Remembering Canada

Standing Guard, Firefighter Joel Glaude
who was the bagpiper for the Remembrance Day event
at the City Hall, Mississauga

In Flanders Fields

By: John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I attended the November 11 Remembrance Day event at Celebration Square. I went with some trepidation, since these public events always end up disappointing me. I was not, in my lack of expectations, disappointed.

We had just recently finished Canada's elections, where the country chose a "lisping liberal" as I describe Justin Trudeau, the forty-something "young" Prime Minster, who nonetheless is not the youngest PM of the country. That label goes to Joe Clark, who was still a thirty-something 39 when he assumed office in 1979. And, he was a conservative, to boot.

I wrote to a friend, which I've recorded in the podcast posted below the excerpt:

Trudeau, the lisping liberal, won the federal elections. He is married to a French-speaking Quebec woman, and I wonder what language they speak at home? I think it is French. Poor English Canada, with enemies from all sides. It was a depressing outcome, but then again, we will now have up front everything that the liberals want (or dream of). One of which is to advance the agendas of the "new" Canadians, by which they mean the Third World ethnic Canadians.

Harper, in one of his speeches, used the phrase "Old Stock Canadians" by which he meant the English, Scottish, Irish, and even French (Quebec) original Canadians. I don't think it was a slip, and he meant it as a contrast to what we're seeing now, which is an ethnic, non-white, liberal population.

Harper, in one of his speeches, used "Old Stock" Canadians, by which he meant the English, Scottish, Irish, and even French (Quebec) conservative Canadians. I don't think it was a slip, and he meant it as a contrast to what we're seeing now, which is an ethnic, non-white, liberal population, which mostly came to Canada in the mid-twentieth century, around the 1970s, and which are majority populations in several Canadian cities, and even suburbs.

This actually goes some ways to prove my thesis that Mississauga has become a Third World enclave, a part of which is Muslim.

I said recently that we should look for the next suicide bomber/jihadi in Canada to come from Mississauga.

My work is cut out for me. Now, I know I am really separate, from my family and "friends."

I expect there will be a further exodus of whites away from here into the surrounding small towns (those racist towns...), and let Mississauga, etc. deteriorate as would a Third World city. Already, in my building, the majority, I should really say ALL, the residents are Indians or Chinese. And appliances, elevators, the cardboard wall separating rooms, are showing wear and tear, despite the building being relatively new. I see a few elderly whites who were lured here as an ideal place for retirees. They always look bewildered, and are uncharacteristically silent in the elevators, where it is Canadian manners to at least say hello. I think they are also beginning to leave, as other whites also left in droves.

The full podcast is here.

What was striking about this Remembrance Day memorial was the crowd that came to the event. It was a replica, a demonstration, of the government and the country which Trudeau is building. Starting with the city's officials, we had a smorgasbord of ethnics, from Chinese to Hindu (and Sikh, one mustn't forget the fine details of ethnic identity), who all came in honor of those brave Canadian soldiers, who fought and died for King and Country.

Among this illustrious group is Omar Alghabra, Member of Parliament for Mississauga Centre, who:

- has condemned CanWest newspapers for labelling groups like Hamas and Hizbollah "terrorist" groups
- has welcomed al-Jazeera to Canada and railed against any restrictions on it, but condemned the CRTC for allowing the "abusive" Fox News Channel in[to Canada
- in the wake of the Arab riots at Concordia [University] that shut down a speech by former Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, had the temerity to blame Jewish students for silencing campus discussions, and supported an Arab conference on campus whose stated mission was the elimination of Israel
- has called for the total abolition of Canada's anti-terrorism laws; and
- was stopped at the U.S. border and searched and fingerprinted—whether that was by reason of demographic profiling, or because he was on a watch list is uncertain.

Source: Ezra Levant at the Western Standard

Levant continues:

What is certain is that Alghabra turned it into an opportunity to gain media face time, Maher Arar-style, as an anti-American, anti-security mouthpiece.

Omar Alghabra after placing his poppy on a wreath (this placing one's poppy on a wreath has become a Canadian tradition)

Other members of the Canadian government who were present include:

Navdeep Bains, standing to Alghabra's left in the photo below;


Iqra Khalid, the Indian woman in the red coat;


The woman in the black attire (in mourning?) is the poet laureate of Mississauga, Anna Yin, who read the traditional poem, In Flanders Fields.


Muslim audience for the Muslim MP


Chinese audience for the Chinese Poet Laureate


Who is there he for? Perhaps for the old veteran, who came to talk about his war experiences.


Veteran soldier is Major (Retr'd) Bob Holliday presenting at the event

Below is the poem Major Holliday recited (full presentation in the podcast below), of a young boy who grows up to be a young man, ready to go to war. It could have been written for this young boy, in Mississaug in 2015, who was watching and listening attentively, and seriously. And he is wearing a poppy.

Please Wear A Poppy
By Don Crawford

"Please wear a poppy," the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.

A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"
When she'd pinned it on he turned to say,
"Why do we wear a poppy today?"

