Category: opera Page 22 of 29

What Goes Around

WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?

These simple, powerful words could be a Holzer truism, a piece of graffiti, a philosophical query, or all three.

It’s a sign worn by actor Peter Donaldson, playing a woebegone father in Canadian playwright George F. Walker‘s latest work, And So It Goes. The work revolves around Ned and Gwen, a couple who must deal with their mentally ill daughter’s demise and eventual death; their downfall is where they come to know themselves and one another in new, sometimes disturbing ways. It’s a powerful, moving piece of work with solid performances by its cast of four, who are directed with great sensitivity by Walker himself.

The title of the work is a reference to Kurt Vonnegut, who figures into the happenings by way of being the imaginary mentor to first Gwen (played by Martha Burns) and later Ned, as the play progresses. Vonnegut’s saying from Slaughterhouse Five -“so it goes” -is, according to The A.V. Club, notable for “how much emotion—and dismissal of emotion—it packs into three simple, world-weary words that simultaneously accept and dismiss everything.” The character of Vonnegut (played by Jerry Franken) is especially poignant considering the writer’s own son was schizophrenic; the “sh*t happens”-esque stance takes on a whole new meaning when placed within the context of the dark world Walker creates.

The playwright is known for his gritty depictions of down-and-out people in desperate circumstances (the Suburban Motel series is a good example), but I’ve always found much of his work to have an equal acidly dark humour. None of that humour figures into And So It Goes, however. The work is as much about survivors as it is victims; incidents are presented as simple facts of life, with minimal fanfare, for maximum emotional effect. Director Walker has wisely chosen to use music (by John Roby) strategically, allowing actors time within the wide, long parameters of the Factory Theatre‘s stage to reveal a deeper emotional reality. Daughter Karen (Jenny Young), sitting saucer-eyed, frightened, and dirty, looks especially alone in such an environment; the effects of her illness on her -and her family – is made especially visceral. The need for connection couldn’t be made more plain.

The role of connection figures prominently when the Karen returns in the second act, along with Vonnegut, offering insights, observations, and… silence. She simply hears Ned and Gwen out, and that’s important. If The A.V. club is right, that Vonnegut’s “so it goes” saying “neatly encompasses a whole way of life“, it’s also accurate to note how that encompassing involves acceptance, because that’s the work’s overarching theme. By the play’s end, the once-affluent pair have accepted their daughter’s passing, their role in her demise (in that they could not prevent it), and their current circumstances. Who is responsible? Everyone and no one, all at once and nevermore. So it goes.

And So It Goes has been held over by popular demand at the Factory Theatre to March 6th.

It’s Not A Heel; It’s A Mountain

It was with a huge amount of sadness that I read about the death of designer Alexander McQueen last week.

The British designer was one of my early favourites in the high-falutin’ world of fashion. Amongst the pish-posh flaky fashion queens, McQueen redefined regal -and he knew it. Working-class royalty wrapped in bad boy drawl, he dared to try new things, while really, truly, “keeping it real.” To paraphrase playwright Joe Orton, he “came from the gutter, and don’t you forget it.” His work wasn’t merely ephemeral; it was probing, challenging, and frequently bizarre. Live presentations were deeply theatrical, taking inspiration from popular entertainment and relevant social issues (yes, fashion and social isues can mix) and fusing these ideas with a Biennale-esque sensibility that sought to blow open the doors of what fashion was and what it could be. He never lost touch with his roots, nor with his family. His deep connection with the women in his life -the twin muses of Isabella Blow and his mother -was apparent, and it’s that touch of touching earthiness I still find so endearing.

Part of what makes Alexander McQueen’s passing so tragic is the nature of his death. It wasn’t the wasting-away rot of cancer or the slow annilation of AIDS, but rather, the scalding horror of self-violence. Despite conjecture, we’ll never know the exact, true reason why he felt the need to leave us -nor should we. His death remains, like his life, his creation alone. It’s just sad that, at the end, he never saw the windows, only the walls; never felt the light, but scraped along in darkness; threw aside creation in favour of destruction. Why? Like so many other suicides, it’s not ours to know. He’s gone, and he’s left us his visions, in colours and textures; in dyes and dances of hems and heels and the height he reached as a one of the greatest visual artists our age has seen. From a fashion cynic to you, Dear McQueen, thank you for the passion, the play, the verve and the vision. I’d say “angels sing thee to thy rest” but frankly, the whir of sewing machines, the dry scrape of pencils against paper, and the click-clak of stiletto heels seem like an infinitely better symphony. Rest tight. The gutter won’t forget you.

