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Vol. X, No. 9 February 28, 2004 IN THIS ISSUE:
 Dalton Deedrick resumes his story of a stint of volunteer dentistry during A MONTH IN AFRICA March 18 - Saturday. Awake to the bird songs, and before arising, watched the little lizards scampering up and down the walls, hopefully reducing the population of "dudu's", i.e., bugs. This is dry season, so mosquitos are scarce and the danger of malaria is minimal. Advice re using the net over the bed was, "If you want to." I haven't. Sister M.C. wants me to see the better side of Thika, so she drove us in after lunch. There is a nice set of waterfalls on the Thania River on the town outskirts, a park-like setting, and a little craft market nearby. One can't come home from Africa without gifts for kith and kin, so spent an hour picking out the usual array of carved elephants, beads, and assorted knick-knacks. The Blue Post Hotel is adjacent to the park, within view of the falls. Excellent buffet and a smashing big ice-cream dessert. A nice change from my own cooking, if one can dignify my culinary efforts by calling them "cooking". The good sister relishes these little forays away from the residence. She chatters away exuberantly as we go along, and how I wish I could understand more of what she says. March 19 - Sunday, and nearly everyone off to church. I am unfamiliar with the rituals of the R.C. church, and the service was to be done in Swahili, so I had two good reasons to skip the meeting. Sister M.C. wheeled by in the afternoon and invited me to go with her to see another nearby falls on the Athai River. They were spectacular, but the best viewpoint was on the other side of the river. To get there, a short ferry crossing was required. The ferry was in fact a log raft with a couple of chairs set high enough to keep one's feet dry. The motive power was a long rope, with the ferryman on one side of the river, and his twelve-year-old son on the far bank. One pulled you over, and the other pulled you back. An energy-efficient solution with no attendant pollution. I must admit, when out in mid-current, and the scrawny twelve-year-old pulling the rope, I had some fleeting thoughts concerning a grumpy hippo, or a hungry and hopeful crocodile somewhere just out of sight downstream. I had been asked to bring some slides from home to show at some point. The nuns invited me up to their residence for supper, and the slide show followed. By a miracle the power stayed on, and I had to describe the whys and wherefores of snow, and what kind of a contraption was a snowmobile. On the other hand, I hadn't known much about a ferry drawn by hand, so we came out even. March 20 - Monday, and the beautiful weather continues. I swear the stars look closer and brighter than they do in Canada. Maybe we have more junk in our atmosphere than they do here. I tried to find a familiar constellation, to get the orientation of the compound straight, but no luck. A ho-hum clinic day until the last patient. He had a routine extraction, but as the tooth came out, a little flake of attached bone came with it, and sliced neatly through my rubber glove and gashed my finger. In ordinary circumstances this would not cause much alarm, but out here a good number of the people are HIV positive. The patient, a young man, looked healthy enough, and in a moment of inattention he left the clinic and went home. We're going to have to bring him back for a test, just for peace of mind. March 21 - Tuesday. Always a heavy day's work when we go to Thika. The line is always a hundred yards long, and you know you'll never be able to see them all in a day. I got Michael to find out how long some had been in line. They had been waiting since six a.m. just to be sure they would be seen, and had walked several miles just to be there. There is a bank in Thika, so over lunch time I went in to change a traveller's cheque into shillings. This may not sound like a monumental financial transaction, but the whole exercise involved everyone from the manager down to the teller, and took 30 minutes of time I should have been in the clinic. I get the impression that each level of bureaucracy asserts its importance by delaying things to match that of the level above. Maybe I'm wrong, but I've wondered if there's not some satisfaction in making someone from "the other side of the world" squirm a bit as the clock ticks. I know I was squirming . Despite the noon-hour delay, we cranked through 52 patients, did 90 extractions and three composite fillings by quitting time. Took the luxury of a short nap before making supper. Those dandy little foil packages of "chicken & noodles", vanilla pudding, etc., topped off with fresh papaya or pineapple, makes one feel like an accomplished chef! To be continued.
