Thursdays at the Food Bank

The Dalhousie Food Cupboard is a distribution point for the Ottawa Food Bank. It's open Wednesdays and Thursdays 10:30 to 1:00 in the Bronson Centre. During the pandemic clients have lined up outside and been served either outside or inside depending on the weather. People who live in the geographical area of the DFC are eligible to receive three days worth of perishable and non-perishable food items per month. In pre-covid times volunteers interviewed clients to help better meet their individual needs. 

In March, the COVID-19 Pandemic reached Ottawa. I suddenly had to switch to teaching and working from home in my small one-bedroom apartment. These conditions were not what I had imagined when I moved in. 

Despite the fact I was still working about sixty hour weeks at the beginning of the pandemic, I was struck by a feeling of needing to do something to help. With training in peacebuilding and some limited experience in public health and emergency management I felt like I should have something to offer, but I didn't know what. 

So, I became what seemed like one of hundreds of people in Ottawa scrolling through volunteer postings. I imagined that I wanted to support the foodbank in some way, but whenever I looked their volunteer positions were all full. I was visiting the site often enough that I eventually realized when the postings were being made, so I logged on one Friday night and jumped at an opportunity at the Dalhousie Food Cupboard which happened to be in the same building my day-job had been in until we were locked-down. 

When I attended my first volunteer shift the following week I wasn't sure what to expect. No one was wearing face masks yet but we were trying to physically distance. After the coordinator and one of the regular volunteers sized up the new recruits, I was asked to help with the filing. It took some time to build trust that I was going to do an adequate job. 

Over the subsequent weeks I gradually transitioned into performing data entry, ensuring that each client's visit to the DFC was recorded. This helps to track visits and to ensure that the DFC has enough food to distribute on a weekly basis. I liked this job because it let me get to know the other volunteers and observe the other roles they were playing. They're all great and I hope I've made some long-term friends here.

Concurrently, I started baking at home. I initially picked this up because I was worried that the first lockdown would prevent me the tasty sweets that I knew would get me through this difficult period. I quickly realized that the recipes I was using yielded much more than I could eat, and so I needed to find someone to share my treats with. The other volunteers at the foodbank during our shared lunches seemed like the perfect choice. 

I initially started making bundt cakes but then I branched out and tried layer cakes. These baking adventures helped me to develop a new skill that I don't think I would otherwise  have, as well as building my relationship with the other volunteers. When I shared this effort on twitter one night under #createtogether, I even got a shout out from Joseph Gordon Levitt for my efforts *swoon*. 

As the summer went on the number of clients using the food bank started to increase along with the number of positive COVID test results in Ottawa. Many of the volunteers at the DFC are seniors and the increased case load caused some volunteers to suspend their work or take on different roles. As a result, I've had the chance to start conducting intake, which involves verifying people's identities and their eligibility to use the foodbank. 

I have really enjoyed this role because it has given me an opportunity to meet clients and hear their stories. I've shared excitement with people who have recently been released from prison or regained access to their children, and sorrow with people suffering from unimaginable losses, including sometimes losing their groceries at the hand of neighbours, from already precarious positions. I always felt that I was a relatively empathetic person, but I feel like this experience has really helped me to better understand the range of lived experiences of people in my own community. 

Working at the front door I also get to observe many of the stories being lived-out in the foodbank line. Some days are more interesting than others. We had a couple of weeks where several clients had trouble containing their emotions, leading to angry outbursts. The hardest part of this role for me is having to turn clients away when they have consistently failed to provide proper identification.  For the most part though, people are friendly and curious. The DFC's clients seem to have some of the gentlest, well-trained dogs around and it's always a pleasure when they come to visit with their owners. (The dog in the picture belongs to one of the employees of the Bronson Centre. I am her favourite foodbank volunteer :D) 

The best story from the foodbank line to date was by far the Christmas miracle of December 17, 2020. When I approached a single mom and her daughter to collect their ID, the mom leaned in and explained that a man had just handed her an envelope, said "Merry Christmas" and walked away. When I asked what was in the envelope she said "$400!". She was actually in line to pick-up a gift for her daughter. I hope the special gift made both of their holidays a little bit brighter. 

