest-or-not-to-protest discussion, Greg spotted my neglected guitar, which happened to be propped up against my neglected piano.

"May I?” He asked. 

“Sure.” I replied, and the next thing I know Greg is breaking out his mad guitar skills.  In the moments that followed, we found ourselves amidst an impromptu sing-along where Greg would start playing one of the many songs that he knew off the top of his head (including "Firefly"-Owl City, "I will follow you into the dark"-Death Cab), and we'd find the lyrics off the web and sing along.  It comforts me to know that if none of our day jobs pan out, maybe we can still make a living as a cover band or something.

After the mid-morning living room concert, we moseyed on over (drove) to the downtown farmers' market. Edmonton being the big small town it is, we bumped into several familiar faces. Well... it was mostly Jessica, who was bumping into family and friends left and right - literally. I bumped into one friend; and Greg, none. His buddies are apparently too cool for the market.

Lunch at the market included fresh raspberries, a rather disappointing chicken burrito that was kinda dry, flavorless and skimpy on veggies, and 1/2 of a scrumptious Jalapeno Cheddar Fat Frank that I mooched off of the one friend that I had bumped into (Thanks Tyler).

Following the market, we began perusing the various art and design exhibits on display at a number of different downtown venues, as a part of the Works - an annual, month-long Arts and Design Festival. One of the images still fresh on my mind include a very well-painted piece displaying a bright canola field set before an ominous darken sky that warns of an imminent early evening storm (wish I had the picture to show you). This kind of Ode-to-the-Prairies painting would certainly resonant with many of us that have driven on Alberta's highways during pre-storm summer evenings, and have personally witnessed the starkly contrasting colors between the land and sky, and thought it to be a bit surreal. 

Another noteworthy exhibit was one done by the U of A Design students that featured furniture made of different types of bioresidues such as hemp or hay. The crop residues were pressed into particle boards similar to what is currently used for making furniture. However, instead of concealing the building material with tacky facades and finishes, typical of cheap furniture, the chairs and coffee table are displayed proudly au natural. Some of the furniture surfaces had cool mosaic patterns made by piecing together different types of bioresidue boards.

By 4 o’clock, nearly 7 hours since the beginning of this staycation, all of us complained of needing a nap. So we went home, each to their own, and had a nap.

A bit anticlimactic, no? But, that’s not the end…

Around 7 pm, Jessica and I (sadly, sans Greg) drove to the deep south (Ellerslie) for a Deep Frying Party, hosted by my engineering buddy, Wayne Poon and his rag tag team of deep fry-happy hooligans. When we got there, we met Wayne in the backyard, who greeted us dressed in full personal protective gear - flame retardant coveralls, steel toed boots, and safety glasses. Why, you ask? Well, I'm guessing to prevent oil stains on his designer jeans or to not get hurt if an 8 kg deep fried turkey were to accidentally get dropped on his foot. But the real reason for dressing up is probably just because he CAN.

Going there I was hoping for some good deep fried turkey, but the scope of the menu exceeded my expectations beyond measure. To start, we had deep fried mozza sticks, onions rings, yam fries and mushrooms. Followed by the main courses - turkey AND crab legs. Lastly, for dessert we further indulged in deep fried Oreos, Twinkies, and Mars bars.  Just for the record, deep frying sugar, chocolate, and convenience store-bought cake, made of ingredients wholly derived from petroleum products is not too much for the palate - it tastes inexplicably amazing!   The smooth execution of the deep frying activities was impressive and obviously the result of some good planning. For instance, they had pre-prepared different types of batters, soaked the turkey in brine and seasoning for a day beforehand, and had enough oil on hand to change the oil between the dinner and the dessert items so that our sweet treats wouldn’t taste like onions and turkey.

It was a rockin good party. Kudos to Wayne, Eric, Jon and the others for organizing!

And that was the awesome finale to our 1st ever Staycation. Here’s to hopefully many more :)

Blogging + Work = Awesome

Thanks to encouragement from Raffaella Loro, COE's own social media princess, I've started blogging about work on the City of Edmonton's Blog.

My first entry is called "A cure for recycling anxiety".

Freedom to love

Love consists of a commitment which limits one's freedom — it is a giving of the self, and to give oneself means just that: to limit one's freedom on behalf of another. Limitation of one's freedom might seem to be something negative and unpleasant, but love makes it a positive, joyful and creative thing. Freedom exists for the sake of love. If freedom is not used, is not taken advantage of by love it becomes a negative thing and gives human beings a feeling of emptiness and unfulfillment. Love commits freedom and imbues it with that to which the will is naturally attracted — goodness. Man longs for love more than for freedom — freedom is the means and love the end.

- John Paul II (from "Love and Responsibility")

The Carbon Offset System, and its role in Alberta's Climate Change Strategy

In 2008, Alberta’s total GHG emissions in terms of CO2 equivalent was 244 million tonnes. If we were to translate this to the combustion of an equivalent volume of gasoline, it would be the same as if every man, woman and child in Alberta used 23,800 litres over a period of one year.

If you take a look at GHG emissions across Canada, it is evident that we are the black (coal and bitumen covered) sheep of the family. Big brother Ontario’s emissions rank second, however, they have 3.5 times the population, and take a look at the economic slackers in the Maritimes.

The Government of Alberta, attempting to shed its image of being the black (coal and bitumen covered) sheep of the family, released ‘Alberta’s Climate Change Strategy’ a couple of years ago. It is quite an attractive publication, with pleasing type sets, a sleek layout; and chockfull of colorful close ups of lady bugs, pine boughs, and dewy leaves. But, its overly-polished appearance made it seem more like a marketing tool, rather than a serious environmental-economic strategy.