Eleanor Werner describes the recent disastrous snowstorm in Nova Scotia: STORM WHITE JUAN In mid-winter of 1966, my two sons, aged five and three years, and I took a train trip to Winnipeg to my parents' for a couple weeks of vacation. The day we arrived the weather started to snow and to blow. Three days later it was still snowing and blowing and no one was going anywhere nohow! Ski-dos got about freely, although they had to use caution due to the blinding of the blowing weather. As the weather subsided, shoveling began, and then finally the plows started to open the roads. After confinement to the house for so long, first chance out the boys and I went to a show and "out for fresh air". That was the year Winnipeg had a huge Brinks robbery and the bandits got out of the city on the last air flight out. Can't remember if they were ever caught or not. And now, five months after hurricane Juan, we have a true Nor'easter (as they call it down here) and it started to snow and blow and snow and blow some more - on Wednesday evening this past week. Nothing moved! Where could you go if you could? Fortunately, this time around I was not without power, as some areas were hit. It was blowing so strongly you could not see out the house windows whatsoever. Then the drifts settled against the outer house doors and you just were not moving anymore. Everything was closed - even the liquor stores - now that has to be a record! All malls were closed; buses were cancelled; the airport was closed until Monday until the runways can be cleared. No flights are coming in or out. Motorists were cautioned to stay off the roads and not to go to work until Sunday. Apparently the stores are being allowed to open so that groceries and such can be obtained. Children had a two-day holiday (Thursday and Friday). I had the neighbor's teenager come over and unclog my side door so I could get out in an emergency (I believe that is the law - one exit must be open). Felt much better to know I was no longer trapped in my own home. The snow plows came down my street as there are two schools at the other end and so my street was a priority. We all know what a snowplow does to a driveway! My oldest son came by and opened the driveway and cleaned off the side steps. Today the neighbor's teenager was back to do the front walk and steps. What a mess! The snow is banked almost up to the overhang of the house. Sure, sounds as if things are looking great ... but in front of my yard is a "blinkin blinkin sidewalk" and the ever-loving sidewalk plow will be down during tonight to open it up, and there goes my clean driveway. I have already paid once to have the driveway opened up, and now an encore. There has to be at least three feet of snow, if not more, in drifted areas. Any roads that may be open are generally one-lane - enough to get out. Don't know where they can move the snow to. Can you imagine the household fuel bills? Several roofs have fallen in and some greenhouses have more snow inside that out. Many areas still haven't got rid of their tree stumps from the last disaster. Certainly will be a lot of ice about and water trying to get to a runoff. It will be a few weeks before it is all behind us. Not having to go out is truly a blessing. The walls haven't started talking to me just yet. Just got a call that church is cancelled for tomorrow and so many still have not had their street cleared, nor has the church yard been opened up yet. Now here is the catcher: "Forecast ... starting tonight (Saturday), expect another 30 cms (approx. 10 to 12 inches) of that fabulous white stuff. Usually our weatherman is wrong, but the past five days he hasn't been. When did you say spring is due to arrive? This year maybe? This is truly time for the homemade chicken noodle soup with fresh-baked bread and buns. Not going anywhere, what else can you do but enjoy home-made cooking! (Look for no calories!) For those of you living in apartments, what is it like not having to get out to shovel? Or clean the car off? Do you remember what a snow shovel looks like? Not! You are retired now! Enjoy your hot cup of tea and homemade doughnut or muffin and relax. You were lucky you missed this storm!
Geoff Goodship sends the beginning of a number of articles on a recent trip to Costa Rica with this story, written in the departure lounge of Vancouver International Airport at 6:15 a.m.: ON THE WAY TO SAN JOSE A sleepless night. I just couldn't get off. The coffee in my hand shakes, but not just from lack of sleep. With a very early departure, we needed to overnight in Vancouver so checked into the Holiday Inn last evening. I had visions of watching the NFL playoffs for the evening. After dinner I stretched out in my favorite spectator position just in time to catch the opening kick-off. Freddie began to give me 'that look'. I ignored her through an end run and two incomplete passes before she pronounced, "It's those pants!" "Yes dear," I muttered as Philadelphia punts. "They always do that to the guy who catches the ball." "Those pants have to go!" she pronounced. Years of married bliss have taught me a great deal about her tone of voice. Nine out of ten times I can correctly predict when there is wiggle room and when to capitulate. This was beginning to sound like the latter. "It's Sunday evening and everything is closed," I protested. "Besides, there are no stores near here." "What's that out the window?" she replied. It wasn't really a question for I had already seen the huge lighted Costco sign across the street and four floors down. "Besides, we don't have a Costco membership," I added for good measure. Someday I'll perfect my understanding of Fred's ingenuity, but I'm not quite there yet. In a flash she phoned the front desk and had arranged to use their corporate Costco membership card. In less than five minutes we're marching across the dark and damp parking lot into Costco, with 10 minutes to closing time. Freddie has a Costco compulsion. Whenever she goes there she spends most of her time in the book section, so I was not surprised when