I didn't accomplish any of the things that I had hoped for in 2020. I didn't find a permanent job, academic or otherwise. I didn't get to go on planned trips to Toronto, New York or the Philippines or move to Halifax. I didn't buy a dog or make any progress towards finding love. I could drone on. 

I did however, find another piece of the puzzle that I have been searching for, for a long time. Community. 

Wishing everyone a brighter 2021. Let's get through the rest of the pandemic together. 

What's in a Year?

With lots of people reflecting on social media about their past year and even decade, it has me thinking about how to summarize what happened over the last year. In once sentence I think I would describe it as a year of heartache, unexpected travel and slow progress. 

Heartache

2019 started off with an expected loss that I was not in anyway ready for, which was of course the death of Paul Dewar. I've written about this in a previous post but enough to say that I continue to remember this man, who deeply inspired me, often. 

I was especially reminded of him working in his previous Parliamentary office in the first part of the year for now retired MP Hélène Laverdière. I very much valued working in her office, and had amazing opportunities to contribute to Canadian foreign policy through this role, but the job was also a struggle in many ways. When my contract ended at the end of May I felt like my long-term dream of working at Parliament had ended in frustration and disappointment. On a higher note I am delighted to have made some strong friendships with other progressive people through this role and so I do have something to be grateful for. 



In August I started a new role doing project coordination and human rights advocacy related to the Philippines and Palestine-Israel. That same month I traveled to the Philippines to meet with partners and learn about the human rights situation. I was most affected when we met the wife and daughter of Brandon Lee, an American Human Rights Activist who narrowly survived being shot in the face by a masked man in front of his daughter. During our meeting his daughter cycled through phases of anger, grief, guilt and normalcy which was very troubling to watch, and his colleague who had also joined us cried throughout our time together. When the daughter was calmer, she was making paper cranes, trying to get to 1000 to wish for her father's recovery. It goes without saying the this kind of attack is a serious violation of human rights, and was far from an isolated incident. In December the Executive Director of one of our partner organizations received death and rape threats after participating in a march for international human rights day. 

Soon after I came back from the Philippines in September, I also witnessed a cyclist get hit by a car, two bikes ahead of me. I helped to coordinate the response and helped to move her off the road. She was thankfully not as badly hurt as anyone had anticipated and me and another cyclist stayed with her until her partner was able to join her about an hour later. This incident has really stuck with me.

Unexpected Travel

My unexpected trips were really the highlight of 2019. 

In March I was speaking to a colleague at Carleton when one of the admins came to ask her whether she was available to accompany a group of students on a trip to Washington. When she responded in the negative I, jokingly, suggested that I could go, and to my amazement everyone agreed. It was a super cool trip. On the trip at the end of April we got to visit the State Department, World Bank, and Canadian Embassy among other amazing places. On our free day on the trip I also got a personalized tour of the U.S. Institute for Peace where several officials met with me to explain their operations in a response to a proposal for a peace institute that I prepared as part of my parliamentary work. Drafting that proposal was certainly a highlight of that role. 



After my contract ended at parliament in June, I took my first international vacation as an adult and I traveled to Europe visiting Switzerland, France and Germany. In Switzerland, I enjoyed eating fondue and chocolate and visiting local museums. I also saw my first opera, the Marriage of Figaro at the Zurich Opera House, and was pleasantly surprised to learn it was a comedy. In France, I enjoyed seeing historic building in Strasbourg and visiting European Parliament. I also had the pleasure of reconnecting with my friend Lukas in Munich, who I met on exchange in the Netherlands in 2006. It had been 10 years since we had last seen each other so there was a lot to catch up on. I also learned that Alpine mountain climbing is not for me :). 



My trip to the Philippines was also very much unexpected. Positive highlight included visiting the Asian continent for the first time, meeting my friend Hansky's parents and hanging out with the moderator of the United Church of Canada. Oh and eating a piece of cake at every snack time.



Slow Progress

Teaching has also been a major aspect of this year. I taught my first course at the MA level in the autumn of 2018. In January of 2019, I was distressed to discover that while I loved teaching that course, that I had received a relatively low (read mediocre) teaching evaluation. This coincided with some challenging interactions with students in a fourth year law and legal studies course that I had picked up in addition to my planned classes at the graduate level in foreign affairs. 

