They also make movies about their own politicians, and several presidents have played themselves in movies (Raegan, of course, Clinton, but also Ford and Carter). We have even seen W, the first movie made about a US president still in office, JFK or the soon to be released Frost/Nixon.
This time, mercantilism has reached far beyond North American frontiers and the world proves to have learnt the lesson. Few days after the December 14 episod of Muntadhar al-Zeidi throwing his shoes at George Bush in Iraq, some shoes companies in the Middle-East have started selling "Nunn Bush" (Bush shoes). And it works! Producers and retailers offer great deals and are overwhelmed by the demand.
For free shipping of Nuun Bush, just click...
« (…) la fonction sociale de la poésie en pays wolof ne fait aucun doute car le poète se veut d’abord un facteur de cohésion du tissu social. D’où la volonté didactique qui transparaît dans chaque œuvre.
(…) Tout art est engagement ; engagement de soi dans l’approche de l’autre qu’on veut séduire, combattre ou convaincre. (…) La création est un acte libre. Le poète ne se devrait d’avoir qu’une seule exigence: répondre à ce qui l’interpelle directement. Même s’il s’agit de faire de l’art pour le seul plaisir de ses sens.
Au delà de la poésie, toute œuvre: musicale, littéraire ou plastique qui obéit à une commande sans que l’âme du créateur y soit, trahit l’Art dont l’essence est la Liberté. »
Amadou Guèye Ngom, Critique social
Publié par Ndack dans La crise, un prélude à une autre page d'histoire
Je veux faire pareil...
Le Pape sentant sa dernière heure arrivée, envoie une invitation à un Assureur et à un Banquier, parmi les plus renommés de Rome.Il leur demande à chacun de venir vite le voir...Dès leur arrivée, on les conduit dans la chambre où repose le Pape et on les fait asseoir de chaque côté du lit.Le Pape leur lance un regard intense, sourit, puis regarde au plafond. Pendant un certain temps, ni l'assureur ni le Banquier ne disent mot. Ils semblent touchés que le Pape ait pu penser à eux sur son lit de mort...tout en étant très intrigués.Finalement, l'assureur, n'en pouvant plus, demande au pape :- Votre Sainteté ! Pourquoi sommes-nous là ?Le Pape, rassemblant ses dernières forces, lui répond très faiblement :- Jésus est mort... entre 2 voleurs... Je veux faire pareil...
Comme il faut savoir rire de soi en s'instruisant, voici également: Islamic Humour
[from warious sources]
Many people (in the West), who have been hugely influenced by negative media stereotypes of Muslims, believe that Muslims are not humorous people. Contrary to this belief, Muslims actually enjoy a laugh!! Although after saying this, Muslims do abide by some basic rules on making jokes (such as humour being within the limits of Islamic tolerance, and not going beyond the bounds of truth.)
Below are a nice collection of Islamic ancedotes and humorous stories. If you know of any humorous jokes or ancedotes, then please do send them in to me!
Most of the stories below are of a well-known and much-loved folk hero throughout the Muslim world - Mullah Nasruddin. Sometimes he seems foolish, but really he is wise. Stories like this one are told from China to Africa, and beyond.
Nasruddin Goes Fishing
One day, Mullah Nasruddin decided to go fishing. He called upon his good friend Rabbi Moishe, got their poles and bait together, rented a small rowboat at the local harbor, and off to sea they went. After an amazing afternoon of fishing, the two men had caught thirty fish. An elated Mullah Nasruddin said to Rabbi Moishel, "Better mark this spot so we can come here tomorrow!"
The next day Mullah Nasruddin met up with Rabbi Moishe at the rental harbor for another day of fishing.
"Did you mark the spot?" Mullah Nasruddin asked Rabbi Moishe confidentially.
"Of couse," replied Rabbi Moishe, "I painted a big white X on the bottom of the rowboat."
"You fool!" Shouted Mullah Nasruddin and slapped his forehead, "What if we can't rent that same boat today?!?!?"
