March 5, 2012 (Page 12)

The last time I got Milano coffee-cupped, I couldn’t walk for a week SINCE 1918

Lit•er•at•ure Sup•ple•ment

U

March 5, 2012 | VOL. XCIII ISS. XLIV

(ˈli-tə-rə-ˌchu̇ r ˈsə-plə-mənt) n. 1. A small anthology of fictional pieces of work, not to be confused with works of journalism.

2. An annual tradition of The Ubyssey that highlights works of creative writing by the student community.

3. A four-page feature in this issue, which can be read on pages 6, 7, 8 and 9.

THE UBYSSEY

HIGH FIVE! P9

HELLO

GOODBYE P4 McElroy and Parson look at the AMS presidency

Women’s volleyball team wins its fifth straight national championship

MONKEYS

KILLED AFTER RESEARCH

GOES WRONG Macaque monkeys die after allergic reaction

P3

UNFAIR

TREATMENT AMS Security files discrimination complaint

P3

2 | Page 2 | 03.05.2012

What’s on 5

MON

This week, may we suggest...

Our Campus

One on one with the people who make UBC

CHARITY YOGA >>

AOπ Arthritis yoga fundraising: 2–5pm in SUB 207/209

AOπ will be hosting a yoga fundraiser. There will be two yoga sessions from 2–3:15pm and 3:30–5pm. A minimum donation of $5 to the Arthritis Society of BC is required to participate. There are 30 spots each session, so reserve early!

6

TUE

COFFEE? >>

8

THU

MUSIC >>

Milano coffee cupping: 11am @ Ike’s Cafe We’re not entirely sure what Milano coffee cupping is, but it’s been the grist for a number of rude jokes in our office. Stop by Ike’s and let us know whether it really is a high-risk sex act.

7

WED

FRI

From stink-eye to psychology Lisa Anderson Contributor

TALK >>

News Beyond Journalism: 12:30–1:30pm @ IKB 182 Lecture series featuring UBC journalism prof Alfred Hermida.

Hermida is a commentator on international news outlets on the future of journalism and new forms of digital storytelling.

9

CHRIS BORCHERT/THE UBYSSEY

Outside of UBC, Whillans is probably best known for her role in Juno, where she played Katrina De Voort, the “stink-eye girl.”

The Ruffled Feathers, Noble Oak, Young Pacific, Artinair: 8pm @ Pit Pub 30:LIVE makes its debut on campus with a lovely night of Vancouver bands. AMS Events plans on making this “a regular thing.”

DISCUSSION >> Educational Possibilities of Film w/ Alanis Obomsawin: 2–3pm @ Neville Scarfe 310 A discussion with documentary filmmaker Alanis Obomsawin.

Includes a screning of When All the Leaves Are Gone, a story about the power of dreams for the only First Nations student in an all-white 1940s school.

U

Got an event you’d like to see on this page? Send your event and your best pitch to printeditor@ubyssey.ca.

THE UBYSSEY March 5, 2012, Volume XCIII, Issue XLIV

EDITORIAL

Coordinating Editor Justin McElroy

coordinating@ubyssey.ca

Managing Editor, Print Jonny Wakefield printeditor@ubyssey.ca

Managing Editor, Web Arshy Mann webeditor@ubyssey.ca

News Editors Kalyeena Makortoff & Micki Cowan news@ubyssey.ca

Art Director Geoff Lister

art@ubyssey.ca

Culture Editor Ginny Monaco

culture@ubyssey.ca

Senior Culture Writer Will Johnson wjohnson@ubyssey.ca

Sports Editor Drake Fenton

sports@ubyssey.ca

Features Editor Brian Platt

features@ubyssey.ca

Copy Editor Karina Palmitesta copy@ubyssey.ca

Video Editor David Marino

video@ubyssey.ca

Senior Web Writer Andrew Bates abates@ubyssey.ca

Graphics Assistant Indiana Joel

BUSINESS

CONTACT

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Business Office: Room 23 Editorial Office: Room 24 Student Union Building 6138 Student Union Blvd Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z1 tel: 604.822.2301 web: www.ubyssey.ca

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STAFF

Andrew Hood, Bryce Warnes, Catherine Guan, David Elop, Jon Chiang, Josh Curran, Will McDonald, Tara Martellaro, Virginie Menard, Scott MacDonald, Anna Zoria, Peter Wojnar, Tanner Bokor, Dominic Lai, Mark-Andre Gessaroli, Natalya Kautz, Kai Jacobson, RJ Reid, Colin Chia, Ming Wong, CJ Pentland, Laura Rodgers, Jeff Aschkinasi

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LEGAL

The Ubyssey is the official student newspaper of the University of British Columbia. It is published every Monday and Thursday by The Ubyssey Publications Society. We are an autonomous, democratically run student organization, and all students are encouraged to participate.

Editorials are chosen and written by the Ubyssey staff. They are the expressed opinion of the staff, and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Ubyssey Publications Society or the University of British Columbia. All editorial content appearing in The Ubyssey is the property of The Ubyssey Publications Society.

Stories, opinions, photographs and artwork contained herein cannot be reproduced without the expressed, written permission of The Ubyssey Publications Society.

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“I’ve always been a bit of a ham.”

Ashley Whillans has had a strange journey from child actor to a keynote speaker at this year’s Multidisciplinary Undergraduate Research Conference at UBC. At age eight, she dragged her parents to an audition for The Sound of Music. “I didn’t get the part. I almost did, but after that I told my parents I wanted to get an agent,” she said. Acting wasn’t her main focus until after she graduated high school. “I moved out, got a serving job, got a better agent and started to audition.”

Ashley laughs when asked about what has been, to date, her most prominent role.

“They were looking for people who could make a disgusted face.”

At a casting call for Juno, the producer and two directors told Ashley that her disgusted face was great, “and then all of a sudden it’s in the trailer...I’m pretty sure it’ll say in the eulogy that someone writes about me, after I have a career and everything, ‘And she was the stink-eye in Juno. That was the way her face looked.’”

Ashley has, for the most part, left the acting world behind.

“I used to be an actor, worked at a bar, got home at three. I had a totally different lifestyle before I went to school.”

She talks about working at Whineo’s on Granville, moving houses every year of her degree and turning down multiple marriage proposals from a Russian ambassador.

“The experiences that I had, say, working at the bar on Granville, gave me a lot of life experience.”

With her hard-earned cash, Ashley moved to England to attend the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts—the London equivalent of Juilliard. “It turned out that at the end of it, I didn’t want to be an actor anymore.

“Looking back, everything makes sense...You get into acting because you’re interested in portraying characters, and you like doing character research, and are interested in different periods in which people lived. In psychology, it’s essentially that. In acting, you experience it. In psychology, you study it.”

Ashley is currently working towards an honours degree in psychology, and is studying happiness, well-being and pro-social behaviour with Dr Elizabeth Dunn.

Ashley’s constant smile is a mix of pride and sheepishness. It isn’t easy to land attractive research positions. “I didn’t get the job at first.”

After daringly requesting any position at all in the lab, a spot was opened up for Ashley, “and then the other girl in the project got a bit busy and she ended up dropping

out of the project, and I became the project coordinator of a huge study in my third year.

“I didn’t expect any of this,” she confesses. Ashley won the Russ Patrick Award last year for research writing, and just got accepted to study at UBC as a Master’s/ PhD student in psychology. “That just happened a couple of weeks ago, and that’s really exciting right now.

“What I take from the university experience is that you need to find ways to get involved that make you really happy,” she said.

“Find things that make you excited. I would really love to be teaching and researching. It’s a bit of a hoop dream because they’re not easy [jobs] to get. That’s what would make me super happy, if I got to have an office of my own and ‘Dr Whillans’ on the front.” U

Ashley Whillans Her most notable role Juno (2007)—Katrina De Voort Area of study Honours psych, focused on happiness and pro-social behaviour On the psychology of acting “You get into acting because you’re interested in portraying characters.

