You know, in the past four days I’ve been given three traffic tickets. One of them I really deserved: I was parked illegally in a campus lot, and they caught me red-handed. Another, I was definitely innocent, parked between two parking signs (confirmed by my passenger).

In the third, I made what appeared to be a legal right turn in downtown Ottawa, but was pulled over and dinged for an “illegal right turn”. While waiting for my ticket to be written, I sat in the car for about six minutes, during which time I watched the same cop pull over about five other vehicles for the same infraction. Clearly, we all can’t be blind. Was there really a sign?

Then I took a good look at each of the other drivers as he (they were all men) was directed to park near me and await his ticket. We were all visible minorities, more precisely men of dark skin. Coincidence? Quite possibly. Maybe we darkies are all visually impaired when it comes to street signs. Or, to be more demographically precise, maybe non-white men between 30 and 55, traveling alone, are more likely to be scofflaws?

In Toronto a week ago, I was pulled over by a cop for no particular reason. He later stammered out a weak explanation of, “Um, you’re driving a rental car and I thought I should check it out.”

Really? Driving a rental car is now grounds for being pulled over? And remember this story about being interrogated by a traffic cop over a lost passport three years earlier? How does a traffic cop get access to my federal travel documents from his vehicle computer, and why does he feel the need to express his power trip by bringing it to my attention?

Another common characteristic to all of these incidents (minus simply finding tickets on my windshield, of course) is the attitude and behaviour of the policemen involved. Gruff condescension is the norm, not respectful concern for society.

I don’t know what’s going on. I do notice however, that something has changed within me regarding my perception of policemen. When I was younger and saw a cop walking or driving by, it made me feel safer. I was happy to see him. Now when I see one, I get tense and try to avoid eye contact.

These experiences are almost akin to those continuously experienced by non-white people at borders and airports. Just last November, as I was the only non-white person traveling with a medical team to Guyana, I was stopped four times in one leg alone, consistently the only member of our team singled out for scrutiny. Random search, my ass.

Do keep in mind that I have never been charged or investigated for a crime, beyond traffic violations. Few would argue that I’m not an involved and visible member of civil society.

As a friend put it, something has changed in the way our society selects and trains policemen (and customs people), it seems. Years ago, he argues, they were chosen for their paternal characteristics (they were all men, after all). Middle aged, wise-cracking dudes were the norm. Now they mostly seem to be 25 year old thugs with brush cuts. A more discourteous description is, “a football team with guns”.

Mind you, I’ve had some very positive experiences with policemen, as well. But, as in all things, when enough negative experiences arise, those are the examples one remembers and that one slots into a pattern. (Is this unscientific? Let’s let Nasty Nicky B figure that one out for us.)

All of this is weirdly in contrast with my experiences dealing with members of the military in pretty much every country I’ve visited, including the USA. I have found soldiers to be remarkably well mannered and deferential.

Perhaps this is all yet one more reason I should consider running for public office one day…. if the questionable content on this blog hasn’t already disqualified me!

In Other News…

I had an interesting visit to a student massage clinic last night. The therapist I was assigned was blind. Well, good for her. What a great career for a visually impaired person, since she can feel her way through it quite well. We had a good laugh about her having to struggle to “drape” me appropriately. Frankly, why should I care whether or not I’m exposed to a blind person?

It did get a little weird, though, when she tried to give a happy ending to my big toe.

(Kidding! I’m kidding! …mostly.)

Okay, okay, I will write about Cuba soon enough! But first, let’s get to something a bit more topical…

Slumdog Millionaire won the Oscar. So what? Who cares? Well, it is sort of important. I enjoyed the movie, but it wasn’t great. It was no Chariots of Fire or Citizen Kane or American Beauty. It’s a just a well-filmed, colourful romp through Mumbai. The characters were shallow, the plot predictable and the “message” –if there was one– was tagged on and superficial. Like all tiresome Danny Boyle movies, it has way too many scenes of people running. And running. And running. And of course a scene of someone diving into shit, ’cause that appears to be one of Mr. Boyle’s obsessions.

But that’s not why this matters. It matters because it further solidifies the arrival of all things South Asian into the Western (and thus global) mainstream. If you haven’t figured it out already, India is the future. Ironic for a nation so steeped in the past, no?

