Hey Team, I saw this on TV and thought it would be of interest to you. This women is also trying to set up a similar business plan in Haiti.
Enjoy
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
So you'll be making links... Where exactly?
I fully admit that before Making the Links, I had no clue where Dillon, Pinehouse, and Île-à-la-Crosse were. Now that I am part of the program, one of the first questions I get asked is where I am going and where these communities are in Saskatchewan...
Thankfully, Google maps can easily answer that question for me!
View Larger Map
Thankfully, Google maps can easily answer that question for me!
View Larger Map
There's No Place Like Home
The long road to Dillon had me sitting in contemplation and angst; what would the people of Dillon make of us young, naive, and bright-eyed medical students traipsing into their community? I watched as the towns grew sparse, the woods grew thicker, and the paved roads turned to gravel; the roads reflected my fear, that our stay would gradually get rougher. I was jealous of Samra who dropped into a deep sleep almost as soon as we hit the road whereas my mind wouldn't turn off.
We arrive in the town and do a quick circle; there is the lone mini-mart and gas pump, the restaurant that is sometimes open, the school, health centre, police depot, and the rustic houses all scattered haphazardly. The phrase going in circles certainly applies as we wind around the roads that weave in and out of each other; much unlike the straight and orderly set up of city blocks. We drive up to Doris' house with the tarp covering the self-constructed porch area; back home I would call that a 'farmer fix' and I chuckle. Jodi breaks the ice for us and enters the house first; to her, this journey is almost like returning home. To my surprise, we are greeted with hugs by this woman who has never met us before and yet graciously opened her home to us for the weekend. Just as is the way back from my small town home, she automatically asks if we have eaten and gets the food ready that we have brought. We eat with her daughter and granddaughters, share many laughs, and learn the magic art behind running her toilet for she has been without running water for a month (for those who have never experienced a lack of running water, this involves flushing followed by manually filling the tank with water using an ice cream pail). And then the doshka begins...
Doshka is like Trouble, only with cards in lieu of die, and much more diabolical. We sit in silence, shifting our eyes warily trying to figure out who is going to destroy our marble and kick us back to start. I am out of my chair when there is a triple knock-out; I'm so excited to retaliate that I skip the turns of everyone else at the table when I slam down my card! In the end, the game came down to one hand. I was dealing. To mix things up a little bit, I divy up the piles in a different order from normal and take for myself the hand that Budz was itching to grab. This was a very clever move on my part as that hand ended up winning the game for my partner, Sylvia, and I. I end the night as a doshka champ and heck no it wasn't beginner's luck, that was pure skill!
I rise early in the morning and get some quality alone time with this awesome woman who is housing us. She opens up to me as if I were here closest friend and makes me admire her all the more. Doris is a strong, resilient woman who, in spite of the challenges, has made a warm and welcoming home that is key in the community.
The rest of the day is a blur of bannock and fish, new faces both young and old, beautiful views of the lake, and finally, the sweat. I am humbled to be welcomed into this sacred ritual. It is a surreal experience that no one could have prepared me for. The dark surrounds me in competition only with the sweltering heat and panic is brimming as I concentrate on my breathing. And then the drums start, and a man begins to sing; I feel my eyes start to tear for it is so beautiful. There are not words to describe this experience for it is nothing like I have ever participated in before. At the end, I feel both exhausted and refreshed (and am completely soaked in my own sweat).
The gong-show square dance follows. But hopefully you have already read about that.
And then we crash... James' house in the morning; I feel right at home and walk right in to the house. As always, there is fresh bannock waiting. We see pictures of those who came before us, of James' travels, his family. We have only to ask and anything would be made available to us. Such is the way of this community, and particularly this family (again, it reminds me of the warm ways of the country folk back home).
Our weekend ends with the fishing derby. It is awesome to see so many people huddled along the lake amongst the trucks, snowmobiles, and quads; everyone sitting in anticipation of that big catch. 9.2 lbs is the winner; I have never seen such a big fish!
Sadly, all good things must come to an end and the close of the derby marked our departure. it was with sadness and anticipation for summer that I got in the car to head home (this time Samra is alert and spinning the tunes). I get back to the 'big' city and realize how much I have missed the country. Damn it anyhow if MTL didn't do its job and made me reconsider rural family med!
We arrive in the town and do a quick circle; there is the lone mini-mart and gas pump, the restaurant that is sometimes open, the school, health centre, police depot, and the rustic houses all scattered haphazardly. The phrase going in circles certainly applies as we wind around the roads that weave in and out of each other; much unlike the straight and orderly set up of city blocks. We drive up to Doris' house with the tarp covering the self-constructed porch area; back home I would call that a 'farmer fix' and I chuckle. Jodi breaks the ice for us and enters the house first; to her, this journey is almost like returning home. To my surprise, we are greeted with hugs by this woman who has never met us before and yet graciously opened her home to us for the weekend. Just as is the way back from my small town home, she automatically asks if we have eaten and gets the food ready that we have brought. We eat with her daughter and granddaughters, share many laughs, and learn the magic art behind running her toilet for she has been without running water for a month (for those who have never experienced a lack of running water, this involves flushing followed by manually filling the tank with water using an ice cream pail). And then the doshka begins...
