Traditional Culture

BBC reports on how Bolivia and Peru are defending the right of indigenous peoples to to continue in their cultivation of the coca plant. The leaves have been used by indigenous peoples in South America for medicinal and religious purposes for centuries. Countries such as Bolivia and Peru are under pressure from the UN to curtail all cultivation of the coca plant. The BBC reports that Peru and Bolivia are lobbying for changes to UN conventions on narcotics and controlled substances.

Peru said a balance was needed between allowing cultivation for traditional uses while preventing it for cocaine production.

"One of the principles of humanitarian law is the respect of traditional customs, recognised by the national constitution," said Jose Belaunde, Peru's foreign relations minister.

"The United Nations lacks respect for the indigenous people of Peru and Bolivia who have used the coca leaf since forever," said Peruvian Congresswoman Maria Sumire.

"For indigenous people, coca is a sacred leaf that is part of their cultural identity," she said.

The UN is pushing for tighter controls on the use of the coca leaf:

The International Narcotics Control Board released an annual report on Wednesday that reminded the two governments that use and possession of coca leaves, the main ingredient in cocaine, were limited to medical and scientific purposes.

The two countries should "abolish or prohibit activities... such as coca leaf chewing and the manufacture of coca tea", the report said.

People in the Andes use coca leaves to alleviate hunger and tiredness, for medicinal purposes and in religious rituals.

UN conventions list coca as a dangerous controlled substance, along with cocaine and opium.

For more on the subject, these two books examine the history and the anthropology of the use of the coca leaf in Bolivia and Peru: Coca Prohibition in Peru: The Historical Debates by Joseph Gagliano and The Coca Boom and Rural Social Change in Bolivia by Harry Sanabria.

Globalization and the Burqa

The burqa was the symbol of the Taliban and their strict restrictions on the lives of women in Afghanistan. Now, there is increasing pressure for women to once again wear the burqa, if they had abandoned it after the NATO led forces pushed out the Taliban in many areas of Afghanistan. However, in a strange twist of the globalizing world, it seems that local production is being pushed out by imports from China. As the Washington Post reports:

The Chinese-made burqas’ tightly-crimped folds and machine-produced embroidery have become something of a fashion craze in the last few months in Kabul. As one burqa seller named Hassan explained to me in a crowded Kabul market, “Women love the new, modern style of the Chinese burqas.”

Many of the challenged faced in Europe and North America are also faced by local tailors and local businesses: cheaper imports are pushing them out of the market. However, it is interesting to see how this is occurring in a country where families making pennies to the burqa still cannot outcompete mass produced goods from elsewhere.

Cyber Guerilla Warfare

It seems that there is a form of cyber guerilla warfare now underway as anonymous web surfers are not waging war with Scientology. The video itself is a bit campy, but it is an interesting view into the cyber world. An article in The National Post examines the ways in which anonymous surfers are doing their best to bring down Scientology. This will be an interesting case to follow.

Forgotten History?

The newspaper business is an interesting one. For a number of years, I served as a volunteer for the University of Toronto's student newspaper The Varsity and then later, I worked for the French-language newspaper Le Franco in Alberta. One of the things that I learned from the experience was the art of writing the headline: it must be the right length (not too long, not too short) while summarizing the article. Usually, the journalist has not say in what the headline will actually read. In reading the headline of a story published in The National Post, I was struck by the awkwardness of the headline: "400 years of forgotten history." The published piece itself is not bad, but the the title brings forward the questions "forgotten by whom?"

The fact of the matter is that the 400 year history of Québec is taught in French schools in Canada and this history is quite important to French-speakers. They, for the most part, have not forgotten their history. Also, this history is often features in movies and in the popular media. We French-speakers have not forgotten our history per se, though it could be debated as to how accurate our history is. So, what the headline is really highlighting is not a forgotten history, but rather a history that is ignored by English-speakers. Simply put, parallel histories exist and the history that is remembered by most French-speakers is quite different from the history remembered by English-speakers.

Language politics: Nunavut and Québec

The National Post has published an interesting piece on the survival of Inuktitut in Nunavut and role of the Nunavut regional goverment in promoting the Inuit language. I have reproduced the original below.

