Spring, sprung, sprang!!

Spring in Churchill. I've talked about this already in my previous posts. But I have to say more about it and the feeling of this season returning to this previously frozen and icy land. I love Churchill in all of its guises- with snow on the tundra, with ice in the pools, with the blazing colours of fall, with the blowing blizzardy snow. But the returning of spring and of life is something special to behold. It started with the return of the brown to the ptarmigan. These cute little birds are all white in the winter- obviously so that they can blend in with the snow and hide from predators. They are also very precocious and will walk out fearlessly in front of you as you walk or run along the path.
Next came the Canada geese. These are large, long bodied birds, which are regarded as pretty good hunting in this area. They are tremendously noisy and honk loudly as they fly or run across the tundra. But the most exciting thing thus far is the return of the snow geese. These are smaller than the Canadas, white with black tips although some of them are "blue" all over. They fly over Churchill in huge numbers, always in a straight line or in a traditional V shape. Hundreds fly over at any one time and its a truly breathtaking spectacle. Add to this the return of colour to the tundra, the smell of the open sea as the bay begins to break up and the noise of the birds and frogs that has returned to this once silent land, and you begin to have an idea of whats going on.


With the better weather (+19 yesterday!!) comes a variety of different pursuits, with various people. One of my friends here, Krista, had her field assistant with her, Joleen, who had never been to Churchill before. So we trotted into town along with fellow friend Geoff. Fun was had going around all the gift shops that were open, trying to get to LaDunes castle, looking out over the bay and walking on the sea ice (or in my case falling on the sea ice!) We hung on the inuksuit in town and had coffee at that Churchill institution, Gypsys.
The following week we headed out to the shooting range for some training and target practice. With the return of spring and soon, summer, we have to be ever more vigilant for polar bears and particularly for the researchers who will be out in the field, a little savvy with firearms. So LeeAnn showed us how to manage the 12 gauge shotgun and Carley was kind enough to bring along her beautiful .22 and allow us all to have some target practice with it. The kick back from the shotgun was tremendous and I still have the bruises to prove it but fun was certainly had!

The funnest time that I have had recently was heading out to the fen with Krista, who is great to hang out with and fast becoming a dear friend. Her research project is on methane production in northern wetlands so her site is set up at the fen, a boggy wetland about 20 minutes drive from the study centre. The first day I went out with her in the afternoon and the evening. We took the quad and bombed easily along the road,getting to the fen in record time. On the way back I leaned back on the quad and gazed up into the blue blue spring sky. Flocks of snow geese were flying over head, the wind was in my face and the sun was warm. The snow was crisp and we were making great time. Best of all I was outside and it was beautiful. Does life get any more perfect than this?
The next day we got slightly stuck on the way out there, because the temps had risen just enough to make the snow slushy and hard for the quad to stay on top of. But it wasnt too much of a problem and we made it to the site. We were only there about 20 minutes and most of that is walking through the fen to get to the site. However, it was long enough to allow the snow to melt even more and then we really started to experience difficulties!!! The quad insisted on getting stuck in the extremely deep, and extremely soft snow! We could get no further than about 6 feet without getting stuck. We tried digging it out, we tried walking beside it, pushing it- nothing worked. Eventually in frustration we drove the quad into the fen to avoid all the sticky snow and took it to a part of the road that was clearer. Even then we had to dig trenches from the fen to the road, we got stuck once more and also had to do some walking a bit further on. But here's the thing- I HAD A BLAST!! I've possibly never had so much fun in my entire life! Of course it was hard work with much sweat put out and there were a few times when I would have sold my soul for just one drink of water. But it was beautiful weather out and I enjoyed the fresh air and the exertion. We had to keep a close eye out for bears but with one digging and one bear guarding that wasn't too much of a problem. FUN!!!! :-)

So that's been my week. I've made no secret of the fact that recently I've been living with some levels of despair, and that I've been saddened and alone. My heart is no where near being healed and I still have not managed to move on. But at least with good times and good friends like these, I'm reminded that life is always worth living, that good times always come after the bad, that its always darkest before the dawn. I hope that my dawn is about to begin.


Photos clockwise from top left- snow geese return to Churchill, shovelling snow to get the quad out, pretending to be all badass on a trip to the fen, shooting Bazs' .22 at the range, me with Krista and Jo in town.