Sexy Queen

The Valentine’s Day sillies are upon us once more. As a singleton who’s never really experienced the “romantic” connotations of the Hallmark Holiday, I take the whole thing in stride and tend to draw associations instead with the sticky-sweet days of childhood. Heart-shaped cookies and finger-staining candies, along with cut-outs and tacky cards -that’s Valentine’s Day to me.

There’s a tremendous pressure on female singletons, particularly in North America, where V-Day is taken quite seriously. (That, incidentally, is culturally interesting; I don’t recall the same kind of pressure when I lived in Dublin and London, but then, back then I romanticized everything, turning every day into a kind of maudlin V-Day fest, complete with sappy poetry, long dresses, and plenty of chest-heaving for so-close-so-far Byronic, tortured-artist-lovers. Oh, youth…) Year-round Valentine pressure is everywhere in popular culture: witness the phenomenons of Bridget Jones, Sex And the City, and any number of treacly pop hits.

Lastnight’s episode of 30 Rock featured a defensive Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) trying to find someone to give her a ride post an impending dental surgery. The snag? The surgery fell on Valentine’s Day. In the great tradition of ladies who doth protest too much, the indefatigable Liz huffed and puffed about in hilarious, if equally sad, fashion, loudly proclaiming her independence. Only later, deep in the throes of whirling post-surgery hallucinations, did she acknowledge that she wanted to be loved. It got me thinking: do women need Valentine’s Day to assert their desire for love and acceptance? Following that, do men need the pressure of what V-Day represents to show these things? It all feels deeply unfair -and stupid.

The Toronto-based Erotic Arts and Crafts Fair blends like childlike whimsy with a decidedly adult ethos. As its name implies, the fair is a celebration of sex, but not in that tawdry, vulgar way as paraded around so many so-called “professional” conferences. The fair, on since 2007 and founded by members of the excellent Come As You Are, is Canada’s only craft fair dedicated to romantic, sexual, and erotic expression, and features a variety of crafts -not just rude knitwear and dildos (though they’re presented too, if you’re interested). Books, buttons, jewellery, corsets, slippers and one cleverly-named change-purse feature as well.

Along with being a fun way of celebrating sexuality, the fair also serves as a great way of connecting people -including many single women, who come in nervous and sometimes shy, and leave, laughing. There’s no pressure for coupledom, and the whimsical, fun feel of the fair imbues a kind of fun, carnival-esque atmosphere. Also, the event nicely builds community through the sharing of artistic ability, something vitally important in the Queen Street West area (which is rapidly becoming a bourgeois hipster haven, eeek). If you’re in the neighbourhood tomorrow (February 13th), pop in the Gladstone Hotel anytime between 12 and 8pm. Single or coupled, I guarantee you’ll walk out with a smile.

Creature Discomfort

I’ve been thinking a lot about violence: that which we inflict upon each other, in large and small ways, and that which we direct upon ourselves. Every night the television news is filled with searing images of suffering and pain. reminders of the awful damage us humans are capable of, through snarky opportunism, willful malevolence, or some sad combination of both.

Canadian playwright Judith Thompson has never shied away from these issues. The award-winning playwright has spent her career exploring the myriad of ways we inflict violence on those we love, those we hate, and those we don’t even know. Her first play, 1980’s The Crackwalker, was a gritty examination of the lives of four disturbed people, all but forgotten by mainstream society; 1997’s Palace of the End was a triptych of haunting monologues delivered by damaged souls who’d been affected by the Iraq war. Thompson, who is a two-time recipient of a Governor-General’s Award for drama and has been awarded the Order of Canada, isn’t afraid to ask tough questions around morality and intolerance in her work, nor does she shy away from the depiction of hurts, physical, mental, spiritual and psychological, and their related conequences. Thompson’s latest work, Such Creatures, takes the simple premise of two women at two different points in history, recounting their tales; one is a Holocaust survivor, the other an Aboriginal street tough. I had the opportunity to speak with Thompson to exchange ideas around the inspiration for the work, the connection between the two women, and the real-life stories that fuel her creative world. Thompson’s responses are still so inspiring to me; I’ve highlighted my favourite bits.