The salient point of this article is the need for political intervention to support minority languages. The reality is that languages cannot be dissociated from politics. States choose official languages and states regulate instruction in schools, specifying what languages will be used in teaching and which books shall serve the needs of students. Political intervention ensures linguistic winners and losers and as the Yiddish linguist Max Weinreich quipped in 1945: "A language is a dialect with an army and a navy."

What Weinreich meant is that languages do not become dominant because of their inherent superiority, rather languages come to dominate if they are the languages spoken by powerful states or colonial powers that impose their language as well as their political power speakers of other languages and dialects.

How can languages that were long colonized compete? They must call upon the structures of the state to elevate the status of the long subordinated language whether it be French in Canada or Inuktitut in the Arctic. The article published in the National Post is a perfect example of how political intervention is often necessary to equalize the linguistic playing field.

Losing their language

Inuit look to Quebec as an example of how to preserve their culture

Sara Minogue, Canwest News Service Published: Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Shaun Best, Reuters

IQALUIT -The Ecole des Trois Soleils sits atop a large hill with a commanding view of Frobisher Bay.

About 50 young francophones between the ages of 5 and 14 come to classes here in this red-and-yellow-striped building to be educated in their mother tongue, in spacious classrooms of about 15 students each.

That the school exists in a community of 6,000, in a territory where fewer than 450 people have French as their first language, is remarkable.

"And it's only there because of the fact that there's legislation," said Terry Audla, who, as executive director of the Qikiqtani Inuit Association, would like to see similar legislation that would establish Inuktitut-language education throughout the territory.

Nunavut is in the process of writing its own official languages act, one that could give the Inuit language -- which includes its regional dialects -- equal status with English and French, and that could have huge implications for the people and government in the northern territory.

Though its draft versions are considerably less radical than Bill 101, Quebec's strict language law, many Inuit are looking to Quebec as an example of how legislation can strengthen a minority language. Two language bills now on the drawing board would require government and territorial bodies to offer services in Inuktitut, English and French. They would also require private companies and organizations to offer services in Inuktitut.

The bills are careful to maintain language rights for English and French speakers -- so much so that some Inuit groups argue the legislation does not go far enough to make Inuktitut the language of everyday life in Nunavut.

Mr. Audla's organization is among those advocating that the law would give Inuktitut the status of sole official language, as Quebec's Official Language Act of 1974 did for French in that province. He cites Section 35 of the Constitution Act, which guarantees "existing aboriginal rights," including language rights, even though this has never been challenged in court.

He points to flaws in the proposed legislation: The draft Inuit Language Protection Act says Inuit would have the right to "instruction in the Inuit language," but it does not give them the right to receive their entire education in Inuktitut. Similarly, the proposed legislation says the government must produce Inuktitut materials for preschool-aged children, but gives no indication how much Inuktitut material is enough, and provides no accompanying regulations about providing preschool in the Inuit language.

At present, Inuktitut is one of the strongest aboriginal languages in Canada.

Its uvular sounds and ringing Gs are heard daily inIqaluit-- at hockey games, in grocery stores, at the post office, bake sales, church services and meetings that are part of daily life here.

Most children in Nunavut are schooled in Inuktitut until Grade 3; CBC North broadcasts 11 hours of Inuktitut programming daily; and about half of the debates in Nunavut's legislature take place in the language. The Nunavut government intends to make Inuktitut its working language by 2020.

But the number of proficient Inuktitut speakers is rapidly declining and Inuit leaders fear that, without legislation, the language could be lost in only a few generations.

The latest census shows that 64% of Canadian Inuit reported Inuktitut as their mother tongue in 2006, down from 68% a decade earlier. The number of Inuit who speak Inuktitut at home has fallen from 58% in 1996 to 50%.

"Let's not kid ourselves, the state of our Inuit language is in critical condition," said Mary Simon, president of Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, the national Inuit association. "And if we lose our language, then we will have lost our culture."

Inuktitut speakers must currently rely on relatives or impromptu translators to help them access basic services, such as at the pharmacy, checking into a hotel or even calling the RCMP or fire department. The 2006 census found there are 105 Iqaluit residents who speak neither English nor French, and roughly 2,300 throughout Nunavut. But there are few services for these people in their own language, and no laws requiring anyone to provide them.

A territory-wide household survey conducted in 2001 found 34% of Inuit had difficulty receiving services from the federal government in Inuktitut, and 24% had difficulty receiving such services from the territorial government.

A key debate in Nunavut about the language laws revolves around the question of expense.