The sweetness and the bittersweetness

I came back to Churchill. Shortly after I got there I knew that I was no longer going to be working there and staying there. My boss was crazy and abusive and I simply decided that I would not and could not put up with working with that kind of person. I've suffered plenty of abuse in my life, and now its time to stop. I'm too old to be putting up with it any more...
So that was upsetting. I was sad as it seemed like my only chance to be in Churchill more permanently. But I was lucky enough to be permitted to return to the wonderful study centre and be a volunteer for a while again. This stint in the centre was much harder than before. The cook that I was working with seemed to take an instant dislike to me- and I can't say I was all that crazy about her either!! So there was a tension in the kitchen that I was not used to. I was also very adapted to working with Rob and Audrey- 2 people who were relaxed and easy going and who constantly appreciated any work or effort that was done for them, and this time that was not the case. So that was difficult. The centre was also very very quiet- very few people around, no other volunteers....I've come to realise how important fellow volunteers are while I've been travelling. They are people to work with and to play with, people to laugh and cry with, people to whom you can reveal your heart, or have a screaming match with. But most importantly they are the only other people who can appreciate the experience that you are having. Because they are having a similar one themselves. They know how it feels to be the person on the outside, the person that perhaps others don't make so much of an effort to get to know, since you are only going to leave anyway. They appreciate how confusing it can be to have workers responsibilities but none of the workers rights. And they understand a bit more about how it is to have such a cultural gap, which makes for a very interesting life. They are important people and I've realised that afresh with every new experience.

But the sweetness was coming back to Churchill at all. And coming back to the centre to spend time with people that I know and love and admire and respect. Even though I spent a lot of time on my own, it was still good to be here. The sweetness was going out running in the mornings with Silver as a bear guard, enjoying the clear resounding boom of the winter blue sky above me. The sweetness was stopping for just a few seconds on each run to listen and hear nothing. And to be able to just enjoy the silence with no vehicles destroying the peace. To be able to look out at the bay and marvel anew at the fact that the sea- the moving, restless sea!!- is frozen over and motionless. To marvel at the size of the snow drifts after a 3 day blizzard. To go snowmobiling with my friends and hear them laugh and spend time with them. The sweetness is to witness, for the first time, the return of the spring to this frozen land. To see and hear the geese as they pair up for spring mating. To see the ptarmigan turn from white to brown again. To feel the sun on my face. To hear the silence of winter turn to the busy calls of the birds as they return.

The bittersweetness. Ah. Thats a different story. That was knowing that Churchill also held the person who I have become too attached to. Knowing that after I split up with the last person I loved, 4 years ago, I was fairly certain that I was incapable of loving anyone again. And finding out when I came to Churchill that I was wrong. But that it was not to be, now or next year. I was happy to discover that I can still love and be in love. But that is truly bittersweet when you know that it won't be returned. That once again you must be on the outside looking in what you want most in the world. Also knowing that I must leave the person I care for and the land that I love most in the world, and return to my own country which I can no longer call home. And hope with all my heart to return. At some point soon.

...and back again...

Well as always the poor old blog is out of date....nice to see that some things never change...:-)

So. I left Churchill. I left on a Saturday evening on the train. I left with tears running down my face, cried for the first 3 hours on the train and then slept for the next 10 ( well there had been a LOT of partying that week!!) Poor Inge, my fellow volunteer, thought that she was getting some good company to Thompson- she was sadly misinformed. I've left a lot of places in the last 2 years with a lump in my throat but never with such bitter sadness as I felt when leaving Churchill. Ladies and gentlemen, I finally found the place that I want to be.....