Was there a specific event that inspired Such Creatures?

Many moments and stories inspired the play, (like) Reena Virk and others like her. I have realized that many young girls live in a kind of war zone almost as dangerous as the one so many young men live in, but they don’t make the news… I teach acting, and one of the exercises I assign is for the students to interview someone out of their normal social sphere, and then bring a monologue to present to the class; a student from outside of Ottawa brought a letter given to her by an elderly neighbour. The letter was written to her by her sister, from the prison within Auschwitz, where she was waiting to be hung for her part in the Auschwitz revolt in which Crematorium 4 was blown up. When I heard this letter, something inside me shifted. I knew I would revisit the letter. I was so inspired by the courage of these young girls.

Why did you choose two female protagonists?

Many male heroes have been celebrated in drama, but there are so many unsung female heroes and martyrs, and these girls… well, both are heroic, because they face violence with bravery, and one especially takes huge risks to benefit others. They have nerves of steel, sharp extraordinary intellects, and they are both only fifteen! I want to look at women who are leaders, and fighters, women who will never ever give up or surrender their beliefs.

What do you think binds these women together, ultimately?

We carry our history in our bodies, and deep in our psyches, we carry every woman’s experience. We stand on the shoulders of the women who lived before we were born, whatever race or religion we are. Preparing to fight a gang of girls to the death is facing death; it has come down to the very same thing that the girl at Auschwitz faced every day. We are always underestimated, valued mainly for our attractiveness to men. These girls are so so so much more than that -and so are we all!

Such Creatures runs at Toronto’s Theatre Passe Muraille through February 7th.

Susan Coyne: Her Own Peer

There are some plays I’m absolutely drawn to, Hamlet being a notable example. I love the haunted nature of the title character, the complicated nature of his relationships, and the ways he deals with (or avoids) various elements thrown up at him. Like Hamlet, Henrik Ibsen‘s Peer Gynt has a compelling main character and a complex set of relationships -but the big difference is the sprawling, massively ambitious storyline. Most people associate Ibsen with serious, hard-edged reality-based works like Hedda Gabler and The Master Builder. Yet before these works, Ibsen wrote his five-act play in verse, and, to quote one critic, “in deliberate, liberating disregard of the limitations that the conventional stagecraft of the 19th century imposed on drama.” Wow. Ambitious? Yes. Brave? Yes. A little bit crazy? Perhaps.

Indeed, Peer Gynt has presented its fair share of challenges in live production; many versions are long, or else condensed so thoroughly that they risk losing their original Norwegian folk flavour. Ingmar Bergman helmed a five-hour version in 1957 (and didn’t use the famous Grieg music named after the work), while Christopher Plummer presented a radically-reduced concert version in 1993 (and did use the Grieg music, natch). There’s a myriad of reasons the work is so challenging: numerous location chances, an enormous cast of characters, and fantastical elements that reference fairy tales, religion, and the nature of time itself. Like I wrote, Peer Gynt was, and remains, ambitious, brave, and a little bit crazy.

So it was with much intrigue that I recently looked over a press release for a new, streamlined production of the work, staged by The Thistle Project; adapted for two actors by director Erika Batdorf and the company, the production features playwright, actor, and author Susan Coyne alongside Thistle’s co-founder Matthew Romantini. I wanted to find out Coyne’s ideas about this unique work, perhaps in the hope that she’d be able to furnish me with a little more clarity in trying to understand the nature of Peer. I soon learned she brings not only an actor‘s dedication and commitment to the role, but a writer‘s intuitive understanding of the language, and how it informs the visual elements within the work. The Thistle Project’s production of Peer Gynt promises to be one of the most memorable experiences of the Toronto theatre season this year.

How do you approach the role? You’re playing what some might characterize as a “typically male” role. What is it about Ibsen’s hero that ultimately renders him genderless?

The character is very male in the traditional sense and we aren’t changing that. However, I”m not playing him in drag. I like to think it’s similar to what actresses quite often did in the nineteenth century- playing the “breeches part” without having to explain why. The play reveals new facets when you can get away from some of the off-putting surface elements of Ibsen’s original script (which was probably not written to be performed at first)- like the character of Solveig, who seems a kind of caricature on the page. (She is) the maiden pure who waits her whole life in a castle tower for her hero to return to her. What attracts me to Peer is his energy and his imagination. He’s a dreamer and a doer, though he lacks the capacity to look at himself and his actions.