The document seemingly outlines Alberta’s three-pronged approach to reducing GHG in the province to 14% below 2005 levels by 2050. 1. Conservation & energy efficiency, 2. Greening energy production, and 3. Carbon capture & storage. However, it doesn't take much effort to see that it's really hoping and preaching a kind of put all of your eggs in one basket kind of solution. According to the strategy, 70% of the GHG reductions will be achieved through Carbon Capture and Storage (CCS).

I do not want to debate about whether CCS is cost effective or feasible on a massive scale, and I am certainly not an expert in regards to the energy and water requirements of such technology. But even the strategy only mentions of one upcoming CCS project in Alberta, which is expected to capture 220,000 tonnes of CO2 annually. Hence, in order to fulfill the 139 MT reduction target associated with CCS technology by 2050, another 630 CCS projects of similar scale would need to be implemented in the next 40 years - an average of 16 per year.

This brings us to the two other pieces of the strategy, “conservation & energy efficiency” and “greening energy production".

With respect to improving conservation and energy efficiency, Alberta implemented new regulations mandating industrial facilities that emit more than 100,000 tonnes of CO2e per year to decrease its GHG intensity by 12%. For instance, if a widget factory currently puts out 100 kg of CO2e for producing one widget, in the future, it can only put out 88 kg of CO2e per widget.

The reductions can be achieved in three ways:

1. The widget factory changes its equipment and/or processes to become more efficient

2. The widget factory pays into a provincial ‘Climate Change and Emissions Management Fund’ at a rate of $15 per tonne of CO2e, which is really just a carbon tax.

3. The widget factory buys carbon offset credits from an unregulated facility (i.e. a facility that emits less than 100,000 t of CO2e per year) that reduces GHG emissions through voluntary activities.

So what is a carbon offset credit?

Carbon offset credits can be generated when a facility conducts an activity that goes above and beyond the industry and regulatory standard, while saving GHG emissions. For example, whether you agree with it or not, the standard waste management practice in Alberta is to landfill. When biodegradable waste decomposes in a landfill under anaerobic conditions, methane and carbon dioxide are generated and are eventually released to the atmosphere. If this waste is composted rather than landfilled, the majority of the carbon that would have otherwise have been released as GHG is now tied up as stable organic matter (i.e. compost). By accounting for and comparing the GHG emissions generated from landfilling vs. composting, the quantifiable reductions in GHG emissions become the carbon offset credits.

The Edmonton Waste Management Centre has quantified and sold over 200,000 tonnes of carbon offset credits derived from its composting operations over the past 3 years. In another two years, we will be able to generate additional offset credits from the new waste-to-biofuels facility, as there will be net GHG reductions from the displacement of conventional fossil fuels with biofuels, as well as, avoidance of landfill gas generation. (Currently at work, I'm actually developing the quantification calculator that we will be using to quantify the offsets from the biofuels facility)

To ensure the veracity and rigor of the quantification, only activities with quantification protocols approved by Alberta Environment can proceed with quantifying and the subsequent selling of their offsets (There are currently 29 approved protocols covering a number of activities in the agriculture, waste, renewable energy and transportation sectors). In addition, upon completion of the offset quantification, the information must be verified by a third party consultant, such as a chartered accountant or professional engineer.

Another strength of the system is that any given offset activity can only be valid for a maximum of 8 years, before it undergoes review to determine whether it is still an appropriate offset activity. For instance, as composting operations become more prevalent in the future, at some point it becomes the new norm and should no longer be seen as an environmentally progressive activity, suitable for carbon offsets. This seems like a sensible way to encourage continuous improvement and spur on new and better methods of reducing emissions.

In 2007, approximately 1 million tonnes of offset credits were traded in Alberta; and this figure jumped to 2.7 million tonnes in the following year. As more and more protocols are approved, trading is only expected to increase. One criticism of the current system is that the “penalty” or alternative of paying $15 per tonne of CO2 to the Climate Change Fund is set too low, and drastically undervalues the importance of energy conservation. Since the rate is set at $15 per tonne, carbon credits can never be priced more than $15, as there would be no incentive for the regulated facilities to use offset credits rather than just pay into the fund. But, for now, $15 per tonne is better than nothing, right?

Either way, should this scheme fail or get scrapped for some reason, the only immediate repercussions will be that some big oil and utility companies have wasted millions of dollars for nothing. Oh well. At least we still have carbon capture and storage to fall back on.

Sources:

2008 Alberta Greenhouse Gas Emissions
http://environment.alberta.ca/0915.html

Alberta Carbon Offset Regulation and Policy Development
http://carbonoffsetsolutions.climatechangecentral.com/policy-regulation/alberta-legislation-regulation-and-policy-development

Alberta's 2007 and 2008 Total Offset Summary
http://carbonoffsetsolutions.climatechangecentral.com/policy-regulation/alberta-offset-system-review

Alberta’s 2008 Climate Change Strategy
http://environment.gov.ab.ca/info/library/7894.pdf

List of Approved quantification protocols
http://carbonoffsetsolutions.climatechangecentral.com/offset-protocols/approved-alberta-protocols

Haikus and Ninjas

You know what they say – it’s the simple things that make life worthwhile; and nothing brings more joy to the life of a little paper-pushing, red-tape wielding, civil servant than to participate in a little impromptu, rapid-fire, electronic bantering. Folks, you know exactly the types of email strings that I’m talking about! Oh the delight that a cubicle slave feels to witness one spontaneously erupt, to add to the flame one’s own inane two cents, and most importantly, the momentary sense of absolute elation when one’s response is validated by subsequent repartee. During times like these, I know I'm putting my Master's degree to good use. Why bother trying to save the world, when mediocrity can feel soooo good.