Now, how’s this for a segue? Further indication of the arrival of Indians was the US Republicans’ choice this past week of who would deliver the rebuttal to President Obama (praise be upon him) after his first televised speech to Congress. They chose –drum roll, please– that doofus from Louisiana, Bobby Jindal, a 37 year old American of South Asian origin.

I don’t like Jindal. I wrote about him briefly here. He’s a freakin’ Creationist with a science degree. I know his type all too well, the kind of self-serving South Asian who got into politics, not because he wants to serve, but because it’s a good career move. Enough with those cookie cutter bastards!

Even with how much I dislike the man, I was braced for the racist comments. On cue, here was Ann Coulter:

“Even Gov. Bobby Jindal, whom I suppose I should note was the first Indian-American to give the Republican response to a president’s speech, began with an encomium to the first black president. (Wasn’t Bobby great in Slumdog Millionaire?)”

Really, Ann? Weren’t you great in The Machinist and TransAmerica? Is your only cultural reference for Indians a pop movie made by an Irishman and starring a Brit? You have no other historical or political reference or connection to make? This is it? This is what your vaunted Ivy League education and personal media empire have wrought for you?

But back to Jindal. Well, we all know now that he tanked. Even those who are supposed to support him, like the National Post, gave him a fail. This, my friends, is officially the nadir of the US Republican party. Their choice of Jindal showed the baseness of their thinking: “Well they’ve got a darkie, so we should counter with our darkie!” Because that’s the only reason I can see for selecting the clearly out-of-his-league Jindal for this task.

Take a look at his pathetic 3rd grade performance:

As one of the commenters put it, how out of touch are these idiots? The frakking Governor of Louisiana is criticizing the new President for spending money on disaster preparedness. Katrina, anyone? Idiots.

PS, Apropos of nothing, R.I.P. Philip Jose Farmer, one of the finest and most underrated American science fiction writers in history.

“I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.’

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.”

Happy MLK Day: ever more special this year, because of what tomorrow holds.

As everyone knows by now, Muntadar al-Zeidi, an Iraqi journalist, threw a shoe at the Commander in Chimp, George W. Bush:

My first reaction: Wow, Bush actually has some pretty good reflexes! That dude would have beaned me right between the eyes!

Interestingly, the pro-Bush set has been spinning this affair as a triumph of US-style Western democracy. Faux News, the Western Standard and even my internet friend Rondi see a deep comparison here between the post-Us invasion Iraq and the Saddam era Iraq. They argue that Saddam would have “disappeared” the dude, tortured then executed him. Bush, meanwhile, waved away his personal security and let Iraqi security usher the gentleman away. In a Western democracy, you see, we have the freedom to dissent.

Well, the story does not end there. The dude disappeared. In this article, we see a photo of his son holding up a picture of his father, with that classic, “where is he?” sad look on his face.

Then came word that the dude was being held in military custody since, you know, his crime was one of armed insurrection.

Then we heard that the tosser was being beaten (i.e., tortured) in custody. Shades of Saddam, anyone?

Today we learn that Shoe Tossing Dude finally was seen by a judge and charged (and seemingly convicted) of the crime of “insulting a foreign leader”.

So… if he had thrown a shoe at Saddam, would he be dead today? Quite possibly. So in that sense the pro-Bushites are correct. On the other hand, it’s not like he was given a lawyer, released on his own recognizance and ordered to return to be arraigned. No, he was thrown into a military jail and beaten.

But on the third hand… (or as we skiffy nerds say, “on the gripping hand”) let’s not forget why he threw the shoe in the first place. It was because he (and I, and billions of others around the world) hold Bush personally responsible for the unnecessary deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent Iraqis. So let’s not forget Chimpzilla’s war crimes as we sink in a huff over whether Saddam would have killed a shoe tosser. Bush deserves more than a shoe tossed at him; he deserves a subpoena and a jail cell in the Hague.

Speaking of Shrub Jr, check this out:

BUSH: One of the major theaters against al Qaeda turns out to have been Iraq. This is where al Qaeda said they were going to take their stand. This is where al Qaeda was hoping to take-

RADDATZ: But not until after the U.S. invaded.

BUSH: Yeah, that’s right. So what? The point is that al Qaeda said they’re going to take a stand. Well, first of all in the post-9/11 environment Saddam Hussein posed a threat. And then upon removal, al Qaeda decides to take a stand.