Already, a lack of resources has made it difficult for the government of Nunavut to fulfill its obligations to francophones under Canada's Official Languages Act.

In a public hearing on the new laws, held in Nunavut's sealskin-draped legislative assembly chambers last August, Paul Kaludjak, president of the land claims organization Nunavut Tunngavik Inc., said now is not the time to worry about money. Rather, he argued, language rights are a "right of the people," that need to be enshrined in law.

The Nunavut government's draft language bills have received first and second reading in the legislature, and are now under review by the standing committee on language.

Meanwhile, the people of Nunavut are not sitting idly by waiting for their language to fade.

The Nunavut Bilingual Education Society, a group of volunteer teachers, has been producing books and graphic novels in both languages for more than five years.

The Pirurvik Centre, a privately owned facility whose aims are to promote the Inuit language, culture and well-being, recently began offering intense courses in Inuktitut as a second language, including instruction in reading and writing syllabics, the Inuit writing system. In the future, the group plans to offer advanced language courses for Inuktitut speakers who want to expand their language skills.

And at Nakasuk elementary school, located in one of Iqaluit's oldest buildings down the road from the Ecole des Trois Soleils, teachers are working overtime to produce worksheets, posters and books for students in their Inuktitut-language stream.

Last year, Nakasuk also launched a new program: Inuktitut immersion for preschool and kindergarten students destined to start Grade 1 entirely in their mother tongue.

This, principal Carol Horn said when the program launched, is the best way to make sure Inuktitut remains a vital language in Nunavut.

Saving the Samaritans: Looking for Love

The Globe and Mail has a fascinating piece on how Samaritans are seeking brides from the Former Soviet Union to save their community. Their community numbers little over 700 people and their children are beset with a number of genetic problems attributed to strict rules of endogamy. To save their community, some Samaritan men are seeking wives through marriage agencies from the Former Soviet Union. According to the article:

In one version, whispered among the women who gather on street corners to gossip the afternoon away, Mr. Cohen was a lonely man who couldn't find a local woman, forced to look for companionship at a faraway marriage agency. In the other, told by his approving father and some of the other village elders, Mr. Cohen's journey to meet and bring back a bride named Alexandra Krasyuk may just save the Samaritans from extinction. ...

Into this sick and dying community have stepped two Slavic women who may as well have arrived from a different planet, Alexandra from Ukraine, and Lena, an Israeli citizen born in Omsk, on the plains of faraway Siberia

The article then highlights that the marriage of outsiders has been met with some resistance:

"I'm against this marrying of Russian women or any others. Their traditions are very different from ours," Mr. al-Teef said, promising that he will go to great lengths to make sure that his own bachelor son marries within the community. Birth defects, he said, are part of life and occur in every part of the world.

"The most important thing in religion is purity, and women are half of religion. I'm worried that these women brought up in Eastern Europe will not commit themselves to the laws of the Samaritans."

His views are common here, though High Priest Elazar says no one has yet questioned his decision to his face. The controversy, however, lightens with the arrival of a healthy newborn Samaritan. Eighteen months ago, Lena and her husband, Raghai, gave birth to a son, Adam.

Even the most conservative of Mount Gerizim's gossipers can't hide their delight at seeing their numbers grow. It is, the local residents say, the first "new Samaritan" born in 3,600 years.

"He is a Samaritan, 100 per cent," Mr. al-Teef said, his harsh words for the boy's mother suddenly forgotten. "It's a gift from God."

The Samaritans numbered in the hundreds of thousands in the past and now survive in two small communities: one in the West Bank and the other in Israel. The Globe and Mail article provides an insightful piece into their origins and beliefs.

Russia, A Democracy?

Masha Lipman provides a subtle analysis of the erosion of democracy in the Washington Post. In her piece "Putin Cements His Grip," Lipman summarizes how President Vladimir Putin is hollowing out whatever democracy existed and is leaving in its stead a Potemkin Village that appears like a rightful democracy, but rather is merely a facade to beguile foreigners. Lipman writes:

Putin and some of his aides are highly skilled in producing a government with the trappings of democracy and none of its substantial elements, such as public participation, the separation of powers, political competition or accountability. The formal decorum comes in handy when Putin needs to insist, usually to Western audiences, that Russia is a democracy. He appears anxious to fit in among the democratic leaders of the West and to distance himself from the Central Asian autocrats who have carved out lifelong presidencies.

