Our Canada Our Country Our Stories

by Our Canada Magazine a Division of Reader's Digest

  Volunteers in Blenheim, Ontario, who had been weaving mats, gave us a loom and we gave them a cutter. They bring their mats to us and we send them on to Ground Effects.

  Several years ago, we held an Elder College course for seniors. Jim gave a talk and slide show. Then Kathy, Prosper, Veronica Jamieson and I explained what we do with the milk bags.

  We love this voluntary activity and have become a close group. Once a month we have pizza and twice a year we have a potluck lunch or eat out at a restaurant. Thanks to the wonderful people in our group and those who give us milk bags and other items, our pile of supplies for Haiti continues to grow. We are keeping thousands of plastic milk bags out of the landfill sites and helping people who need help. The most satisfying part is that we know our mats are actually getting to Haiti.

  —by Esther Meerschaut, Harrow, Ontario

  From Rescue to Rescuer

  This pup knows how to give back from the heart

  One November our lives changed forever, thanks to an addition to our family that became a true blessing. Our daughter, Stacey, came upon a dog tied to a tree on a property where, as it turned out, the owners had departed for parts unknown. Seeing this emaciated dog looking as if she hadn’t a friend in the world, Stacey stopped her car to examine the situation.

  She walked slowly over to the poor bedraggled hound, not knowing if she’d be set upon or worse. The dog peered cautiously at her, then stood up and marginally wagged her tail. She didn’t pounce or bark but stood quietly, waiting for some sign of friendship. As Stacey reached out a hand, the dog slunk down low and cowered. Her pitiful expression spoke volumes and Stacey was deeply moved.

  Returning to her car, she sped home for food and water; her return was greeted with more wagging of the tail. When she deposited a dish of food and another of water nearby, the dog waited, glancing longingly at the offerings, obviously taught to seek permission.

  Stacey prompted the dog to eat and she did so, delicately and daintily. The water got the most attention and that was when Stacey noticed there were no dishes whatsoever in the vicinity of where the dog was tied. Not only abandoned, she’d been left to slowly starve.

  Once the local SPCA was notified and had seized the dog, she was then examined by a local vet and pronounced quite ill from malnutrition. Stacey already had two dogs and a rescued cat, but our dog had died of cancer several years previously, so Stacey felt it was safe to offer our home as a refuge of love and care.

  We adopted the dog, weighing just 35 pounds, and named her Keli Ann. She is loving but very quiet, cautious to the point of constant trepidation and still dainty in her eating habits.

  She was eight months old when she came to us. Likely never having been played with, she does not even understand the concept of chasing a ball. She loves to swim, but she’ll assume a submissive position if anyone tries to throw her a stick. Through all of this and owing to her kind nature, we discovered that Keli Ann loves babies. Any and all babies draw her immediate attention. She will sniff them from head to toe without once touching them directly with her wet, cold nose. She rarely barks, but when she does it certifies that she’s part beagle, along with the obvious Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever.

  We registered Keli Ann with the St. John Ambulance Therapy Dog Program the following year. Since that time, she and I regularly visit our local regional hospital, plus a nearby seniors’ residence. Her calm manner is greeted with smiles and exclamations of warm welcome wherever we go, and she relishes the attention of the staff as well as the patients and visitors.

  She is one of several dogs to visit South Shore Regional Hospital in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, and the program allows our community to interact positively with those involved in health care. The tensions of the day seem to disappear when there’s a bit of attention from a dog with a wagging tail.

  Keli Ann is excited each and every time her Therapy Dog scarf and identification tags are put on. She also seems to stand a bit taller as she prances about on her rounds, hearing a lot of, “Hi, Keli girl, how’s the pretty dog today?” and “Hey, Keli, come on over here and say hello.” She’ll put her front paws up on a patient’s bed so she can be reached and seems to understand she’s needed when she’s encouraged to remain by someone’s side just a little bit longer.