This afternoon, in attempt to ward off that post-lunch sluggishness, I wrote a haiku for my cubie neighbour, in honor of his imminent one month adventure in Bali. Upon the presentation of my Pulitzer-worthy poem, the following brief "mylifeisaverage"sque dialogue ensues:

_______________________________
From: Cubicle slave #1
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:20 PM
To: Cubicle slave #2
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

Heading to Bali
Soft sand, warm breeze, epic waves
Cowabunga dude

____________________________________________
-----Original Message-----
From: Cubicle slave #2
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:21 PM
To: Cubicle slave #1
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

Sounds like it was written by a ninja turtle.

____________________________________________
From: Cubicle slave #1
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:29 PM
To: Cubicle slave #2
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

I could be an undercover ninja

____________________________________________
-----Original Message-----
From: Cubicle slave #2
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:32 PM
To: Cubicle slave #1
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

Seems more likely you are an undercover TMNT fan

_____________ _____________________________
From: Cubicle slave #1
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:37 PM
To: Cubicle slave #2
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

Don't make me prove my totally tubular ninja skills on you!

____________________________________________
-----Original Message-----
From: Cubicle slave #2
Sent: Wednesday, May 12, 2010 1:37 PM
To: Cubicle slave #1
Subject: RE: Cubicle slave #2’s vacation haiku

Fair enough



Don’t know about you, but I could seriously see this secret ninja business being adapted into an episode of The Office. Isn't it obvious that I should not be working as an engineer, but rather a television writer?

Happy Hump Day Everyone.

Counting down to 27

Two months until I turn 27, and I’m looking forward to it. “27” sounds nice. Still considered young, but with a dash of maturity and experience. For example, at work, one would not treat a 27 year old like a new grad. No way! You’re an engineer that has been working full time for nearly 5 years. No more patting yourself on the back for taking on a new project, or solving a problem that you’ve never seen before. Not knowing what to do at work is no longer novel nor nerve racking - it’s just what’s normal.

27 is also a familial milestone as my mother got married at that age. When I was in undergrad, I would think, Geez… 27 is so old. I was certain that I’d be married before then. But now, “27” is knocking on my door, and I’m thinking “Really? Where has the time gone?”

Nearly five years ago, a good friend (let’s call her ‘K’) and I sat down at her parent’s kitchen door during New Years and I had the splendid idea of making a “5 Things to Do in 5 Years” list. It was the closest thing that I had to a 5-Year Plan. I clearly remember a few of the "things" on my list - start a Master’s degree, work overseas, travel to a place not in Asia (b/c until then I had only ever been to either China or Canada). With planning, mindful spending, and an impulsive personality that enabled me to say YES to a few, very, VERY last minute opportunities, I have managed to accomplish at least all of the items that I did remember. Hence, I guess I do know exactly where the time has gone.

For Jenny’s 5 Year Plan Version 1.0, I also intentionally made an effort to not include any romantic goals. I was 22, single and unreservedly stubborn about not harboring the stereotypical dreams of young women everywhere.

K and I have already made plans for the upcoming New Years to get together, and perform the long awaited assessment of our progress. The actual lists are currently held in an envelope, wrapped around a bottle of home-made wine that’s sitting in a wine stand in her parents’ basement. I hope that we would be bold enough to make a new 5 Year Dream List. Perhaps a glass or two of the home-made wine will help to free some of the secret aspirations that are currently being held captive in our souls by the ever mounting life sucking phenomenon known as adult responsibility, practicality and sensibility. Goal setting is hard. The risk of failure can be paralyzing. This time, I have to admit, instead of being stubborn and defiant about not including a romantic goal, the reason is more because I’m just a big chicken.

Why is it that with education, work, fitness, finances, etc., goal setting doesn’t seem so bad, but with romance, there’s this weird taboo or paradox about it. As if you desired it, it wouldn’t come true. No one ever says “Don’t worry. The perfect job opportunity or adventure will fall into your lap! It will come just when you’re not looking!” But those are the clichés constantly used to explain love. It’s like this mystical, elusive, confounding, massively sought-after experience that can only be bestowed serendipitously upon willing, BUT unsuspecting victims. Love can’t be planned for or expedited. You can't ‘Just make it happen!’.

That said, K did include a romantic goal on her 1.0 list and was not jinxed by it, as she started dating a good man soon after, and with whom she still has a relationship. Irrespective of the inclusion of romantic aspirations or not, I have still yet to settle what the other 4 or 5 goals will be. So I'd better get started on that, AND I should try to recall the things on the list that I've forgotten and try to complete them ASAP!

Northern Ambitions

A part of my job at the Edmonton Waste Management Centre is to procure heavy equipment needed to support our operations. Simply put, I coordinate the purchasing of different types of big machines that are used to move, sort, screen, mix, grind, or shred the thousands of tonnes of waste, compost and recycleables going through our site on a daily basis. Sometimes, the mobile equipment that we get from the dealers requires additional features which must be custom manufactured. One of the companies that has been doing this kind of work for us is Weldco-Beales.

This morning, I had the privilege of touring their impressive manufacturing complex. I saw a cool machine that blasts tiny steel beads against sheet steel, to remove unwanted residues and give it a velvety, matte finish, which makes it easier to weld. I also saw massive automated plasma and gas torch cutting tables, with cutting heads that zips around large panels of steel, releasing different shapes from it, as if they were stamped out by a giant cookie cutter. Keep in mind that some of the steel "cookie dough" is up to 4 inches thick. It is hard to believe that just a few decades ago, this kind of work would've been done manually, by workers holding gas torch cutters.

After the various pieces are cut or milled out by robotic lathes, they come together like a 3D puzzle, and the structure is temporarily held in place by numerous, short, discontinuous seams of tack welds. This technique of using the tack welds reminded me how a dressmaker uses pins to temporarily attach the panels of cut fabric together before running it under a sewing machine.

