my triumphs, my mistakes

I wash my hands of the phony democratic system; I will never let myself be distracted by the placatory crumbs that the elite led by the administration toss into the barnyard every now and again. Many of the oppressed have realized the truth and are ready to take action, even ready to take arms.

- Gaius Baltar

Tiocfaidh Ar La!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, and while it will remain a dry day for me, I am wearing my Ireland football jersey and saying, "Tiocfaidh Ar La!" to anyone who might seem to care. Perhaps I should be saying "You're day will come!" if they happen to be Irish, and maybe, ours too!

I don't have a lot to say today but I do have some links to share:

Recommended tunes today: Eire Og
Recommended reading: Trinity
Recommended viewing: The Wind that Shakes the Barley and
Michael Collins

And of course have some Irish food and a Guinness for me.

What is the problem with Michael Jackson?

Captain Said: What is the problem with Michael Jackson?
Sargeant Barlow: What do you mean?
Captain Said: What...Is...The...Problem...With Michael Jackson? You understand my question?
Sargeant Barlow: No, I'm not sure I do.
Captain Said: The king of pop, ooh-hoo, ee-hee.
Sargeant Barlow: Yeah, Michael Jackson.
Captain Said: He come to Egypt, I see picture in newspaper. "Hello" with the white glove. I'm Michael Jackson in my autoroom, with my chop up face. Your country make him chop up his face.
Sargeant Barlow: I don't think so.
Captain Said: Michael Jackson is pop king of sick fucking country.
Sargeant Barlow: That's bullshit, he did it to himself.
(Captain Said hits Sargeant Barlow on the head with a clipboard)
Captain Said: You are the blind bullshit my main man. It's obvious, a black man make the skin white and the hair straight, and you know why?
Sargeant Barlow: No.
Captain Said: Your sick fucking country make the black man hate hiself just like you hate the Arab and the children you bomb over here.

[Dialogue from the interrogation scene in David O. Russell's Three Kings (1999)]

huh...

"If we eat like them and live like them, we will die like them and go crazy."

- Khatsalano as told to Lee Maracle

put up your dukes

So, I've been on a bit of break, nearly three months. I've decided to end seclusion, however I'm afraid of two things: 1. No one will even have noticed I was gone or that I am back and; 2. I don't have anything wonderfully profound on this, the occasion of my return to the land of ones and zeros.

But, I do have something to ramble on about. I was at a workshop this afternoon about "Fighting Oppression." During the question and answer period, an indigenous sister raised a concern over the use of the word, "fighting" and the overtones suggestive of conflict. This is not uncommon. There seems to be extensive apprehension of conflict within indigenous communities. By no means, have I adequately worked this issue out but I know it bothers me.

Now, perhaps as a "guy" I cannot fully appreciate her perspective and perhaps as a "man" I'm predisposed to the fight, but I know plenty of pacifist dudes and plenty of rowdy women who would relish nothing more than to get it on and start kicking some ass. While I suspect gender is part of it, I am reluctant to make any broad generalizations.

Now, I'm going to make a generalization. Generally speaking, from my experience lately, we Indians are afraid of the fight and conflict in general. Oddly, we seem to really be into fighting each other. How many times did I hear the term, "lateral violence" when I worked for the Tribal Council? And when we do fight the colonials, it's more often than not in court, which is really like getting good white people (who are good to us, especially when we give them oodles of money) to fight the bad white people. Speaking of white people, I had another "half-white" friend express concern over my use of the term "white people." I wasn't even using it in an overly derogatory manner, unless you consider the whole phrase as somehow offensive to your communist/anarchist sensibilities: I was speaking of "rich white people" writing modernist American literature in Paris at the beginning of the 20th century.

How about I use the term "immigrant" or "settler?" Then I might offend my Canadian friends. Sigh, there's no winning the semantic game.