Although I was initially very disheartened to learn about my initial attempt at teaching, the mediocre evaluation sparked a major effort to improve. In the winter I sought mentorship from the Education Development Centre at Carleton and went on to take a Certificate of University Teaching over the summer. Although I felt that completing the certificate only contributed to minor adjustments in my pedagogy, it led to a major improvement in my interactions with most of my students. I am still learning how to work with students who are resistant to my teaching style and/or personality. 

In the autumn, in addition to teaching a re-imagined version of my original course I also taught a course on gender and development in French. This was a very challenging experience and I couldn't have done it without my amazing teaching assistant. 

I have also made some progress in my overall health. In 2019 I had more migraines than I had ever had, cumulatively, at any other point in my life. My migraines are debilitating and involve and hour of relative blindness followed by three hours of extreme pain and nausea. Luckily on a visit to the doctor I took the time to describe my symptoms, and my doctor suggested I might be having hypoglycemic attacks, and that I should start eating small snacks every 2-3 hours. Although it's too early to say whether this step has permanently alleviated my migraines, I think it has really improved my overall health. I have more energy, my skin is clearer and my weight is down (no more migraines to date either!). I'm hoping to consolidate these gains by becoming more physically active over the winter. 

Although I can't say I feel like I made a lot of professional progress over the last year in terms of being a development practitioner, I would say I've learned a lot about the Canadian political system, Palestine-Israel and the Philippines, which I guess is positive. 

What's Getting Me Through?

As you can tell its been a difficult year. My friends are always a source of comfort and support. I have also greatly enjoyed continuing to volunteer with an accessible children's class with Propeller Dance. Working with the dancers has been a major sources of joy and fulfillment for me. I also greatly enjoyed gardening over the summer and pottery in the fall.

What's Coming up in 2020?

My goal by the end of the year is to have a single employer and for it to be an academic one. I applied for a post-doc in the autumn, the results will be released in February and if I was successful I'll be returning to Halifax. I also have a couple of outstanding academic job applications and I am in a hiring process for a Foreign Service officer position at Immigration, Refugee and Citizenship Canada, although these are less likely to pan out. 

Until then, I'll be teaching my peacebuilding course and continuing plodding along as a practitioner. 

Peace

Remembering Paul Dewar

In late 2010 I was finishing my M.A. in International Development at Dalhousie and I was about to lose my job at Public Safety. Although my student position had gone well, a hiring freeze had been imposed on the department and there was no position for me to be bridged into. Not sure what to do next I sought advice from nearly anyone who would talk to me, including my older room mate's friend, who suggested I might try volunteering for a member of Parliament. She put me in touch with one of her friends who was working for the All-Party Parliamentary Committee on the Prevention of Genocide, based in Paul Dewar's office while I reached out to the MP from the last riding I had voted in Megan Leslie. Both offices took me on as a volunteer. 

I gained a lot of experience in Megan's office, including how to run the public campaign for an MP's private members bill, but it was Paul's critic area, foreign affairs, which really drew me in. I worked with his staff to help organize a panel event for the first National Day of Action and Remembrance for the Crime of Genocide. Soon after the event took place the 2011 election was called and I dedicated the time I had spent at Parliament volunteering on Paul's campaign. I watched the NDP gain official opposition status from his victory party. 

I spent the following two years mostly outside of Ottawa, working with conflict-affected communities in Northern Uganda and with Government Assisted Refugees in Kitchener. 

In April 2013 my contract had come to an end in Kitchener and I was waiting for responses to my Ph.D. applications. Feeling a little lost again, my then room mate Brock suggested that we start something in the community. Within a couple of days Paul presented Bill C-486 the Conflict Minerals Act in the House of Commons for the first time, which was an invitation to engage Canadians on the conflict in the Congo, something I cared deeply about. The KW Just Minerals Campaign was born. My room mate and I spent the summer working with a small group of volunteers from the local NDP riding association and Engineers Without Borders collecting petition signatures to support C-486 and holding public education events about conflict minerals. It was a wonderful way to get to know the community that I was living in. 

In the autumn I returned to Ottawa to start my Ph.D. I reconnected with Paul's office, wondering if I might be able to support the national campaign. That's when they told me that I could run it. I was beyond excited, dedicating much of my time away from my Ph.D. engaging stakeholders, running a social media campaign, producing communication materials and running events. Even after the Bill failed to pass second reading I continued to manage the campaign from his office and sought to maintain momentum among the large group of stakeholders until the next election.