Anyways, I'm sharing this story not because of my secret passion for equipment manufacturing. I was just really surprised to find out who owned this excellent venture. It turns out Weldco-Beales belongs with a group of companies operating in northern Canada, all owned by the Norterra corporation. But Norterra is actually owned by the Canadian Inuit people through the Nunasi Corporation in Nunavut and the Inuvialuit Development Corporation (IDC) in the western Arctic.

On Norterra's webpage, it stated this vision: to create more meaningful participation in the Canadian and trans-Arctic economies for the people they represent; and their goal: to develop greater economic power and influence over their own region through business development in the infrastructure and transportation sectors. How intriguing! It's an Inuit crown corporation! Of course I wanted to know what else the Nunasi Corporation and the IDC owned, and I found that between the two entities, they owned (wholly or partially) nearly three dozen businesses, from mining, to oil and gas, to environmental consulting, to pharmacies, to travel.

The IDC, in particular, has been trading, selling, and investing for over 30 years, and currently boasts revenue and assets in the several hundreds of millions of dollars.

Why don't we ever hear about outstanding accomplishments such as these with respect to our fellow aboriginal Canadians? All that is ever publicized about are the insurmountable problems that plague their communities. Substance abuse, racism, gang violence, poor health, poor living conditions, victimization, broken families, etc. The prevalence of negative reporting perpetuates hurtful stereotypes, perceptions of inferiority, and acts to further erode cultural confidence and empowerment.

Now contrast this with what has been taking place in the Canadian North, where by the settled land claims with the Inuit have immensely improved their capacity to self-govern. These communities have proven to be quite capable of managing their own communities and finances. Not only that, their governments aren't afraid to carry out their own economic agendas and influence key industrial sectors by owning a piece of the pie. It also doesn't hurt that they using the profits gained to better the lives of their own people, the real beneficiaries. Typically corporate profits goes straight into the pockets of the CEOs and executives of multinational corporations, and other shareholders; all of whom are far removed from the communities or even countries in which their companies operate. They could care less about long-term sustainability and wealth-building for the local communities because they don't live there. In my opinion, it would serve our non-Aboriginal governments well to take a few lessons from the Inuit economic framework and business models.

Sources and hyperlinks used:

http://www.idc.inuvialuit.com/our-companies/
http://www.nunasi.com/aboutnunasi
http://www.nunasi.com/theme/user/NunasiBookEng.pdf
http://www.irc.inuvialuit.com/about/finalagreement.html

Jenny 1, Sophia 0

Last night I had the privilege of being entrusted as the caretaker of baby Sophia for the second time ever. Although I'm an only child, I've alway been comfortable with infants and children. Throughout my teens years I babysat for various neighbours; and in the few past years, I've enjoyed babysitting once in a while for my couple friends. Other than being the nice person that I am, my willingness to babysit can also be attributed to mildly-non-altrustic reasons. Truth be told, I find it self-edifying that I can feed, change and if necessary, sooth a cranky baby without being their mom. I see it as a sort of character-building exercise.

This time, the gig started around 6 pm. Sophia and I played for a hour and visited with my friend Maxine who had dropped by with fresh baked cookies! By 7 pm, I began carrying out her bedtime regimen, as meticulously laid out in a note by Sophia's mum. Nothing too noteworthy during this time except for when Sophia had squirmed, kicked and flippantly attempted to wrestle her way out of a diaper change. Not yet a year old, and one can surely tell that this girl has got a mind of her own. It didn't matter to her that all her struggling would only amount to futility, she wasn't going to make it easy for me.

After the diaper change, I put her into the crib, left the room and went downstairs.

Not less than five minutes later, I hear her crying. Not the typical "I don't wanna go to bed" cry, but the high pitched howling of a very angry baby. Oh oh... maybe she needs another diaper change. I skipped back up the stairs and as soon as I picked her up, I knew (from the smell) that this diaper would not be clean like the previous one. I thought I was mentally prepared to face whatever mess that awaited me, but found myself caught off-guard by the shear volume and pungency of it. What a difference solid food can make to the poop! I was also unprepared to handle the combination of a massively soiled diaper and a strongwilled baby, who was now trying to twiggle herself out of my hand with the full vigor akin to that of a daredevil trying to get out of a stray jacket.

Suddenly, I was horrified with the realization that I could be seconds away from a feces catastrophe. Visions of poop smears on the wall, the change table and.... on Me were racing through my mind. Containment! Containment! I quickly used the clean part of the diaper to wipe off whatever I could on her tush, but she still wasn't clean. Then, a box of baby wipe on the shelf next to me caught my eye. I flipped open the lid, and found it empty. Drat! WHAT can I use to wipe her clean? With desperation, I looked around and grabbed the first piece of cloth that I saw; and as I wiped up Sophia, I realized that I had just sacrificed one of those nice hooded baby bath towels. Oops... I quickly rationalized that not using it would only have led to a much worse fate for the contents of this nursery. And through all of this, Sophia continued to fully "assert" herself - all 20 Ib or so of it - twisting and flailing about, trying to kick her ankles out of my grip and escape the maddness atop the change table.

Fear not, for I am happy to report that I indeed won the Battle of the Pink Change Table. Nevertheless, I was not freed from having to console the losing party, who took another solid 20 minutes to cry herself asleep in my arms.

Things I love

One of my former classmates in public health has a maddeningly addicitive blog, with a speak-for-itself url of http://www.weddingobsession.com/ Engaged or not, it's easy for a girl to get hooked on the stunning samplings of artistic wedding photography; close-ups of sweet delectables, shoes and accessories; and the infectious enthusiasim by which the blogger gushes about "all things wedding".

In today's post, she presents a series of framed, sap-oozing clip art images that a bride might consider using for brightening a space or table at the wedding or in the home - all of which I felt pretty ambivalent towards, until I saw this one.