So anyway, back to the fighting issue. Are we afraid of fighting? Have we become soft? Perhaps we have evolved. Perhaps we are more civilized now. Perhaps we have seen the Gandhi-esque light and should know better. I'm not so sure. Perhaps we are afraid. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be flippant about the very real and devastating effects of war. I would hate to naively romanticize fighting, but surely we cannot achieve our goals without at least a little bit of friction. I know deep down we may truly all want to "get along" but surely we must strive for more. Surely, our goals must include justice and freedom, and I mean true justice and freedom, not the mere facades being able to go to court and shop at Wal-Mart.

What's wrong with a little scrappiness? Have we been forever pacified? I'm not equating non-violence with non-fighting either. We can be non-violent and damn confrontational, or at least place ourselves in a position where The Man is gonna be itching to pepper spray us. Fanon suggested a certain cathartic and therapeutic element to the act of the indigenous person standing up and fighting for themselves. I think he was on to something. Again, I AM NOT ADVOCATING VIOLENCE, but I should be able to live my life, to live an indigenous life. Unfortunately, doing so in the current day and age is certain to bring that way of life in conflict with another and the power of the state. So what do we do? What do you do?

jay-r

I'm on a hiatus.

It's not business, just personal

One of my favourite lines from one of my favourite "old school" bloggers went something like this: "When I was young, I kept a journal and I would have died if anyone read it. Now I blog and I fear no one will read it."

I feel the need to express myself but at the same time be vague: Enter the world of blogging. Emotional exhibitionist anonymity. Sort of.

So, I'm researching for a paper and came across some rebellious classics on my bookshelf (Fanon, Galeano, Magon) and I couldn't help but be brought back in time. It was not that long ago that I swallowed the red pill. They were exciting times. We had confusion, despair, hope, dysfunction, passion, but above all, for me at least, the feeling that "I am not alone, and I am not crazy." One cannot underestimate the power of solidarity in sustaining one's belief in the movement. Sure, it can lead to hasty alliances and errors in judgement, but it sure helps when you feel your weakest.

I don't know where this is going, maybe no where. All I know is that hope is important, and for some reason sanity seems to be too. I'll leave you with one of my favourite of Galeano's passages from his book, We Say No:

"We have come from different countries, and we are here, reunited under the generous shade of Pablo Neruda - to join the people of Chile, who say no.
We also say no.
We say no to the praise of money and of death. We say no to a system that assigns prices to people...
We say no to a system that neither feeds its people nor loves them, that condemns many to a hunger for food and many more to a hunger for the embrace...
We say no to the lie...
The colonial inheritance obliges the so-called Third World - populated by third-class people - to accept as its own the memory of the victors who conquered it and to take on the lies of others and use them as its own reality. They reward our obedience, punish our intelligence, and discourage our creative energy...
We say no to fear. No to fear of speaking, of doing, of being...
As it happens, we are saying no, and by saying no we are saying yes...
By saying no to the devastating empire of greed, whose centre lies in North America, we are saying yes to another possible America, which will be born of the most ancient of American traditions, the communitarian tradition that the Chilean Indians have defended desperately, defeat after defeat, during the last five centuries.
In saying no to a peace without dignity, we are saying yes to the sacred right of rebellion against injustice and its long history as long as the history of popular resistance on the long map of Chile. By saying no to the freedom of money, we are saying yes to the freedom of people: a mistreated and wounded freedom, a thousand times defeated as in Chile and, as in Chile, a thousand times arisen."

I miss our conversations...

did you know?

So, I'm doing a paper on indigenous peoples' participation in Canadian party politics, and I'm trying to determine whether this has proven an effective strategy, specifically in comparison to the visions articulated by some of the old school leaders like George Manuel, Andy Paull, Philip Paul, James Gosnell, Gus Gottfriedson, and later Harold Cardinal and Vine Deloria, Jr. If you know anything about me and my politics you can guess where I'm headed with this.

Did you know that when Andy Paull from Sḵwxwú7mesh was the head of the Native American Indian Brotherhood in 1947 he rejected the idea of re-granting indigenous people in BC the right to vote "on the grounds that it would open the door to assimilation and loss of rights and privileges."1

Hmmm...