So what?! What a fucking meat head.

In Other News…

From EK Hornbeck we have this trailer from a real movie. So don’t nobody be accusing me of the racism!

Can you believe it? Oy vey!

Greetings from the Porter lounge at the Island airport in Toronto. I’m grabbing the first flight out to Ottawa in order to make my class today. (So if any of my students are reading this, you’d better show up!)

When I was living in the USA in the aftermath of 911, one of the unique perspectives granted me was the blatant discriminatory treatment given to travelers of my skin colour. It was a relief to return to Canada where such practices are rarer, or at least not as obvious.

Indeed, it’s a mantra among many of we hued folk never to take a flight through the USA if we can avoid it, in fear of the humiliating disrespect shown by customs and immigration troglodytes.

Yesterday’s return to Toronto, via Trinidad, from Guyana was a bit eye-opening and disappointing. During our 20 minute layover in Trinidad, I and my 5 White compatriots had to walk from one section of the airport to another. Within a span of less than 5 minutes of this walk, I (and only I) was singled out for a “random” security search TWICE.

Once at the gate, there was a youngish Black woman screaming at the top of her lungs, complaining about her multiple “random” searches, as well.

Well, that was Trinidad, right? Maybe some dude matched my description. Or maybe someone was having a little fun. Who knows. Surely, a more serious and advanced nation like Canada would be fairer.

Hmmm. During our departure from Toronto 2 weeks ago, I (and only I) was singled out for another “random” search. At that time, I actually complained, and miraculously the security dude (another abashed brown guy) apologized to me and, in a moment of fascinating brown solidarity, decided to take the next man in line instead. He happened to be a member of our
party, a white dude. But had I not voiced my displeasure, it would have been me… again.

Upon arrival to Toronto last night, we were met by an extra barrage of passport control officers right off the plane. (I think the Trinidad flight is known as a drug gateway). My White compatriots were waved through without incident. But I, holding up my Canadian passport, was stopped and was asked, “Are you Canadian? What are you doing here?”

Because, as we all know, only White people can be Canadian, and only Canadians are White. Maybe she assumed my passport was a forgery.

After we passed customs, we went to wait for our bags. There was another line of thugs in uniform there. Again, my White friends walked right through, but I was taken aside and interrogated.

“Where do you live?”
“What do you do?”
“What are you doing here?”

You would think the Canadian passport and the answer, “I’m a professor at the University of Ottawa. I teach global health and epidemiology and I’m returning from a huminatarian medical mission in Guyana with my colleagues, those fine looking young doctors and nurses over there”, would warrant a pass. But no, more menial and frankly irrelevant questions like, “Where were you born? ” arose.

Miraculously, I was not selected for a deeper search of my possessions. But I had already identified and set aside my bags from the group possesions, in full preparation for that eventuality.

Sadly, this is not my first enounter with what appears to be racial profiling at Canadian airports. The practice appears to be accelerating.

I have lived in this country since I was 2 years old and have been a citizen for 3 decades. I have paid a shitload of tax dollars to this country. I speak idiomatic, accent-free Canadian English, demonstrably better than many native-born Canadians, and am functional in our other official language. I am a 41 year old University professor who does not dress outlandishly. I have no criminal record. I sit on several corporate Boards of Directors and am a visible, active member of Canadian democratic society. Through my business activities, I have employed fellow Canadians and have contributed to the growth and health of our economy. I have proudly worn the maple leaf as a representative of my country abroad, as a participant in official Canadian projects and as an honoured guest of foreign nations. In the media of Guyana, the nation of my birth, I am referred to as “Canadian”, not “Guyanese”. I have given much to this country, arguably more than others of my generation, and I have been vocally grateful for the bounty that this country has given me.

Moreover, yesterday I was returning from a humanitarian mission in the name of Canada, an activity that brings further distinction and honour to this nation.

What more must I do to be recognized as Canadian? And what of those non-White Canadians less publicly active than me? What must they do?

Yes, customs agents are universally dickish, and I suspect they are selected for their dour personas. But I suspect more that they are indoctrinated into their paranoia by an official training programme. I would really love to observe that programme sometime.

I think it’s about time they started selecting their targets based on behaviour, rather than skin colour.