As Lipman notes, Putin has succeeded in achieving absolute power, but he does not seem to want to change to constitution to keep power as president. Rather, he seems to be seeking other avenues to maintain absolute power, while stepping down as president of the Russian Federation as required by the Russian Constitution. All the while, he must manage competition by individuals who have used their positions to take control of industry and finance and have more than likely enriched themselves. As the leading industry, notably profitable industries in the oil, gas and natural resource sectors, were transferred under private ownership to state control, the new CEOs and directors were chosen out of the ranks of the political elite and their allies. Nonetheless, the need to maintain that Russia is a true democracy is still important to the Russian President and as Lipman explains the roots of this can be traced back to Soviet times:

Putin would not respond to the beseeching and do what several leaders of former Soviet republics have done: simply eliminate the constitutional hurdles and stay on as president. Although the judicial branch has been repeatedly bent to the will of the executive during his tenure, Putin has been strangely particular about the letter of the law. In today's Russia, politics may be deinstitutionalized, so that officeholders and institutions are pawns in a game of Putin's design; federalism may be undermined; political freedoms and civil liberties compromised. But while ultimately destroying the spirit of democracy, the Kremlin avoids direct violations and resorts to sophisticated schemes.

This simultaneous concern for appearance and contempt for substance is a pattern deeply rooted in Soviet history. Government propaganda was one of the pillars of the totalitarian system, and the gap between words and substance grew wider until the two had nothing in common. The regime's words -- the rhetoric of its Communist officials, its press, its political slogans and schoolbooks -- were radically at odds with real life. The Russian people grew used to this doublethink and doublespeak, so it's little wonder that today there is nothing more sacred about the current constitution than there was about any of the three charters adopted during Soviet times.

As it stands, the election for the new Russian President is only months away, yet it is not clear who will be the chosen candidate who will be guaranteed victory and it is even less clear what power and authority the incoming President will yield. What is clear is that one man, Vladimir Putin, wants to retain power.

Japanese Multiculturalism?

Canada is a multicultural state that encourages immigration from around the world. Canada recognizes the need for immigration as our low birth rates would lead to an aging and declining population without the influx of migrants. Japan is faced with both of these problems, yet has been reluctant to encourage immigration to Japan. However, in recent decades, even Japan has been forced to open up to migrants, the descendants of Japanese compatriots who left Japan decades ago to live in countries such as Brazil and Peru. Though they look "Japanese" these immigrants speak a foreign language and their culture is quite foreign to their neighbors. Also, many of the new migrants have a difficult time integrating into Japanese society as they find it difficult to integrated and succeed in Japanese society. The Washington Post provides a telling look into the challenges faced by Japanese society as they must adjust to a new multicultural Japanese society. Below are some excerpts from the article "In Traditionally Insular Japan, A Rare Experiment in Diversity."

Faced with labor shortages, the Japanese government opened the doors in 1990 to allow immigrants to come to the country -- so long as they were of Japanese descent. Government officials thought they would blend into the country's notoriously insular society more easily than people from other ethnic backgrounds.

But many found they didn't quite fit. Their names and faces were Japanese, but they didn't speak the language. They didn't understand local customs, such as the country's stringent system for sorting garbage into multicolored containers. In cities such as Hamamatsu, where many settled, government officials and Japanese neighbors didn't know what to make of newcomers who seemed familiar but foreign at the same time.

Despite the frictions here and in other communities, pressure is building in Japan to take in more immigrants, forcing the country to reconsider its traditional bias against outsiders. Its population is aging and shrinking. Analysts say Japan must find new sources of labor if it is to preserve its economic power and support its retirees.

Hamamatsu was a natural magnet for the newcomers because its many factories offered entry-level employment and required virtually no language skills. Officials here like to brag that their community became the most "international" of Japan's cities. About 30,000 of its residents, or 4 percent, are foreign-born. That's almost twice the proportion of foreign-born residents in Japan as a whole. (About 13 percent of the U.S. population is foreign-born.) Most newcomers are from Brazil and Peru. They are offspring of Japanese who immigrated to South America in the early 1900s to work in coffee fields and take other jobs.

The new arrivals here brought Latin culture with them. In Hamamatsu's downtown, billboards in Portuguese advertise cellphones and air conditioners. In a popular market, Brazilians who long for a taste of home can buy a platter of bolinho de queijo -- cheese croquettes -- fresh from the fryer or rent DVDs of popular Brazilian shows.