On another somewhat less significant but nonetheless "grocery store line-up interesting note," did you know that Tina Keeper, the indigenous woman who played an RCMP constable on North of 60 was elected as a Member of Parliament for the Liberal Party in Churchill, MB last year?

1. Tennant, Paul. Aboriginal Peoples and Politics. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 1990, p. 121.

Nuu-chah-nulth United

So, I've been living with an ewok, Single Joe, for about a month and a half now (and no we don't have a bunk bed, we do have separate rooms). If you know ewoks, in addition to being cute, furry and friendly, they are also crazy about soccer, and Joe is no exception. Joe is a goalkeeper and I even noticed a "top goalie" trophy on his bookshelf from the glory days (2001).

I've been thinking about a return to the game of soccer for some time now. Would you believe that it has been about 16 years since I played competitively? Maybe is was Galeano who got me thinking about it again, in between scathing critiques of amnesia and neoliberalism with his Soccer in Sun and Shadow. Perhaps it was knowing that my buddy, Wiwchar of A Channel fame is still out there on the pitch, playing dirty at 40. It could just be the magnetic pull of "the simplest game" and the "passion of the people."

So, a few weeks ago I started talking about developing a Nuu-chah-nulth men's soccer team to start competing in next Spring's native soccer touranment circuit. I guess this is noteworthy, cause my good friend 'Cilla mentioned it casually amongst a gathering of Kwakwak'awakws (the previously referenced "ewoks"), and they all laughed and when it comes up again they still laugh. You see, in addition to being the only coastal people crazy enough to hunt for whales, the Nuu-chah-nulth are known for some pretty dominant play on the hardwood. We can hoop it up with the best of 'em but aside from a few hardcore players lately, our prowess on the pitch is unheard of.

Even though I too, laughed when I heard the retelling of the story, "my friend Cliff is thinking of starting a soccer team..." from that moment, I was committed. It will not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I'm already counting on the participation of Jose, Johnny and Darren, some training and coaching from Hazel, Carol-Anne, and Joe, support from Chiinuuks, A-in-chut, my pops and all the aunties and uncles.

In the spirit of sport, dignity and perseverance, I'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Mohandas K. Gandhi:

"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win."

Hegelian gazing at my classmates

A couple weeks ago, Professor Tully in a transition lecture from Kant to Mill, talked about a cat named Hegel (oh and I don't mean in the feline sense, I mean a dude. Can you dig it?)

Anyway, so this cat Hegel was a German philosopher (18-19th centuries) who came up with what has become known as the "Hegelian dialectic" or Master/Slave dialectic. Basically, I understand that Hegel believed that it dominated all human relations and it begins with a gaze. He said that we develop a consciousness in gazing upon others and having others gaze upon us. Not only do we become aware of others' gaze, and not only do we feel self-conscious , but we actually submit or dominate.

I don't know if I agree with the whole master/slave thing but I did find the idea intriguing, especially since I usually assume a rather deferential posture in most situations.

So the next day I decided to work on my Hegelian gaze and dominate my classmates into submission by the mere ferocity of my gaze, and wouldn't you know it, it works! Risky and Jimmy Nations would be proud.

Try it.

Bow down slaves!!! ):D

new kumtux blog: the right man for the job

New blog about the role of the Lieutenant-Governor and the BC Treaty Process here.

4 i's

I know I need to smile more, but here's a pic of me wearing my new glasses ('cause I know all ya'll were waiting with bated breath).

FYI, I'll be blogging on Kumtux soon about the recent appointment of former Justice Stephen Point as the Queen's representative for British Columbia, and of course the Tsawwassen Final Agreement (It's not actually a treaty), and what an indigenous rebel is to think (and perhaps do) about it all.

2V's
From the mean streets of occupied Lekwungen and WSANIC territories

I can see clearly now...