By producing it in a church, there is a lot of spiritual background brought in. Intentional?

We wanted to do the play in a non-traditional space. Again, this is a way of looking the play from another angle. The play has a very spiritual core and we wanted a space that would provide it with a kind of resonance- as it happens we found one in the Church of the Holy Trinity, which is a beautiful space with a very progressive history and deep roots in the downtown community where it sits.

How does the movement-based, experiential nature of the piece complement Ibsen’s writing?

Peer Gynt is very unlike the plays by Ibsen that most of us are familiar with: A Doll’s House, Hedda Gabbler, Ghosts. It is a kind of folk tale, very earthy and wildly inventive and mixing all kinds of styles of theatre. So we are doing the play with only two actors, me and the brilliant Matthew Romantini, who plays every other character.

How much of your own writing background helped in the streamlining of the work?

Erika Batdorf is the real force behind this adaptation, which involves cutting a play down from about four hours to something like ninety minutes. She knows the play intimately, and has been involved with several productions, and lived with it inside her for many years. The rest of us have had a hand in reworking bits and pieces as we’ve found some stumbling blocks in the text.

What does Peer Gynt have to say to us in the 21st century?

First of all it’s a very entertaining story, and surprisingly funny. It is the story of Everyman‘s journey through life- the struggle between our flawed, selfish, human desires and the part of us that might be called our higher self- the self we seldom allow to have the upper hand. I think it’s an old, old tale, and one that never goes out of style.

Peer Gynt runs to February 21st at Toronto’s Church of the Holy Trinity. More information is at the Facebook Event Page.

Photos by Lindsay Anne Black

iDon’tKnow

Apple unveiled its latest creation today, the iPad, which is aimed at filling a gap between laptops and smartphones. Was this necessary? Techheads might argue yes, but I’m not entirely convinced. So many technological gizmos derive their value from the fresh-off-the-shelf shinyness than their day-to-day practicality -though I freely admit there is a kind of decadent, delicious value in the revelry of the new. Who didn’t want an iPhone when it came out? I sure did, and though I suspect the attraction to the iPad has a number of variables -age, profession, traveling needs -what Steve Jobs et al is banking on is, of course, consumer dedication to electronics of the Apple variety.

However, I am concerned about what the iPad means to publishers -of books, magazines, and newspapers. According to a report in my morning paper (remember those?), the figures for those who consume news online is rapidly rising, especially among those under 55 years of age. According to the Globe and Mail‘s Simon Houpt, who is quoting the Consumerology Report from Toronto ad agency Bensimon Byrne and the Gandalf Group research firm, 65 per cent of respondents engage in online news reading every day. This compares with 51 per cent of those who read print. Houpt quotes David Herle, principal of the Gandalf Group, who note that “most people under the age of 55 now prefer to get their new from online source than from (printed) newspapers.”

What does this mean for journalists? It’s an issue that’s still being bitterly debated –online, in print, on the radio, and television. Whither the revenue streams? Questions are similar when it comes to books. According to Yahoo Tech Canada, “Authors can have books accompanied with video, colour photos, can change the font size” -that’s truly incredible. I can see where iPad enhancements would (will) be wonderful for things like cookbooks (I’d love to see extras from the French Women series by Mireille Giuliano) and even non-fiction (Terry Gould’s harrowing “Murder Without Borders” would be incredible, or any number of biographies, for example), but when it comes to fiction, I want my own pictures, thanks so much. All that digital hoo-ha is for naught if you have a crappy story. And, not to sound terribly old-fashioned, but isn’t the mark of a good author the power they have to paint a unique mental picture in the minds of each individual reader?

There’s something so soothing to me about the tactile nature of the printed word. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely love online news -I admit to being a complete junkie, and I’ve worked in it for most of my journalism career. But first thing in the morning, bleary-eyed and messy-haired, I want the slippery feel of newsprint and stained fingertips from printing press ink as I sip a hot cuppa and pick at toast. When it comes to books, I crave the smooth-rough feel of paper, the cut edges, the flapping jacket covers. I know, I’m a romantic. But the iPad isn’t for romantics. That’s okay -there’s room for all kinds, types and gizmos in this world. Just be sure to keep your paper handy when the tea spills.