Other parts of the city have Brazilian and Peruvian churches. One enterprising woman has built a small catering business making box lunches for homesick Peruvians.

This is not unique to Japan. In Germany, you have large numbers of repatriated ethnic Germans from the Soviet Union who are culturally Russian. They speak the Russian language at home and their culture was shaped by the centuries their families spent in the Soviet Union and Russia. Likewise, in Israel, you have roughly one-fifth of the population that is Russian-speaking. Here too, you have individuals who were Jewish in Russia and the Former Soviet Union who became "Russian" when they immigrated to Israel.

In Japan, one of the challenges faced is integrating the children of immigrants into the school system. As the Washington Post article writes:

She soon grew alarmed by the number of immigrant children who were dropping out of Japanese public schools. Because many didn't understand Japanese, they were falling behind in their studies. Others were bullied because they didn't look Japanese (some of them are biracial, having Latin parents).

The government was not addressing the needs of the Japanese immigrants and they were not being effectively integrated into Japanese society.

Given its demographic problems and the need for workers, Japan has little choice but to encourage even more immigration. However, this will force Japanese society to become more multicultural whether it wants it or not:

Some newcomers threw all-day barbecues with large crowds and loud music -- just as they had back home. Their Japanese neighbors were horrified. At one point, tensions were so high that some merchants banned certain groups from their stores, until a lawsuit prompted them to stop.

But many immigrants say the struggle is worth it.

Roberto Yamashiro, who came to Japan from Peru when he was 15, said the adjustment was difficult. He didn't know the language and didn't like the food. He worked in a factory that made ice chests for several years. Now 24, he is one of a handful of immigrant students at Hamamatsu University. "I like it here a lot," he said. "There is much more opportunity if you work hard."

Officials in Hamamatsu say they never expected the outsiders to live in Japan for more than a few years. But now they realize they're here to stay and must be helped along.

At city hall, officials have moved the foreign registration desk to a prominent spot on the first floor. Signs and forms are printed in Portuguese, Spanish, Japanese and English. The International Affairs Division, which used to focus on foreign exchange programs, now concentrates on the needs of the immigrant community. In an attempt to quell disputes over garbage, instructions on how to sort it are now available in four languages.

But the broader question of Japan's traditional reluctance to accept outsiders remains.

Eunice Ishikawa, who was born in Brazil, teaches cultural policy and management in the Department of International Culture at Shizuoka University of Art and Culture in Hamamatsu. She said that when people learn where she was born, they can't believe she's a college professor.

For many of the immigrants from South America, "it's almost impossible to assimilate because people have such negative images" of outsiders, she said. Sometimes her husband, a Japanese American who was born in San Diego, complains that people look down on him because they see him as an American.

Ishikawa said the Japanese may have no choice but to learn to live with outsiders, because their numbers are growing, not only in Hamamatsu, but in the country as a whole.

In 1990, about 1 million registered foreign residents lived in Japan; by 2004, that figure had nearly doubled, to just below 2 million. Most say the actual numbers are probably higher because not all foreigners register.

The pressure to let in more immigrants is building. Population experts project that by 2050, Japan's population, about 128 million in 2005, will shrink to 95 million, about 40 percent of whom will be 65 or older. By some estimates, Japan will lose more than 4 million workers.

"With the age of globalization, these borders are going to open up," said Fariborz Ghadar, director of the Center for Global Business Studies at Pennsylvania State University. "Unless they don't want to see their economy grow as rapidly, they're going to have to do something about it."

Over time, Japan will have to change to accommodate the new arrivals. From an anthropological perspective, it will be interesting to study in the coming decades how the Japanese immigrants from Peru and Brazil will settle into Japanese society. Over time they be assimilated linguistically into Japanese society, but it will be fascinating to see whether elements of South American culture will take root in Japan.

Reversing Environmental Chaos

China has garnered the world's attention due to its phenomenal economic growth that has propelled it forward as an economic giant. However, the environmental consequences of development have not received as much attention. Development brought pollution and that pollution is poisoning the water and the air. The Washington Post published an insightful account as to how one city is trying to clean up pollution. The article entitled "In China, a Green Awakening" examines the challenges faced in trying to balance a cleaner environment and maintaining the industry that provides jobs and economic prosperity.