The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free -
That's why we wear a poppy, you see."

"I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew
and became a man - as you will, too."

"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he'd seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day
When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,
I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry."

"But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight,
(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire."

"Till at last, at last, the war was won -
And that's why we wear a poppy son."
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
But your son - did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded check;
She shook her head, but didn't speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you'd have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,
Thought our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!

And so when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne,
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country's call
That we at home in peace might live.
Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give!

Major Holliday, half way through the poem, at the part: "Goodbye, I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry," started to tear up, and wiped his eyes, fully feeling the horror the young man in the poem would live through, as he had done.


Podcast of veteran soldier Major (Retr'd) Bob Holliday reciting "Please Wear A Poppy."




Placing our poppies on a wreath have become a Canadian tradition. I placed mine next to Major Bob Holliday's.

How may Sikh or Muslim or Chinese young children will grow up to fight a future Hitler? Will an Indian or Pakistani Muslim Canadian soldier really go out to war to fight the Iranians, or ISIS? Will a Sikh march off to war with Indians (perhaps that is not such a stretch, since inter-ethnic rivalries do end up on the war field in that country)? Will a Chinese confront his Chinese ancestors back in his homeland when called to war?

Such aggression may occur sooner than we expect, and even on our own soil.

Here is a photograph of the young boy, and the people surrounding him:


And why wasn't he chosen to lay a wreath? Why was it, if we pursue this thought, both were girls? Why not boys, or one boy and one girl?

This young boy was strangely alone. I couldn't see any father, mother, or sibling next to him. He was like some angelic apparition, watching, observing.

His jacket looks like army camouflage, camouflaged as a contemporary young boy's fashion statement, as though he were ready for war,.

What will he do when he is of age to join the army? Which army will he join? What foes will he be willing to fight? Will he have a country, Canada, by then, where clear loyalties and allegiances can be forged, or will he become increasingly confused and alienated? Perhaps he will be the second Charles Martel, this time fighting enemies within, a delicate and much harder mission. Will he be up to that challenge?

Yin has arrived at the pinnacle of the West's equality cult, but a cult which excludes this young white boy. Equality is for the likes of her: woman, immigrant, non-white - or "ethnic."

Below is a photograph of two girls from the region's school, a Chinese and an Indian, who were given the honor of placing a wreath at the ceremony. Both girls were wearing black tops and pants, like Yin. Did they co-ordinate their macabre attire with Yin's? Yin is going around schools "promoting" poetry, so I wouldn't be surprised if they planned to "dress" like her. Isn't the blood-red of the poppy symbolism enough ? It is the strange nihilism I see all the time, and even the vibrant and colorful ethnics have embraced it, where color and decoration are discarded for a strange, fetishistic mourning black.


Two representatives of Mississauga's youth laying a wreath, costumed in black

But Remembrance Day doesn't warrant such nihilistic, false mourning. After all, the poem does say:

To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.

It is a poem about war, and death, but above all about the insistence of life after war, and a firm and stubborn insistence on the continuity of life.


Anna Yin in black

Canadian Men's Chorus singing In Flanders Fields




Slideshow of event

Excerpt of Mississauga Poet Laureate, Anna Yin, reading in Flanders Fields




Yin reading In Flanders Fields

Again, I am struck by Yin's casual attire, as though she had no genuine respect for the occasion, and was there simply as an invited guest to a function which she doesn't really believe in, or has any attachment to.

Yin has written a poem about her thick Chinese accent, in anticipation of her critics. She stresses that she came as an immigrant, with limited knowledge of English, and started to write poems after taking ESL (English as a Second Language) classes. But, that doesn't change the reality that a Chinese woman, with an incomprehensible Chinese accent, reads a quintessential Canadian poem. And everyone stands politely listening. Below the text is a video of Yin reciting her poem "My Accent."

My Accent

It is charming.
I assure you.
I assure myself,
and choose to believe so.

Languages have colors.
I want to show you my tender blue.
But you cut off with fork and knife,
quicker than my chopstick taps.

My accent grows trees,
trails and winding roads
to west coast landscape.
It points to the open sky;
yet clouds are too heavy
and form raindrops.

My papers collect them
then dry in silence.
I have hesitated many times
before I speak;
now it develops teeth.
Even with gaps between,
I decide
…this is my voice.

Here is how Yin introduces her poem "My Accent" at a poetry reading:

Speaking of Racism, for those who don’t believe I can write poems in English… I have written “My Accent”…

But I do have many people believed in me and supported me and helped me. Thanks a lot.

ESL classes did not help her with her relative pronouns.

And of course, as all accented (and even the non-accented) Third Worlders know so well, Canada is full of white racists.

So, we hand out, gratuitously, prestigious prizes to anyone who shows up and picks up the pervading (non)wisdom by simply uttering those magic words - "racist" - or evokes that emotion of guilt, and specifically white guilt, demanding that we owe them everything we've fought for, including our art and literary standards.

