Room with a view

This morning I woke up in Banff to thick smoke, remnants of the fires raging just across the boarder in BC. From what I’m told, the smoke has traveled all the way to Manitoba, meaning it’s now stretching across half the country. Environment Canada says this smoke will only truly impact those with asthma or allergies, but this morning my throat is tight, my eyes a little itchy.

In an hour I will rent a car and drive west, into the smoke, through the Rocky Mountains and Rogers Pass, down into the desert of the Okanagan. It’s a trip I’ve made many times before, though not in recent memory. This time I’ll be guided my memories instead of mountains. That’s alright with me.

This is a few months old now, but frankly, the content is ancient. Why is it mission critical when it’s in our own backyard, but business as usual elsewhere?

Nigeria is in my top five place to report from. Top five. In fact, it might even occupy position number one.

Dinner of the decade

Invitation reads: Supermodels, Freedom Fighters, Warlords and Washed up Actresses only!

Seriously, sorry for the inconvenience Naomi, I know you’d never even heard of Liberia and all, but when you dine with the stars, sometimes you gotta testify.

In other news, I have received an invitation. To screen a little film I made last year at Planet in Focus. More on that later.

HT Sana

Truck Stop

Crazy weekend, crazy parties. Caribana, it turns out, is more of an afternoon dance party with moving trucks than a ‘parade.’

I need to party less. Or more. Maybe more.

Ok, so it’s a great jam and all, but the idea of Wyclef as an actual president is perhaps, well, misguided.

CBC is reporting that Wyclef Jean has registered to run for office in Haiti’s fall election. Although he’s yet to officially decide whether or not he will run, he’s filled out the appropriate paper work and has been cleared as a potential candidate.

I just finished writing an op-ed column (to be published in September) about my own experience with disaster relief in Haiti. During the research I discovered this little report by the smoking gun. It suggests that Wyclef’s charity, the Yele Haiti Foundation, functions as much as a front to personally enrich the hip hop star, as it does to raise money for Haiti. The details are sketchy, perhaps even complex, and I’ll leave it to you to form your own opinion.

HT Mr. Myles Estey.

I went to check out Restrepo the other day, because I love documentaries. And because it was made, in part, by one of my favorite photojournalists And because the narrative of the war seems to permeate every channel in this little country of ours.

I don’t want to give too much away, because I really think you ought to see it for yourself, but I was struck by two very powerful thoughts.

First, I know absolutely nothing about Afghanistan. I hear a lot about it – about the Kandahar airfield, about a possible mission extension, about elections, about Hamid Karzai. But I know nothing about the country. The first view of the sweeping landscapes of the Koregal valley, the tiny huts that dot the landscape, the heat, the snow. The seasons. Seeing a place makes everything feel real. Like, this is really happening. There are actual people living in Afghanistan, whose lives are greatly impacted by all these policy decisions I keep hearing on the radio. Seems obvious, but Restrepo allowed me the space to empathize with a situation I have no real personal experience with. Powerful stuff.

Second, the boys fighting over there are just that; boys. They’re like, 20 years old, at most. And yes, I already kinda new that, but seeing it with my own eyes, understanding what it means to be 20 years old, parading around a land you don’t understand, mumbling some nonsense about hearts and minds. Intense.

The film is intentionally apolitical, taking instead a cinema verite approach to just what it means to be at war. But at the end one message came across loud and clear, at least for me. I won’t tell you what it is though. I want you to go and see it for yourself.

Storm front over Churchill, Manitoba

I watched this terrific storm roll in over what remains of NASA’s rocket centre. I thought to myself, this is like an aurora. If they were still here, maybe they would launch a rocket into it. Maybe.

It’s been a long week, and a tough shoot. We are without a bear guide. I have a gun license. This means in addition to two camera, a tripod, lights and mics, I am now carrying a winchester 12 gauge shot gun. I am the last line of defence against 1,200 pounds of giant white predator. It’s more than I bargained for.

Sometimes, while I am walking along this great moon landscape, gun in one hand, mk11 in the other, I think to myself, this is my life.

How did I get here?

Former rocket launchers, Churchill, Manitoba.

It’s been raining for days. Raining too hard to traverse marshy bogland in search of biting flies (pity.) In the distance I can see tin-can structures, pointed skyward. This is all that remains of the Canadian military’s lengthy operations in the region.

I want to go and explore them, but I’m told it’s too dangerous. I can’t be sure if this is because the buildings are old and weathered, or because there are polar bears lurking just beyond the next willow.

Churchill, Manitoba

I spent Canada day on a small plane, flying North. I’ll be here in Churchill for the next week filming a story on biting flies, which is a good, because this town seems to have lots of them.

Initial impressions; Big Sky, smells of summer. The sun never sets, the bugs never sleep, and the men are rugged (which is just how I like them.) I could get used to this place.

Then I grew up, got a fancy education, got a fancy job, started paying taxes, sleeping with boys, and spending far too much time at local pubs. I burnt out on politics, and became something of a cynic. Even at 15 I had predicted the demise of my political self, though back then I thought it would be more around the age of 40 (when I would officially become “over the hill.”)

I spent Sunday evening in pouring rain, with 250 strangers, locked in a blockade, against our will. Yes, the G20 was in town, and certainly some of us were there protesting, but others were simply commuting home when they were caught up in the mayhem. I was working as a member of the press.

We were held for five hours. We were not given an explanation for why we were being held. When I inquired, I was told that, as a member of the media, I should have fled when I had the chance.

Funny thing about that; We were never given the chance. Moreover, in a free and civil society, I happen to think that’s the last thing the media should be doing.

The evening was long. I became severely hypothermic. We were eventually released without charge.

But I can’t remember the last night I was this charged up. I am disgusted at the blatant disregard for civil liberties. I am ashamed of my country and my government. Most importantly, I am ready to take up the fight again. I’ve been far to apathetic for far too long.

Those who are not willing to fight for their rights, don’t deserve to have them.

Kettle blockade at the corner of Queen and Spadina, Sunday June 27, 2010, during the G20 summit in Toronto, Canada