The Washington Post article provides a telling account of the environmental challenges faced by China:

WUXI, China -- One morning this summer, residents of this eastern city awoke to find that their beloved Tai Lake had turned rancid. The water was filled with a bloom of blue-green algae that gave off a rotten smell. It was not only undrinkable; it was untouchable. Few living things stirred in the water.

For almost three decades, the city had welcomed some of the world's biggest polluters. Churning out paper, photographic film, dye, fertilizer, cement and other products for the global marketplace, the businesses helped make Wuxi into one of China's wealthiest industrial cities.

They also poisoned the province's vast network of lakes, rivers and canals. In late May, when the toxic sludge reached Tai Lake, which is the main source of potable water for Wuxi's 5.8 million residents, people turned on their taps and got only sludge.

City officials decided they'd had enough. In a series of radical proclamations that sent shudders though the business community, Wuxi declared itself a newly reformed green city.

By September, the city had closed or given notice to close more than 1,340 polluting factories. Wuxi ordered the rest to clean up by June or be permanently shut down. The actions were applauded by Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao, who has vowed to use economic incentives and punishments to aid in environmental protection and resource protection.

The city must find a balance between closing factories and keeping jobs: if too many jobs are lost, this will create social problems for the city.

Efforts are underway to clean the local environment, but these are not cheap. The central government of China is paying greater heed to the environment and cracking down on pollution. However, much remains to be done and many are still unconcerned about the problem. As the article states:

Wuxi's environmental campaign has been held up as an example of how cities should deal with polluters. But the publicity has not had its desired affect. Instead of shunning the polluting companies in Wuxi, delegations from other parts of China have been coming to Wuxi to invite them to come to their cities.

"This is impossible to understand," said Wang of Nanjing Normal University. "We keep telling them they are just moving pollution around and it isn't good for them, good for China."

If China follows the precedent set by developing countries, then in the next decades more attention will be paid to improving local environments. Economic development provides greater wealth, but this new prosperity cannot be enjoyed when the water is undrinkable.

Real Help for Developing Countries

Poverty and child mortality are endemic across much of the world, notably in the African continent. Yet, simple measures can save countless lives. Today's Globe and Mail had a fascinating piece that highlights how simple measures tailored to the needs of local communities can bring about drastic changes in infant mortality.

The Globe and Mail article by Stephanie Nolen entitled "Simple as that, child mortality is at a record low" demonstrates how simple and very simple measures can drastically reduce infant mortality. According to the Nolen:

The application of a handful of simple, low-cost measures, from giving families $2 mosquito nets to encouraging breastfeeding, is spurring a sharp decline in child deaths around the world.

For the first time since the United Nations began to keep records in 1960, the number of child deaths fell below the 10-million mark, down to 9.7 million in 2006, the last year for which there is data.

“This really is a historic moment,” said Peter Salama, Unicef's chief medical officer, although he was quick to note that those 9.7 million deaths, almost all of them from preventable or easily treatable causes, are “in no way acceptable.”

Nevertheless, this is undeniable good news from developing countries, made even brighter by the fact that the biggest drops in child deaths have come in some of the poorest places: 20 per cent in Niger, 23 per cent in Mozambique, a stunning 41 per cent in Madagascar. (Sub-Saharan Africa accounts for 50 per cent of all child mortality, even though the region's total population is only half that of India. In West and Central Africa, more than 150 of every 1,000 children born die before the age of 5, compared with fewer than six in Canada.)

Mr. Malunga [a village health worker in Malawi] knows what's responsible for the drop in his area: The biggest reason is that all pregnant women are now given a free insecticide-treated mosquito net for themselves and their children to sleep under. The new access to bed nets – which, even at a heavily subsidized price, are too costly for people here to buy, he said – has cut malaria deaths by about a third in the past few years. “It is malaria that kills most of the children,” he said.

But he is going after more than malaria: He has vaccinated nearly every single child in his 16-village territory – measles used to be a big killer here too, but there hasn't been a case in seven years, he said. No polio since 1990. He gives most children a capsule of vitamin A at least once a year, sometimes twice, if he can get it – and that is enough to boost their immune systems so that if they do get diarrhea or malaria, they are much less likely to die.