Yin is just another racist whose target is those whites who have given her everything, including a safe and peaceful country. And her poetry is infused with allusions to China which she left behind for these greener pastures, but a place she will never leave psychically, or even physically. It is an error to think that her predecessor Chinese have assimilated, or melded into the Canadian culture. They are simply carving out their own China, however diluted from the original it may seem, as will she. Her advantage is that she has ample support for this, both from her these long-term Chinese residents and their Chinese-Canadian safe haven, and from the guilt-ridden, "racist" contemporary whites.

Below is the Chinese version of Yin's poem The Woman Within Her House, from here:

This poem could have been written for the young boy above:

Here is the English version:

The Woman Within her House

Around the doorway, you wander,
breathe in two languages.

Remembrance is a house
with two back yards.
You want to add windows.
Not for increasing its value,
nor to make it pretty.
Just because you live there.

The wind swings the door open—
shadows float in moonlight.
Someday you’ll get tired
and list the house for sale.

But somewhere else, behind a door,
whispers imitate languages.

Nobody knows where you have been—
the rain is like a curtain,
your face veiled.

"Whispers imitate languages" is a clever and creepy allusion to the babbling Babylon Canada has become. Yet, Yin does not try to overcome it, with her seemingly valiant grasp of the English language. Instead, she is keeping her babble, she is keeping her Chinese language, and adding it to the mix. She has no intention of dismantling this Babel.

(By the way, other non-English-speaking foreigners have reached much higher levels of erudition with the English language. She's not breaking any frontiers. Joseph Conrad, among others, learned English later in life, and used it as his language of authorship. Earning a multiculturalism policy influenced small-town literary award does not put Yin in that league of men. One could argue the same for Indians who write in English, but Indians speak English practically from birth, and they are bilingual, rather than late-learners of the language.)

Now, here is the most significant part of this entry on Mississauga's Poet Laureate. Below is a photograph of Yin in Ottawa to celebrate the Chinese New Year in Parliament Hill, last year. She stands like some dignitary from China, surrounded by the flags of Communist China. Here is what the Chinese flag signifies:

The flag of the People's Republic of China is a red field charged in the canton (upper corner nearest the flagpole) with five golden stars. The design features one large star, with four smaller stars in a semicircle set off towards the fly (the side farthest from the flag pole). The red represents the communist revolution; the five stars and their relationship represent the unity of the Chinese people under the leadership of the Communist Party of China (CPC). Sometimes, the flag is referred to as the "Five-star Red Flag."

Yin Surrounded by Red China's Flag, reading at Parliament Hill's 2014
Chinese New Year Celebration, in Ottawa
(Information here, page 7, item 1 pdf file)

And here is Yin on a trip back to China in 2014, fifteen years after she immigrated to Canada in 1999:


Yin visits China in 2014, and her Alma Mater Nan Jing University


Yin in China with Nan Jing University officials


Poetry Yin composed for Nan Jing University, only available in Chinese on this post

Below is the English translation of the poem Yin wrote for Nan Jing University, compiled from an online Chinese-English translation, and from a post at this site. This presentation is clumsy, but it gives an idea of her message and her thoughts:

Parting Words

Nanyuan in front of several strains of roses
Open the ivy along the wall .
This season ought to be attributed to the quiet ,
I want to go .
Last night the wind not , pedestrians have to go,
I draw with pen in vain , " spring",
As if Master Hsing Yun 's "Landscape Zen ."

North shadow front left , outside the hospital door laughing ,
" Shallots " smell of coffee , twilight subway crowd,
Successively passing station in life -
Smiling when you meet after the departure will be still ?
My heart is like the rain , flowers and flowers -
I am not willing passer , but it is owned by people .

The Poet Laureate of Mississauga, who travels to China to visit her "home" country, who speaks disparagingly about the countrymen who built this country, and kept it safe through the blood of their young men, gets to stand and read a young soldier's poem in her alien voice to an audience which that fallen soldier wouldn't be able to recognize.

Remembering truly becomes an exercise in the past. Soon, we may even forget, as we are nudged and prodded, every single day, to distort the memory of our fallen heroes, and adept poets provide us with images of what they prefer the past to have looked like, and how they envisage a future with only shadowy remnants of this country.

.
Above is an image of a maple leaf imprinted on the side walk by Celebration Square, which I took yesterday, November 19th. I rubbed it to see if I could erase it, but it is a permanent "shadow" of a leaf.



Young boy at the Mississauga Remembrance Day, on Wednesday, November 11, 2015

This young boy takes a sympathetic glance at my camera, and at me. Perhaps he thinks I'm on his side. I came alone, and I didn't stand by some ethnic group, nor did I cheer and acknowledge the parade of Mississauga's various ethnics.

I am on his side.

Perhaps what Canada needs is new national symbols. This tree below looked like a maple tree from a distance, where a row of trees grow by Mississauga's City Hall. Up close, I realized it was an oak tree. I went back to my original vantage point, to take the sun rays falling down the branches. The oak evokes symbols of strength and endurance. This might be the tree we need, the king of trees.


[All Photos by KPA]