In acting, you experience it. In psychology, you study it. “

News

03.05.2012 |

3

Editors: Kalyeena Makortoff & Micki Cowan

LABOUR >>

Security employee launches discrimination complaint against AMS Andrew Bates Senior Web Writer

An AMS Security member has lodged a labour complaint against the AMS, citing unfair discipline and discrimination.

AMS Security supervisor Irfan Reayat has filed a complaint with the Labour Relations Board (LRB) saying he has been unfairly targeted by the AMS after helping unionize the security employees last fall.

Dave McPherson, senior organizer for COPE 378, said the AMS

tried to intimidate Reayat by issuing three letters of reprimand and attempting to eliminate his supervisor position.

Reayat was rebuked for refusing to accept a verbal warning about using a laptop at work, missing a rescheduled work shift, and alleging that the AMS was discriminating against Reayat through the first two reprimands.

COPE 378 has raised issue with Reayat’s use of a laptop, as the AMS allows student employees to use computers on shift. Reayat is

currently a law student at UBC. Reayat’s missed shift was rescheduled after he had already committed to work for UBC Security that day. McPherson said employees are allowed to have additional jobs and that Reayat gave adequate notice that he couldn’t cover the AMS shift. Reayat was subsequently suspended by the AMS for five days.

The AMS declined comment on the suspension. “Before the Labour Relations Board actually makes a ruling on the matter, we currently at this point don’t feel it’s appropriate

to make a comment on the specific case,” said AMS President Matt Parson.

“It was really a discipline, in our view, in order to intimidate,” said McPherson.

The AMS has also hired a nonunion assistant manager, and according to COPE 378, “it’s being done to be punitive. That’s our allegation, and we intend to prove it.”

According to McPherson, the incident has damaged the relationship with the AMS. “It puts it in very serious jeopardy,” he said. “It makes

ANIMAL RESEARCH >>

Four UBC research monkeys killed Andrew Bates Senior Web Writer

Four research monkeys have died in a Parkinson’s disease research experiment at UBC, and an animal activist group is questioning whether the deaths were accidental.

The four macaques were euthanized after complications in the experiment which induced Parkinson’s symptoms by injecting a chemical called MPTP. The study was intended to analyze how the brain is affected as the disease progresses and help develop treatments. The experiment involved 18 macaques in total.

The complications were described

by UBC neurology professor Doris Doudet as an “unexpected adverse event” in the November issue of the Journal of Cerebral Blood Flow and Metabolism . But STOP UBC Animal Research (STOP) activists claim the deaths were planned all along.

“It wasn’t an unforeseen adverse reaction,” said STOP spokesperson Anne Birthistle.

“They put...a very potent neurotoxin into the monkey’s brain to damage the monkey’s brain. It was intended all along to disable them severely.”

“This work was done with an approved protocol...over several years slowly collecting data towards this study,” said Helen Burt, UBC associate vice-president research.

“What normally happens is they start with a very small dose and it takes numerous doses over a long period of time for the animals to start showing the mild symptoms of Parkinson’s disease.”

In the case of the four macaques, they deteriorated so quickly that they needed to be euthanized immediately after scanning. Burt

us believe that this is an employer that wants to destroy the union and the bargaining unit.”

This is the second labour relations complaint from COPE 378. The union first filed for mediation after bargaining stalled in early February.

The union is now planning further action, and COPE 378 will be meeting at 6:30pm on Monday to discuss a potential strike vote. “I’ve negotiated 170 or 180 contracts, and I’ve only had 8 strikes,” McPherson said. “[But] to be honest, my opinion is this looks like one.” U LAND USE >>

Gage South layout draws criticism at open house

GEOFF LISTER/THE UBYSSEY

Kalyeena Makortoff News Editor

DAVID ELOP/THE UBYSSEY

A fence that leads to the Animal Care facility at the university.

compared the “idiosyncratic reaction” in the monkeys to allergic or unforeseen reactions in humans.

“It’s not always known why some people have an adverse reaction to a particular drug,” she said.

“These kind of things happen in humans, and this is exactly what happened in these animals.”

But STOP said a 2010 progress report on Doudet’s study indicated four monkeys were to be “sacrificed to neuropathology”—two at the six-month mark after showing mild symptoms of Parkinson’s, and the final two after twelve months.

“Animals should be able to recover from the Parkinsonism that researchers inflict on them,” Birthistle said.

“She’s intending to kill them all along, and then they’re talking about it as being unforeseen circumstances.”

According to the article, the surviving monkeys were able to care for themselves after recovering from the effects of MPTP. Burt defended the experiment, explaining that it passed the protocols set by the Canadian Council for Animal Care (CCAC).

“There’s a number of checks and balances in the system,” she said.

But STOP wants the study investigated after a veterinarian who reviewed the study for STOP called it “unnecessary, cruel and shocking.”

The group has called for a halt to the study and its funding immediately.

“We’re concerned about the cruelty inflicted on these animals on a long-term basis,” Birthistle said. “I don’t think Dr Doudet should have any actual duties while there’s a shadow over her work.”

Pascale Belleau, a CCAC communications coordinator, said there hasn’t been a formal investigation request.

STOP has been campaigning for more information on animal research since summer 2010. UBC released information on animal research numbers in November, and is currently preparing to release more information on animal research after a Freedom of Information request by STOP was approved in February. U

UBC researchers develop new technology to study malaria

UBC students win University Mobile Challenge in Barcelona

Gale Cup claimed by UBC Law

Marine biologists question shark finning laws worldwide

A new technology being developed

by UBC researchers will help clarify the causes of malaria. The researchers use a chip to measure the deformability of infected red blood cells, which experts say can help determine the best treatment of the disease.

The device will separate cells to be later analyzed by the system.

“Our results show that it’s possible to precisely measure the stiffening of red blood cells caused by the parasite at various stages of infection,” said Hongshen Ma, assistant professor in the departments of mechanical engineering and urologic sciences.

Students Michael Moll, Jeff Blake and Justin Locke won first prize at the University Mobile Challenge on March 1 in Barcelona for their paperless ticket application.

The mobile app is called “Good Nights” and is available on iTunes. It allows users to buy tickets on their phones. After the purchase, a digital copy of the ticket is stored, which the user can then show to gain entry to the event.

Moll, Blake and Locke created their company, called Good Nights Entertainment, a few months ago.

UBC competed against 13 international teams from countries including India, France, the US and UK.

News briefs UBC students from the Faculty of Law won the Gale Cup in Toronto this past weekend.Top law schools across Canada competed for the Cup, focusing on criminal-constitutional law.

This year, the 60 competitors were tasked with re-litigating the real life case, R. v. Sinclair. The participants had to determine whether or not manslaughter convict Terrence Sinclair’s rights were violated.

UBC’s squad were the winners, while the University of Toronto came second. Meanwhile, the teams from the Université du Québec a Montréal and the University of Windsor were ranked third and fourth respectively.

A recent paper by UBC marine biologists calls into question multiple worldwide laws which regulate shark finning.

Researchers Lea Biery and Daniel Pauly determined that many laws overestimate the percentage of a shark’s body mass that resides in the fins.

This oversight ultimately allows extra fins to be slipped into a catch without proper oversight of the fate of the shark. “[The laws] provide an opportunity to harvest extra fins from more sharks without retaining 100 per cent of the corresponding shark carcasses,” said Biery. U

The second round of consultations are currently underway for Gage South, but some resident and student groups are disappointed with the university’s proposal.

UBC Campus and Community Planning (CCP) have presented one option for the bus loop and surrounding area, based on feedback from the first round of consultations conducted in November 2011.

Students are concerned that the layout has been specifically designed to accommodate non-student housing. AMS President Matt Parson said that if such housing wasn’t being prepared for, the footprints of MacInnes Field and the newly rebuilt Aquatic Centre would be larger.

But CCP communications manager Kera McArthur said the area’s destiny is yet to be determined.

“Certainly we know that there’s been concern expressed about the possibility of non-market rental housing for faculty, staff and students in the [area, but] there was never a layout that did propose housing, or didn’t propose housing.”

Student advocates have said Gage South should be zoned “academic,” which would restrict the university from developing any non-student housing in the heart of campus.

In addition, an advocacy group called Friends of the Aquatic Centre wants the existing Aquatic Centre renovated and expanded instead of replaced, saying it will both save the university money and save components like high diving boards.

But John Metras, UBC’s managing director of infrastructure development, said that renovating and expanding the Aquatic Centre would cost approximately $2.5 million more than building anew.

Metras added that UBC Athletics decided a dive tower was unnecessary. One-metre and three-metre springboards will be built instead.

Consultations continue until March 7. U

4 | News | 03.05.2012

Hello and goodbye We ask the outgoing AMS president to reflect back, and the incoming to look forward Jeremy McElroy

Matt Parson

As the 102 AMS president, the bearded Jeremy McElroy said he thinks things went pretty well.

When asked to reflect on his year in the role, McElroy said most of his time was spent restructuring the AMS’s finances and continuing work on the new SUB. But he hopes to be remembered for different reasons as well.

“If I could be known as the president with the facial hair, then I will die a happy man,” he said.

Professionally, McElroy said he worked with AMS councillors and executives on the new SUB project to make sure they went “as big as they could.” He counts receiving a LEED sustainability certification as well as the inclusion of childcare facilities and a student-run brewery as victories, with the brewery being an initiative in which he played an especially big part.

“Everyone thought in the [SUB] project, this [was] as good as it’s going to get—and then we said, ‘No, it’s going to get bigger,’” said McElroy.

Financially, McElroy was relieved that the referendum to raise AMS fees passed.

He feels it allowed him to accomplish much of what he had set out to do. “Over the course of the year we adopted a new [AMS staff ] structure, [including] two new senior management positions and [we] are almost done hiring both of them, and then adopted a strategic plan that will help us through the next few years moving into the new SUB,” he said.

“If the fee referendum hadn’t passed, it would have been a very different year...We would have had to make cuts right, left and centre, so I think I was really privileged.”

McElroy reflected that his biggest disappointment was when the substantive bylaw change referendum didn’t meet quorum.

“The bylaw package failing in March of last year,” which would have changed when the AMS executive turnover occurs, “was pretty disappointing,” he said. “I would have liked to have been able to work in that model.”

Going into the next year, McElroy hopes the AMS will be able to move away from being “introspective” and reach out more to students.

“I think Matt’s ambitious project to meet new students every week is a great step in that direction. We need to make sure it’s not just Matt, but that the AMS itself starts to really turn their focus around.”

But while McElroy and his moustache will still be on campus next year as he finishes his political science degree, he’s glad it’s now time to let others make the decisions for the AMS. “I’ll be on campus and involved in some other things; getting back to the more traditional community service that I used to do.

“I made my commitment, and you kind of need to know when to bow out,” he said. “I think I’ve reached that point.” U —Micki Cowan

Matt Parson is not new to AMS politics, but taking office as the 103rd president of the AMS will take some getting used to.

“It still feels really strange,” he said. “I imagine that with time, I’ll slowly become accustomed...but it’s still kind of a strange title to have.”

After pulling off an unexpected win in last year’s VP Academic race, Parson is stepping into the presidency with a year of AMS experience.

One of his campaign promises was to gather input about the AMS from regular students every day, in what he termed his “1000 ambassadors” project. He offered to forgo one third of his pay for every week he fails to meet his objective.

He’s setting a goal of 20 students per week, and he has already started.

Aboard the bus to campus on his first day in office, Parson spoke with a varsity football player. When asked what the AMS could be doing better, “The student really didn’t have much to say, it was, ‘Um, I’m not sure.’ I guess that in itself speaks to something that the AMS might be able to better do, which is communicate what we’re doing.”

But the AMS has priorities. Issues surrounding UBC’s lack of governance and the fate of Gage South are expected to come to a head this year, and Parson sees his experience in university relations as an asset.

“I strongly believe the role of the AMS president is to represent students,” said Parson. “If that means you’re going to be more productive through [the] university process then I think that’s what should be done, but if the university process isn’t necessarily hearing student input or the student side of things, other means need to be taken.”

He mentioned he was “shocked” when he read a letter from Community, Sport and Cultural Development Minister Ida Chong, who is ultimately in charge of UBC’s land use and governance. Parson said Chong didn’t think there was consensus within the UBC community about adopting a representative governance model.

“There are no means of communication for the students and residents, [or] faculty and staff, to significantly alter land use planning on this campus, and there really need to be,” said Parson.

“I don’t think that five, ten years down the road the status quo would be accepted from the province as a legitimate governance system.”

Parson also hopes to put forward a comprehensive policy advocating for UBC to provide more affordable housing this year, as well as improving student mental health resources.

Although Parson said it wasn’t necessarily politics that drew him into the AMS, when asked to think of one notable figure he’d model his presidency on, his first thought was of Pierre Trudeau. “He had a personality, but at the same time he was able to get stuff done.”

Overall, Parson isn’t too worried about his term. “We’ll see how it goes this year, but I wholeheartedly think that it’s going to be a success.” U —Laura Rodgers

nd

GEOFF LISTER/ THE UBYSSEY

Jeremy McElroy pictured left, Matt Parson pictured right.

GEOFF LISTER/ THE UBYSSEY

ART COLLECTION >>

Committee to oversee sale of three pieces of art from AMS collection Laura Rodgers Staff Writer

The AMS is moving ahead with the next stage of selling three pieces of its art collection.

In January, the AMS launched a yes campaign to sell three pieces from its permanent art collection, citing poor storage conditions, insurance costs and false asset boosts as reasons to get rid of the art.

The collection includes paintings

by E.J. Hughes and several Group of Seven artists, as well as less traditional works including a ceramic watermelon by Gathie Falk and a giant inflatable landscape by the NE Thing Company.

The AMS is forming a committee to oversee the sale and determine how the money will be used. A new AMS Art Endowment Fund will be created, which will likely be used to acquire new pieces from student artists, or to add funding to the AMS’s artist-in-residence program.

How the fund will directly support on-campus student art is yet to be determined by the committee.

Three art experts from the university community will join the committee, including the AMS Art Gallery commissioner.

Scott Watson, director of the UBC’s Belkin Art Gallery, hopes to sit on the committee as well. “I think that the AMS people running

the collection should proceed cautiously,” Watson warned.

“You want to get the best price you can get for [the art]...But the real concerns are when and why you sell works from a collection.”

Watson said it will be important to assess the future of the collection and what it means to sell the pieces.

Former AMS VP Finance Elin Tayyar, who put forward the initial referendum question, said the AMS is free to sell any art from the collection. But newly elected VP Finance Tristan Miller disagreed.

“We will only sell pieces that we have acquired ourselves; gifts should not be sold.”

Tayyar expects $1 million

from the sale, and that investing the money through the Art Endowment Fund could generate $40,000 to $50,000 per year.

Miller was less optimistic, speculating that the sale could bring in approximately $750,000 and generate $20,000 annually, once invested.

Watson said both estimates were too high. “I’d [exercise] some caution in using those figures...The owner of the picture doesn’t get all the money.” Watson said the AMS needs to expect extra costs, including auction house fees if the committee chooses to auction the pieces instead of selling them directly to an interested party.

The AMS has already been contacted by at least six different art dealers and auction houses. Most have expressed interest in the highly valuable pieces by E.J. Hughes and Lawren Harris.

Tayyar thinks that the committee’s actions will likely run smoothly, but the AMS doesn’t have time to waste. “We need to move on [the sale] quickly because we have a sunset, as far as the timing goes.”

But Watson said there is a balance to be struck.

“A great deal needs to be sorted out before anything is done...

Sometimes you think you’re going to solve a problem, but then create further ones by solving one.” U

03.05.2012 | Supplement | 5

Wine! Refugees! Sex addiction! Humanity! Theft! Youthful mischief! Cemeteries!

! n o i s s i m a n O This and more in The Ubyssey’s annual literary supplement:

1

st

For those of you on a mission Ginny Monaco

I

Culture Editor

don’t often think of myself as a journalist. Working for The Ubyssey has trained me to act like a journalist and think like a journalist. But—as pretentious as it sounds—I think of myself as a writer first. It may not be an important distinction, but it’s part of the reason I asked to be the guest editor of the literary supplement.

The annual supplement is a chance for The Ubyssey to publish things we wouldn’t normally publish. We asked students to submit stories around the theme “On a Mission,” and the results were an interesting mix.

We had a number of great entries this year and I want to thank everyone who submitted. I’d also like to thank Geist magazine for providing prizes, as well as my fellow judges Bryce Warnes, Ubyssey columnist and creative writing student, and Ray Hsu, poet and postdoctoral teaching fellow in the creative writing department.

Happy reading! U

The Gravedigger Stepan Soroka

D

oyle liked working at night. The darkness allowed him to relax, and sometimes while labouring in solitude he felt truly at peace.

He prided himself in that. He knew that not many people could say they were happiest while at work. He had been working at Evergreen for 14 years, but the peace he felt while working had remained constant. The meditative state which he achieved at work was the most dependable part of his life. Friends, family, girlfriends, careers, all possessed and exercised the capacity to deny Doyle what he expected of them.

But digging was different.

Doyle graduated university with excellent marks. Not wanting to lose momentum, he had applied immediately to grad school. He found the rigorous workload rewarding. He paid meticulous attention to his readings and felt he genuinely engaged the first-year seminar he led each Wednesday afternoon.

Walking to the bus stop one morning Doyle saw a car careen out of control while taking a left-hand corner onto his residential street. Doyle froze, transfixed as the car clipped a fire hydrant before fixing itself into the trunk of a tree. As the red hydrant jarred loose at an angle, water shot up skywards, dislodging the hydrant from its fixtures and sending it spinning wildly across the street toward Doyle. Doyle felt small drops of water whip across his face as the hydrant passed by him and into the driver’s side window of a luxury sedan. He stood still for a moment as passers-by crowded around the runaway car. Then he broke into a swift walk toward the bus.

When Doyle dropped out of grad school, he simply stopped showing up. It was a week or two after he witnessed the accident that he had stayed on the bus during the stop at the university. The bus driver didn’t bother him while he waited the half-hour for the driver to start the route back towards Doyle’s house. When he got home he took his notebooks to the recycling bin behind his apartment building. Next he made two multicoloured waist-high stacks of textbooks beside the bin. The kid who answered his internet ad about the laptop was suspicious of the low price. He spent a full hour messing around on the thing, now void of any files and documents, before handing Doyle the $200 in cash.

When he told his parents a few months later, his mom reacted with nervous

INDIANA JOEL/THE UBYSSEY

affection, saying she “supported his choices.” His father didn’t say much. His friends no longer offered smiles and shit-talk, replacing them with suspicious eyes and poorly veiled inquiries into a possible drug habit. Doyle hadn’t done a line since undergrad, and shirked away from his companions-turned-inquisitors. His girlfriend stopped coming over and he stopped calling her.

Through these months Doyle kept playing the accident over in his head; the hydrant spinning in front of his face, the explosion of glass as it hit the sedan, the frame of the vehicle twisted in contour to the protruding hydrant. He read in the newspaper that the driver of the car which struck the tree had died. It was driven by a 14-year-old kid, drunk on wine coolers in his grandmother’s car. Doyle felt ashamed that the image of the fire hydrant kept him up at night, and not the death of the kid.

Sleepless nights mirrored Doyle’s vacant days. He lived off his savings carefully, spending his time in coffee shops, parks, looking at books without reading and sometimes nodding off and finding himself at a loss for the time of day. He experimented repeatedly with the right balance of weed and alcohol that might let him sleep at night. The pot made him paranoid and the booze made him sick. A failed experiment with melatonin resulted in a lucid, frightening hallucination of a black, scraggly tree with skeletal humanoid limbs emerging out of his television. Bark-covered digits groped at his face before he screamed and passed out.

Doyle’s savings had run out, and after one too many fuck-ups at a daytime construction job his foreman took him aside for a “talk,” and Doyle knew he was getting fired. When Doyle explained he was having trouble sleeping at night, the foreman offered him a job with a friend before telling him to pack up his shit and go home.

Doyle only worked at the cemetery at night. At first he was afraid he would simply reverse his cycle of unrest, but soon found himself sleeping soundly each day. A newfound peace enveloped his existence. He kept his restlessness at bay with nightly doses of labour, in a place where he was in solitude but not alone. Coffins became tallies, corpses which he buried all accumulated points toward an unknowable, unattainable, but unquestionably existent goal. Grave digging became Doyle’s mission, and he pursued it patiently year after year. If Doyle could keep putting bodies in the ground, then he could rest.

6 | Supplement | 03.05.2012

The Unaccomplished Mission One of the perks of befriending the pastor’s daughter was that she always knew when there was something good in the kitchen. Whether it was leftover Sunday School trivia prizes or soccer camp snacks, those “something goods” became ours, even if they were supposed to be left untouched. Our justification was that anything left unlabeled was fair game. The church fridge became our crime scene.

It was an adult fellowship night.

Our parents let us play by ourselves downstairs with the assumption that we would keep each other out of trouble.

We sat in our usual spot in the basement level of the fire exit stairs.

There was an open area that was used as a storage space for extra stage units and other obscure pieces of wood and carpet. It wasn’t a storage space though. It was a fort, a base, and a place for us to make memories.

“I’m thirsty.” I can never remember who said it, but it was the reply that mattered.

“There’s an unopened bottle of Coke in the upstairs kitchen.”

Our goal was clear. That bottle of pop would be ours by the end of the night, and our mission was to take it without anybody noticing.

Most fellowship nights, the adults would split off into small groups, and the church would be quiet. Sneaking into the kitchen was almost too easy when that happened. But that night, they gathered in the multi-purpose room, which was attached to the kitchen.

We weighed our options to get in and out without detection. The fire exit staircase connected to the multi-purpose room was the shortest and quickest route, but the most risky. We would have to go through a crowd of adults. Going up the main stairs was also dangerous, because it would take longer, and we would be out in the open. One wandering adult could spot us from a mile away.

We went with the fire exit stairs.

The plan was simple: walk in and pretend we’re looking for our moms, enter the kitchen, hide the bottle of pop in a sweater and run.

They handed me the sweater. I don’t know if it was my idea or if it was because I was the youngest.

But what I do know is that I found myself shoving a bottle of CocaCola into a hoodie with my sweaty hands.

I looked out the kitchen doorway.

I hadn’t noticed walking in, but the room was bustling. The noise level was at a moderate chatter, and the adults seemed oblivious enough.

Yet, the path I had just taken from the fire exit to the kitchen seemed further than it was a minute ago.

My throat went dry. I considered taking the main stairs or aborting the mission entirely. But no. I had to stick to the plan. My friends were counting on me. I prayed that I could become invisible for the next 30 seconds. And then I ran.

I ducked my head and weaved through the legs of the adults. I was doing well. Nobody gave me the slightest hint of acknowledgement.

But then something happened that I would never forget.

The bottle slipped out.

The weighted plastic on my fingertips suddenly turned into a bundle of air-filled cloth. I was moving too fast to stop it. My momentum carried me all the way to the fire exit, but I could still turn my head back to watch what unfolded.

The Coke hit the ground and exploded into a fizzing mess on the multi-purpose room carpet. The noise directed everyone’s attention to the bubbling remains of what was supposed to be our nighttime refreshment.

“Go!” I hissed. “Before anyone sees us!”

We bolted down the stairs in a flurry of panic and collapsed at the bottom. Our breathing was tinged with adrenaline. My heart knocked on my chest like a fist on a door.

And then we waited. We waited for someone to come down the stairs. We waited for someone to yell at us. But the only thing that came was silence.

Half an hour later, our parents called us to come up for snacks. I avoided looking at the dark spot on the side of the room.

To our relief, nobody mentioned the bottle of pop.

In fact, nobody knew it was us. U

the door before rapping its peeling paint. It opens with a measured hesitation, revealing a young lady, who, by Quinn’s estimation, hadn’t been sleeping well, which was made more evident due to her lack of makeup.

“Irene!” he says with open arms, putting a foot into the door.

“GO AWAY!” exclaims Irene from behind the door’s light frame.

“I’ve only come to apologize!

Don’t make me do it from out here.”

“You can do it from your whore’s house for all I care! Just get out of here!” She drives an umbrella into Quinn’s canvas shoes, sending a pain up his foot and his leg out the door. A battery of sliding locks, latching bolts, and a single metal chair ensure the door remains closed.

“I’m not even with her anymore!” screams Quinn through the door, “Okay, I’m sorry! Done. Off the

list! Be miserable! At least I tried!

Hateful, spiteful witch!”

Just as he turns toward the car, a bullet flies through the wood of the door, narrowly missing his head.

“We’re under attack!” yells Quinn, knocking over a pot and falling into its shattered remains.

Back on his feet, he scrambles towards the car. “Get in!” Barry howls through the open door as he revs the car.

Quinn falls into the seat. The car peels away from the curb, nearly colliding with an oncoming truck.

“I think that counts, don’t you?”

Quinn asks after a few blocks of silence, smirking as he crosses off ‘Irene’ from his dripping list. “Only 32 more apologies to go.”

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Barry twists the wheel as if snapping a small neck.

“You said it yourself,” smiled Quinn, “you’re my only real friend.” U

Rebekah Ho

“YOU’RE CLAIMING TO BE A SEX ADDICT,” SAYS BARRY, “ I REALLY DOUBT YOU HAVE A TRUE ADDICTION.” “WHICH MAKES YOU THE WORST SPONSOR EVER. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT MY DISEASE IF YOU DON’T?”

THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE: WALK IN AND PRETEND WE’RE LOOKING FOR OUR MOMS, ENTER THE KITCHEN, HIDE THE BOTTLE OF POP IN A SWEATER AND RUN.

Apologies of a Sex Addict Sebastian Yoh Chern

“Do you think you should have brought a change of clothing for the amount of things you’re going to get thrown at you?” asks Barry in a snide tone. “That is, if you even manage to get inside.”

After opening and closing the glove compartment for a third time, Quinn begins to toy with the rearview mirror. Barry slaps his hands and pushes him back into his seat.

Settling down for a moment, Quinn admires the passing cascade of colours that people chose to paint their houses.

“Personally, I always liked a white house. Grew up in a white house. It’s what I know. Why use colour when you have white? White’s good, offwhite’s even better,” Quinn muses.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Well, it’s all part of the process. I have to make these apologies before

I move onto the next step, anyways. I’m sure they’ll understand and embrace the change that I’m committing to. Speaking of which, as my sponsor, you should be more encouraging.”

“You’re claiming to be a sex addict,” says Barry, “I really doubt you have a true addiction.”

“Which makes you the worst sponsor ever. How am I supposed to accept my disease if you don’t?”

“It’s hardly a disease, more just a lack of self-control. To be frank, I only agreed to be your ‘sponsor’ because I happen to be the only person who can tolerate you for longer than an hour.”

“Which I love you for, by the way.”

Making a final turn, Barry narrows his eyes in an effort to read the address numbers.

“These house numbers are so spectacularly well-hidden, you’d think they were actually trying to

avoid guests,” says Quinn.

“I think this is it over here,” says Barry, pulling over at a white bungalow almost entirely obscured by ragged hedges and thorny blackberry bushes. Pots of half-forgotten dead roses and decaying lilies lie about the patio in spider dressed clusters. A single creeper vine had climbed the wall in an attempt to escape the filth.

“Cornsilk white, very classy choice, Irene, very classy,” remarks Quinn, ignoring the house’s condition.

“I’m starting to worry if you’ll even make it to the front door,” Barry asks hesitantly.

“Again with the negativity! This shouldn’t take too long. She’s very understanding, if I remember correctly. Actually, maybe that was the other Irene.”

Quinn exits the car. He readies a calculated smile upon reaching

03.05.2012 | Supplement | 7

The Fourth War

Sunny Mimi Chen

In childhood, there is liveliness— each small fragment of memory punctuated by an elating or traumatic event, and sometimes words will float back into your mind, but often you remember only what you need to remember. Exactly what you need to remember.

In my family, there is a common code of “see nothing, know nothing”. My grandmother made use of this code to escape the ravages of the Fourth War at the age of 18, mere days before the nuclear missiles shattered the lives of millions in our home country.

She left behind her older brother and two of her little cousins. When she arrived in Das-ka, the new capital of the untainted world, she was near starvation, pale as the whites of her own eyes, unable to stand upright, the skin of her bare limbs cracked and dry. Her cheekbones were sharper than razorblades, but her mind was dulled.

She would not speak, could not speak, for many years.

In Das-ka, the women worked in groups called Sectors. Each were expected to produce different goods and materials. In Das-ka, the men were few and scarce.

My grandfather chose her out of hundreds. The night of their wedding, she spoke one word to him, and it was, “goodbye.” She said goodbye to the war, goodbye to hunger and thirst, and goodbye to childhood.

Father was born nine months later, and my grandmother said goodbye for a final time.

In youth, there is curiosity and cruelty. The night I turned 13, I stole the set of keys from my father’s safe as he slept, and unlocked the front door of our house for the first time in my life—all four of the locks clicked in rhythmic fashion, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I viewed the outside: pitch black, silent. Rows upon rows of concrete huts, all the way to the horizon.

It reminded me of an abandoned beehive my father once brought home. The honey had melted on my

ROWS UPON ROWS OF CONCRETE HUTS, ALL THE WAY TO THE HORIZON. IT REMINDED ME OF AN ABANDONED BEEHIVE MY FATHER ONCE BROUGHT HOME. THE HONEY HAD MELTED ON MY TONGUE, TASTING OF FERMENTING BERRIES, BUT IT WAS NOT UNPLEASANT. tongue, tasting of fermented berries, but it was not unpleasant.

A swift hand suddenly knocked me off my feet, and the cold ground rose up to meet me. I lay on my side for a long time because I knew he was angry with me. The metal door had already closed with a thud. He asked me if I wanted to get myself killed, and for some reason, I thought to myself “yes.” It was a lie.

Father, he died almost a year ago, in a fight for our rations. Now he is sleeping in an unmarked grave; forever may he sleep, so that I may crawl out of the darkness.

My grandmother was 18 when she escaped the old country. I am 18 now, and the promise I made today is not any different than the promise I made when I was 4, 9, 13, 16. I have been rounding up other girls in my Sector, passing around words of power in secret, exchanging information and gaining support.

Hiding steel, bullets, chemicals and powders in our underground cellars.

The Fourth War ended a decade ago. But the fear and unrest has not settled. Still we live in pain and paucity. Still we hide and pray for revolution. This is a promise, made from us to you: we shall not rest until the capital of Das-ka is brought to freedom and light.

In death, Father, there is rest. I cannot follow the code any longer. U

Filles Rouges Chelsea Sweeney

“Filles Rouges? Eh?” “Filles Rouges? I can’t even pronounce that.”

“What does it stand for again?”

“Sorry, we don’t carry that here.”

“Filles Rouges? Oui, I have ‘eard of eet. Filles Rouges is French for Red Daughters.”

“But do you carry it though?” I asked impatiently.

“Non.” “Filles Rouges? My wife drank the last bottle in fact. What? No, we won’t be getting another shipment in for another week. Sorry.”

“Filles Rouges? Stands for Red Horse, right?”

“No, daughters. DAUGHTERS!” I sprint back outside to the car each time. Ava has the car running by the fifth store. She has no faith in me. The 14th store, I leave red eyed.

“Can you please just pick up another bottle? I’m pretty sure this kind does not even exist,” she pleaded as she peeled out of the parking lot.

“You’re becoming hysterical over this, Gabriel.”

“It does exist,” I assured her, wildeyed. “It’s the only one I can bring!”

We fishtailed onto the #1.

“Well, that’s fine and all but you really don’t have to go out of your way to bring something over to my parents. They don’t care what they drink. Honestly. They can’t even tell the difference between a B.C. wine and an Australian wine, and everyone knows that you shouldn’t drink that stuff. Australian wine is nearly as bad as Chilean wine and that’s saying something.”

“I have to find this bottle.” I was desperate.

“We’ve exhausted every government, private and bootlegging store within a 30 kilometre radius. We’re going to be late!” She floored it past a passenger van filled with children.

“Ava, stop the car.”

“Why? There’s no store until the next exit.”

“Please just pull over!!”

The Honda Civic fishtailed into the first exit lane. Ava accelerated past a Chevy with a trailer, signalled at the last minute and swung ahead into his lane and pulled over next to a ditch in a cloud of dust. I’m pretty sure part of her rear bumper fell off

“THEY DON’T CARE WHAT THEY DRINK. HONESTLY. THEY CAN’T EVEN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BC WINE AND AN AUSTRALIAN WINE, AND EVERYONE KNOWS THAT YOU SHOULDN’T DRINK THAT STUFF. AUSTRALIAN WINE IS NEARLY AS BAD AS CHILEAN WINE AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING.” too. There was an audible thunk and scraping sound as she turned off the ignition.

I didn’t make it out of the car in time and vomited all over myself.

“That’s it!” Ava was on her Blackberry faster than her skills at switching lanes to cancel dinner.

I stared miserably at what I did to her car.

“My mom made a huge meal for us. I feel pretty bad,” she confessed to me as she helped me out of my shirt and thrust it into the trunk. I picked up part of the bumper that fell off and put that in the trunk too.

“Your car sucks,” I told her.

“You’ve got vomit on your jeans too,” she pointed out to me. Three cars honked at us as they drove by. I pulled off my pants and they joined the rest of my clothes in the trunk.

“You need to calm down,” she told me sternly.

“I AM CALM,” I exclaimed as we stood behind the Honda on the side of the road, me in my Batman briefs.

“Can we please go home so I can change?”

“No,” she put her hands on her hips. “You’re not in the right mind for first impressions. You need to stop this obsession, Gabe. It’s just a bottle of wine.”

“I’ll find it somewhere! Just give me a little more time!”

“No. You want to know why?

Because you get so worked up whenever you are excited, or nervous or anxious. And you ALWAYS vomit in my car. It smells like vomit all the time now. I can’t even drive with the windows rolled up.”

Another car honked at us and I got back in the car. I wiped my eyes quickly while she was coming around the other side of the car to get into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go to your parents,” I told her quietly.

We drove away back onto the #1, made it back to the apartment in 20 minutes. Ava propelled me into the shower while she picked out my clothes and practically redressed me. The 30-minute drive to her parents turned into a 15-minute drive with Ava behind the wheel.

Her mother took one look at my face after being introduced, and made me sit next to a bucket in the living room while she and Ava reheated dinner. Her father turned on the Canucks game on the television and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I asked for water. He told me it was a shame that I was feeling unwell because he found this extraordinary bottle of French wine and wouldn’t I like some? He brought out a bottle of Filles Rouges and Ava just shook her head sadly at me. Her dad looked at the bottle, puzzled.

“It’s very good,” he assured me. U

8 | Supplement | 03.05.2012

Dead On Your Feet Tristan Koster-Pickering

Maysaa had stopped sweating. It was something that she noticed suddenly. It was no less hot though, no less oppressive on the road that she walked. The sun still scorched the earth and baked her skin, her lips were still cracked­­—but they had stopped bleeding.

Maysaa’s steps were getting slower, and every one brought her closer to her end by smaller amounts. Her feet dragged a little more each time.

She had walked with poise once, with her head held high.

Raja couldn’t walk any more.

When they left their home she had walked with her mother, her little hand clutched in Maysaa’s.

The journey was much harder for someone so small though, and she couldn’t go on by herself after the first day. Maysaa picked her up and wrapped her scarf around Raja to give her some small protection from

the sun. Maysaa’s hair swung freely now in thick, dirty knots.

“Hooyo,” Raja whispered, “where are we going?”

“I told you Raja, we’re going to the camps. So you can have a drink.”

“I’m not thirsty hooyo.” Maysaa had given the last of the water to Raja before they had started to walk, four days ago.

“Well I am,” Maysaa said. “We’ll put some water in a cup, and you can drink it when you are thirsty.”

When they had started walking, each death in their small desperate caravan had been a tragedy.

When someone fell, the march had stopped and people tried to help.

When they couldn’t help, they would dig a shallow grave and say a few words before moving on. Now they left people where they fell, and they would say a quiet prayer as they passed by.

“Will aabe be there?”

Maysaa’s mind fell back into

memory. She thought about her husband shouting at the men in the jeeps with their guns. Maysaa remembered the men said that they needed the food and water for their war. She remembered when they told her husband to beg for his life, and the gentle pop that came when he refused. That’s when she took Raja and they started to walk.

“Yes, yes dear, he will be there.

You have to hang on, for aabe.”

Maysaa wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the tears. There were only the awful wracking sobs that nearly brought her to the ground.

Somehow, Raja lifted herself up a little and wrapped her skinny arms around Maysaa’s neck.

“It’s okay hooyo.”

When the sun set they stopped because they couldn’t see the road anymore. Their feet were glad for the rest, but the cold meant that those who fell asleep often did not wake up. All night Maysaa kept careful watch over Raja, rocking her gently and asking her answer questions to keep her awake.

“How many goats did we have Raja? I forget.”

“Six hooyo.”

“That’s right, and how many cows were there?”

“Nine hooyo.” Maysaa frowned.

“Nine? Weren’t there only eight?”

“No hooyo. One had a baby in the spring, remember?”

Of course. Maysaa remembered the calf now, a young healthy bull. It seemed so long ago, but the memory of his first steps still made her smile.

He had been the first of the herd to die. When the drought started, his mother’s milk dried up and he would spend all day and night calling to her for food. All his mother could do was be close to him, and she died soon after he did.

Sunrise brought relief. The gathering light warmed her body and the still cold air soothed her burns from the days before. It was in the morning after they started to walk again that Maysaa saw the white tents of the camps.

“There it is Raja, we’re almost there. Are you thirsty today?”

Maysaa looked down at her daughter, her eyes were closed.

A murmur went around as others saw camp. It didn’t bring them happiness; most had resigned themselves to dying on this road, and the

hope of a different fate was a cruel trick to them.

Maysaa thought only of Raja. She clutched the girl close and tried to run but she fell. She didn’t trip, her legs couldn’t hold her any more Maysaa fell on her side, she felt the cold ground on her face and arms. She felt Raja, still and quiet beside her. She heard the shuffling footsteps as others passed by with their small prayers. She closed her eyes.