Well that's easier said than done but more on THAT in the next post. This one is about returning home. I spent some time in Sainte Rita house sitting for the completely awesome Roger and Dawn before crossing the pond for the first time in 2 years to get to Heathrow airport. The journey from there to Auntie Mary's house in Greater London was enough to fill a book on its own (trust me, travel in darkest Africa was easier than that!!) But it was all worth it to see Mary again for the first time in 3 years. I spent 10 very laid back days at her house, talking with her and watching a whole lotta movies and cooking and eating and drinking wine. Then I boarded the train (BTW conversation between me and British Rail...Me "Hello I'm calling to check that the train from Kings Cross is still running tomorrow [Christmas Eve] to Edinburgh." BR Employee sucks his breath in through his teeth..."Not too sure about that love- we've had a bit of snow you know.." Me "Oh its not that bad surely?" BR Employee " Yes love we've had at least 3 inches. And its -1 so its pretty cold!" Me" Oh for Gods sake!!! You know in CHURCHILL...hello? Hello?") to head home. None of the family knew that I was coming so that made the journey home pretty exciting. It was the strangest feeling looking out of the window and knowing that I was officially back on British soil. The snow had been pretty heavy and it was beautiful over all the fields and dales. Finally I got off at Edinburgh Waverly and decided that I was going to the BFF's house first, since thats where the kids are. I hesitated for just a moment on Princes Street- did the No 26 still go to Clermiston? But it did and the bus fare had only gone up by 20p so on I jumped. Looking out of the windows I was surprised to see that everything looked exactly as it had when I had left 2 years before. And yet why was I surprised? Had I really expected everything to be so different? The answer was clearly yes and yet I would be hard pushed to tell you what I thought should be so different....

The whole time that I was home was like that. Nothing had really changed and yet I felt that I didn't really fit in. Therefore obviously it was me that had changed. We had a lovely Christmas, it was great to see the family again, the kids were excited to see me and my worst fears that they would not recognise me never materialised. And yet the whole time I felt as though I was a stranger looking in from the outside. It didn't help that more than half of me was back in Churchill- thinking about all the people that I had left behind there, wondering what they were doing at that moment, recalling my happy and sad times, feeling the itch deep down in my feet and my soul that told me that it was time to get moving, I had been here long enough.

I'll just take a moment here to reflect in general on my travels and all of the things that I've learned. It would take days to record them all in detail here so I'll just touch on the salient points...

I'm a stronger person than I thought I was in some ways. I CAN cope with things that are unexpected and that are thrown my way. Broken down camper van? No problem! Delayed flight? Easy! Mugging on the street? Harder, but definitely do-able. Insensitive roommates? Thats what earphones are for! Practical matters I can certainly do. Matters of the heart are where I am lacking- but more on that later.
I'm not as nice a person as I thought I was. Maybe because I was paying more attention to myself than I would normally, but I noticed a definite selfish streak. And the capability to be mean. And treat people like shit. Which I would never have acknowledged as a trait before now.
I'm sad a lot of the time. And its lonelier being in a crowd of people sometimes than it is being on your own.
I feel pain in a way that no one else seems to. I've had a lot of time to reflect on the pain both past and present in the last 2 years and I've come to the conclusion that I'm waaaaay sensitive. Sometimes thats a good thing- often its bad. One more thing that needs work in the future...
Material possessions just weigh you down, both in your body and in your heart and soul. Get rid of them. Now. You won't regret it.
I find it hard to be still. In my body and in my mind. Clearing my mind is impossible for me to do. And sitting still and doing nothing is hard. Easier than it used to be but still hard!
I have issues from the past that I need to address. I've procrastinated about that long enough.
People and friends are important. I knew that before but I never KNEW it in the way that I do now.
No matter how tough things have been, no matter how shitty you think your life has been, there's someone that's had it tougher. And still smiles about it.

There's lots more, both philosophical and practical but its silly to try and record them. Better to just hang on to the lessons learned and to try to implement them. Hopefully in the travelling to be done in the future.....

Finally I was able to pack that bag and get on that plane and head on back to Churchill. I was supposed to be going back to a job and hopefully a work permit. With the wonderful 20 20 vision that is hindsight, I can see so clearly now that I knew even then that was not to be. But I didn't care. I was going back to the land where my heart lies and that was all that mattered....

Talking about a Churchillian way of life

I was lucky enough to spend 7 weeks in the study centre at Churchill. Its a fair bit outside the metropolis of Churchill itself which is a point of concern for many people. But for me that just outlined and emphasised the uniqueness of the place. It could drive you crazy. It could make people insane. And you certainly have to be prepared to occupy yourself...

So. We drew on the menu board. We talked to each other on Facebook in spite of the fact that we were sitting 2 feet away from each other. We put the menu up in a different language every meal time. We went into town to eat and visit with Heather, the volunteer co-ordinator. We cooked and baked and ate and drank Kokanee. We played pool and darts (Badly. Oh so badly..) And when festivities like Thanksgiving and Halloween came around we threw ourselves into making them special and memorable.