Nasruddin And The Judge
One day, Joe Christian passed by a restaurant. He was tired and hungry, for he had had nothing to eat all day. His nostrils caught the smell of the delicious food being cooked inside. He stopped and sniffed, smiled sadly, and began to walk away. But he did not get far. The owner of the restaurant, Rabbi Moishe, came storming out into the street. "Come here!" he bellowed. "I saw that! You took the smell of my food, and you'll have to pay for it!" Joe Christian did not know what to do. "I cannot pay!" he stammered. "I have no money!"
"No money!" shouted Rabbi Moishe. "We'll see about that! You're coming with me to the judge!" Naturally, Joe Christian was frightened.
"Hmm," said the judge, when he had heard the story. "Well, this is an unusual case. Let me think. Come back tomorrow, and I'll pronounce the sentence."
What could Joe Christian do? He knew whatever sum the judge demanded, payment would be impossible. All night long he tossed and turned, unable to sleep for worry.
When dawn came he made his way to the judges court. As he passed by a mosque he spotted a familiar figure - Mullah Nasruddin. Suddenly, his heart lifted. For he knew that Mullah Nasruddin was a clever man, who was sure to be able to think of a way around the problem. He poured out his story, and Mullah Nasruddin agreed to come to the court and speak for him.
Rabbi Moishe was already at the court, chatting with the judge. Joe Christian saw that they were friends, and feared the judgment would go against him. He was right. The judge began heaping insults upon Joe Christian as soon as he saw him, and ordered him to pay a very large sum of money. At once, Mullah Nasruddin stepped forward. "My lord," he said to the judge. "This man is a good friend of mines. Allow me to pay in his place."
Then Mullah Nasruddin took a small bag of coins from his belt and held it next to Rabbi Moishe's ear. He shook the bag, so that the coins jingled. "Can you hear that?" asked Mullah Nasruddin.
"Of course," replied Rabbi Moishe, impatiently.
"Well, that is your payment," said Mullah Nasruddin. "My friend here, has smelled your food, and you have heard his money. The debt is paid."
And, in the face of such argument, the case was settled and the Joe Christian went free.
Nasruddin's Friendly Neighbour
One day, for one some reason or another, Mullah Nasruddin goes around to Rabbi Moishe's house and asks if he can borrow a pot for a day or two. His neighbour knowing Mullah Nasruddin is reluctant, but eventually agrees as they've been close friends for many years. The very next day, Mullah Nasruddin returns two pots and explains to the over-delighted Rabbi Moishe that the first pot gave birth to the second pot.
A week later, Mullah Nasruddin asks Rabbi Moishe if he can borrow two pots. Rabbi Moishe immediately agrees – for the obvious reason.
But to Rabbi Moishe's dismay, Mullah Nasruddin never returns the pots, so he asks Mullah Nasruddin if he can have his pots back, but the Mullah Nasruddin explains that tragically both pots have died.
Rabbi Moishe is incensed. "How can a pot die?" he demands.
"You believed it when a pot gave birth," said Mullah Nasruddin. "Why should you not believe that a pot dies?"
Nasruddin's Clever Wife
Mullah Nasruddin was standing outside the mosque after prayer. He had told his wife to meet him outside of the door, but after fifteen minutes she had not shown. He saw his friend Jafar coming out of the door. "salam alaikum, brother," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I wonder, did you happen to see my wife inside the mosque?
"I'm sorry, I didn't, but I'm sure she'll be right out." Jafar replied, and walked upon his way.
Mullah Nasruddin waited for fifteen minutes, but his wife did not show. He then saw his friend Nabil walk out of the door.
"Salam alaikum, brother," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I wonder, did you happen to see my wife inside the mosque?
"I'm sorry, I didn't, but I'm sure she'll be right out." Nabil replied, and walked upon his way.
Mullah Nasruddin waited for fifteen more minutes, but his wife did not show. He then saw the Imam coming out the door. The Imam locked the mosque door behind him.
"Salam Alaikum Sheikh," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I am looking for my wife. Do you by chance, know where she went?"
"I'm sorry, no one is left in the Mosque," replied the Imam, "All have gone for the night." and he walked upon his way.