*Sigh*... some day a man might find home in my heart along with my two favorite things.

Water – it’s in my blood

“I googled your name before our interview last year”, my team lead at Alberta Environment unexpectedly confessed, during the water team’s weekly ritual of Friday steak sandwiches at the Highrun Club.

“You did? Did you find anything incriminating?” I replied in my characteristic teasing manner. I was not concerned; after all, this was 2006 and pre-Facebook. Even now, he wouldn’t be able to find anything more questionable than unsolicited shots of me displaying some very unbecoming facial contortions, or snoozing on a bus ride with mouth agape – perhaps accompanied with a string of drool running down my chin, annnnd other zany poses (you know – smooching cows, and biting babies, nothing unusual really)

“I didn’t find any dirt on you. But I did come across a website that explained the origins of your last name. Did you know the name ‘Hong’ originates from a tribe of people living along the Yellow River, well-known for their irrigation and flood control expertise?”

“No… I didn’t.” I felt remiss to learn that he knew something about my heritage that I didn’t. “BUT, I do know that the character ‘Hong’ is associated with water and flood.”

“Well then it’s very fitting that you’re now a hydrologist isn’t it. Obviously, it’s meant to be.”

So I only lasted as a hydrologist for nine months – the length of the maternity leave that I was covering for. During that time, I learned a lot and had an amazing mentor. I enjoyed assessing the return periods of precipitation events, developing naturalized river flows models, reviewing the hydrology sections of the Environmental Impact Assessments of oil sands projects, and relished in the luxury of attending all sorts of watershed management and hydrology seminars and conferences. It was a great first post-graduation gig, and at the time, I don’t think I truly appreciated how good I had it as a recent grad.

Since then my work experience has scattered in every which direction – oil sands, public health and now, municipal solid waste. Yet, I find myself often reminiscing with fondness about working in hydrology, or of my other short stints with water, like in water treatment at EPCOR, or building water filters in Cambodia.

I think water must be my first professional love, akin to some people’s first meaningful romantic experience that didn’t last, like how some would refer to it as, “the one that got away”. Fortunately, for me, water is not a person, and I don’t think there will be much emotional baggage from this on-again-off-again relationship. But it would sure be nice to commit to an area professionally, to stay put long enough for in depth growth and to see one's work make a lasting impact.

Today is World Water Day, and once again I’m reminded of my past love. There is so many pressing and emerging issues to be tackled in this field and its many subspecialties (i.e. climate change mitigation, integrated watershed management, transboundary policy, privatization, water treatment for removal of pharmaceuticals and endocrine disruptors, water and sanitation development in resource-poor areas, so on and so forth).

However, nostalgia is different than conviction, and I do not feel compelled to chase after it and to rekindle the affair. Someday the stars might align that our paths cross again. After all, great opportunities have been known to serendipitously fall out of thin air. Even still, they will amount to nothing if not actively pursued. Nothing great happens by living on default mode.

International Women's Day 2010

Today being International Women’s Day, it’s hard to not write something related to gender inequity, or women’s rights. However, rather than regurgitate a whole bunch of statistics to validate my point on the world wide struggle of women for equal access to education, freedom from domestic violence, and equal participation in economic productivity, I actually just want to make a few generalized observations on the odd differences in perspectives and choices between the wide majority of women in the world, and those of us females in developed countries.

Many women from impoverished families in developing countries yearn for the opportunity to be able to generate income for their family, in order to be seen as valuable rather worthless to their husbands. Women that contribute financially to their families will more likely be allowed some level of independence by their husbands, and is less likely to get beaten.

And...

Many middle and upper class women in developed countries glorify the role of the doting housewife, the domestic diva – one, who’s sole purpose is to cook, clean, and meet their husband and kids’ every need. I’ve even personally heard some say, “I’m so lucky that my husband makes enough so that I don’t have to work.”


Many women in developing countries yearn for their kids to go to school, especially their daughters, so that they can break the cycle of poverty caused by the lack of education, early marriage, early first birth, large number of children, which leads to the increased likelihood of some or all of the children not going to school due to household duties or work. Without education, the cycle continues.

And...

Many women (ok, and men) in the developed countries are weary of the free and public education system. Some are quite distrusting of teachers, and concerned over messed up curricula and political agendas. Never mind their kids may also be surrounded by hyper-sexually precocious students, lurking in every corner, ready to initiate booty calls in the washrooms, offer up crack cocaine, and methamphetamine, you name it. The kids could be manipulated, brainwashed, and lured into becoming little social deviants, or worst – a bleeding heart, fiscally irresponsible, lefty! So these women (and men) decides to play it safe and have their offspring home schooled.


Many women in developing countries wish that they could afford vaccinations for all their babies, so that they would not die from preventable childhood diseases, and so that they themselves would not be forced to bear the pain of birthing and raising more children, whom might also just end up succumbing to a similar fate.

And...

Many women in developed countries are terrified of early childhood vaccinations, having been convinced by essentially a single, albeit reputable, medical journal article that connected the Measles-Mumps-Rubella vaccine to autism, which since has been retracted. Nevertheless, the controversy continues…


Many women in developing countries are forced to give birth under dangerous, unsanitary conditions in their own homes - some alone and some only with the help of a traditional birth attendant. Barriers to having hospital or health centre births include the lack of transportation, financial resources and/or lack of support from husbands. As a result, the maternal mortality rate can be orders of magnitude higher than in developed countries – 2100 in Sierra Leone and 1800 in Niger, as compared to 7 in Canada per 100,000 live births (WHO, 2005). Women in some developing countries can easily have between 5 to 10 births. Therefore in a country like Niger, a women has a 1 in 100 to 1 in 50 chance of dying during child birth.