“Hooyo?” Maysaa felt a hand on her cheek.

“We should go hooyo. Aabe will be waiting.”

MAYSAA REMEMBERED THE CALF NOW, A YOUNG HEALTHY BULL. IT SEEMED SO LONG AGO, BUT THE MEMORY OF HIS FIRST STEPS STILL MADE HER SMILE. HE HAD BEEN THE FIRST OF THE HERD TO DIE.

Before the Brothers Met: Digital Mission Arman Kazemi

Cutie pie, you’re my sky, air-breath and

Wind…

Every time I fly away

you’re What sends me in.

I have touched your message That flutters in

the

air, And delivers a shock

A sudden

vibrant ring; And I bend to touch the key To feel the whisper

That it sends.

Oceans have become are

atmo-sphere And galleys a vessel Beneath the

skin; A wave that never crests And offers an instant Whisper at your finger

tip.

U

First person to enter The Ubyssey office and hug Geoff Lister wins 100 free copies of the paper.

Great for swatting flies!

COME BY THE UBYSSEY OFFICE

SUB 24, FOLLOW THE SIGNS

Sports

03.05.2012 |

9

Editor: Drake Fenton

VOLLEYBALL >>

Drive for five complete, ‘Birds take gold

UBC women’s volleyball team wins fifth straight CIS title in five-set battle with Alberta Drake Fenton Sports Editor

At one point on Sunday night, the UBC Thunderbirds women’s volleyball team was on the precipice of having their streak of four consecutive national championships come to an end.

In the fourth set, down two sets to one, the ‘Birds held a slim 10-9 lead over the University of Alberta Pandas. With a national title on the line, UBC exploded. They went on a 10-3 run to push the game to 22-14. It was a change in momentum Alberta would never recover from.

In a five-set battle (25-21, 15-25, 19-25, 25-20, 15-12) UBC captured CIS gold for the fifth straight year in a row.

“We found a way,” said UBC head coach Doug Reimer. “I couldn’t be prouder of this group.”

Until last week UBC was the unquestioned favourite to win nationals. They were ranked No. 1 in Canada all season and finished the year with a 18-2 record.

Then they met Alberta in the Canada West final. In five sets the Pandas dethroned the ‘Birds, and entered the CIS tournament as the No. 1 seed.

UBC began nationals in unfamiliar territory. Alberta had proved they weren’t invincible, yet it didn’t appear the T-Birds received the memo.

They cruised through the quarterfinals and the semifinals, dispatching their opponents with relative ease.

As fate would have it, Alberta did the same.

In the first set of Sunday’s gold medal game, Alberta overwhelmed UBC offensively, taking a quick 10-6 lead. The T-Birds doggedly pursued the Pandas through the remainder of

JAY RAUTIN/COURTESY THE CIS

UBC celebrates their fifth straight national title. The ‘Birds currently hold the longest running championship streak in Canadian university sports and the second longest in UBC history.

the set, eventually finding themselves down 20-16.

With the pressure mounting, UBC’s experience took over, propelling them to go on a 9-1 run and win the set.

“I think of the first set as symbolic of the rest. We were able to hang in there and turn things around,” said Reimer. “A lot of teams, when they are getting it handed to them and when it’s not what you are expecting to happen...they kinda go away. We never did.”

Their ability to persevere became essential in the second set. Alberta came out flying and absolutely

dominated the ‘Birds. They played with confidence and UBC simply looked over-matched. The Pandas opened with a 6-0 run, and defensively were able to neutralize UBC’s Kyla Richey, who was named CIS MVP earlier last week.

The third set played out in a similar fashion, with UBC never truly looking like they were in contention.

It took the emotion of UBC’s spectacular fourth set comeback to swing momentum back into the T-Birds’ favour.

“We just really knew that Alberta’s an amazing team and we had to take every point seriously.

We’re not invincible,” said secondyear outside hitter Lisa Barclay. “So we had to come out and play, we learned that last weekend. Coming out we really wanted this and fought really hard, so I thought we deserved it in the end.”

Barclay led the ‘Birds with a game high 12 kills. She also added 5 service aces and 1.5 blocks. For her offensive prowess, Barclay was named the tournament’s MVP. In the fifth set, with fear and doubt thundering in the minds of Alberta’s players, UBC took control of the game. Leading 8-7, the ‘Birds scored 5 quick points to put the

game out of reach and keep UBC’s dynasty intact.

With the victory, the women’s volleyball team became only the second team in UBC history to win five consecutive national champions. And with only Richey and Rayel Quiring set to leave the program, next year they will have a good chance of extending what is currently the longest running championship streak in Canadian university sports.

But right now, the team is content to celebrate—or, as Richey tweeted hours after the game: “I don’t really know what’s happening right now. But I like it.” U

U

JAY RAUTIN/COURTESY THE CIS

Fifth-years Kyla Richey and Rayel Quiring are presented with the CIS trophy. They have won CIS gold every year they’ve been at UBC.

Now that all the sports are over for the year, write for sports!

Drake Fenton sports@ubyssey.ca

Opinion

03.05.2012 |

10

Editor: Brian Platt

The AMS’s calm year Editorial

GENIE CHEUNG/THE UBYSSEY

Sent back in time to dominate the court.

The Last Word Parting shots and snap judgments on today’s issues Let’s see more of UBC’s creative writing talent Our annual literary supplement is a chance for readers to get to see creative writing from some of our most ambitious and talented students. It makes us wish that there were more opportunities to see their work.

The good news is that there is— if you know where to look. UBC’s English department publishes a twice-annual journal called The Garden Statuary (TGS), which features creative and academic writing from undergraduate students. The work is published on TGS’s website, which isn’t ideal for reaching new readers but is better than nothing, which is what we had before.

TGS is brand new, having published its first issue in December 2011, and we hope it survives because it seems very odd that English would be one of the only undergraduate programs to not have a journal featuring the work of its students.

UBC’s creative writing graduate program also produces a literary magazine—but students in the program can’t contribute to it. This is an understandable rule to prevent nepotism, but it unfortunately takes away a prime venue for some of UBC’s most talented writers.

We will continue to publish our literary supplement every year, and we hope it inspires more UBC students to find ways to distribute their work.

UBC facilities should serve the whole community In recent years, the university has been trying to build a new Aquatic Centre. We think this is a good thing, as the current building is getting very old and isn’t energyefficient. But what isn’t good is that UBC’s plan for the new building ignores what members of the community want.

A group called Friends of the Aquatic Centre has spoken out against the proposed changes for a number of reasons. Most importantly, UBC would like to do away with the high diving board (the

only one left on campus), eliminate the deep end that the diving club uses, and decrease the amount of recreational swimming space available.

In short, the group wants the Aquatic Centre to remain open and accessible to all, not transformed into a building that almost exclusively caters to competitive swimmers.

Of course, these days “open and accessible to all” isn’t UBC’s first concern when they build facilities.

It’s about what donors and elite users want. Consider the fate of the UBC Tennis Centre, which was rebuilt two years ago and became less accessible to the public and more focused on training competitive players.

UBC is a public university and a de facto municipal government for nearly 20,000 people. When determining the future of the local swimming hole, they should heed local concerns. Sadly, their depth of empathy is nearly as shallow as the new pools will be.

A welcome change in tone from the AMS on Gage South Development in Gage South has been a contentious subject over the past year at UBC. A group of students has been working to mobilize the campus to fight against nonstudent housing by creating petitions and attending open houses to voice their opinion.

Throughout this time, however, the AMS has been fairly passive, at least to the public eye.

But in the last few months, their tune has changed. Rather than just politely reminding students to fill out surveys, the AMS is finally starting to stand up against what it doesn’t want. In the February edition of their newsletter, AMS Insider, the AMS flatly stated that they don’t support non-student housing in the area, saying (with student in bold font), “This is the student heart of campus.”