Once again, the world is vivid and alive. I have come out of a fog, the extent to which, I was not fully aware of until now. No, I have not renounced my revolutionary ways and seen the light of Dancing with Dollars nor have I pledged my support for Aboriginal electoral participation. Heavens no.

W has bought some new spectacles and although my prescription has remained the same (with only a minor adjustment for a slight astigmatism in my right eye), I am taken aback by how clear the world seems again. I can truly see individual blades of grass across the street! It is as if I was a newborn baby again seeing with new eyes. Everything jumps out at me and I'm fascinated by it. They don't call 'em mundane adventures for nothing.

From the windy streets of our colonial capitol
Don W

p.s. I've recently moved into a new apartment - this time co-habiting with Single Joe. So far so good. We are both pretty mellow and considerate so I'm confident we will be a good match. I'm just about finished unpacking everything and boy do I really have a lot of books. I need another bookshelf.

p.p.s. Thus far, in this my final year of my B.A., I've written two short papers and two exams. Sorry, Robert Williams, I have no desire to link arms together (not just yet), and Kant, you were an imperial bastard.

the lonely wolf and his facebook addiction

This weBLOG is of a rather personal nature, so if that is not your thing, consider this fair warning.

I've been called a lone wolf a number of times - as a criticism for my aversion to group conformity (under the guise of group cohesion I contend) and as a compliment for my defiant independence. I think both views are fair and fairly accurate. I've always been somewhat of a solitary figure. When I was younger I tended to pride myself in my capacity to be alone without being lonely. I guess in a way, I've always felt different from others and less able or willing to fit in.

In my recent, more politically oriented life, it is a given that my unorthodox beliefs tend to alienate me not only from mainstream settler folk, but also many of my own people as well (specifically the "Aboriginals", old timers and others who just want to live their lives in peace). This gap is not insurmountable by any means, as evidenced by my ability to come to terms with family members who hold radically divergent political views from my own, or others who are relatively apathetic. I love my family of course and that love is of an unconditional nature which makes accommodation perhaps not only easier, but necessary.

My love life might be what you would describe as that of a "serial-monogamist." Between the ages of 18 and 32, I was never really alone for more than a few months and those times that I was, I was insanely busy, working a job that all but consumed my waking hours. The past few years have been different and this past summer in particular was a significant departure from the normal routine of most of my adult life. Last September, when I returned to school for the first time in 12 years also marked the first time I was to live alone, ever.

And this past summer, although technically I had a room mate, in reality I only saw him about four times all summer. Even at my summer job, circumstances dictated that I worked alone for significant periods of time. I don't begrudge my room mate or my workplace. I think I needed it. I've found that often when we fail to learn lessons, life just keeps tossing us more opportunities until we finally get it. I don't know if I got it this summer but I think I learned a bit more about myself.

Enter Facebook. I recently came across this CBC article which prompted me not only to think about my coping with being alone, but also the media desensitization and virtual ADHD that is characteristic of our high-speed wireless times. The article references a study that suggests that which most of us already know: online networking sites connect us with hundreds and sometimes thousands of people in a rather shallow way but do little to enhance real world intimacy. Now I know it is not one or the other, all or nothing, and there are often exceptions to rule, but I can account for my own incessant checking and rechecking of my Facebook inbox all day long.

I've come to realize that in the absence of real world intimacy and connection, I've at times, tried to substitute with online connections. There is a reason people call it crackbook (no disrespect to those affected by real substance abuse problems). It's cheap. It's fast, and it fades quickly. Academics say that we are overstimulated, what with hundreds of TV channels, high-speed online surfing, satellite radio, mobile phones, text messaging, and iPods.

I did have a couple of opportunities to connect with people in the real world this summer and I was reminded of how good it feels. In my radical-indigenous-political circles we often talk about theory, practice and praxis. As a student this is no more evident than upon graduation and the inevitable confrontation with the so-called real world. At one low point of lamenting the challenges of life I commented, "the real world sucks" to which a companera replied, "this is the real world."

aaniikwaa. It is what it is.