Full of anger, Mullah Nasruddin walked home alone. When he got there, his wife was standing outside the door.
Nasruddin and His Donkey
Rabbi Moishe, in need of a donkey, went around to Mullah Nasruddin's farm to ask him if he could borrow his donkey for a day or two. Mullah Nasruddin came up with the excuse that someone had already borrowed his donkey.
Just as Mullah Nasruddin uttered these words, his donkey started braying in his backyard. Hearing the sound, Rabbi Moishe gave him an accusing look, to which Mullah Nasruddin replied: "I refuse to have any further dealings with you since you take a donkey's word over mine."
Nasruddin's Car Drive
Mullah Nasruddin and his wife are in their car driving.
Suddenly his wife screams, "STOP THE CAR!!!"
"What is it?" Mullah Nasruddin asks.
"Turn around and go back home!! I forgot to turn off the oven!! The house will burn down!!!"
Mullah Nasruddin kept on driving.
"Why aren't you turning around?"
"The house won't burn down..." Mullah Nasruddin replied. "...I forgot to turn off the shower."
Mullah Nasruddin was walking down a street when he bumps into Umar Abdullah, a convert/revert to Islam.
"Salam-Alaikum brother Umar!" Mullah Nasruddin said excitedly.
"Alaikum-salam, brother!" replied Umar.
"I have this question I have been wanting to ask you for a LONG LONG time, and now, since you are here, may I ask it?"
"Go ahead, brother, you may." replied Umar.
"When you became a Muslim, did you cry?"
"Indeed I did." replied Umar.
"ME TOO! ME TOO!" exclaimed Mullah Nasruddin excitedly.
The Inter-Faith Discussion
Rabbi Moishe, Joe Christian and Mullah Nasruddin were having a discussion about who was the most religious.
"I was riding my camel in the middle of the Sahara," exclaimed Mullah Nasruddin. "Suddenly a fierce sandstorm appeared from nowhere. I truly thought my end had come as I lay next to my camel while we being buried deeper and deeper under the sand. But I did not lose my faith in the Almighty Allah, I prayed and prayed and suddenly all around me, the storm started to die out. Since that day I am a devout Muslim and am now learning to recite the Quran by memory."
"One day while fishing," started Joe Christian, "I was in my little dinghy in the middle of the ocean. Suddenly a fierce storm appeared from nowhere. I truly thought my end had come as my little dinghy was tossed up and down in the rough ocean. But I did not lose my faith in Jesus Christ, I prayed and prayed and suddenly the storm started to die out. Since that day I am a devout Christian and am now teaching young children about Him."
"One day I was walking down the road," explained Rabbi Moishe, "I was in my most expensive designer outfit in the middle of New York city. Suddenly I saw a black bag on the ground in front . I put my hand inside and found a million dollars in cash. I truly thought my end had come as it was a Saturday and we are not allowed to handle money on Saturdays. But I did not lose my faith in Jehovah, I prayed for what seemed like many hours, and suddenly I realised it was Sunday!"
"When did you become Muslim?" asked Yusuf curiously.
"When I was born!" Mullah Nasruddin replied proudly.
Mullah Nasruddin and Rabbi Moishe were traveling through the desert. It was so hot that the air was shimmering. In the distance they saw something black on the ground. Rabbi Moishe said, "It's a vulture." Mullah Nasruddin said, "No, it's a goat." They drew closer, still arguing over what it was. Rabbi Moishe threw a rock at it. It flapped its wings and lifted into the air. "See!" said Rabbi Moishe. "I told you it was a vulture."
"That doesn't prove anything," Mullah Nasruddin. "It could be a goat with wings."
The Train Journey
Rabbi Moishe, Mullah Nasruddin and a Nun were sitting together in a carriage in a train going through Jerusalem.
Suddenly the train went through a tunnel. As it was an old style train, there were no lights in the carriages and it went completely dark. Then there was this kissing noise and the sound of a really loud slap.
When the train came out of the tunnel, the Nun and Rabbi Moishe were sitting as if nothing had happened, and Mullah Nasruddin had his hand against his face as if he had been slapped there.