And...

Many women in developed countries have begun to embrace a form of back to the basics and back to the home style of birthing. To avoid the stresses caused by the lack of privacy, ugly fluorescent lighting, pushy nurses, neglectful doctors, they have forfeited institutionalized birthing for a more comfortable, flexible home birth. You know... I’m all for sticking up to overbearing nurses that are too trigger happy for subduing anxious, hard-to-control women in labour with epidurals. BUT, do these women realize that they’ve also just traded in the peace of mind that comes with knowing that if anything does go wrong, they are only a few minutes from a modern and well-equipped operating room, staffed by highly qualified health professionals?


The lives of women and the choices that they make seem so vastly different depending on where they come from. Yet, all women and mothers are motivated by the same things, no? Fear and guilt. Hope and love. We women all just want the same things - to love and be loved, to be seen as beautiful and desired, to provide a warm and inviting home, to raise children that live to their full potential. I'm not a mother, but I'm guessing that this is what mothers want :)


Well...I have nothing more to say than that I’ll be taking a moment today to stand in solidarity with the rest of my sisterhood around the world.

To my sisters everywhere, you are strong, resilient, beautiful and beloved. No matter all the dirt, ugliness and shame that this fallen world forces upon you, you were still made to be cherished. Created by your heavenly father, your presence is a reflection of his beauty, gentleness, and romantic nature. Indeed, some dare say that you ARE the crowning glory of all of his creation.



To read more about why women’s issues are still relevant, here is an excellent, excellent piece in the New York Times - "Saving the World's Women"

Hybrid drivers, no need to panick over batteries

Apparently some hybrid drivers (including a friend of mine) have been feeling a bit touchy with constantly having to be on the defence about their decision to purchase such a "risky", emerging green technology. Some have accused car companies of green washing hybrid vehicles - i.e. touting it as environmentally friendly - when the environmental benefits may yet to be clearly established. Prominent claims made against hybrid vehicles include: uncertainty over the battery life, high battery toxicity and lack of disposal options, and the lack of coverage in serviceability.

Through my brief literature review, it would appear that such claims by the naysayers are more or less unfounded, especially for the 2nd generations of hybrids. With respect to battery life, standard warranty range between 8 to 10 years, and the automakers have boldly stated that the batteries are designed to last the life of the cars. Secondly, according to a 2008 Newsweek article, Honda says that out of the more than 100,000 Honda hybrids on the road, less than 200 have had a battery fail after the warranty expired; and Toyota's out-of-warranty (Criteria: 8 years or 100,000 miles) battery replacement rate has been 0.003% on the 2nd generation Prius that debuted in 2004. The same article also stated that the price of replacement batteries from both automakers have dropped - for most vehicles it will cost around $3,000 or less - due to improved technology and lower production costs.

In regards to battery toxicity, nickel metal hydride batteries are much less toxic than lead batteries, which in the near future may be replaced by even less toxic lithium ion batteries. Interestingly, another unrelated driving factor behind the development of non-lead batteries is due to lead batteries' inability to meet the electrical demands of new vehicles that are holding more and more electronic gadgetry.

Lastly, hybrid vehicle batteries are highly recyclable. To encourage a high rate of battery recovery, Toyota has implemented a $200 bounty for every battery that is returned to the company. As the 2nd generation of hybrids are expected to reach end-of-life in the next five years, dealerships, garages, and auto scrap yards are expected to take advantage of this program.

Just to shift gears, another one of the widespread "fact" that's been circulating in the public realm is that of the heavy environmental costs associated with the mining of nickel for batteries. Most of this came about from an article published in November 2006 by the Daily Mail, a right-leaning, British tabloid paper, which bore the slanderous title ‘Toyota factory turns landscape to arid wilderness.’ The article claimed that the mining of nickel in northern Ontario for Toyota was single-handedly turning the land into moonscape. As for my rebuttal - firstly, the environmental damage in the area around Sudbury, Ontario is the result of the accumulative trauma from mining that first started in the 1800s; and mining and smelting practices have largely improved since the environmental reformation of the 70s. Secondly, out of the Inco-Sudbury mine’s 174,800-ton output in 2004, Toyota purchased 1000 tons, just over 0.5% of its output. Ultimately, the British paper must have received so many complaints that it decided to retract the article in May 2007.

Drivers should also know that many vehicle components contain nickel regardless of whether it's hybrid or not - trims, rims, stainless steel, engine alloys (pistons, rings, liners, etc.) so on and so forth. The larger the engine, the more nickel is used. Until everyone stops driving, there's no reason to lay the blame on hybrid drivers as the cause for ripping up the earth for nickel.

I am certain that most hybrid drivers aren't naively thinking that they are saving the environment through their vehicles, and the same goes for vegetarians, recyclers, solar panel users, etc. But I applaud them for voting with their money and for being the pioneers whom play a pivotal role in both helping to establish a new cultural norm for using higher efficiency vehicles, and for quickening automakers' progress towards making more vehicles that may tread just a bit lighter on the earth.

Cut VANOC some slack please

There have been numerous complaints made by various interest groups, minority groups, NGOs, etc. throughout the past two weeks in regards to how the Olympic organizers have not made amble effort in portraying a more authentic Canada to the world. It is their belief that Vancouver has been projecting a rather idealistic façade of Canada to the rest of the world – a Canada that seems to be harmoniously multi-cultural, socialist, polished and breathtakingly picturesque (albeit awfully drizzly for a Winter Game). They argue that the visitors and television audience should’ve been given the opportunity to see and understand the “bad” and the “ugly” of Canada along with the “good”.