I won't say that I've figured anything out but I think I'm pointed in the right direction. I continue my commitment to add as few applications as possible to my lil Facebook pipe. I will unplug when I need to and I will attempt to overcome my social awkwardness and connect with more people in real life more often.

Sigh, the Matrix has us all (especially if you are reading this...haha).

my best comeback of the year...

[Female friend]: Where are all the real Indian men?

[Me]: Probably hanging out with the real Indian women.

Rambling about the Troubles on Vancouver Ireland

I haven't really rambled on here in awhile, so much so that I've been thinking I need to do some more rambling. Expect no thoroughly coherent or comprehensive thoughts - that's not what the Mundane Adventures are about.

300 came out on DVD at the end of July. Can you believe I waited almost 2 weeks before I bought my copy?!? (Food before entertainment). Again, some of my favourite quotes:

Leonidas: "In the end, a Spartan's true strength is the warrior next to him. So give respect and honour to him and it will be returned to you."

Leonidas: "First, you fight with your head..." (Queen) Gorgo"...then you fight with your heart."

Leonidas: "Before you speak Persian, know that everyone in Sparta, even a King's messenger is held accountable for the words of his voice."

Gorgo: "...Because only Spartan women give birth to real men."

And of course I've adapted one of my favourite scenes as follows:

You bring the headdresses and heads of conquered chiefs to my village.
You insult my Hakuum.
You threaten my people with citizenship and economic development.
Oh, I've chosen my words carefully Mr. Treaty Commissioner.
Perhaps you should have done the same.

This is blasphemy! This is madness!

Madness...This is Ahousaht!!! (boot)

Of course in real life, things seem more complicated. Our communities continue to exist in poverty and our chiefs sign protocol agreements with fish farm companies, and others sign Final Agreements (note: that they do not actually meet the international standard of a "treaty").

The world is indeed grey. ):I

Speaking of grey, I've recently finished re-reading Fools Crow by James Welch. This time I read it with a group of friends, a radical book club, if ever there was one, and I've truly appreciated the perspective of my good friend, Chiinuuks. I'm ashamed to say, I did not notice the perpetuation of stereotypes of indigenous women during my first read, last winter. It sure reads different this time. While I don't believe the old days to be some sort of utopia, it seems as though Welch writes the Pikuni women through a truly colonial filter. I believe that it still offers a contribution to an understanding of non-hierarchical organizing (especially in warrior societies), and the daunting challenge of preserving an indigenous way of life in the face of overwhelming settler encroachment, Welch's writing deserves criticism for his poor rendering of women and male/female relations.

Speaking of indigenous male/female relations...I am not beyond humility myself, however someone recently accused me of perpetuating male dominance by "choosing where and when I step back and create space." For the record, I have never stated that I have "created" space for indigenous women. I have talked of "vacating" space*. And further, I do not believe that I have chosen the time and place, other than as a response to strong women who have stepped forward. Their courageous actions and words have set the agenda, not mine. I've been unable to engage in this discussion directly, so I say my peace (piece?) here. [*Note: I have talked of "creating political space" but that was in reference to overall indigenous/settler relations, not indigenous gender relations.]

Only 2 and a half weeks until school! I can't wait. I know, I'm a nerd. I wear both straps on my backpack.

Off to the gym, I go. Only 14 months till next year's bathing suit season.

Dubya
From the western shores of occupied Vancouver Ireland

kumtux blog: Negotiating the Terms of Surrender

Some thoughts and feelings on the current state of "treaty" negotiations in British Columbia: http://kumtux.blogspot.com

a (brief) vision for Nuu-chah-nulth community resurgence

I submitted the following for a scholarship application responding to the question, "What is your vision for your First Nation community?"