Mullah Nasruddin was thinking: 'Rabbi Moishe, must have kissed the Nun and she missed him and slapped me instead.'
The Nun was thinking: 'Mullah Nasruddin must have tried to kiss me and actually kissed Rabbi Moishe and got a slap for it.
Rabbi Moishe was thinking: 'This is great. The next time the train goes through a tunnel I'll make that kissing noise and slap Mullah Nasruddin again.
A lesson taught
Nasruddin went to a public bath. The servant didn?t pay any attention and didn?t serve him when Nasruddin was leaving the bath, he gave ten Dinars to the servants.The attendants were surprised and happy. Next week when he again went to the bath all the services were provided to him. Every one was having a sense of inferiority. But Nasruddin on leaving the place gave only one Dinar to them. The servants and the owner were very much bewildered and asked, "What is the reason for the uncalled bonus of last week and improper behavior this week?" Nasruddin replied, "I paid today?s wage last week and last week?s wage today so that you learn to behave politely with your customers!"
Rescuing the moon
Nasruddin was looking at the image of the moon in a well. He thought it was a recompense to take out the moon from the well. Therefore, he threw a rope inside the well and swung it a few times. Incidentally, the tip of the rope got caught to a big stone. He tried to take the rope out. Hence he pulled it with a lot of force. The rope tore off and he fell on his hack to the ground. When he looked at the sky, he saw the moon and said, "Doesn?t matter. My efforts were not wasted. Though I faced a lot of difficulties, I finally succeeded to rescue the moon."
Lack of Time
Once a person slapped Nasruddin in the street. Later he came back and started to apologize and said that he had mistaken Nasruddin for some one else. But Nasruddin was not satisfied and took tight hold of his collar, took him to the judge and told the judge about the incident. The judge ordered, "Nasruddin must slap that person to avenge. But Nasruddin didn?t get satisfied. Thus the judge ordered the person to give Nasruddin a gold coin in lieu of the slap. The accused had to go out of the court to bring the gold coin. Nasruddin waited for sometime. The accused didn?t come back. Nasruddin stood up and slapped the judge on his face and said, "Since I have a lot of work, whenever that person Comes and brings the coin, You take the money for this slap."
Mullah Nasrudin and the The Burglar
A thief went to Nasrudin's house and carried away almost all the possessions of the mullah to his own home. While Nasrudin had been watching from the street. After a few minutes Nasrudin took up a blanket, followed him, went in to his house, lay down and pretended to go to sleep. The thief asked Mullah, "who are you? And what are you doing in my house?" Mullah replied, "we were moving into your house, weren't we?"
A neighbour called on Nasrudin. "Mulla, I want to borrow your donkey." "I am sorry," said the Mullah, "but I have already lent it out." As soon as he had spoken, the donkey brayed. The sound came from Nasruding?s stable. "But Mulla, I can hear the donkey, in here!" As he shut the door in the man?s face, Nasrudin said, with dignity: "A man who believes the word of a donkey in preference to my word does not deserve to be lent anything."
A Dinner of Smells
Once, long ago, a very fine and expensive restaurant stood on a busy street in a bustling market town. One day, a poor man passed by this restaurant. He was tired and hungry, for he had had nothing to eat all day. His nostrils caught the smell of the delicious food being cooked inside. He stopped and sniffed, smiled sadly, and began to walk away.
But he did not get far. The owner of the restaurant came storming out into the street.
"Come here!" he bellowed. "I saw that! You took the smell of my food, and you'll have to pay for it!"
The poor man did not know what to do.
"I cannot pay!" he stammered. "I have no money!" "No money!" shouted the restaurant owner. "We'll see about that! You're coming with me to the Qadi!
A Qadi is a judge in a Muslim court. Naturally, he is very powerful, and the poor man was frightened.
"Hmm," said the Qadi, when he had heard the story. "Well, this is an unusual case. Let me think. Come back tomorrow, and I'll pronounce the sentence."
What could the poor man do? He knew whatever sum the Qadi demanded, payment would be impossible.
All night long he tossed and turned, unable to sleep for worry. When dawn came he said his prayers and, tired and dejected, made his way to the Qadi's court.