If they had their way, every visitor would leave Canada with a more realistic portrait of our nation, and know that our land is far from being the Great Utopia of the North. They would know that here too, there are children who go to bed hungry, forsaken homeless addicts – one hit away from death, aboriginals that still are seen and treated by mainstream Canada like unwanted, cultural detritus, and of course that there were vast expanses of previously pristine boreal forests which have been and continue to be stripped, drained and carved out to feed the world’s insatiable appetite for oil.

Being a person that typically loves to expose all that is “bad” and “ugly” with our society, it might surprise you to know that I fully disagree with their criticisms of VANOC not doing enough to show a balanced picture of Canada. The role of VANOC is to hold a memorable and exciting world class event. Their role is akin to that of a wedding planner. Their goal is to create an ambience that enables the guests and participants to be swept up by the magic; and to immerse themselves in a rare, intoxicating and fleeting occasion, where for just a little while, adrenaline rushes, out-of-this world athletics, and global fraternity reign supreme.

If the special interest and advocacy groups feel the need to be at the Olympics to give the masses a dose of “awareness”, then good on them. That is their important role, and thankfully, they live in a free country that permits this. But its more than understandable that VANOC would prefer not to air out any of Vancouver and Canada’s dirty laundry during such a jubilant affair for their honored athletes, guests and visitors.

Go Canada Go!

Just heard the Canadian Olympic theme song - "I Believe" on CTV, and it literally sent shivers down my spine.  It's hard to not get swept up by all the excitement.  Usually, Canadians are so modest and apologetic to a fault, but it's way cool to see everyone be so unabashedly proud  of their country and athletes.

And what a juxtaposition between Beijing and Vancouver in their stances on public protest.  Beijing: Grannies got thrown in jail for protesting about having to be evicted from their homes in order to make room for Olympic venues.  Vancouver: Hundreds of protestors on the streets within a stone-throw to BC place - protesting.. no no.. raising awareness for everything from poverty to the environment to oh I don't know - that the IOC is the devil - all issues are fair game really.  I chuckled when one of the reporter asked a protester "What's up with all the balaclavas around your necks?" and  she replied, "In case the police releases tear gas, we can quickly soak these and put it around our face to protect our eyes."  How very clever and practical!  

It also sickened me when I saw the news coverage of the 21 Georgian luger, who died from his injuries upon his crash during a training run.  What a tragedy? Apparently many sliders have known for the past couple of years that this is one of the fastest and most dangerous tracks that they've built.  A number of athletes have lost control of their sleds at certain corners during practice runs.  Why weren't there any safety provisions built - couldn't there have been heavy netting and padding around the pillars to minimize the impact of an athlete's body colliding into them.  Of course all sports... heck, life in general is full of risks and danger, but this "accident" just seemed so senseless  :(  

I don't know, perhaps, it's not my place to comment.  Perhaps, the luge is a sport like bull riding, and its inherent danger is a part of the thrill that is fully embraced by its participants.    

In light of the tragedy, the Games are going full steam ahead, and uniting people everywhere for different reasons, some for sports, others for national pride, and others yet, social agendas. With so many ideologies and social-cultural-economic systems that polarizes and divides us, this rare occasion of global camaraderie is certainly a cause for celebration. 

Go Team Canada! 

Not ready for motherhood

Early this morning, as I was happily, frolicking in dreamland, I get pleasantly awaken by a chirpy, little electronic melody, emitted from my cell phone, notifying me that I just got a text message. I jerk my upper body toward the night stand, grab the phone, and flip it open. The small and brightly lit screen displays a text from my coworker confirming that we are indeed carpooling this morning.

I check out the time stamp – 4:55 AM

WHAaat!! The dude is up already? What a gym keener? – I chuckle to myself. I then place the phone back, and retrieve back to my cozy cocoon. Mmmm… I still have 2 hours to sleep…

6:01 AM – I’m still wide awake and exhausted. Amidst my sleep-deprived, semi-delusional state, three sequential strings of thought enter my mind.

Thought #1: Oh my gosh, if I had children, they might wake me up in middle of the night and then I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

Thought #2: UGgghh…. I HATE not being able to fall back asleep. I LOVE sleep. I CAN’T live without sleep! Babies will definitely wreck my sleep and ergo… my life. EEERRGO… I shouldn’t have kids.

Thought #3: Hmm… I wonder if having a live-in nanny will solve the problem. How much would that cost? Maybe THEY can respond to all of the middle of the night issues? Hmm… is it selfish of me that I refuse to allow a baby to interfere with my sleep?


Fast forward two hours, my coworker picks me up and in typical Jenny-fashion, after the salutations, the first few sentences out of my mouth pertain to how he has single-handedly, with a single, early morning text message, destroyed any desire that I might have had for children. Good thing he seemed amused rather than disturbed by the confession of my abnormal, pre-dawn, mental meanderings.

All I can say is that I am so thankful for having friends that don’t (seem to) mind all of my peculiarities.

Taking a moment for the Ping Pong girls

This past Saturday I was at a birthday party, where I had the misfortune to bear witness to conversational dribble on a most terrible topic. I didn’t really know a lot of people at this gathering, and was making my best attempt to mingle when I found myself amidst a few friends chatting about their recent travels and associated misdemeanors – all of whom had made recent trips to Thailand.

Travel stories surrounding the beautiful country of Thailand nearly never or perhaps will only ever so briefly touch on its rich history and culture, ornate temples, and exquisite silk and handicrafts. Typically, people will boast about the delectable cuisine, breathtaking tropical vistas, cheap, luxurious beach front accommodations, and last but not least, toss in a few elephant-riding anecdotes. Nearly always, you can depend on a few good chuckles about encounters with transvestites, sometimes crassly articulated by homophobic dudes, whom might also make some stereotypical assertions to the effect of “I’d kill myself/the dude if I ever found out that I touched/did it with a lady boy/chick with dick.”