  We may bemoan her early beginnings, but we are thankful for what we have today—a dog with the biggest heart in the world, who now weighs in at more than 65 pounds. She is ten years old and counting, and sleeps a bit more each day, but her enthusiasm and trust in people never wanes and the value of the service she provides is undeniable. She asks for nothing but a gentle word and a pat on her head and in return, she gives from her heart.

  —by Beverlee Brown, Bridgewater, Nova Scotia

  Flying High on Knowledge

  Volunteers with more than 700 years of combined military service share their expertise with students

  Retired now, I was a teacher with the Annapolis Valley Regional School Board in Nova Scotia for 35 years. For the last decade or so, I have been privileged to be a participant—first as a teacher and now as a volunteer—in a flight education program at the Greenwood Military Aviation Museum (GMAM) at the RCAF base in the small town of Greenwood, Nova Scotia.

  Here in the Annapolis Valley, we are an hour or two away from the city and some of its learning opportunities, such as museums. It is not always possible to get our students to these locations. The GMAM has provided local schools with access to learning experiences in technology, flight and history, especially through its wonderful flight education program.

  The program is piloted by Lloyd Graham, a retired air force navigator. It all began with a conversation I had with Lloyd back in 2003, in which I expressed what a shame it was that a wonderful resource like the museum was not being utilized by our schools, especially since flight education was part of the Grade 6 curriculum in Nova Scotia.

  Within days, Lloyd came to my school to pick up a copy of the province’s department of education curriculum guide. With a team of aircrew volunteers, Lloyd created a flight education program that could be given through the museum and was positively received by the school board. This was an ambitious mission and one into which Lloyd and a team of museum volunteers put many hours.

  The program is successful thanks to the exceptional commitment of some 23 volunteer instructors who are mainly retired air force aircrew, along with a few active-duty air and ground crew, as well as civilian personnel. All of these volunteers bring a wide range of expertise to the program in such areas as long-range patrol, fighter and helicopter operations, theory of flight, the Cold War era, search and rescue, and aircraft design, to name a few. In a typical year, volunteers have a combined total of 721.5 years of military service and more than 150,000 flying hours.

  The flight education program runs from January to April. Each instructor makes a commitment of about 35 hours per session and, after a dozen years, more than 5,000 students, teachers and chaperones from 14 different schools have participated. Groups of students are guided through six stations where they spend 20 minutes engaged in every aspect of flight education—and it all runs with military precision. Once back in the classroom, students are asked to reflect on their museum experience and write letters to the instructors.

  It is not only a wonderful opportunity for students to experience flight education and history from those who lived it but also an occasion to interact with our veterans, ask questions and hear their stories. Now that I’m retired, I get to hang out with these exceptional people on flight education days. I have an even greater respect for the instructors and the time they spend with the students. I now realize what a commitment of time it really is. I also enjoy seeing how much fun they have.

  —by Connie Weinberg, Aylesford, Nova Scotia

  Making a Difference

  Volunteering in Swaziland was life-affirming

  Where are you going? Switzerland?” asked my good friend Dan. “No,” I corrected him, “Swaziland!” Two yea
rs ago, I decided to follow up on a dream I had when I was a young woman. I had always wanted to volunteer in a developing country, but life got in the way—a career as a journalist, boyfriends, marriage. Now in my middle years, I thought it was a good time to fulfill that early vision. My supportive husband, Stephen didn’t mind me taking off for a year, my communications consulting work in Toronto would be there when I returned and my health was good.

  While searching for options on the Internet, I found Crossroads International, a Canadian not-for-profit volunteer organization that has been around for more than 50 years. They were looking for a communications officer for a one-year posting with the Swaziland Action Group Against Abuse (SWAGAA), a Crossroads partner organization that specializes in preventing gender-based violence. After a few interviews, Crossroads called with the good news. I got the position.

  I had to look at a map to find out where Swaziland was. It’s a hilly country just over half the size of Vancouver Island, wedged between South Africa and Mozambique. I learned that it’s an absolute monarchy, has the highest HIV/AIDS prevalence in the world and most of the population of 1.3 million people live on less than $2 a day.