As he passed the masjid he spotted a familiar figure -- Nasrudin the Hoja. Suddenly, his heart lifted. For he knew that Nasrudin was a clever man, who was sure to be able to think of a way around the problem. He poured out his story, and Nasrudin agreed to come to the court and speak for him. The rich restaurant owner was already at the court, chatting with the Qadi. The poor man saw that they were friends, and feared the judgment would go against him.
He was right. The Qadi began heaping insults upon the poor man as soon as he saw him, and ordered him to pay a very large sum of money.
At once, Nasrudin stepped forward. "My lord," he said to the Qadi. "This man is my brother. Allow me to pay in his place."
Then the mullah took a small bag of coins from his belt an held it next to the rich man's ear. He shook the bag, so that the coins jingled.
"Can you hear that?" asked Nasrudin.
"Of course," the man replied, impatiently.
"Well, that is your payment," said the mullah. "My brother has smelled your food, and you have heard his money. The debt is paid."
And, in the face of such argument, the case was settled and the poor man went free.
The rickshaw ride
Once a missonary on his way to run some errand hired a rickshaw. The rickshaw-puller happened to be a muslim. The christian preacher began to preach the Gospel to the R.P. The rickshaw puller got annoyed and asked the preacher "How many sons did God have?" The missionary answered "One". At this the rickshaw puller got more annoyed and said "I am a thirty year old poor rickshaw puller, I have twelve children. If your God is really as great as you claim him to be, then how come he has only one son?"
If Allah Wills
Nasruddin was determined to be decisive and efficient. one day he told his wife he would plow his largest field on the far side of the river and be back for a big dinner. She urged him to say, "If Allah is willing."
He told her whether Allah was willing or not, that was his plan. The frightened wife looked up to Allah and asked forgiveness.
Nasruddin loaded his wooden plow, hitched up the oxen to the wagon, climbed on his donkey, and set off.
But within the short span of a day the river flooded from a cloudburst and washed his donkey downstream, and one of the oxen broke a leg in the mud, leaving Nasruddin to hitch himself in its place to plow the field.
Having finished only half the field, at the sunset he set out for home exhausted and soaking wet. The river was still high so he had to wait until long past dark to cross over.
After midnight a very wet but much wiser Nasruddin knocked at his door. Who is there Asked his wife.
I think it is me, Nasruddin, he replied, if Allah is willing!
And Many more at: http://www.militantislammonitor.org/article/id/2833
or at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/3744448.stm
To Roslyn, Harun, Helene, Alexandra, Tim, Lorianne, Admas, Usman, Shawna and Mike. They'd know why...
I am eating carrots and I don't like carrots.
Carrots are orange and crunchy
They are good for your eyes
It is not a surprise
That I would rather eat some chocolate.
This was suppose to rhyme but it does not
Have no fear, I'm still here.
of my lunch bag too
and like a little parrot
I'm making rhymes for you
Chocolate is not good
Brownies are better,
Mostly when a sweetheart like you
Makes them with butter
I'm pretty busy,
And I am also happy
Not about the paper
That I'll write later
For my Master course
But cuz we're Wednesday
This means “business” day
And I practice basket ball
So if I'm not tired after it all
There'll be inter...!!!!
Unlike the carrots the crackers are yummy
They feel real good down there in my tummy
The day is insane - lots of work to do
But now I think of me and you
Meeting rescheduled till later tonight
5 to be exact - I think that is right
I brought an extra key this time
And that will end my rhyme!
Rhymes are definitely not easy
But when the day is slow anyways
And that I am not that busy
I like to take the time to play.
You did not need the extra key
But "better be safe than sorry"
I hate that I made you wait worry yesterday
the traffic, my humor, It was a very strange day
I was lonely, did not enjoy restaurant's food
It was sad not to be sharing it with you
Tonight I'll wait in the garage
To pay the price of this outrage!
Pourquoi en parler maintenant? Simplement pour semer un caillou blanc dans la mémoire collective. Comme Cendrillon.
Et quand il sourit, il se mord la lèvre inférieure.