It’s 11:oopm Nov 4th, 2008, and Barack Obama has been elected the 44th President of the United States. Welcome back to the world, my American friends. You have one fewer reason to hang your heads. You elected George Bush twice, convincing us that you had all lost your minds. But now you turn around 180 degrees and show the world a remarkably new and encouraging, sane and rational face.

I find that a certain wet substance is blurring my vision at this historic moment. Four decades ago, Martin Luther King was killed for advocating for basic civil rights for Black Americans. There are Blacks who voted today who were not allowed to vote when they were younger. There are graves visited regularly where are buried selfless heroes who were murdered for registering Black voters in the 60s. There are Black Americans who voted today who, as youths, were not permitted to go to school, not permitted to use public bathrooms or drink from public water fountains, and not permitted to ride in the front of the city buses.

Not so long ago, Black Americans were property. They were legally considered three fifths of a human being. Debate even raged over whether they possessed souls. It is truly a heavenly wonder that this same nation has elected a Black man as its leader, within living memory of some of those dark days.

It does not matter that this particular Black man does not have a family history of slavery, having as his origins a direct Kenyan lineage that bypassed the American slave trade. The truth is that any non-White person living in the USA inherits the legacy of slavery. A Black man in America is a Black man in America, regardless of his actual origins.

Much has been made of Obama’s biracial nature, of how he has supposedly chosen to be considered Black for political reasons; he is, after all, equally White. But the truth is that historically American law has decreed anyone with more than one eighth African heritage to be Black; that’s how they decided who had to sit in the back of the bus. And the further truth is that, due to generations of the rape of slaves, every Black person in America has some White blood in him.

Regardless of your political stripes, you must be moved by the ascension of a Black man to the Oval office. Forever more, Black children in the USA will have as their role models not just singers and athletes, but now the President of the United States. The image of what it means to be American will be profoundly changed, as the First Family will now be comprised of Michele Obama and her two Black daughters. Take a moment to visualize that.

Why is this important? Well, when I lived in Washington, DC, seven years ago, I was dismayed to find on local dating sites White women whose profiles said they were only looking for White men (which is their right) because –and here’s the catch– they prefer to date “all American men”. These were not cartoonish redneck racists, but average women working in offices in the nation’s capital. The lesson was that so many of the White mainstream unconsciously and reflexively equate “all American” with “White”. The same is true among a lot of people in Canada, too.

This is the hurdle that all visible minorities deal with: convincing the mainstream to change its iconography, language and symbolism to be inclusive of our identities. Yes, it’s important. To see a Black First Family will be a transformative, revelatory experience in both the USA and Canada. Today’s decision has essentially modified what it means to be American.

And what of John McCain? His very generous concession speech was a taste of the old McCain, a man who would have made an excellent President. It’s his bad luck to have been saddled with the regressive figure of Sarah Palin and to have been forced to run against the epic, historic character.

We should all remember where we were at 11pm on November 4th. I was in my parent’s living room in Toronto, watching the BBC. I chose to be alone lest others see my sissy tears. Where were you?

The above photo is of 14 year old Rajiv Dharamdial, known as Ravi, who was stabbed to death last week while walking home from school in Brampton (which is pretty much a part of Toronto, for those of you reading this from outside Canada).

Rajiv was sort of a distant cousin of mine, though not a blood relative; at least not to my knowledge. I’d never met him, nor even knew that he existed. But the singular tragedy and consequence of his departure is not lost on me.

This blog post will be automatically reproduced on my Facebook page, where some of Rajiv’s true blood relatives will see it. To them, I offer nothing but sympathy and shared rage. A lot of crime, while detestable, is sort of understandable. Child murder is certainly not in the “understandable” category.

Rajiv was stabbed to death by two Black youths. This is relevant because the defining curse of all things Guyanese is the mindless and futile discontent between Indians and Blacks. It is one of the many reasons so many of use emigrated from the violence and poverty-plagued land of our birth.

While Rajiv’s death may or may not have had a racial dimension to it, given the history of racial strife intrinsic to the legacy of all Guyanese, even those –like Rajiv– who were born abroad, it is necessarily an issue that comes to mind, awash in the grief of his violent end. Thus it behooves us to acknowledge the potential role of race as this case unfolds; to do otherwise serves no good purpose.