And special they were. Much fun was had. But its not just the occasions that made my time at the CNSC so great. It was the people. Holly and Steve and Inge, my fantastic fellow volunteers with whom I groaned about the dishwashing levels and who kept me grounded and positive. We formed a system that meant that no one was ever off duty- everyone just pitched in and helped and then we all got to go and play. And the others who lived there- Avril, who has a steadfastness that I've never encountered before in someone at age 21. Sara, certainly one of my favourite people at the study centre, with her quirkiness and her wisdom. Kat, who just made us laugh and has a sweetness and specialness all of her own. Adam, who is the happiest and most upbeat person I ever met. Carly akd Basler aka Baz, who has a big laugh and a bigger heart. Rob and Audrey, the wonderful cooks and two special people who make the kitchen the best place to work. These were the people with whom I lived and worked and played, although there were many awesome others who came and went during the day (Mike, Kim, LeAnn,Cliff, Christina and Devon to mention only a few). It was because of these people that I found camaraderie and friendship and fun. They became like my family and I am proud to count them among my friends, even if only for a brief time.

And it was them who made it so hard to leave....

And so to bed.....

Eh?? Whats with that title? Its 1pm, I ain't going to bed. Although I was up all night having the most fun that you can have on your own. I was WRITING people- get yer minds oot the gutter!

So. Churchill. I took the world's longest train ride from Winnipeg to Churchill- 48 hours. Actually I enjoyed it. There were fun people on the train including my train BFF Megan. Who was funny and chatty AND had a guitar. What more could you possibly need! There were also 45 cub scouts who instead of making the journey hell, made it fun and pleasant and it flew by.

So we arrived in Churchill a mere 3 hours late and were met by Mike. At first I had no idea who he was and assumed that he was just some worker like the rest of us. It wasn't till later that I discovered that he is the Executive Director. Fortunately I displayed my usual tact diplomacy and appropriateness at all times and so therefore had no need to be embarassed..ahem...

The Study Centre is about 30 minutes drive from the town centre and Mike was kind enough to point out landmarks as we went along. In this way if we ever found ourselves lost in the middle of nowhere, we could take comfort in the fact that the Golf Balls were right over there while the polar bear was chewing on our ankle.

On arrival at the CNSC we were introduced to Avril, program co-ordinator. Uh oh, I thought, she seems a little stern! First impressions are notoriously wrong and this was no exception. Avril possibly the least stern person I ever met in my life, and probably one of my favourite people at the Centre. I was also introduced to fellow volunteer Holly, and to one of the cooks, Audrey.

Work for me did not begin until the next day when I was trained (wonderfully!) by Avril. Most of the work appeared to involve washing dishes and some basic kitchen work so I wasn't too perplexed and got stuck right in. It was fairly quiet with just the scouts in residence so not too much rushing around.

I'm going to be painfully honest at this point and state right off the bat that the first 3 weeks at the CNSC was a little difficult for me. This had nothing to do with the lack of work, with being so isolated or any of the other problems that you might expect. As someone who has volunteered for a long time, I'm used to loving or hating my compatriots almost immediately. In this, the CNSC was different. At first it just felt...well, bland. I didn't feel that loud CLICK with the other volunteers that I was used to. They were perfectly nice and I liked them, I just felt that something was missing. In retrospect this seems almost funny, given the way I feel about them now. But at the time it worried me so much I even spoke to Avril about it to gain some perspective on the situation.

Anyway. Time went on. Dishes were washed. Cupcakes were baked. Veggies were peeled and chopped. But the best part of the study centre life is not necessarily the work, although I enjoyed it. It was the stuff that went on after work. The kitchen, as is the case in so many places, was the hub of activity. It was the place to hang out after work was over. It was the place to exchange photos, movies and music. It was the place to drink a few beers and shoot the shit. It was the place to get to know the people that you were living and working with and I will mention them in a later entry. The kitchen was the place that I finally felt that loud click with the others, it was the place that I spent most of my time working or playing. It was the place where the best music was played and all the drama was acted out. It was simply the place to be.....

Oh Canada!