He weighs the children every time he sees them, and plots their growth on a chart – in Malawi, 46 per cent of all children show signs of stunting, the result of chronic malnutrition – and refers any who aren't growing well to the emergency nutrition rehabilitation centre. He has persuaded more and more women to breastfeed their babies and delay any introduction of solid food until the age of six months. Traditionally women here give babies maize porridge from the age of one week.

Mr. Malunga has supervised the installation of cement-covered pit latrines and protected water sources in many of the villages, leading to a drop in water-borne illness. He has persuaded many women to take contraceptive pills or get the Depo-Provera injections he does in the clinic – because, he explained, children spaced at least two years apart have much higher chances of survival. He travels village to village talking to groups about HIV (with which 14 per cent of Malawi's adults are infected) and he offers them condoms.

These are all simple measures that cost very little to implement and they require working with communities and recognizing local needs. Simple measures such as providing free bed nets costing a mere $2 to pregnant women and children to use at night saves lives. Likewise, the simplest and most natural form of sustenance for children also saves lives:

Through simple education programs (sitting women down beneath the biggest tree in a village for a lecture), Malawi raised exclusive breastfeeding from 7 per cent of women to 63 per cent, between 2000 and 2004.

Breastfeeding ensures better nutrition for babies and breast milk transfers antibodies from the mother to the child promoting. It also reduces exposure to environmental contaminants: in places where sources of clean drinking water is not readily available, breast milk is the safer option.

Central to the success of these efforts is ensuring locally trained health care officials working in villages. This comes at a cost, but quite minimal:

Mr. Malunga, 31, has only a Grade 10 education and received just eight weeks of training when he began this job more than a decade ago. Often his small clinic lacks even Aspirin. But he is enough to guarantee good vaccination coverage, early diagnosis of respiratory infections and malnutrition – enough, in short, to cut child deaths by nearly a third.

Many developing countries have recognized that they need a way to get preventive health care and information out from district centres to rural and poorly educated populations, and there have been all manner of schemes to train community health volunteers. But very few countries have been willing to do what Malawi does: pay them. It's only $36 a month – not even enough, Mr. Malunga lamented, to buy a bicycle – but in a desperately poor country, it is enough to keep him showing up in a crisp blue polyester uniform to weigh and vaccinate babies each day.

The costs of improving the health of children does not require billions and it does not need high technology and expensive drugs, it begins with applied work in communities addressing basic issues of preventative health and nutrition. Later, there will be a need for more and better health care, but addressing basic issues can provide immediate results. All that is required is the political will of states to help their populations and the financial support of richer countries to ensure that fewer children die.

The High Flying Loonie

Now that the Canadian dollar has effectively reached parity with the United States dollar, a number of businesses can more easily expand into the American and international market. One of which is our banks. Benefiting from a tightly regulated market in Canada and making fabulous profits, they can use the Canadian dollars they have on hand to buy banks in other countries. The Globe and Mail reports that this process is underway:

Canada's two largest banks announced early Tuesday they are spending almost $11-billion (U.S.) to expand in the United States and the Caribbean, riding on the wings of the soaring Canadian dollar.

With the loonie now at or above par with the greenback for the first time in more than 30 years, No. 2-ranked Toronto-Dominion Bank stole the show by announcing its biggest acquisition to date: a deal to double its U.S. retail banking presence by taking over Commerce Bancorp Inc. for $8.5-billion in cash and stock — a transaction made possible in part by regulatory problems that led to the ouster of the New Jersey bank's founder at the end of July.

The news of TD's planned acquisition overshadowed confirmation from No. 1-ranked Royal Bank of Canada that it is buying Trinidad & Tobago's RBTT Financial Holdings Ltd. for $2.2-billion, in one of the largest recent acquisitions in the Caribbean.

But observers say there is little question that the high-flying loonie will make both deals easier for the acquiring banks to swallow.

If the Canadian dollar remains high, this will be an opportune time for Canadian business to expand southwards and buy competing firms in the United States.

The Sad State of Canada

The Globe and Mail published an article that covers the growing controversy of a Liberal high-ranking apparatchik who allegedly said: "If I hire more Quebeckers, will I also have to hire more Chinese?" This coming from the party that introduced official bilingualism and multiculturalism.

This quote, however, indicates the problem with multiculturalism. Ideally, multiculturalism should promote equality, but it can also be used as a tool of homogenization. The rationale: if I do something for one group, I have to do it for all, which is not possible, therefore best that I do nothing. Such an attitude, of course, helps only the dominant group.