she said, "Get some decent pants," and whisked off to the book isles. I don't have a favorite time or place for buying pants, but it's not Sunday or Costco, and definitely not trying to beat a closing bell. Costco seemed to have acres of pants, but as I quickly discovered, no fitting rooms. I make a very quick selection, trying to beat the closing bell. In short order we were back at the Holiday Inn for an early night in anticipation of a very early morning. Did I tell you we had a rotten night? It didn't get better when we awoke in the dark and I stepped into my new pants at 5:15 a.m. When I pulled them up, even though I was groggy, it was immediately apparent there was room for me and a small boy. In quiet desperation, I put on my belt and pulled my jacket down over my waist in the vain hope that Fred would not notice, providing more time to find a better solution. Down the elevator, into the shuttle, Continental check in, pay airport tax, place baggage on conveyor belt, and proceed to U.S. Immigration. There are about a hundred folks in front of us and I tried to think about the 'too much pants' problem. The line moved quickly, however, and soon I noticed the fellow in front of me remove his wallet and belt and place them on a conveyor. Without a thought, I followed his example. I was still pretty groggy, which probably explains why I didn't make the connection. My left hand saved me. With no direction from me, it immediately reached around behind my back and grabbed my waist band. Fred stepped through the electronic portal and moved away. I stood there, waking up fast and realizing there might be a problem. Perhaps it was my hesitation that caused the fellow on the other side of the gate to call in a loud voice, "Next, please." I didn't feel a thing as I stepped through the portal but that's because I didn't expect the alarm to go off. The fellow with the loud "Next please" takes a step forward and with an upward flick of his black baton indicated a body search was about to begin. I'm wide awake now and fully recognizing the problem. I'm desperate for some homeland security. It's the look of alarm on his face which finally pries my left hand from my the back of my pants. As I raise both arms to horizontal there is a sinking feeling around my middle. Once again instinct comes to the rescue. Feet move wide apart, knees turn outward then flex, lowering bum about 12 inches. New pants sink, but catch at a critical level. Homeland security is there, but just. My weird posture produces an alarmed expression on the Uniform with the stick. His face indicates he is not sure if he should call the bomb squad or an industrial cleaner. Fred turns to see what she later described as a goony bird about to take off. It's too much for her. She turns away. "Need my belt," I croak to the Uniform with the stick. His face is blank but then turns slowly to a big smile. And that's why I'm now sitting in the departure lounge at YVR. Fred has her nose in a Costco book, studiously ignoring me.
READ ANY GOOD BOOKS LATELY? Marion Telling has set up a book discussion group for Tale Spinner readers in Yahoo. It is a site where book-lovers can review, recommend, or discuss books, or comment on other people's selections. Here is the link for you to join the group: http://www.onemasonplace.com/crol/index.html (Dead Link) If you scroll down and look at the left-hand side, there is a form where an e-mail address can be entered to join. A word of caution: When I originally tried to join, I was confused over the request for an "alternate" address, because I didn't realize that Yahoo was considered the primary address. Just enter your usual e-mail address in the space for an alternate address. Once you become a member, you can post to the group and the e-mail goes out to everyone who is a member. New members will have access to the archives and can read past posts. The subject line of a new post should reflect the contents, to aid in finding pertinent posts. If replies to posts leave the subject line intact, members will be able to follow the "thread", as it is called (i.e., everything to do with the original post). In commenting on my remark that people might not be interested in the science fiction and fantasy I read, Marion wrote: "Sci-fiction is always interesting - remember Einstein's comment about imagination being the most important thing? No imagination results in very little progress. Think of past sci-fi writings and comics like Dick Tracey :-) - the radio watch? Well, we have cell phone cameras now. What next? One of my favourite sci-fi writers was Marion Zimmer Bradley." Another genre I read are mysteries - preferably the cosies, because I'm not really into violence and organized crime. Judging from the number of people haunting the mystery shelves in the library, I am not alone in my enthusiasm. You readers out there - you have favourite books and you're just itching to share them with the rest of us, aren't you? Now's your chance - join the book group and make your recommendations! We'll look forward to your company - it's lonely there now, with only three members. As they say in the ads: Join Up Today!
Joyce Schowalter, Editor in Chief of http://www.heroicstories.org/, writes about a problem: HEROIC STORIES LOSING SUBSCRIBERS We're still having trouble getting our issues delivered to everyone who's subscribed. Please feel free to subscribe more than one address, to read the stories on our archives, or especially to resubscribe if you believe your subscription may have been dropped. If you have friends who subscribe, you might let them know via e-mail that all they have to do is subscribe again if we disappear. We've lost 800 subscribers in the last week, as the system deletes people who've not gotten several issues. So now would be a *great* time to let someone else know that HS is here, why you subscribe, and why you think they'd like it. The URL for subscriptions is: http://www.heroicstories.org/subscribe.html.
"The man who strikes first admits that his ideas have given out." - Chinese proverb |