On this particular occasion, after the clichéd jabs at the lady boys (no pun intended) the conversation took a turn for the worst. Two of the girls started sharing about their experience attending a “Ping Pong” show, divulging plenty of grotesque details of what is essentially a p0rngraphic freak show. While these two grown women in their late 20s mindlessly rambled on, and on, I passively took in the words and let the generated imagery impress into my consciousness. At the time I did little to neither react nor respond to their ignorance, but since then I’ve considered deeply about why this conversation has burdened my soul.

Firstly, not to state the obvious, but it is morally repugnant to force women to perform a wide array of degrading acts that are potentially threatening to their bodies and no doubt, psyche. At best, these women “chose” this role due to a lack of suitable employment. Perhaps, it is a notch above prostitution. At worst, they were trafficked and coerced into such an activity, in addition to being forced to work as a prostitute; and worst yet, not a single baht might enter their pockets at the end of the evening. Secondly, I mourn over the essential obliteration of the divine connection between all humans as the onlookers’ gawk reduces the performer from that of a fellow human being – someone’s daughter, sister, mother – to that of it animate object, whose purpose now is purely to serve as a source of depraved entertainment. Thirdly, although most tourists are not in Thailand to take advantage of commercial sex, make no mistake, many non-sex tourists are still complicit in furthering the industry and its illegal elements, if their curiosity propels them to attend such shows.

Lastly, I can’t help but imagine what the performers are thinking as they look out into the audience at all the westerners and other non-Thai faces. What must they think of us? I wonder if it boggles their mind that people come from such far places and pay money to see them perform such demeaning, and bizarre acts. I wonder if they wonder why don’t we seem to care about their plight? I especially wonder if they hate us and hope that we would all go to hell. Even worse, what if we have so successfully stripped them of their beauty, humanness, and dignity that they no longer care about anything at all? What if they see and feel nothing, finding no meaning in the present and no hope for the future, because they indeed believe that their family, friends and the rest of the world has forgotten about them.

Other links about human trafficking:

A news story that provides details about the “Ping Pong” shows
http://pulitzercenter.typepad.com/untold_stories/2009/08/thailand-flesh-market.html

Some global and Canadian stats on human trafficking
http://www.worldvision.ca/ContentArchives/content-stories/Pages/human-trafficking-statistics-global-and-canadian.aspx

A story about the problem of human trafficking through Poipet, the border town in Cambodia that I lived and worked in 2007/08
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/world-vision/poipet-where-cambodians-a_b_214912.html

A professional disappointment

Some of you may know that I did an internship with the World Health Organization in Beijing this past summer – “something related to the Beijing Olympics”, you might have caught through my rabblings.

Actually, this project was quite an undertaking. It’s a twenty chapter, technical publication that assesses the sustainability of improvements made to public health services, infrastructure, environment, and public awareness on health issues in the seven years leading up to and during the 2008 Olympic Games. There were dozens of Chinese government, WHO, and International Olympic Committee big wigs that authored the chapters, which covered a range of topics such as air quality, tobacco control, food safety, emergency preparedness, among others.

First day on the job, I learnt that this book would become my baby, the centre of all my attention. I nursed and treasured it, and grew prouder with every milestone. I reviewed every sentence of every draft and subsequent drafts, readily providing feedback to the other technical reviewers and editors. Frequently, the technical reviewers were so busy working on other projects that the only feedback they ever provided to the authors were my comments – of course without any reference to me. Eventually, my boss, the main project manager even asked me if I wanted to take a stab at writing the Introduction and Conclusion chapters. (I have yet to find out how much of it made the final version). She specifically warned me from the beginning of the high unlikelihood of my name being listed among the chapter authors. After all, I was just an intern with hardly any letters behind my letter. If a nobody like me (at least within the UN realm) can get published with the best of the WHO PhDs, what does that say about the organization? Either I’m a worthy, top notch writer, or those experts are obviously nothing special. Alas… she said she would try her best to get my name on the book, at least as an editing assistant.

So this morning, I receive a mass email from the project manager to review the draft layout of the book and to check our names in the acknowledgments. My heart skipped a beat. Wonderful! I’m getting acknowledged. But my seconds of initial excitement were swiftly displaced with disappointment and a pang of disgust as I read my name among a long string of names that were praised for “voluntarily contributing” to this project in one manner or another. I DID NOT voluntarily contribute to the project - I was a project manager DARN IT!

I’m not use to not getting validated for my hard work, and I am by no means impressed with the lack of ethical consideration in which my written word so easily got passed off as those of others. At the tender age of 2*, this experience as been inaugural in shedding me of my innocence (or naivety) over professional integrity, which I had previously thought was a given. It has also left me with a new guardedness towards my work peers. I don’t want to think of the workplace as every person for themselves, nor do I don’t want to be scared about being taken advantage of.

I’m trying to remind myself that it’s best to work for the glory of God, not for man’s praise or recognition. Nevertheless, even Jesus told his disciples to be “shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves”. Mind you, he was telling them to be careful while on their journeys to spread the Good News and to be on guard of persecutors. He was not referring to the need to protect themselves from self-serving co-workers. That said, I feel that being a Christian doesn’t mean being ignorant of office politics nor being relegated to that of a professional doormat. There is nothing wrong with having understanding of and being able to effectively navigate through all the power dynamics and office politics. It is also not wrong to thrive for excellence and to advance one’s career. But everything should be carried out with integrity, as well as willingness and readiness to support, equip and encourage others at work. Moreover, God’s main concern is our willingness and readiness to forgive others and to be humble enough to see our own pride. Pride deceives me into believing that I am better than others, and that I am entitled to my sense of entitlement. But God’s love for me and my fellow men move me to leave my pride. As God has overlooked my countless transgressions, I surely can let go of this ever so minor one.