Rural India...

India remains a predominantly rural agrarian society with an estimated 77% of its people dependant on subsistence living. While I personally do not regard this this as not inherently wrong or bad for its people, I do recognize the fact that subsistence living is full of built in risks.

For example, the three villages we visited in Rajasthan all are living with a drought that has lasted over 5 years.

Their adobe like homes are beginning to crumble perhaps because they cannot afford the luxury of using water to repair them.

Fields lay fallow with no crops planted for 5 years. Only the thornbush remains bright and green. The men of the villages find work in area where there has been enough monsoon rains and bring home a share of the harvest to feed their families.

Despite this hardship the people seem full of life and joy, welcoming visitors. Here a woman brings water in the traditional way.





A herder stops to allow me to take his picture as he brings his sheep and goats to water.


Water buffalo, prized for their milk cool off in the rapidly evaporating water.

On the distant shore, bricks of mud that will be used to construct and repair houses dry in the sun. Life goes on.

What Norway does...

There is an air of triumphalism among the oil patch and its supporters in Alberta these days. Steady Eddy Stelmach who threw open the doors for the industry by extending to infinity the deadline for environmental action in Alberta has been re-elected. All that can be seen in their collective mind's eye are the dollars piling up not the destruction of our environment on their oily altar to greed and consumption.

Contrast this with Norway, which built a vault to store the precious seeds that produce the food to nourish us all. "A frozen garden of Eden" is how the Norwegian prime minister described it.

Well I guess that means Fort McMurray must be the coming fires of hell.

The power of love, the weight of history...

There are many sites to experience in Uttar Predesh state in India; the first and most famous has long stood as a monument to the enduring love of a man for a woman while the second exudes a sense of the weight of history and the ambition of one man.

Having its beauty revealed by the rising sun is the best way to first encounter the Taj Mahal, a place built as the grandest tomb in the world. Inside its builder lies next to his wife. She is at the centre while he is to her right; even in death offering homage to her.


The white Indian marble glows in the early morning light. The floral patterns are various inlaid gemstones that glisten and shine like tiny eternal flames assuring us that the love that inspired Moghul Emperor Shah Jahan still burns in memory of his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.





Not far from Agra, about 30 km can be found the long abandoned city of Fatephur Sikri. The great Moghul Emperor built this city as his capital. Here he greeted his people and welcomed those who could offer him wisdom and knowledge. Though illiterate he understood the power of both and understood them as being superior to military might alone.














In time Akbar's city was abandoned, apparently due to a shortage of water, yet it remains an enduring symbol of one man's greater vision.

The real experience...

My primary purpose for being in India was to attend Partnering for Change a development project organized by my professor Dr. Aradhna Parmar. She brought together academics from the University of Calgary, the University of Rajasthan and the Univesity of Jammu along with representatives of several NGOs and the Indian government.

We gathered in Jaipur to explore ways in which we could contribute to the enormous work that is being undertaken to assist the most needy people in India. While I learned a great deal at the conference, the two days I spent with the people in three rural villages in Rajasthan were truly transformative. My life, my entire sense of who I am and the responsibility that I carry have been changed forever.

In the photo above I am surrounded by some of the children in the last village we visited along with one elder. They endure with great joy under conditions few of us could bear to contemplate. The monsoon rains have not brought sufficient rains to fill the dhoras that act as reservoirs for the. They have not planted a crop in over five years and the men of the village are forced to travel to other villages where they can earn a share of crops to feed their families.

Yet despite this hardship our host brought us glasses of sweet chai and glasses of liquid yoghurt. It is impossible to not be humbled by this experience and to be drawn to serve them in some way.

Jaipur Jimmy in the palace of Akbar...

Akbar was one of the greatest of the Moghul emperors of India and here I am standing in his palace at Fathephur Sikri in Utter Pradesh. Well rather it is my evil alter-ego that emerged when I went shopping with two professors from the University of Calgary, Dr. Wisdom Tettey and Dr. David Mitchell.

Now days before Wisdom and I had discussed our shopping styles while wandering through the duty free shop at Heathrow. I had described myself as a "hunter gatherer" focused on my, moving quickly in for the "kill" and then withdrawing. He concurred with this description but later under the pressure of trying to select the "perfect" shawl for his wife he revealed his real technique, "the browser" a pattern I generally associate with the avid shopper.

Now while Wisdom agonized over the vast selection of scarves and shawls I quickly bagged one for my daughter and a second for my granddaughter. [Yes I am revealing the gifts I selected but it is for the greater good. I am certain my daughter will understand.] But I digress...

Having bagged my targets I then turned to helping Wisdom to get through his turmoil. I carefully offered suggestions, praising the quality of the workmanship and displaying delight at the wonderful prices being offered by the helpful young salesman. Sensing my keen desire to aid my troubled comrade, the young who had a good command English idiom hailed me over to a discrete corner. "Hey Jimmy!" he called in a stage whisper, nodding to me.

Now concerned that the young man had mistaken me, with my grey hair, as a man of means, I carefully explained that I was but a poor student, while my two companions were both professors. His eyes lit up in understanding. He drew out a beautiful shawl, the colour of pearl grey. He passed it to me while revealing that it was made of Kashmini silk and wool and was handwoven over a period of three months. It cost the princely sum of 200,000 rupees. [It takes about 40 rupeees per dollar. I will let you do the math.] He urged me to bring it to Wisdom, which I did, simply offering the same information with the added words: "It is like holding a cloud in your hand!"

Now at this point I realized that I had provide all of the facilitation I could and with a cheerful goodbye I left the shop, where my companions remained to conclude their business.

Some time later that same day two other students from our group visited the same premises. When asked where she was from one of them explained she was a student visiting Jaipur for a conference. At this the same young man who had been so anxious to make a sale to Wisdom, shouted "Are you with Jimmy?"

Thus was borne my alter ego. And to conclude this tale I will that Wisdom did make a purchase, in fact he bought four shawls in his desire to bring home the perfect gift for his wife.