So let us hope for four things: (1) that Rajiv’s murderers are brought to justice; (2) that we find out that race was not an issue in the event, lest we conclude that Guyana’s sins have migrated north; (3) that nothing like this ever happens again; and (4) that Rajiv’s parents are miraculously granted some degree of peace in the wake of such unimaginable tragedy.

Remember this post? In it, I linked to a video that’s getting all sorts of attention. It’s created a sensation of a fake Indian character named “Benny Lava.” Well, for the curious, this is the real Benny Lava. His name is Prabhu Deva, and I know of at least one Tamil cinema and Prabhu Deva fan who doesn’t find the whole Benny Lava thing funny. Well, too bad. It’s damn funny.

And speaking of funny things, everyone has been sending me to a site called “Stuff White People Like.” It’s funny. One of the standout posts is the one about Japan. It’s all quite reminiscent of the infamous “Black People Love Us” site of yore.

And speaking of irreverent humour, I’ve spent the past few days watching non-stop South Park episodes. You can watch ‘em all, free and legal, in the South Park Zone.

Meanwhile, remember that Black professor at Columbia who made headlines because someone had hung a noose in front of her office? New revelations out today that she was found guilty by the administration of academic plagiarism.

Besides the issue with the noose, which I hope is still being investigated, there’s an element of this story that pisses me off: this woman still has her job. And we wonder why the academic standards of University students in North America have been rapidly slipping these past few years? It begins at the top, with the tolerance of crappy professors who literally get away with the gravest of academic sins. That this can happen at a supposedly top institute like Columbia does not bode well for supposedly lesser centres of learning like, oh I dunno, a certain place where I teach. This does not fill me with joy.

In other news, an idiot PETA activist, Rachel Feather, has renamed herself Rachel FishingHurts to advertise the, um, plight of fish. You know, I’m all for the protection of animal rights. But it makes it difficult to be vocal about my beliefs when they’re shared by idiots like Rachel FishingHurts. My slow voyage to the realm of vegetarianism is inspired by the practice of factory farming, which I find quite intolerable. SP sends us this video of the ill treatment and torture of cows in American slaughterhouses.

And again, to clean our eyes and screens, check out the following photo of Barack Obama. Love him or hate him, there’s no denying the man looks damn good in a cowboy hat:

If you’re having any doubts that George Bush’s Amerikkka is slipping further along the path to an Orwellian paranoid police state, take a gander at this innocent article. Excerpt:

One of my colleagues was in the gathering crowd, trying to figure out what had happened. She heard my description—a Middle Eastern man driving a white Beetle with out-of-state plates—and knew immediately they were talking about me and realized that the box must have been manuscripts I was discarding. She approached them and told them I was a professor on the faculty there. Immediately the campus police officer said, "What country is he from?"

"What country is he from?!" she yelled, indignant.

"Ma’am, you are associated with the suspect. You need to step away and lower your voice," he told her.

Yeah, campus cops who think they’re FBI. Great. The warmongering set likes to make comparisons between the modern Bush era and the “greatest generation” of WWII. Well, back then (when they weren’t interning Japanese citizens), folks inspired each other with tales of courage and comfort. Today, we get highway signs reminding us to “report suspicious activity”.

As Bill Maher put it, “For some inexplicable reason Republicans have taken to comparing Bush to Harry Truman — a comparison that would make sense only if Harry Truman had A) started World War II and B) lost World War II.”

In other news…

• The first book in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials saga has been voted the best children's book in 70 years. I heartily extend by congratulations, as both a fan of Pullman's writing and an admirer of his courage in extending this controversial vision. The 20th century saw three great fantasy sagas in the English language: The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia and His Dark Materials. Most North Americans have yet to discover this gem, but they will when the movie comes out. The runner up --Tom's Midnight Garden-- is, however, my personal choice for best children's book. That one inspired me for many years from early childhood onto adolescence.

• Have a look at the Let's Talk Science June newsletter. There's a special section on me! Page 3--- I guess that makes me a Page 3 boy!

Damn this flu. The problem with the flu shot is that you can’t get it when you already have the flu. And it’s only made available at the beginning of flu season. Problem, na?

At the break of dawn, I’m heading out to Alexandria, Ontario, to speak to the kids of Glengarry District High School on career possibilities in Epidemiology. Hmmm. Maybe I should dissuade them, just to minimize my competition?

I leave you with this: