Dear Diaries

One of the traits which I am less proud is my tendency to re-read my old journals.
I don't know why I do this - perhaps it is narcissism. Maybe I just like my own writing best! (How narcissistic). Maybe there is nothing better than to sit at night by a candle and try to make sense of things - that is probably it.

There they sit, my journals, arranged chronologically in an old steamer trunk I bought for 5 dollars at a garage sale. Some are them are beautiful - hand-bound with cream coloured vellum... others are just looseleaf stapled together, all are full to bursting. When I left home, I took only one suitcase, and it contained (in addition to completely impractical clothing and far too many toiletries) my scribblings... granted I moved out when I was 20, so there were (mercifully) far less scribblings then there are now. Interestingly, I still write the exact same things that I wrote when I was younger. I still have the same fears and wants and anxieties, for all my belief that I have changed.

I remember when I started keeping a journal - the exact day, to tell you the truth. It was May 10, 1996. I was sitting in Chemistry class and we were supposed to be working out some formula or another, and I wrote (in copperplate script, as was my custom)

"Ben is gay".

I remember feeling deeply afraid at that moment, for it was the first time I had accepted this, much less written it down. I don't know why I was compelled to write these words at that precise time, but nobody ever plans the moment when they cannot take it anymore. Nobody says "in 3 days and 10 minutes I will not be able to live a lie any longer". And so you should always expect the profound and the life changing to occur at inopportune times - while you are brushing your teeth, or writing your LSATS. Or as a 16 year old in chemistry class, as I was.

I was afraid, for change, by its very nature begets fear - especially if that change leads to increased vulnerability and openness, as it did in my case. I feared that somebody - my teacher... a classmate...a moth... would walk by and see what I had written and my life as I knew it - my carefully constructed artificial way of being, would spontaneously crumble and I would be alone in the world. Hastily, I crossed out what I had written, and although I felt smug in the notion that I had the power to write the truth, and then to rub it out - as if it had never been, I was compelled to write it again, and so I did. And this time I did not erase it. And I could not stop what I had started.

We were supposed to be working out a formula...one formula or another - some random collection of letters and numbers which would allow us to make a little more sense of the world: We were supposed to find out an an indisputable and absolute truth which we could hold on to and if things became too much or we lost our way, we could at least say "I may not know where I am going and I may not know who I will become but I did learn at one point in time many years ago that if you mix hydrogen and oxygen together in the proper proportions, you will have created water".

Of course, we all know that few of us really remember anything we learned in school.
We remember the moments in our lives when we had the audacity and the courage to write our own formulas - to be sure of one true thing to hold on to so that if things became too much or we lost our way, we could at least say

"I may not know where I am going and I may not know who I will become, but I did learn at one point in time many years ago to accept myself and to be brave enough to walk forward into freedom, even though I thought it might kill me. And I survived."

Update from Chad

I was starting to get worried because I had not heard from Arvedt in a couple of days - but all cellphone links to Chad are now blocked, so there was no way for him to text me. I had read that all non-essential personnel had been evacuated, but I wasn't exactly sure how they determined who was essential and who was not. So I waited, and checked news updates on the internet more often than was probably good for me.

I got a call early this morning. Arvedt is fine - he had just been airlifted to Libreville in Gabon and was calling me from a French military base. He said that he was caught in the middle of the fighting, because the German consulate was located between the presidential palace and the front line of the rebels. He told me that there were 5 unexploded grenades inside the embassy compound, and that there was shooting everywhere and that he had not slept for 3 days. He said it was not clear who was in control in Chad - there were periodic announcements over the loudspeakers proclaiming victory by the rebels, and then there would be another announcement by the government stating the rebels had been defeated. Arvedt said that this development was unexpected, because everyone believed that the government troops would defeat the rebels at a battle 80 km outside the city. He told me that he had just had hist first meeting with his French counterparts 10 days ago, and they had talked about emergency measures and crisis management, but the talks were informal.
Needless to say, he was glad they took place!

After waiting in the compound for 3 days, they were were rescued by French commandos. Everybody had to literally run across an open field into waiting helicopters, where they were flown to the French military base and then to Gabon by cargo plane.

Arvedt sounded very calm, and after he told me all of this he asked very simply
"how are you? How was New York?" .....I just had to laugh.

New Message

Today I was sitting at home eating soup. Pretty routine... I had a rehearsal later today, and then a performance at the opera. I was listening to a CBC radio programme about perfume. Suddenly, my phone started beeping, and I opened it to find that I had a new text message from my friend Arvedt who is first secretary at the German Embassy in N'Djamena, Chad. This is what it said:

"Hi Ben... we have 4000 rebels 10km out of town. They want to end the dictator's presidency. Lots of military at the presidential palace 500 m away. Lots of work. I am working closely with the French Embassy on evacuation plan for us 50 Germans, but it is too early to tell."

First of all, I couldn't believe that I was getting a text message from the middle of Africa. Second of all, I couldn't believe that a friend of mine was sending me
a text message in the midst of an attempted coup d'etat. One wonders what Edward R. Murrow would have done with such technology....

I texted Arvedt back and told him that I was glad he was safe, and to keep me informed...It is hard to believe that a few short weeks ago he was visiting me in Vancouver -- we were sitting by the ocean drinking lattes and talking about nothing in particular, watching the ducks swim by - looking at the reflection of the mountains in the water. I don't know how any of us have the audacity to do such things when there are horrors being perpetrated around the world every day... and yet we do.. and they probably sit by the water and drink coffee in Africa too, when they get the chance.

I finished my lunch, and went to work, where I put on my costume for the Vancouver Opera's production of "The Italian Girl in Algiers" . It consisted of a turban and a loose cotton robe and as I looked in the mirror, I realized that I looked almost exactly like the pictures of the Chadian rebels I had seen on the BBC website earlier in the day.

And I thought to myself: "The world is fucked".