  When I arrived, the Crossroads liaison officer took me to my new home in the town of Manzini, population 70,000. The bungalow was neat and beautifully furnished and the rent was reasonable (paid out of my living allowance from Crossroads). It was an easy walk to my office, but I was told not to linger outside after dark, since it wasn’t safe. That meant hustling home, since the sun went down at 6 p.m. I never encountered any problems, as I stuck to this advice religiously.

  Luckily, there were excellent markets. Swaziland gets much of its fruit and vegetables from South Africa and I enjoyed delicious meals. Sometimes, I tucked into a Swazi staple called pap, ground maize that resembles grits. This was often paired with chakalaka, a spicy tomato/bean/veggie relish and barbecued meat—goat, beef or chicken.

  My new job focused on advocating for gender justice and liaising with media. Reporters were constantly looking for a response from SWAGAA on stories of horrendous abuse; one in three Swazi girls is sexually abused before they turn 18. I was also in charge of creating educational materials; I wrote press releases, organized presentations, updated social media and oversaw a weekly radio show (in SiSwati, the national Swazi language). My favourite task was speaking about self-esteem to members of SWAGAA’s Girls Empowerment Clubs.

  It was hard at first. I groped along trying to figure out the phone system, make sense of purchase requisition forms and learn a few words of SiSwati. “Sawubona,” I’d say, greeting my colleagues every morning. When it came to saying thank you, “ngiyabonga,” I’d inevitably get tongue-tied and use the greeting instead.

  Most nights I was too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed after dinner. On weekends, with a couple of fellow volunteers, we’d check out Swazi events such as the annual Umhlanga ceremony, or Reed Dance, where 10,000 young women wearing beads, sashes and the traditional short skirt (isigege and izinculuba) bring reeds to the Queen Mother to rebuild her compound, then dance before her son, King Mswati III. He now has 15 wives and picks a new one at the event.

  By Christmas I was ready for a break. Stephen came over from Canada, and we took off to Kruger National Park in South Africa to track wildlife. Driving through the massive park (the size of the Netherlands), we encountered zebras, antelope, buffalo and rhinos. It was thrilling to hear hippos quarrelling at night and watch protective mama elephants and their babies during the day. A highlight was the night safari, where we encountered a pride of around 20 lions.

  The real adventure, however, was back in Swaziland. Before the end of my mandate, the Children’s Protection and Welfare Bill passed into law and the Sexual Offences and Domestic Violence Bill was waiting to be signed by the King. With these in place, eventually the country will have a fighting chance to deter perpetrators of gender-based violence with stiffer sentencing.

  Back in Canada, I realized my work was a life-affirming experience. I feel I really helped make a difference and impacted positive change. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat!

  —by Maureen Littlejohn, Toronto, Ontario

  Northern Manitoba Matters

  Reclaiming traditional food skills up north

  In the fading sunlight of a northern Manitoba evening, all dressed up in a tuxedo, Winston stands proudly in the most unlikely of locations: a chicken coop. He has many reasons to be proud this evening, not the least of which is the reason for his outfit—a party celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary. At the moment, however, he’s celebrating a different 50: the number of chickens he’s been raising for the past six weeks.

  Thanks to his hard work, his chickens are happy, healthy and on their way to becoming a nutritious northern food source. His coop, built with the help of a few friends, is jokingly described by visitors as “the Ritz hotel for chickens”—comfortable, clean and spacious, with a pretty view of the lake.

  Winston, who describes himself as an outdoorsman, is an experienced hunter, trapper and fisherman, but he has never raised his own meat before. That didn’t stop him from jumping in and committing to spending three months of his summer raising chickens.

