Opinions
Ignatieff appear lacklustre, despite an attractive platform. This is all the more reason for Canadians to increase vigilance and do everything legal to prevent a Harper majority. Any government that is so arrogant and manipulative in a minority would be unstoppable as the majority.
If you need any proof, recall the events of the G20 summit in Toronto last year and the numerous dismissals of individuals critical of government over the past few years and of agencies, institutions and organisations that have lost funding because of perceived anti-Government positions. Add to these the disgraceful behaviour of government ministers in Parliament, for example Minister Toews' hostile and boorish characterization of the respected international jurist Louise Arbour for fair comment about Israeli excesses in Lebanon, made in relation to her function as UN Human Rights Commissioner. Toews' remark stands out as most cowardly as it was made under parliamentary privilege. The list of Harper targets is long and includes diplomat Colvin whose testimony before a House committee regarding Afghan detainees was the probable cause of the 2009 prorogation which ended the enquiry. Harper's actions with regard to Statistics Canada, Chalk River, the RCMP Vancouver killing, his own budget chief's criticisms of accountability are just a few. Add John Baird's misleading outbursts on a variety of subjects, Bev Oda's "contempt" and you get a picture of hypocrisy and dictatorship.
Harper cancelled scores of grants and institutional support funds, among them the respected Aboriginal Healing Foundation and immigrant services, which is somewhat ironic as Harper campaigns for the ethnic vote, most recently in Mississauga, where he unabashedly addressed a non-white audience as "you people"a - clearly dismissive and divisive remark. Over the years his government has blatantly politicised several key Civil Service functions starting with the Privy Council, undermining their impartiality. Even stimulus funding during the past couple of years has become political football. Harper's actions are quite undemocratic and his taunt to the disaffected to sue Government is pepper to raw wounds; few individuals have the resources to take government to court especially now that he has cancelled the program that subsidised litigants. He seems to be moving towards an American-style government where politics permeates and dominates every aspect of administration and general services to the population; or perhaps he craves a Gaddafi-style dictatorship.
Last week in Prince Edward Island Harper erroneously accused the opposition of provoking elections but the two previous elections were his call. He promised his audience to remove election grants to parties from general revenue, currently $1.75 per vote, based on the previous election results. This is hypocritical as his CPC flaunts its rich war chest; the Globe and Mail recently quoted a spokesman: "We raised $5.2-million in the fourth quarter of 2010 versus $4.8-million in 2009 – making this our largest quarter since 2008...We raised more than the other parties combined...."
By cutting subsidies Harper will emasculate minority parties which are increasingly attractive as regional issues become paramount and the major parties fail to represent the country equally. The Liberals continue to see-saw between their "business" and "welfare" camps, and the NDP stands on its traditional rigid platform, despite attractive candidates. Harper's criticism that the Parti Québecois does not deserve this subsidy is deceitful since the Party is quite legal. In 2008 CPC was caught red-handed in the illegal election practice of shuffling money to the general campaign through individual constituencies thus obtaining spending advantages over other parties. Public funding of elections is, I believe, fair subsidy and should replace private war chests. Although the Green party has no seat in the house for the nearly one million votes it obtained last time it qualified for support. (This lack of a seat for nearly 7% of voters is a flaw in our system as it disenfranchises a large number of citizens who had exercised their right to choose and is therefore undemocratic. With another Harper government possible it is time to vigorously revive the issue of proportional representation).
Will "you people" and you others vote for this man?
Celebrating the passing
to a happier place
I was among the little boys in the village growing up around him. With no siblings, I was drawn to him out of curiosity and having too much time on my hands. The last time Grandpa and I had spoken before he passed away was under the pomerac tree.
There he would sit when the weather was sunny, on a bench made just for him. His eldest son had driven four posts of varying thickness into the ground. Two crossbars were roughly nailed on, and then thick branches evenly trimmed for the seat. The bench was rickety, not designed to be sturdy, rocking slightly on Grandpa Gowandan's insect-like 90 pounds.
He leaned on a crook-stick when walking. It was a stick used for hooking grass before it was cut. He moved around by holding the hooked end of the stick and walking with deliberate, measured steps, stopping to rest most of the times. His back was curved like a bow. Age had made him as dry as a grasshopper. When he sat on the bench he hawked and spat copiously, unmindful of accuracy, just beyond his feet.
He would sit in the shade of the pomerac tree as we played cricket on the road. For a wicket we used a metal garbage pail. Through constant use it had become dented with unending penetration of the ball through bat and legs. The ball hitting the iron resonated along with the disappointment of the batsman at having failed to defend his wicket. The clatter of the pail, the shouts of triumph by the bowler and fielders were the sounds that reached him. Advanced age had dimmed his sight. But he heard enough to determine a batsman had been cleaned bowled. He cackled at this, raising and pointing his stick in our direction, his cruel mouth crooked with enjoyment. When he laughed the sunlight reflected off his toothless gums.
It was safe for me to share the rickety bench with him. I was a thin-legged, lanky-boned boy. He would pinch the flesh on my arm and recommend ground provisions as a dietary supplement.
"You tell yuh mooma to boil yam and dasheen in one pot. She must mash it up with cattle butter and feed you this. You will grow up to be a big, strong man," he would say. There wasn't much strength left in his fingers so it was a harmless pinch. And he did not say "boil" as we were being taught in school; instead, he pronounced it "baail" by stretching out the 'a' sound.
There were days when he was angry, finding fault with everything around him. The chickens pecking on the ground were driven off with a caustic wave of the crook-stick. They returned his irascibility with a similar annoyance, challenging him with raised hackles while cackling to the neighbourhood. He found fault with his daughter-in-law. He claimed she was sloppy with the wash, not laundering his dhotis and shirts in enough 'blue', an indigo additive used then to enhance the whites. He criticised her cooking – there wasn't enough salt in the rice; the dhal had not been crushed thoroughly; the quantity of pepper in the meals challenged his decaying digestion.
He was a thorough and crabby old man, at times deranged with the distemper of advanced senility, his temperament unpredictable and ranging from the illogic of non-sequiturs to the warm and generous.
"Here, child," he would say to me. "Come, eat this 'baail' corn. I don't know why they give me this. It 'baail' with too much 'saalt'." When he said "They" he meant his daughter-in-law. Most of their days were spent in an engaging and ongoing antagonism. The boiled corn was delicious and I wondered why he did not like it.
At times he would rail against God, saying, "I don't know why He has let me live so long. I am suffering so much. My wife gone and left me. My mother gone; my father gone. So much pain in this body." His voice would break with agony. He became quiet. Red silky strands from the flowers of the pomerac tree fell on us. It came down with vermillion tenderness. It fell into our laps and carpeted the uneven ground.
Grandpa Gowandan's funeral took place without lamentation. We were to celebrate his passing to a happier place, the pundit said. The excitement of drums marked the funeral procession. His sons and grandsons scattered coins on the roadway to the cremation site.
That evening I watched his daughter-in-law shaking out his dhotis and bed-sheets with finality into a lifting wind. She threw it all into a pile for the next day's sloppy wash.