Ya know, immigration people get a bad press. And trust me I can understand why. The most vivid immigration experience that I can recall is when I was returning to NYC from Niagara Falls. The immigration woman at the land border was not going to allow me to return since I had 3 Egyptian visas in my passport! I expected her at any moment to whip out the latex and give me a full body search....

So picture the scene. I'm arriving in Canada after striving to get there for 2 days. I have researched and taken advice and all the conventional wisdon tells me that I have no need for a visa as a UK citizen for at least 6 months. But I'm still nervous. This seems to good to be true. So I'm sweaty and a little shaky and look just as suspicious as the drug dealer next to me in line....

Called forward and the man takes my passport. He asks me why I'm in Canada, and how long I intend to stay. I answer to the best of my ability- and thats it!! He waves me through. With- get this!- a smile and a "Have a great stay!' Totally unbelievable.

The best part about arriving in Edmonton is that Carlee was there to meet me (you remember her- the 6 foot blonde that I worked with in Vietnam!) After so much travelling on your own its nice to actually be met at the airport occasionally. And its Carlee, one of my favourite folks!

So we hug and we laugh and we go to my hostel and then go for a drink and then talk and talk and talk. But its 2am and I'm dying on my feet so we agree to meet again tomorrow.
Edmonton is not the most memorable place I've ever been. The river valley is quite pretty and there's a good busy vibe about the place- not to mention a great YMCA. But thats it. Of course my view may be affected by the fact that once again I had a return of the dreaded LURGY-will this ever leave me alone??- and had to spend a couple of days in bed.

But catching up with others is always wonderful and continually reminds me of how lucky I am. First of all to meet these great people but also to be able to see them again and view their lives and see what they have been up to since I saw them last. Its a great priviledge.

But it can't last forever and I'm aware that my bank account is in a critical condition. So I search for volunteer farm work on the Help Exchange website- you get food and accommodation in return for working. And finally I talk to Donna, who agrees that I can come to her for a few days. She lives in Kevisville which is near Innisfail, which happens to be where Carly is driving through at the weekend. So its obviously meant to be!

At Innisfail I have to say goodbye- sadly- to Carlee. Who knows when I'll see her again? And I'm met by Donna. She doesnt look anything like I expected- she's younger than she sounded on the phone, very pleasant with long country style hair. And the first thing that she and her sister Liz do is whisk me off to a local country music festival.

Now lets make one thing clear. When I was growing up I enjoyed all kinds of music and warmly welcomed all styles into my life and my MP3 player. Except country music. I have no explanation except that I was often tortured for hours by my best friend listening to CMT for days on end. Billy Ray Cyrus- need I say more?

So I was little apprehensive. I've become a little more accommodating since then to the extent of appreciating Alan Jackson and Johnny Cash (love 'em!) But still....
I loved it! The vibe was fun and relaxed, the players played outside till it got too cold and then they moved inside. And I was introduced to the joys of two steppin' which I have to say I mastered quickly- just one or two toes trod on...
It was a late night and we eventually got home at 3am. To my horror I recalled that farms never sleep and we would still have to be on the job early the next day. And so to bed....
Working on the farm was one of the best times I've ever had. I arrived in the middle of haying season so it was certainly busy. We cut and raked and baled for days. But the weather was fantastic and it was great to be outside so much. And it was fun! I learned how to operate the raker and the baler. I learned how to operate the tractor and the 3 ton lorry. And it was enjoyable when we had put out some sweat to see Gus making his way across the field with a string of cold tinnies under his arm. Ahhhhhh, Kokanee.....
Donna also ran a greenhouse business and was wrapping that up for the winter. There were cows and horses and some gardening to do. Donna and Gus were fun, Gus' dad David, lived on the same plot and their two daughters Amanda and Tina lived right there. So it was a warm and comfortable homey place. And the house was a log house that they had built themselves, and it was beautiful.

I happily stayed there for 2 weeks and then it was once again time to move on. Donna took me to Calgary and there I met up with Steph (South Africa and NYC!) She is in residence at the University of Calgary so I spent week sleeping there, eating my head off at Steph's expense and chilling out. We hung out and went out when Steph wasn't in class and had a chance to catch up and bare our souls. Which is what friends do :-)
I felt sad leaving Steph behind at the end of the week. She has been having a hard time of it and I wished that I could stay and be supportive. But it was time to go to Winnipeg and catch the train to Churchill, my next volunteer experience.......