Ces lèvres, ses lèvres, qui ont conquis mon coeur…
J'ouvre les yeux. J'ai peur. C'est peut-être un leurre?
Non. Il me regarde dormir depuis six heures.
Je lui demande: mais ou étais-tu depuis l'heure?
Avec son grain de beauté sur la lèvre supérieure,
Il me sourit en se mordant la lèvre inférieure.
''J'étais dans un pays étrange" répond-il doucement
"Sans doute un rêve, et il y avait toi
Nous étions en voyage quelque part au bout du monde
En bateau, je crois bien, car il y avait de l'eau"
Et son grain de beauté sur la lèvre supérieure,
Me sourit quand il se mord la lèvre inférieure.
De l'eau, tu es sûr, lui demande-je de nouveau
"Oui, du vin, de la musique et des danseurs en ronde
Égayaient la soirée. Oh, et il faisait froid
Mais ta présence semblait me protéger des vents..."
Et son grain de beauté sur la lèvre supérieure,
Me sourit quand il se mord la lèvre inférieure.
Ces lèvres, ses lèvres, qui ont conquis mon coeur…
Je me frotte les yeux, j'ai peur. N'est-ce pas qu'un leurre?
Non. Il me regarde dormir depuis tant d'heures...
I just completed an assignment in Public Policy Analysis about advocacy and interest groups. Between taking care of myself, my work as a public servant and my community involvement (CCEDNet, DevAction inc.), there is little energy left for studying. Check the links!
This is a message I sent as an introduction to a group of CED practioners I recently joined.
"Hello to all,
I am a young CED practitioner living in Winnipeg, MB. I have been a member of the Emerging Leaders Committee since 2006, when I joined CCEDNet, and I was one of the interns of the first Cohorte of the CreateAction programme. As such, I contributed to the Advisory Committee of the project which led to the creation of the ICAN (Immigrant and Refugees Communities Action Network) committee.
Besides youth and immigrant in CED, I am very interested in international and gender-based CED, that I practiced in Latin America, as well as in the Cooperative model. My interest for CED also inspired me to start Development in Action inc., a non-profit which mission is "to contribute to the sustainable development of communities by empowering youth, transfering skills, and promoting youth-led actions for social change".
Based on my experience on CCEDNet's committees, I believe that the continuity of the sector lies in the constant training and the effectiveness of its practitioners. It is this belief which lead me to express the desire to join the Practitioner and Sector Strengthening Committee.
I look forward to meeting you all on October 8th.
"Je ne suis plus allé là ou nous allions
J'ai peur de cette terrasse et de ces balcons
Des feuilles sur le pavé, des chemins jaunes ou gris
Peur qu'ils me rappellent tes maux et tes soucis…
C'était une saison merveilleuse pourtant, et je ne sais plus
Combien de temps elle a duré. Seulement je me rappelle
De la cérémonie du thé et de ta voix claire et belle
Des échanges de livres, et de sourires à l'ombre des rues
De ce quartier populaire que nous aimions de tout notre coeur.
Je me souviens, ma mie, des cahiers que nous échangions,
De tes mots, de tes peurs, de tes sautes d'humeur
Amie, je me souviens aussi, des marches et des leçons…
Le temps passe et s'envole, comme un temple de sable,
Je ne demande pas qu'il me ramène aux demandes en mariage,
Amie, j'aimerais juste te revoir encore une fois, être capable
D'entendre ton rire en cascade et d'admirer tes yeux et ton visage.
Tu me manques ma mie, et si d'offrir ces mots à une inconnue
C'est avoir la chance qu'un jour tu les lises aussi,
Que tu voies l'expression de ma mélancolie mise à nue
Regarde, ils sont pour elle, tous pour elle, la verve et la poésie
Je les partage, je les lui montre, sans crainte ni jalousie
Seulement, lis-les un jour, s'il te-plaît, Ô ma perdue"
The most interesting thing I find in writing biographies or introductions of oneself or someone else is the profound introspection it requires. It is an exercice that bring us to the centre of our perception skills, skills about ourselves and about other. "Who am I? Who are those others I am facing? Who do I want to be for those "others"? What if there was other "others" joining these ones?" Hence the difficulty to write a blog about oneself. Mostly, when one is somewhat shy and sensitive to "others'" impressions.