Like in 2011, in 2015 I spent much of my free time volunteering on Paul's election campaign, but it ended differently this time. Instead of attending a victory party, I held a sobbing 19 year old boy sobbing in my arms at a polling station. Paul had lost. 

What's remarkable about this story, is that it all happened before I was 30. Paul and his staff gave me the space to develop event planning and canvassing skills and then later invited me to manage a national advocacy campaign before I was 30. 

Two things convinced me that Paul Dewar was worth his weight in gold, and all of the hours that I dedicated to he and his office over the year. The first was that he always had time for me. Whenever we were in the office together, he was keen to know how things were going with my Ph.D. and would offer advice or stories related to international development or the campaign, and his actions showed me over and over again that he believed in me. The second was his persistent optimism and commitment to social justice. I recall that even after Bill C-486 was defeated that he stoically into the distance and quoted Bruce Cockburn saying that "you've got to  kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight" and that's what he did. After the 2015 election he continued to dedicate himself to social justice issues in Ottawa and abroad. 

Paul and I started to reconnect at community events after I came back from my second Congo trip in autumn 2017. As was always my experience, the first time we saw each other he immediately wanted to catch up and we did. 

When I learned about Paul's diagnosis I was one of the hundreds of people who sent him cards. My card may have stood out a little bit though because it confided that I too had, had brain surgery, as a child, and I wanted him to know that he could get through it. 

I wrote that card with some difficulty, since up until that point I rarely shared that information with anyone. 

I hadn't heard back from Paul when it became public that his cancer was terminal. I attended the launch of his legacy initiative Youth Action Now. When Paul saw me, he turned away from the group of people surrounding him and embraced me. "Thank you" he said over and over again. He told me that my card had arrived at a low point after his surgery, when he wasn't sure he would make it, and that my card had given him hope. 

In sharing this moment and gratitude with me, he gave me one final gift. The courage to share this part of my own story a little bit more openly, knowing that I could be loved and accepted anyway. 

There is something very powerful about believing in each other, and I know that, that is what Paul fostered in all of his relationships. It's hard to imagine where I would be today without the opportunities that working with Paul gave me. 

Goodbye Paul, thank you for everything. 

If you want to support Paul's legacy campaign, which promotes the leadership of youth (like me!) in social justice leadership you can donate here: http://youthactionnow.ca/donate/

Bang.

At 4:55 yesterday afternoon I stepped out of the Sobey's near my house in a bit of a rush. I had just picked up the remaining ingredients that I needed to make dinner and I was hurrying off to me a friend who I was nearly late to see. Since I start both of my new jobs next week I've been trying to catch up with friends who I might not see for a while since my schedule as a grad student has been more accommodating for their schedules as parents or commuters and that's all about to change.

When I stepped out of the grocery store I heard sirens and the familiar sound of a vehicle slowing down and then speeding up at intersections. I advanced along the side walk. When I got to the next intersection I decided to turn around to see how close the emergency vehicle was before I entered the intersection and I saw the police vehicle speeding its way up Metcalfe, other vehicles pulling out of its way. When I turned back around the light had changed, and I waited, uncharacteristically. I'm a habitual jaywalker but for some reason the combination of the red light and emergency vehicle gave me cause for pause. Then, just as the police vehicle was about to enter the intersection a cab pulled out from the side of the street, having dropped off a customer, and into the intersection. Bang. The vehicles collided, the police vehicle tearing the front clean of the cab, crossing two lanes of the road and eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. 

And then, there was a moment of stunned silence and stillness.

I dropped my groceries and ran to the cab, arriving at the same time as two other witnesses. All of his air bags had deployed but he was conscious and mercifully had no passengers who would have been sitting on the side that had been hit. I left the other two witnesses and ran to the police vehicle. When I opened the door and asked if the officer was alright, the first words out of his mouth were "I hit my head". I tried to talk to him to keep him calm when he started inquiring about the other driver and who was going to direct traffic. After a couple of minutes he got out and moved towards the other vehicle, luckily just to see if the other driver was okay. In a state of shock he then tried to start directing traffic when his colleagues arrived, and was ushered into another vehicle. Both he and the other driver were taken to the hospital, the other main witness and I left standing on the sidewalk waiting to give police reports the gasoline spilling out of the cab onto the road stinging our eyes. 

