A Thousand Words

I've been meaning to write something since my last post, but I haven't had anything to say. At least, I haven't thought of anything worth saying. I still have nothing of value to say, yet I still wish to say something.In absence of words, permit me to offer an image:

Make of it what you will.

Mary Had A Baby (II)

The Opposite of Today in Toronto

Mtumbwi on the beach, Kendwa, Zanzibar Island, Tanzania

Friday Evening, Dundas Square

Remembrance Day, 2007

The Last Rose of Summer

I came upon this flower as I walked this morning in search of photographs. It is, perhaps, the last blossom we will see before the rains and snows of winter arrive. As I took this photograph I was reminded of the first verse of the Irish poet Thomas Moore's beautiful song:

'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

No rodebud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,

To give sigh for sigh.

Autumn in Ontario

Suburban Duck

Apart from wood ducks, you don't normally think of ducks as being forest dwellers but you'd be surprised how adaptable they can be. Just check out this male mallard.

The Wild This Week

This fellow was hanging on the wall by the front door to my apartment yesterday. It was the first time I have seen a bat this close.

This shot gives you a better idea of how small the little guy was.

More Shots from the Chinese Lantern Festival

Pandas Sighted In Toronto

A large troop of pandas has been spotted in Toronto, Ontario.

The pandas, pictured below dancing around a mushroom, are said to wear clothes and eat large glowing green bamboo plants.

They can be seen at Ontario Place every evening until October 4th. (They are part of the Rogers Chinese Lantern Festival.)

Ramblings on Insomnia

It looks like it is going to be another one of those nights: a night filled with insomnia and restlessness, a desert of darkness devoid of sleep and dreams.

I should be tired. I have not slept well since Thursday night, and I have studiously avoided taking any naps. I long for a good night's sleep, but it is after midnight and I am not even tired. Yet I am too tired to read and since I don't have cable there is no point in even turning on the television.

In the past, I would have grabbed my camera and gone for a drive, looking for the hidden beauty that only us night owls see. In the past I would have, but tonight I am too tired to get dressed and, truth be told, I lack the creative drive. I have taken my photographs of gas stations and street lamps. There is nothing new to be seen on the streets of Newmarket.

Last night as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to banish the day's reality, I longed to be in outer space, taking photographs of gorgeous nebulae. The night before, I went to the imaginary world inhabited by the characters of stories and screenplays that I just can't seem to finish. The night before that I just listened to music -- Madredeus and some Brazilian acoustic music -- and watched the colours float in front of my closed eyes. Tonight, I blog.

I'd Rather Be Swimming

Ten Weeks of Freedom and Counting

This may seem like a silly thing to celebrate, but in the past ten weeks I have only worn closed toe shoes twice. When I was in Africa, I generally wore sandals or flip flops. Since coming back to Canada, I have only worn sandals.

I don't want to say I dread the thought of having to put on dress shoes, but let's just say that my cowboy boots are firmly ensconced in the back of my closet.

The Great Snake Hunt of 2007

Today I witnessed a snake hunt.

I was down with the construction team when word came that a snake had been seen in the pasture behind the compound walls. Four workers and seven volunteers headed down to hunt the snake. Or rather, the workers went to hunt; the volunteers went to watch. It did not take long before the snake was found hiding in a clump of bushes and dispatched with a sharp hoe.

The workers brought the trisected snake out for us to check out. To be honest, I was torn between fascination and revulsion. The part of me that loves reptiles was appalled by the fact that the snake was killed. However, the workers described the poison as being so nasty that a person would die within minutes of being bitten. On the other hand, it was interesting to look at the internal organs and to recognize the eggs that the snake was carrying.

As for species, I am still trying to work that out. I took a picture of the head, but it was in the shadows and is too indistinct to really see. I was originally leaning towards a puff adder, given the description of the deadly effect of the poison, but it doesn't really match the picture in Wildlife of Kenya, Tanzania & Uganda. I will continue to investigate and will update this post as soon as I have nailed the species down.

Canada Day, Away from Home

I am Canadian. I was born there. I have lived most of my life there. God willing, I will die there.

Its history is my history. Its politics are my politics. Its culture is my culture. I love the music. I love the literature. I even love the movies, when I can find them.

I am happy to be Canadian. I have no desire to be anything other than Canadian. I am Canadian. So what am I doing half a world away on Canada Day?