I was honoured to give the keynote speech at this year’s Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council Post-Secondary Grad/Scholarship Celebration Dinner. Among the words of advice I shared with my fellow students was that our emerging leaders must challenge themselves to dream, to be idealistic, to be visionary, and to act deliberately. I related the common dichotomy of “theory” and “real life.” In school we are often encouraged to dream and think critically; to take the time to carefully contemplate our decisions with all the information we can access, and make the best determinations possible. Upon graduation this experience changes profoundly. More often than not, we are assaulted with the ubiquitous confines of “reality” and are told, “That is just the way it is.” Obviously this can be very disconcerting and one cannot help but wonder why. There are those who believe that we must be pragmatic and do the best we can with what we have. Indeed these are sound assertions, but I believe they must coexist within a larger vision of indigenous resurgence that includes a broad spectrum of thought and action. It is not without a sense of irony that young people learn of the great sacrifices and efforts of historical leaders, women and men who were visionary and often uncompromising, and yet at the same time our people are subtly yet strongly encouraged to merely get by. We endure immense pressure to tow the line, to plug in, to go along, to get along, and certainly not to rock the boat. I humbly disagree. Now is precisely the time for visionary leadership. Our people need hope, and yes they certainty need the ability to provide for their basic human needs, but I do not believe these to be mutually exclusive. My vision for our indigenous communities is rooted in a resurgence of our own indigenous principles, thoughtful action with a focus on adaptation not assimilation, and leadership that inspires hope for our collective future.

Before I get too far, I will properly introduce myself so that you may better understand who I am, where I come from, and why I say and do the things that I do. My Nuu-chah-nulth name is Na’cha’uaht. It means, “Everyone is watching you.” It was given to me by A-in-chut, from the house of Tlaa-kish-pitl. A-in-chut is my first cousin and one of the three principal hereditary chiefs of the Ahousaht people. His father Umeek is the older brother of my father, Wickaninnish. My mother was born Edna Bolton. Her mother and father were Charlotte and Ed Bolton, from Kitselas and Kitsumkalum respectively of the Tsimshian people. We are of the house of Nishaywaaxs of Kitselas. Who we are and where we come from are of vital importance to the revitalization of our communities. As I’ve alluded to already, there is a subtle yet persistent pressure to be something we are not. Despite the fact that Canada has assumed jurisdiction over our lands, waters, and in fact, our very lives, we have not yet officially surrendered. There exists within each of us, a fighting spirit yet. I believe that we are living in a very important time, one simultaneously filled with opportunity and danger. By reviving our time-tested teachings we keep the hope alive that we will not only preserve our unique indigenous ways of living, but create a space where our people can once again flourish, and perhaps positively impact the newcomers to our lands.

Perhaps two of the most important Nuu-chah-nulth principles are embodied in the terms, iisaak and Hishuuk-ish Tsa’waak. The first means “respect,” indicating a rather universal respect for all things, places, people, and beings. The second phrase is usually translated into, “everything is one.” Umeek states in his book, Tsawalk: A Nuu-chah-nulth Worldview, that creation is complete and that everything is indeed whole and interconnected. While these principles might seem very simple, they are of profound importance to understanding a Nuu-chah-nulth worldview and way of being in creation. There is little doubt that we have adapted over the generations, and must continue to adapt our practices to deal with current challenges. I argue that while adaptation of our practices is necessary and even desirable at times, we must not significantly alter our underlying philosophical principles. To do so would risk losing who we are, fundamentally as a people. Herein lies a tool that can be utilized when contemplating an indigenous life in a predominantly settler society. This approach is not so much prescriptive as much as it provides a guiding reference on how we conduct ourselves as individuals, families and communities. The way of our ancestors was the way of action. After careful contemplation and preparation, our actions were deliberate. The Nuu-chah-nulth term for warrior is wii’uk (wit’waak being the plural). To be wii’uk was to be prepared and to act without fear. Of course it is easy to point to happier times and find what seem like superhuman examples beyond our grasp, but to truly understand our ways is to appreciate the principle of interconnection and practice of preparation.

