Preface:

During the passed few weeks in my travels through parts of the middle east and europe one thing that has resonated even more in my day to day life is water. In my visit to Dubai, one of the richest cities in the world, a city literally built out of the dessert, one thing was blazingly apparent. Through all the technical and engineering achievements and billions of dollars of disposable money, water was the forgotten traggedy of this glorious city. As I sat in my 7 star hotel room I was reminded that drinking the water that flowed from the taps would result in sickness and that my only choice was the bottled water that was shipped from far away. I was reminded that swimming in the beautiful sea near my hotel was not a great idea as the effluent from  this madggestic city poured into the sea under-treated if not treated at all.

In Germany the problem is the same but different. Although the water is perfectly drinkable people have been sold the idea that most of the western world has bought. The bottle is better! How is it that a bottle of water here is more expensive than a bottle of beer? Shouldn’t be the other way around.

Regardless I believe the problem has been a result of the human condition to always take for granted what is in abundance. Or is it?

April 12th, 2011.

Waking up every morning is a ritual for me. I don’t drag myself out of bed rather I do my best to celebrate the fact that I have a whole other day to do something significant in my life. This morning I woke up with butterflies and told myself “I am doing this.” After eating breakfast and then stretching my mom had woken up and asked me what I was doing. I merely replied “Im going to Toronto and will be back tomorrow.” I decided that I would drive my car to my starting point only 500 meters down the road as not to alarm my mom to what I was actually doing. Walking the distance.

After a photo op with the local paper I started my trek down number six highway. I felt great and was excited. I had a mean cross wind which managed to throw me around fairly often especially while I carried my picket sign which acted like a sail but I had clear skies and the sun shining down on me of which has always been a source of strength for me. As you could imagine, walking alone for the first stretch could have proven lonely but over the past few years I have learned to appreciate solitude and being with myself. I had music and when I got tired of that I always had my thoughts and the sound of the wind and the sights of a picturesque countryside to look at even as transport trucks zoomed by me blowing me five feet too and fro.

When my pace slowed every so often I would hear someone in their car honking in encouragement. I would perk up, a smile would emerge and my stride would return to normal. It’s the power of human connection. To know that someone somewhere appreciates you even if it is a stranger. One person even stopped to offer me a ride. “No one will know” he said. I laughed and replied “I will though.” It then began to settle in that I may be doing this in vein. Even if I made it all the way the MOE may not meet with me. Even if I walk straight through the night media coverage may not care about water issues locally and abroad. I decided the only way I could accomplish my goal was to walk for me. At the least I could say to my self i did it.

Several times in the day Arlene came by either to bring me some warm tea and real food and provide me with fellowship or just to check in on me. At times her concern and care led her to assure me that if I needed to stop at anytime all was well with this decision. However I was feeling strong and motivated and as we finished our short dinner break in the park I set off into the sunset down highway 5. It was a beautiful sunset and as I left Waterdown it followed me as long as it could while descending the escarpment into the cold of night.

Just before midnight i decided to take a break and stretch at a roadside church. It was very important to keep a regiment as my legs were in pain from walking the past 14 hours. It was also very important to keep them warm as the night time temperature had dropped to -1C. As I started up again several minutes had passed when a car drove by me then did a complete u-turn to come back and eventually pull up beside me. The man in the car rolled down his window and said “I saw you twelve hours ago when I started my day near Guelph…… what are you doing?”  I told him about my walk for water and as luck would have it he would be the kind of person to have his very own mason jar of tap water. He offered me his water and some nuts and I accepted with gratitude. As he left his last words were “You are going to do it.”

April 13th, 2011

At around 1 a.m. I was in the Burlington area and Mark from Wellington Water Watchers took the time to drive up from Guelph and meet me at a gas station to give me tea and food. It was a welcome alternative to convenient store food which was the only thing available at that time. As we sat in his car I took the opportunity to warm my body. Though I was dressed well, the cold was still settling into my bones. As we talked he asked how I was doing. He also assured me that if I needed to sleep and return in the morning, it was OK!!. I thought hard about it and a few moments later thanked him for being such a good support and hit the pavement.

At about 2 a.m. I started my stretch break in a graveyard that was at the side of the road in the middle of the countryside. It was one of those small sites that had been there for at least 150 years. It was actually very peaceful lying on my back starring at the stars. I tried to admire how beautiful the universe was. It was a better thought than starting back on my trek. I knew I could not stand still too long though or I would start to freeze so common sense got me back on my feet and back to work. Soon after a police cruiser stopped me to ask what I was doing. I told him about my walk for water. He assumed I started from Waterdown and asked if I lived there. I replied no, “I live in Guelph and thats where my journey began.” At this point he was sort of taken aback and then asked me if I knew how many more kilometers I had left to go as if he knew something dreadful that I was not aware of. I answered “I think about 50-60 more km”. His face said it all. I think he realized at that point that I was not crazy. “You’re about right” he then said, thanked me for what I was doing and wished me well. Eventually clear skies turned to snow. Not one light shined in this dark countryside and with no stars to look at I felt very alone.