  He’s not alone, either: There are eight other families alongside him who, together, are raising a total of 450 chickens. They call themselves the Cross Lake Chicken Club and they’re the reason I find myself in Cross Lake on this summer evening. I work at Food Matters Manitoba, a registered charity that partners with northerners, newcomers, farmers and families to harvest, prepare and share good food. My job is to support food projects happening in communities around Manitoba’s north.

  Residents of northern Manitoba face alarmingly high food prices. In some communities, a four-litre jug of milk can cost almost $15, while a 4.5-kilogram bag of potatoes could be $33. With such prices, and with many northerners surviving on quite low incomes, it’s easy to understand why families struggle to eat fresh, nutritious foods and face the subsequent health consequences.

  Across the north, however, residents are working for change by reclaiming traditional food skills, building gardens and greenhouses, raising livestock and reaping the benefits.

  Up north, these kinds of projects aren’t as straightforward as in the south, and that’s where Food Matters Manitoba comes in. We help farmers, gardeners, hunters and others fund their projects, source materials and connect them with people who have the knowledge they need to succeed.

  Though the learning curve is steep, the Chicken Club has risen to the challenge. In the true spirit of northern innovation, they are often trying new things or repurposing old ones to improve their systems. As the birds get big enough to slaughter, they will be shared with friends, family and elders, and the whole community will get a taste of the chicken raisers’ efforts.

  And so, every morning and evening, Winston visits his birds to replenish their feed and water supplies, make sure the pen is intact and safe, and cleans the coop out as needed. Sure, they’re cute and fun, but they’re also food, and he looks forward to the day when he’ll be putting them on the table for his family.

  —by Anna Levin, Winnipeg, Manitoba

  PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary

  Volunteering at this “forever home” for elderly, neglected or abused donkeys is hard but uplifting work

  From the cozy comfort of my SUV, I peer out at the grey, drizzly day and sigh. Before me, the undulating vista of the Northumberland hills disappears into a shroud of murky cloud, and I wonder what happened to the day’s sunny forecast. Just ahead, I can make out the 150-year-old barn of the PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary, surrounded by the peaceful, drifting shapes of donkeys, their long ears fluting skyward.

  It’s Monday morning in Roseneath, Ontario, and I’m about to start my day as a “newbie” volunteer, helping to make the sanctuary’s denizens—which in addition to donkeys also include an assortment of mules, goats, sheep and pigs—comfortable and happy.

  Swaddled in a raincoat and boot
s, I wave hello to Sheila Burns, the sanctuary’s founder and director; she’s chatting with volunteers by the barn and sorting out the day’s activities. I soon discover there’s a mountain of work to be done: Besides cleaning the barn and manger, bales of straw and hay need to be delivered to stalls and paddocks, animals must be moved to various stalls for the vet and farrier, and twice-daily feed rations must be specially measured and mixed with meds and vitamins for some of the sanctuary’s residents. While a volunteer crew is busy erecting a protective wall to keep out the damp wind, all activity is intensely scrutinized by several wary-eyed barn cats.

  Grabbing a rake and wheelbarrow, I get to work helping two other volunteers with mucking-out. Despite the chilly air, it doesn’t take long to work up a sweat. We dig through our chores with easy banter while a few shaggy donkeys watch us thoughtfully. It’s a bit of a job squeezing by a “pace” or group of donkeys with a wheelbarrow full of poop and dirty straw, but I soon learn that with donkeys one has to be patient. Not really the stubborn creatures often depicted, they just insist on doing things their own way—in donkey time. “Walk on,” I gently urge Sarah Rose, a lovely chocolate jennet. After thinking this over for a few minutes, she finally budges.

  Throughout the day, I hear of the animals’ varied histories; many, like Joey, suffered their fair share of abuse and neglect. Others are here because their owners, for various reasons, were no longer able to care for them. PrimRose, the sanctuary’s namesake, is now in her 40s. The first donkey to arrive in 1994, PrimRose carted people around Toronto’s Black Creek Pioneer Village for many years and was later transferred to numerous homes before finding her “forever home” here at the sanctuary.