I Have Discovered the Culprit!

The mystery of the reptile formerly, if briefly, known as Phillips' Yellow-Headed Lizard has been solved. It appears that a young male Agama Lizard maliciously masqueraded as a new species in order to play a joke on the new guy in town.

There are a number of species of Agamas. The one in my guide book described the heads of males as bright orange or orange-red, but this youngster had different shadings. It was this difference in head colouring that was obviously the reason I mistook him for a new species.

The Drought is Over

I am pleased to report that the dearth of monkeys has ended.

Sangu, the biology/chemistry/math teacher here at the orphanage, was kind enough to take Liz (another volunteer) and me on a walking tour of the University of Dar Es Salaam from which he recently graduated. Ostensibly, the purpose of the trip was for Sangu to finish some final paperwork, but he spent a great deal of time taking us through the wooded grounds of the campus.

At first, it appeared to be another failure. We searched them here. We searched them there. We searched for monkeys everywhere. Were they in heaven? Were they in hell? We did not see them, thus couldn't tell. (Sorry, I was talking to somebody about The Scarlet Pimpernel the other day, and parts of the story remain embedded in my brain.)

It was actually quite funny how Sangu kept telling us that usually the grounds were swarming with monkeys. His theory was that they were gone because it was summer break and they therefore had less easy pickings since there were fewer people eating on the campus grounds. I prefer to stick with my theory that they went home, like other students, to share what they had learned about chemistry, engineering, law, and social work with the monkeys back in the jungle.

We had given up the quest and were walking back to catch the dala dala back to the orphanage, when there he was -- a male vervet monkey sitting in the crotch of a tree, displaying the brightest blue scrotum imaginable! It was as if he were holding two robin's eggs in his lap. We soon saw a whole troop of monkeys, including a little fellow climbing the fence post. And thus, I can happily announce that the dearth of monkeys has ended.

Barabara Ya Arusha (The Road to Arusha)

Last week I went on a three day safari in Tarangire, the Ngorongoro Crater, and Lake Manyara. I have much to write about each of these places, but I would rather remember snapshots of the trip from Dar to Arusha, our home base while on safari.

• Riding a bus in Africa is as magical as it appears in movies. (Imagine the bus trip scene in "Last King of Scotland" and you will know what I mean.) This is the way most people travel within the country, so you get a good slice of the local reality.


• The road to Arush is lined with a variety of scenery. It starts with a swath of green: palm trees, banana bushes, and assorted patches of maize amidst the red dirt. It transforms itself into brown grasslands and ranges of low-lying hills and mountains. Tanzanians, it seems, live close to the highway the way Canadians like to hug the US border.


• Bob Marley is still a superstar over here. His face graces t-shirts and buses, and people still listen to his music. I met a man who was actually named "Marley" after the man.


• The bus is swarmed at each stop by men offering goods for sale. They rap on the windows to get your attention and once they have it they make their pitch to get you to buy anything from hard-boiled eggs to Coca Cola and clean water to tampons.


• Paul Simon once sang about lasers in the jungle, and while I have not seen any I have seen satellite dishes on houses in the woods along the highway.


• Even with the windows closed and the air conditioner on, your nostrils are sometimes tickled with the unexpected scents of diesel fumes and woodsmoke.


• There were three young children on the bus who were just learning to speak. They spent over half an hour singing out the word "watoto", the Swahili word for children. One would begin and the others would respond, much like a pack of beagles or the frogs that kept me up the night before. Just when the chorus would die, one of the silent children would begin the chorus again.


• There are animals by the side of the road in numbers you seldom see in Canada: goats and sheep, individual cows and large herds of Maasai cattle, and flocks of assorted fowl including "kuku" (chicken), geese, and turkeys. Surprisingly, there is next to no road kill but I am not sure whether this indicates smarter animals than the ones in Canada or just a wider range of scavengers.


• Women carry incredible loads on their heads. I saw one woman carrying a pickax on her head.


• The relative silence on the bus is constantly broken by the constant ring of cell phones. Everyone seems to have them except for the three children who sing out "watoto" at the tops of their lungs.

Sleepless in Ontario (The Illustrated Companion)

As a follow up to my last post, I thought I would post a few of the "insomnia" photographs that I referred to.