Oh Coco

Conan O’Brien came out of nowhere in the 1990s and rocked my late night world. I was never a huge fan of David Letterman back then (too snarky) or Johnny Carson (too old), though I loved Arsenio Hall, for the great musical guests and generally modern feel of his talk show. But it was Conan who really showed me how comedy could work in a late night talk show context. The wacky cast of characters, combined with O’Brien’s zesty silliness and embrace of surrealism immediately hit a nerve, and it never really left -even when he homogenized his sweet-sour-salty humour upon moving to Los Angeles to host The Tonight Show.

Conan is funny, but he’s also shrewd, and I suspect he knew that his loopy cast of late-night characters probably wouldn’t gel with viewers in that time slot, people who were more accustomed to Jay Leno‘s gentle (some might say dull) comedy. But he was (and, I think, remains) keenly aware of the power of fun: his farewell speech on lastnight’s final Coco-hosted Tonight Show episode proves it. “I hate cynicism,” he said, and continued:

For the record, it’s my least favorite quality. It doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard, and you’re kind, amazing things will happen…This massive outpouring of support and passion, from so many people, has been overwhelming for me. The rallies, the signs, all this goofy outrageous creativity on the internet …you made a sad situation joyous and inspirational.

No kidding. Nothing kills the fun, the zany, and the childlike instincts faster than narrowed-eyes, tight-lipped “I don’t think so”-ism. Good for Conan for not giving in and for knowing his funnybone is more important to protect than his ego.

Still, I’m naturally saddened by the entire Tonight Show/NBC debacle. I’ve followed Conan’s career for years and it’s truly horribly sad to see an original voice in comedy be so shut out, in such a brutal, mean-spirited way. But, in a larger sense, I think this might all work out for the best. The Masturbating Bear, Pimpbot 5000, Heavy Metal Inappropriate Guy, the hilariously tacky “If They Mated” and the zany famous mouths have run their respective comedic courses, and Conan’s new-found freedom is a golden opportunity to dream up 21st century counterparts.

Creative, strange, surreal… and funny, Conan and Co. have a unique humour that isn’t to everyone tastes. But it is important to have in the late-night landscape, as an equal, alongside everyone else. Go Coco. I can’t wait to see what you do next. Just make sure it’s appropriate to your gifts… otherwise, I’m sicking Triumph on you.

Conan O’Brien – Inappropriate Reaction Channel
| MySpace Video

 

Hallelujah

Tonight the Help for Haiti Now concert took over every major North American network. This tune was a huge favourite -a moving, tender, insightful moment full of soul and musicality. I never thought I’d enjoy JT singing a favourite Leonard Cohen song but… I was wrong. He should just sit and damn well sing more often. Even my mother (the opera fan) sat, enraptured, and enthused on the simple beauty of Justin’s voice. Accompanying him was Matt Morris, a multi-talented singer/songwriter who’s worked with fellow Mouseketeers Timberlake and Christina Aguilera in the past.

The gorgeousness purity of “Hallelujah” was indicative of the soulful, stripped-down nature of all the performances. Gospel sounds were heard throughout the night, with Stevie Wonder, John Legend, and Jennifer Hudson all making a noise most joyous; Hudson’s rendition of “Let It Be” was another highlight for me. Madonna took the two-decade-old “Like A Prayer” out of retirement and let fly; the rousing gospel chorus that carries the song to its conclusion was hugely uplifting and moving. Even Madge had to move around.

Overall, Hope For Haiti Now was full of great sounds and some genuinely moving moments. Anderson Cooper’s reports, featuring overwhelmed survivors (mainly children), could’ve turned maudlin and saccharine, but miraculously, stuck with being gently hopeful, while maintaining the appropriate hum of urgency. It was a lot better than the sentimental pap I was half-expecting/dreading. Well-done, all-around.

For a complete list of ways you can help and donate, click here.

Power Play

Power is rapidly becoming a big issue in the Haiti crisis: who rules amidst chaos? It’s clear no one wants to return to the old system. But what kind of change hath tragedy wrought?