Along the way I had people text me. Some I knew and some strangers. All with encouragement but at this point I had not heard from anyone since about midnight. I got a call at about 3 a.m.! Finally someone to talk too. It was my sister-in law. She had woken up in the night and thought to call me to make sure I was OK. It was her 6 year old daughter’s letter which I carried. Chandra had taken two days to write this letter and I told her I would deliver it to the MOE. Chandra like all others her age will eventually inherit the world we decide to create. It was important she be heard. It was motivation enough to keep me going.

By the time I reached Oakville my stride had been reduced to hopeless steps each one only covering the distance of my feet. I was slumped over and my picket sign barely balancing on my shoulder. As I walked over a bridge I layed down along the slope of the shoulder to shield me from the wind and snow flurries. I felt like I had given up! My eyes closed as I started to fall asleep. “How nice it would be to stop now” I said to myself. An image then flashed in my mind. It was an image that changed my life years ago of an orphan little girl during the famine in Suddan. Her frail body slumped over from the exhuastion of her walk as a vulture waited for her to die. The photographer had taken the prize winning picture and then left her. He would later go on to commit suicide because of his actions. I made a call at this time to my dear friend Kira and my heart was energized. I arose out of my grave and told myself “just keep walking and the sun will eventually rise on you.”

I walked and I walked and the pain of the past twenty hours radiated throughout my body. I knew my heart was up to the task but I was not sure if my body could follow. With every step I felt my hips grind and anticipated my shins snapping at any moment which led me to finally say a prayer to my dad. In the calm and cold of night I quietly said one thing, “help.” Something amazing then happened. The horizon that was night had started to light up. The air that was burning the skin on my face was now soothing it. I could see the CN tower as I emerged from Credit Valley. With each passing minute the air grew warmer and my stride stronger as I arrived in Mississuaga the hustle and bustle of weekday life was evident. It was about 7 or 8 a.m. and people were on their ways to work driving by me or just waiting at a bus stop. Some of them were oblivious to my passing and some of them watched and wondered, who was this person walking by me with a “Walk For Water” picket sign.

My redgement of stretching every 2-3 hours had been reduced to every 40 minutes or so. My legs had reached its pain thresh hold so I began to talk to my legs as if they were a friend walking with me. A ritual insued completing every stretch period as I shouted to my legs “Walk, keep walking!” while bending my knees and striking my flexed thighs with my two fists as if two will them further.

The clear morning eventually turned grey and as I reached Etobicoke rain started to fall on me. I was exhuasted, I was in so much pain, I was cold and wet and with every bend I looked for Highway 427, the landmark I knew to be Toronto. With every turn my hope was diminishing. What I failed to realize was just because I couldn’t see it didnt mean it wasnt in sight. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the three buildings side by side I knew to be on the 427. Ahead of me I saw a tiny sign the grew bigger with every step. “Welcome To Toronto”. I stopped put my hand on the sign and in a burst of emotion I started to cry because I had did it and my heart was bursting with emotion.

Arlene would soon track me down and welcome me as I entered Toronto. We eventually settled in Bloor West Village to grab a hot breakfast for me and some coffee but alas the break was short. I had a meeting to get two and I was running short on time. Arlene had scheduled it for 2 p.m. and I had to pick up my pace to actually make it. My legs were on fire but so was my heart. Strangers stopped to ask me what I was doing and although I wanted to make the meeting I realized the importance in connecting with people throughout my journey especially the individuals who were resonating with what I was doing but did not know it yet.  I now walked for all of us and as I got to about 2 k.m. away I began to really pick up the pace. I had only 30 minutes to make my meeting with the Minister. On any other day 2 k.m. seemed easy for me to do as I usually ran 5 k.m. in the same time that was remaining however I was not sure if my legs would bare the pressure and pounding of running at this point. I had to try though. My walk turned to a light jog and when I arrived to the Annex I was in full stride with my picket sign held high and only minutes left to my deadline. Most people were not sure what was going on and as I passed them the picture of a tired old homeless man burnt into my mind. Motionless sitting on a bench this withered and worn Santa Clause soon caught wind of what was in the air as he lit up like a light bulb and with a huge smile, rose his fist and yelled “Yah!” as if he had understood the pain and passion of the journey I was about to complete. “Was he an angel?”  was my first thought and then it was evident. They were all angels. Every person who supported me, who called or texted me. Every person who stopped their day to encourage me and give me water or stranger who cared to ask what I was doing. Although I walked alone I could not have done it by myself.