It's troubling to think about the fact that if I had been 30 seconds earlier or if I had jaywalked that I probably would have been hit by the police vehicle when it jumped the curb, it's also pretty amazing that no one else was hit on the busy sidewalk in downtown Ottawa that was about to be full of office workers leaving for the day. I also think that this is a nice reminder that people often come together during emergencies. I didn't hesitate to run to the vehicles to try to help the drivers, and neither did the young Muslim woman standing with me. I'm not sure what either of us would have done had we not found conscious breathing people in the vehicles. While I was standing with the police officer, several other people also stopped to offer assistance including a nurse. 

So, keep your head up and be grateful for today. 

Adventures in the DRC: My Long-Lost Friend

"Alina!" I shouted excitedly across the room before I could stop myself. It was 7 a.m. on a Tuesday and I had been in Goma for four days. Our team was about to depart for Masisi and things were not going smoothly. 

After I arrived in Goma I went straight to bed totally nauseous. Waking up briefly to try to eat something and soon realizing that remaining in bed was by far the better option. 

The next day I met the team early to go over the research tools for our review of humanitarian assistance. We would be travelling as a group of four over the next six weeks through North Kivu, Ituri and South Kivu. The first team member I met was the "Local Member" who was Congolese and had significant experience working with international actors in the region. He was responsible for logistics and arranging local accommodations during our trip as well as conducting interviews like the rest of us. He met me the night before at the airport. The second team member was the "New Member" who was a young woman working with The Firm as an intern but who insisted on being paid for her work before departing for the DRC (and justifiably so). She was responsible for conducting interviews with women's and youth groups and civil society. The third team member was the "Experienced Member" who had worked in a management capacity for the UN in the Eastern DRC for more than 10 years. A fellow Canadian, he was responsible for conducting the protection interviews for our review. 

During our Sunday morning meeting the New and Experienced Members expressed concerns over both the logistics of the trip and the design of the review. As the methodological lead I was most concerned about the design of the review so I spent the day working on that, making sure that the language in the questionnaires was better suited to the context. The Experienced Member was quite insistent that we needed to spend more time in Goma and less time in the rural communities where we were expected to spend ten days. Everyone seemed to be on the verge of quitting. 

The next day I woke up and my neck was quite itchy. I asked the New Member to take a look at it, but she said she saw nothing. 

The team then met with our team of enumerators for North Kivu. While we were responsible for interviewing "key" stakeholders, they would conduct surveys with beneficiaries. I was responsible for delivering the training but was somewhat distracted by the fact that I had sent an e-mail to the Director and the Big Man saying that all of the team felt that we needed more days in Goma before moving to the rural communities and that if that wasn't possible, that we would all quit. 

After a day of security briefings, interviews and training enumerators, some of whom seemed to have never conducted an interview before, the Local Member's phone rang. It was the Director. 

After yelling at me through the receiver for more than 30 minutes about how we had to follow the firm's plan exactly during the trip with no changes to anything ever, and that we were to leave for Masisi the following day, I conceded that I was not the person who needed to be convinced and handed the phone to the Experienced Member. 

When I saw Alina across the breakfast room at the hotel the next morning all my bags were packed (and I was ready to go). I couldn't believe my eyes. Alina had been one of my close friends while I lived in Uganda, but I hadn't seen her since even though she lived just South of the border. in the 30 minutes that followed I learned that she was finishing here master's degree at Harvard (of course) and had just finished a work placement in Rwanda. After briefly updating her on my life, we drove away in two range rovers towards Masisi, carefully following security precautions because protests were scheduled in Goma that day. 

Next Blog Post: Saturday at Noon! 

Adventures in the Eastern DRC: A Prelude

It's the one year anniversary to my second arrival in the DRC! The trip and the time that followed have been busy but it seems like I might finally have the time and head space to write about it. Names will be changed to protect the identities of the characters in this little adventure, and of course this is more focused on my personal experience and views, not those of my employer(s). 