I thought about this in going over a release I received about a new adaptation of Shakespeare’s bloody play Macbeth -a work that revolves around ideas of various kinds of power. Toronto-based company Theatre Jones Roy has taken this idea of power in political and military arenas, and turned it inside out, choosing instead to focus on the push-pull machinations between Macbeth and his wife. With Macbeth Reflected, the idea of power as shared between two lovers is examined with pinpoint precision. Lead performers John Ng and Mary Ashton provided some solid insights into the character and the work, reflecting the notion that Shakespeare didn’t just write for his time, but for all time, and perhaps especially, this time.

What’s the one thing that characterizes the relationship between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth?

Mary: They are partners in almost everything they do. They desire and fulfill their dreams together. Unfortunately, their dreams become so unhealthy that their partnership eventually crumbles.

With the emphasis on relationship in this production, how does it change the nature of the tragedy?

John: The body count is definitely much lower, and you will find certain character plots, known history and supernatural elements of the original have been eliminated or severely reduced. The retelling has placed this tragedy back in the hands of the two who are ultimately responsible for their own suffering and, in so doing, provide some insights into human psychology.

What role does sex play?

Mary: Sex, in the coital sense, as with any relationship, plays a big role whether it’s present or not. With Lady M being “unsexed”, she desires more than anything to be ruthless in her pursuit and to have no remorse or fears weigh her down which were attributes often associated with the “softer sex” in Shakespeare’s time. Her femininity still exists and she most definitely uses it to her advantage.

How much does their being childless influences their choices and thought processes?

John: The loss has affectively reshaped (the couple’s) moral universe. Since we were robbed once before, we’ve become acutely aware when a perceived injustice is done upon us. We’re hardened. Very hard.

Mary: It’s been an integral part in the development of (Lady Macbeth). I am fairly certain, based on the text, that she has had a baby. Where that baby is now, the text doesn’t indicate but certainly there is loss. Loss and/or lacking can drive people to do unimaginable things and often times, with the best intentions.
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That idea, of a lack driving people to do horrible things, feels so timely and intimate, even as it’s timeless and epic. Perhaps this bloody tale of two lovers has something to teach past the old high school interpretation of “absolute power corrupting absolutely.” Perhaps power -and the ways it is used and abused in relation to those in need -is much more subtle, if disturbing, an argument. Those subtleties are worth considering.

Macbeth Reflected runs to January 24th at the Lower Ossington Theatre in Toronto.
For more information, go to artsboxoffice.ca.

Yele

The tragedy in Haiti is unfolding moment by moment.

Anyone who learned of the massive earthquake the country suffered lastnight shared a visceral response; the tragedy is compounded by its location, with a country infused with a painful past that still pollutes the present.

One of the requirements of my position is to put aside the humanist gut-response and stick on my journalist’s hat. It isn’t always easy. But looking at the footage lastnight and into today, I am fascinated by the ways the earthquake has been reported. As darkness fell last evening, I was transfixed by television updates, though, this being 2010, I was online almost constantly as well. The internet was truly at the frontline of reporting, with people posting photos to Twitpic and the like, showing massive devastation. There were groups set up for families and plenty of links to aid organizations (see list, below). Outlets like CNN and CBC were using the very photos I’d already seen online in their news reports.

The nature of news reporting has changed -widened, expanded, and become far more immediate. Wyclef Jean understands this; his Twitter feed was providing constant information and updates on how to help -particularly through fast, easy, mobile means. It was heartening to see him get on 360 With Anderson Cooper so quickly. The question of a music/entertainment artist also being an activist has many people creasing foreheads and furrowing brows, but I don’t think anyone questions Wyclef’s commitment and dedication to making his homeland a better place. It’s the precise reason Yele Haiti exists.

Along with Yele, here are other ways to help:

Oxfam
Doctors Without Borders (MSF)
Samaritans Purse
Unicef

The Globe and Mail has a good resource page. It’s constantly being updated by a continual zipper of information, including phone numbers, stories, facts, and links, including a statement from Governor-General Michaëlle Jean, who, one presumes (hopes), will be using all the resources available to help her homeland. ONE has a very extensive list of links and statements from aid organizations. CBC also has a thorough list of facts, phone numbers, and ways Canadians can help.

History and politics always play into any aid effort, perhaps nowhere moreso than in Haiti, but let’s hope the online world mobilizes people to put those aside for now and focus on the healing.

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