Painful recollections from the past

It's late. And I'm tired. I want nothing more than to go to bed. But I've been reading through my older blog posts and something is bugging me and won't let me sleep.

As I read I became aware that I've missed out so much from my journey that has brought me this far. Of course that's normal. It's totally impossible to remember everything. But some things are more important than others and should be remembered. If only as a mark of respect to those that we have lost...

I'm recalling my time in Kenya and there are three important events that I have not recorded. That's because they were awful and painful and I've avoided them. But that's unfair. Let me share with you what I mean...

The first is my recollection of going to visit Auguste, who was a teacher at the local primary school. He was a handsome, friendly and educated man. However, despite the fact that he was educated he was one of the many who refused to believe that AIDS exists. This was particularly unfortunate as he was one of the millions who was infected with the dreaded disease. He had been prescribed ARV's but would not take them. He was convinced that he was under a spell, that someone was practising witch craft on him.
The group got word that Auguste was not doing well, and that he may need some support, so we set off to walk the 3 miles to his house. We got there and found him in the roadside by his street- he had been walking to try and get water and collapsed. He was in a dreadful state and had obviously been vomiting and was soiled with diarhorrea.We knelt down beside him and tried to talk with him but he was barely conscious. Alice stopped a passer by and told them to run and get the doctor, who was miles away. While we waited, Auguste started to vomit again, this time bringing up blood. His temperature rose to umbelievable heights, and after some convulsions, he died painfully by the roadside.

The second event was the second time that I was mugged. The first was a simple matter of 2 men running up behind me and snatching the gold chain that I wore off my neck. I was upset because the 2 crosses that I had on the chain had sentimental value for me, but nothing worse.
The second time was much worse. I was walking home in full daylight- about 4pm. 2 men came up behind me, attracted by the MP3 player that I was foolishly carrying in my pocket. They jumped on me from behind and dragged me to the ground, and another 2 men came out from where they had been hiding in the bushes. The 4 of them proceeded to search me and became very angry when they found no money. They became very bold, even going to the extremes of putting their hands down my T shirt, at which point I screamed my lungs out. They became pretty angry because I had no money and proceeded to beat me. I don't wish to dwell on the details but suffice it to say that I could not sit down properly for a week and I walked like an old woman for a lot longer.

The third event is the one that has most resonance for me and the one that I have carried with me for almost 2 years. One of the women in the group, Janet, had 8 children and had been left to support them by her philandering husband, who was responsible for giving her HIV. Her youngest son, James, had been born uninfected but her husband had forced her to breast feed the child, and she passed the infection on to James. He was 9 months old and a fine, happy baby. She often brought him to the group's hut so that he could be looked after while she worked as a seamstress. I often cared for him and became very fond of him. James had been sick for some time by the time Janet had enough money to take him to the doctor. He was diagnosed with TB and pnemonia, but she had not enough money to get the drugs for him. I offered her the money and she refused with great dignity, saying that it was up to her to provide for her child. She worked very hard for weeks and almost had enough money to take him back to the doctor. She was at the hut one day working and James was lying on my lap. He was feverish and had clearly taken a turn for the worse. His breathing was poor and laboured. Through the day he deteriorated, and, as I tried to raise him to ease his breathing, he died. He simply stopped breathing and did not respond to anything that we did for him. One of the other members ran for the doctor, who refused to come. He had living people to attend to and was too busy to attend to a baby for whom nothing could be done. So it was that the child who had had no life was left to slip away. The traditional African method of mourning is to scream and shout but Janet did neither of these things. She came and sat on the floor beside me. She gathered her dead child in her arms. And she laid her head in my lap and wept for her baby.

All of these events shape and are indicative of the time that I had in Kenya. It frustrated me greatly that people could literally die in the street and the government did not care for or assist their own people I wanted to help more, but found myself thwarted again and again by red tape and bureacracy. And all the time people died, including small babies. Who never had a chance. And men have to attack others, simply to get money to feed themselves and their families.

So despite the fact that I find these events painful, I record them. I do not blame the men who attacked me. I understand that things more powerful than them drove them. Starvation will do terrible things to people. And I wanted to put Auguste and James down on paper. So that I will not forget them. And to honour their memory.

I hope that I have succeeded.