Doshka is like Trouble, only with cards in lieu of die, and much more diabolical. We sit in silence, shifting our eyes warily trying to figure out who is going to destroy our marble and kick us back to start. I am out of my chair when there is a triple knock-out; I'm so excited to retaliate that I skip the turns of everyone else at the table when I slam down my card! In the end, the game came down to one hand. I was dealing. To mix things up a little bit, I divy up the piles in a different order from normal and take for myself the hand that Budz was itching to grab. This was a very clever move on my part as that hand ended up winning the game for my partner, Sylvia, and I. I end the night as a doshka champ and heck no it wasn't beginner's luck, that was pure skill!
I rise early in the morning and get some quality alone time with this awesome woman who is housing us. She opens up to me as if I were here closest friend and makes me admire her all the more. Doris is a strong, resilient woman who, in spite of the challenges, has made a warm and welcoming home that is key in the community.
The rest of the day is a blur of bannock and fish, new faces both young and old, beautiful views of the lake, and finally, the sweat. I am humbled to be welcomed into this sacred ritual. It is a surreal experience that no one could have prepared me for. The dark surrounds me in competition only with the sweltering heat and panic is brimming as I concentrate on my breathing. And then the drums start, and a man begins to sing; I feel my eyes start to tear for it is so beautiful. There are not words to describe this experience for it is nothing like I have ever participated in before. At the end, I feel both exhausted and refreshed (and am completely soaked in my own sweat).
The gong-show square dance follows. But hopefully you have already read about that.
And then we crash... James' house in the morning; I feel right at home and walk right in to the house. As always, there is fresh bannock waiting. We see pictures of those who came before us, of James' travels, his family. We have only to ask and anything would be made available to us. Such is the way of this community, and particularly this family (again, it reminds me of the warm ways of the country folk back home).
Our weekend ends with the fishing derby. It is awesome to see so many people huddled along the lake amongst the trucks, snowmobiles, and quads; everyone sitting in anticipation of that big catch. 9.2 lbs is the winner; I have never seen such a big fish!
Sadly, all good things must come to an end and the close of the derby marked our departure. it was with sadness and anticipation for summer that I got in the car to head home (this time Samra is alert and spinning the tunes). I get back to the 'big' city and realize how much I have missed the country. Damn it anyhow if MTL didn't do its job and made me reconsider rural family med!
Labels:
Dillon
Monday, 28 March 2011
How Square Dancing Teaches Us About LIFE.
This weekend gave us just a taste of what six weeks up North will hold. There were many instances where we found ourselves lost and at the mercy of whoever was guiding us. In the midst of the mind/body experience that was square dancing, a few points came to mind that illuminated the cycle of learning and adapting to new environments. So here is my first draft of the learning cycle. We’ll see if it changes at all over the next few months....
Stages of Learning*
1. Confusion
This was most evident at the Saturday night dance. Square dancing is kind of premised on the assumption that participants know how to go about interacting with each other and the music. In our case, neither prerequisite was met. This led to a lot of bewildered looks, wandering feet, and getting laughed at (which really goes hand in hand with this first stage).
2. Knowledge Acquisition
Three or four community members who really knew what to do were given the de facto task of teaching us and the younger members of the community the steps.
3. Vague Understanding
By this stage, we kind of grasped the basic idea of what we were supposed to be doing, and made it about 30 seconds without seriously undermining the dance. Self confidence grew by about 15%.
4. Crisis
And then everything changed. People started moving in different directions, and we lost all sense of who was supposed to go where. This inevitably sent us back to Stage 1 of the cycle.
* Note: You never get to anything more than a vague understanding. Thinking you have is really just a unique feature of Stage 3. Wait two seconds to find out how little you actually know.
Dillon Fishing Derby Weekend
Many thanks to everyone in Dillon who made us feel so welcome and at home over the weekend. Here are a few photos for now.
The weekend was not without learning moments, as we found that:
a) when you get up to square dance, you have made a three song commitment; and b) yes, you can dougie to fiddle music.
More info about it all to come...
Don’t Get It Twisted: Doshka Is No Joke!
Doshka in Dillon led to some heated moments over the weekend, mostly related to curbing seek-and-destroy tendencies. Head on over to the Dillon page to learn more about the community.
Road Trip Hummus
As promised, here is the recipe for the hummus we devoured on our Dillon road trip!
- 2 (15.5 ounce) cans chick peas, rinsed and drained
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 4-5 garlic cloves, crushed
- 6 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (I used one whole lemon, squeezed)
- 1/2 cup water
- 2 tablespoons tahini
- cayenne pepper, to taste
- rooster brand chili garlic sauce (or any hot sauce), to taste (about 2 heaping teaspoons)
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
info potluck
Greetings.
This is a photo of some of the potluck goodness I enjoyed last week, courtesy of fellow Making the Links students and organizers. Here’s hoping that it serves as the food manifestation of the goal of this blog: a big mash up of ideas that come together on one delicious plate.
Enjoy!
This is a photo of some of the potluck goodness I enjoyed last week, courtesy of fellow Making the Links students and organizers. Here’s hoping that it serves as the food manifestation of the goal of this blog: a big mash up of ideas that come together on one delicious plate.
Enjoy!
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