Among many things, the Atleo family was also a whaling family. My great-great grandfather, Kiista was one of the last Nuu-chah-nulth chiefs to land a whale. To undertake such a large endeavour required great preparation not just physically, but mentally, and spiritually as well. I am only able to provide a simplified rendering here, but the lesson is that great things can be accomplished with the proper preparation and understanding of the interconnection of all life. At first glance, these philosophical underpinnings might also seem esoteric, but I believe they are vital to true and lasting community resurgence. The name Atleo is an anglicized version of a Nuu-chah-nulth word, identifying the main rope used by the whalers. A Nuu-chah-nulth historian recently shared this insight and pointed to the importance of fully understanding the meaning. A single strand of the rope is fine and easily broken. Dozens and dozens of strands, woven together makes the rope strong; strong enough to land a great whale weighing many tons, and strong enough to provide for the community. In practical terms, we must work to shed the influences of Euro-Canadian individualism and materialism, work together as families and communities, utilizing our traditional principles and languages to adapt practices suitable for current realities. Greater than we are sometimes led to believe, our praxis must embody the best of who we are as indigenous people, and in today’s day and age, one might consider that downright revolutionary.

new kumtux blog

Friends, Tsimshians, Countrywomen,

I've updated my Kumtux blog with an article I wrote for the '07 Summer issue of the New Socialist magazine.

indigenous book review: Trinity by Leon Uris

It's not indigenous to these parts, but I'm an indigenous dude and the book, about Northern Ireland from about 1850 to the beginning of the Easter Rising in 1916, has some relevance to struggles for freedom the world over. Uris has written a brilliant work of historical fiction that had me laughing, crying, indignant, heartbroken yet hopeful, and using more adjectives than I ever thought I would.

Trinity follows the lives of several Irish families, most notably the lives of Conor Larkin and Seamus O'Neill, a couple of poor Catholic "croppies" from a small town in the province of Ulster. Other people are better at summarizing themes and plots so I will focus on what most resonated with me and the similarities with indigenous struggles for freedom here in the Americas.

The most obvious similarity is the colonial experience at the hands of the English, for the Irish beginning over 800 years ago. And there (at least in Ulster) as here, the English never really left, so both peoples experience an ongoing occupation. Uris also takes us into the corporate offices and dining halls of the English nobility and their loyalist collaborators. Interestingly, his rendition juxtaposes their humanity with the utterly dehumanizing way in which the Irish are regarded and treated. This has long been a complex theme in oppressive/abusive relationships and a challenge for would-be liberators, that is for them not to lose their humanity in trying to save it.

My good friend, "Chii-a-is" guffawed at my recent captivation with the Irish, stating that it was the Scottish that actually defeated the British. I'm not here to get into that debate, but I have to concur that along with my love of opera, tragic women, and the writings of people like Galeano and Zinn, all of these stories resonate with an aspirant indigenous rebel dreaming of the impossible. 800 years of struggle. 500 years of struggle. A lifetime of struggle.

Uris also touches on the seemingly endless frustrations that come with any desire to organize people to fight for freedom and justice. There are the ubiquitous "people", whose miseries get appropriated by everyone, the vanguard-like liberators, the militants, the intellectuals, the artists, and the collaborators. One can draw many parallels. I like how the fictional character Long Dan Sweeney puts it, "I hope you're not in a hurry...the true revolutionary is patient...and remember what I said about informants."

The book is over 700 pages long and is rich and complex and hard to put down, but I wish to touch on one more element. Conor (our hero) is confronted several times with love; being a revolutionary and falling in love. "Che" Guevara alluded to romanticism and love several times, but it's a tough go all around. At times it seems one cannot be truly committed to the cause (meaning different things for different people) and sustain a loving relationship at the same time and yet, one cannot imagine anything else worth fighting for. Ah, I do love paradox as well. In the story, there is a moment that Conor is perfectly willing to give it all up for the love of a young Protestant woman...I won't spoil it for you. I've found several copies in used bookstores. Go forth, young rebels and be inspired.

From the western shores of Occupied Canada
Dubya

P.S. I was also inspired to look up some cool Irish Rebel Music tunes by groups like the Wolfe Tones and Eire Og. Good fun!