It's 7 a.m. on July 26th 2017, one week before I'm supposed to leave . I blearily stare into my phone as I've become accustomed to do. Ever since I agreed to work with the firm as a public health expert on this project, I've woken up to many "high importance" e-mails. This morning's e-mail is particularly shocking. The team lead had quit and they wanted me to replace him. 

"What?!" I think to myself. "This trip is never going to happen." 

I then send a series of urgent e-mails to my doctoral supervisor and mentor friend type person in Ottawa seeking advice. One says "run!" the other says "go for it!". 

So I decided to negotiate. I could take on the job if they gave me a raise and guaranteed that I would not need to work for more than 10 days after I came back from the field. They agreed and suggested that I take on the role of "methodological lead" rather than team lead. I reluctantly accepted and my flights were booked for the following week. 

In the interim I had another meeting with the third person who I had e-mailed. The Big Man had referred me to the position and was distressed to learn that it all seemed to be falling apart, so he stepped up and was declared the new team lead while I remained the methodological lead. 

In his negotiations he indicated that he could not be with the team for the duration of its trip in the Eastern DRC. Instead he was to be with us for the first five days and to return at the end of the mission to wrap things up. 

Although we were both travelling from Ottawa, the Big Man and I were booked on different flights. I was supposed to be on a long-haul flight from Toronto to Addis while he had somehow convinced the firm to fly him through London. However, when my flight to Toronto was cancelled on the day of my departure, I was re-routed through London with him. 

I had known the Big Man for quite some time in a semi-professional context and he seemed friendly and easy going, although I had my doubts. I was naturally displeased when during the first two legs of our trip all he could bring himself to talk about was his expectation that I work beyond the 60 hour weeks that I had committed to until the job was done and that if I didn't take a job with the UN that I would be wasting my life. 

We spent the day in London. When we returned to Heathrow he had some difficulty boarding our flight to Addis. He explained that he was told that he had not obtained the correct visa to fly into Goma, despite having a UN passport but convinced Ethiopian to let him board the flight. 

After a five-hour layover in the tired and dated African departures terminal in Addis our flight was boarding. I was ahead of the Big Man in line and was waved on to the tarmac. He was stopped by the flight attendant behind me and informed again that he did not have the requisite visa to enter the DRC, he told me to go ahead without him.

Three hours later I arrived in Goma, nauseous, exhausted, with a strangely itchy head and back in charge of the team. Well. Sort of. 

(Next scheduled post: tomorrow! 5 p.m. EST). 

Alcoholism, Sexaholism, Workaholism and Radical Kindness

About a month ago I was on the bus coming home from a friend's party when I decided to pull up facebook on my phone to pass the time. I wasn't ready for the first post that appeared on my feed. It was a eulogy from one of my Bukavu friends about our mutual friend Inge Kool. 

Inge was one of a small handful of long-term expats living in Bukavu. She worked as an Assistant Director with the Panzi Hospital which provides medical, psycho-social and legal support to victims of sexual and gender based violence, which has been one of the most noted components of ongoing violence in the DRC. She was a kind and compassionate person who always had time to help other people. I always enjoyed meeting her at Wendy's for weekly drinks during my fieldwork and I was excited to see her again when I visited Bukavu in September. 

Since her death I've been reflecting on a number of things that she said to me over the last two years. Most notably in a New Year's message last year after wishing me well she told me that she had been reading my blog. She said that she had been thinking about my comment that almost all of the expats that I met in Bukavu were "alcoholics, sexaholics, workaholics or some combination of the three" and that it encouraged her to re-examine her priorities and strive for more balance in her life. The funny thing was that I had always considered her to be one of the exceptions to that rule. 

Upon reflection, I've decided to amend my blanket statement about expats in Bukavu. While many humanitarians do struggle to find balance in their jobs and lives, trying to respond to demands from head offices, navigate persistent insecurity and respond to the needs of populations in crisis through the three outlets I described above, the other common factor which often defines them is kindness. For one must be radically kind to give up their comfort in order to support deeply traumatized populations and bare the risks of living amidst protracted crises. 

Perhaps we can all find ways to practice radical kindness in our own lives. 

Peace. 

A link to my original post: http://nonsequiturk.blogspot.ca/2016/07/all-of-things-i-havent-told-you-about.html