Here is what I wrote for a group of colleagues at the University of Alberta:
"I am a “constant student of life”, curious and interested in a lot of different things ranging from psychology to running, poetry, basketball, languages and management.
After a Commerce degree (finance and management) in Montreal, I studied International Development at the University of Winnipeg and discovered a passion for Community Economic Development (CED), a local action by people to create economic opportunities and better social conditions for the most disadvantaged. I then worked in the non-profit sector for a few years, doing CED work, project coordination and marketing. I am very interested in social economy, entrepreneurship, immigration and youth leadership.
I currently work as an Account Executive for Statistics Canada (market research and custom services) in Winnipeg, MB. I enjoy playing sports and travelling, passions that I share with my wife.
!Pero tan feliz!
De Yaoundé à Maccchu Picchu: rêver
Tananarive, Montréal, Winnipeg, Riobamba : « sauver le monde »
À quoi ressemble l’avenir?
One of the greatest days of my life.
Today, I woke up to one of the most wonderful days in my life.
I phoned Rhoda Ferner, support staff at the Kenneth Levene Graduate School of Business. I was inquiring about the status of my application for the Masters in Human Resource Management. She told me that my file had been sent to the Grad Studies department, but that she was going to make some more verifications and get back to me. After a while, she phoned me back and told me that a letter dated April 15 had been mailed to my address. I was finally accepted to Grad school after more than 5 years of researching the right program and university!!!
Deux des trois stagiaires individuels, Noémie Pomerleau-Carpentier et Raïmi B. Osseni, étaient de passage à Alma à la fin du mois de février pour tracer leur bilan de stage, après cinq mois passés au Burkina Faso et en Équateur.Retour de stage
Les deux stagiaires Noémie Pomerleau-Carpentier et Raïmi B. Osseni ont profité de leur passage à Alma pour faire un saut dans les studios de CBJ-Radio-Canada afin de raconter leur expérience à la population du Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean.
Rappelons que Noémie travaillait auprès des enfants de la rue à Ouagadougou au Burkina Faso et que Raïmi appuyait notre partenaire CEDIS en Équateur, pour le renforcement des organisations de femmes dans leurs initiatives de commercialisation équitable.
Al retraso, pase una semana a Alma, con Luis-Miguel Tremblay, mi "jefe" y Noemie Pomerlau-Cloutier, la otra pasante del CSI-SLSJ.
Me senti como un pòlitico que tenìa que dar presentaciones a la radio y al equipo del CSI-SLSJ sobre su experiencia. Una manera de compartir el viaje y de ayudar los demás a viajar conmigo.
No se si es posible compartir trescientos fotos, el amor increíble por un pais, el gusto de la comida, los parfumes, la musica, las playas, los amigos.
Pero, hice lo que podía hacer.
Je suis rentré vendredi matin. Le 29 février. Pfuittt!!! Sept mois d'absence! Il faisait froid, il y avait de la neige partout mais nada! Je n'ai rien senti. Et puis, il y avait mon âme soeur! J'ai couru, non, volé dans ses bras. Je n'en pouvais plus de tant d'absence. Non, plus du tout.
J'ai perdu un sac. Enfin, je me suis fait volé un sac avec toute ma musique, mes CDs, mes DVDs. Juste à Riobamba, as I was leaving the city, in a cab. Well, things happen.
It was a long trip back home. Riobamba, Quito, Miami, Montreal, Alma, Montreal, and then home. I spent a week in Montreal the first time and then four days in Alma. The debriefing was quite something, intense, busy, cold. Alma is colder than Montreal.
Home is sweet. It is home. I cannot describe the feeling, I am now discovering my house. Jenster made it home. I can get some rest and with the two weeks I have before I start working again, I have plenty of time to "come back."
I am happy. However, it is not easy when you leave your wife a month after you got married to go to work in a different country. I strongly recommend not to do such a thing. We now have seven months to catch up.