This is a welcome change, and a stand that the AMS shouldn’t be afraid to take. A certain amount of

backroom negotiating is understandable, but when students are expressing their wishes to keep Gage South as a student-centred area, the AMS should be leading from the front. That’s the point of having a student union in the first place.

Healthy skepticism is required when it comes to food labels Canadian consumers have become much more conscious over the past decade about the products that they buy. Nowhere can this be seen more than with the rise of fair trade coffee, something that’s on our mind with the beginning of Fair Trade Week at UBC. However, “fair trade” has become synonymous with “ethical,” which is problematic for many reasons. As with any label, one needs to look into the background of it to make sure it actually delivers on its promise; for example, foods labelled as “natural” don’t yet have any regulations saying what that actually means.

Critics of fair trade often point to licensing fees and an insistence that farms be run as cooperatives as ways that the poorest farmers can actually be hurt by fair trade. This doesn’t mean that fair trade may not give a net benefit. But it means that, especially at a university, we should continue to think critically about what we buy.

Correction The March 1, 2012 issue of The Ubyssey had a story on the new biomass plant being built for UBC. A sentence at the beginning of the story referred to problems at “university plants” in the United States.

However, this left the false impression that more than one plant was constructed.

As the University of Montana project was cancelled before anything was built, the sentence should have referred to problems with “university projects.” The Ubyssey regrets the error. U

Last Wednesday, the new AMS executives officially took office. This means it’s time for us to take a look back at the presidency of Jeremy McElroy.

McElroy’s term began with an election scandal and ended with the groundbreaking of the new SUB. For a time it seemed possible that McElroy would never even have a chance to be president, but last year’s elections administrator chose not to disqualify him for the anonymous website he co-created. He recovered to have a fairly stable year as president.

The most obvious point to make about McElroy’s term is that he successfully avoided a giant scandal on the scale seen by the last two presidents (the UN complaint under Blake Frederick and the Gaza donation under Ahmadian). It’s rather silly that we feel the need to congratulate a student union president on not embarrassing the organization, but such is the recent history of the AMS. The one time this year that the AMS did make it into newspapers across the country was due to excitement over their plans to have a student-run brewery in the new SUB. The brewery is one of those rare AMS projects that is attention-grabbing, tangible and realistic. It will likely be something that the whole executive team can be proud of years from now.

A student fee referendum and an executive wage increase both happened during McElroy’s term, though he and the other executives do not hold much responsibility for either. Most of that work was done by

other AMS members.

On the policy front, McElroy made some progress in smaller lobby campaigns. But his biggest push was to get the AMS to become a full member of the Canadian Alliance of Student Associations, and he was never able to get Council’s support.

Perhaps the biggest effect McElroy had on the AMS is one that was easy to miss. Under Ahmadian’s presidency, the AMS began negotiating with the university in a behind-thescenes manner, as opposed to public messaging. McElroy continued this strategy, rarely attempting to rally student popular opinion behind any of the AMS’s policy positions. This marks a more professional style of negotiating, but it also abandons the only real weapon that the AMS has in its arsenal: students themselves.

The most prominent example of this has been the Gage South consultation. While a student group led largely by Sean Cregten and Neal Yonson mounted a strong campaign to oppose non-student housing in Gage South, the AMS has largely remained quiet on that issue. But as we note elsewhere on this page, the AMS is now taking a much more aggressive and direct tone—and it’s no coincidence that this is happening while McElroy is leaving and Parson takes office.

McElroy’s term was a mostly calm one that caused little controversy.

Considering the debilitating scandals that came before him, that makes him the best AMS president in at least three years. But students would be justified in feeling underwhelmed that the one time they really noticed their student union this year was when it announced a new brewery. U

Academia goes to work Perspectives >> Gordon Katic

There is a fundamental tension that pervades all academia, and it manifests itself most clearly when controversial political issues come to the fore.

Historically, universities have thought of themselves as depositories for knowledge. In this view, professors are dispassionate and impartial stewards who protect the fruits of inquiry from the capricious whims of social, political and cultural oscillations. Partisan politics and social activism are not the realm of the academy; our community is not that of the everyman, it is the community of scholars past and present—from Plato’s Academy, to the medieval monasteries, to our present day.

However, this view has faced a barrage of challenges. The left tells us that the academy, shaped by dominant discourses, constructs cultural hegemonies that advance narrow class interests. The right tells us that our ivory tower elitism renders us ineffectual—even pernicious—by disconnecting us from common people and their common experience.

These challenges have caused a pronounced shift in the way the academy situates itself in the broader community. From the teach-ins of the 1960s to the community service learning initiatives of today, our universities are more engaged than ever before.

According to UBC’s strategic

documents, we are to engage locally and internationally, utilizing our knowledge and expertise to stimulate social change in service of the public good. Nevertheless, many faculty have cautiously entrenched themselves with the old guard.

For fear of losing their academic credibility and political legitimacy, there has been a reticence to take on the “issues facing humanity in the 21st century” (to borrow UBC phrasing).

But today, I have never been more inspired by my professors.

In the wake of Bill McKibben’s November visit to UBC, a number of concerned faculty created UBCC350, a group dedicated to advocating for meaningful climate action. The question was put quite bluntly by Bill McKibben: “If you are not going to take action on the most pressing issue facing our civilization, what are you saving your legitimacy for?”

They heard the message. A network of leading professors from a variety of disciplines joined with student activists, committing themselves to getting their hands dirty.

This Thursday at 5pm in Irving K. Barber room 182, a few of those professors and students (myself included) will be speaking at a UBCC350 event about the Northern Gateway pipeline and BC’s rising coal exports.

By bridging the gap between activism and academia, UBCC350 is exemplary of what a university ought to be—a centre for dialogue, and a powerful agent for progressive social change. U

Scene

03.05.2012 |

11

Pictures and words on your university experience

LIVING >>

Why I love the zombie apocalypse Melodramatic Musings Will Johnson

I had a dream the other night about the zombie apocalypse.

Quite often, I don’t remember my dreams. I’ll wake up with the fragile remnants of the dream still lingering at the edge of my consciousness, but the more I try to hold on to them, the quicker they slip away.

But this dream was too good to forget. In my head, I was in full-out Bruce Willis mode. I heaved myself through ravenous hordes of the undead with a hatchet, slicing open skulls and watching bloody bits of brain smatter my arms and chest.

Normally, I’m not a very violent person. My single attempt to punch someone, back in high school, was an astounding failure. (I completely missed my opponent’s enormous head, and the force of the punch spun me around and threw me off balance.)

I rarely lose my temper, and when I do my voice is my primary weapon. I find it hard to imagine anything making me angry enough to physically attack someone.

But here’s the thing: the

rules change during the zombie apocalypse.

In my dream, I was struggling to find safe passage to Venice to warn my girlfriend Darby of the coming onslaught. I was worried that I was too late. And I was willing to do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. This included gleefully massacring a countless number of the moaning, rotting undead.

“We’re sorry, sir. But all the airports have been closed,” I was told once I reached YVR. “There are no flights to Europe.”

“Then get me a fucking boat,” I rasped, my shirt torn and blood-drenched.

Sadly, my mission was incomplete. My last memory of the dream, before being rudely awakened by my damsel in distress (she was calling me on Skype, from the real world), is of hacking my way through a pile of rotting bodies as they clawed at me.

Their gaping maws drooled blood as I slashed open their skulls.

This dream didn’t come without inspiration. Every Sunday night I watch The Walking Dead with my roommates. Sometimes we even watch the follow-up show, The Talking Dead, where celebrities gossip about their favourite parts of the show. I’ll admit it, I’m hooked.

I’ve written before about my soft

INDIANA JOEL/THE UBYSSEY

“The sex appeal of vampires is readily evident. So is our interest in immortality. But why are we drawn to stories about walking corpses?”

spot for bad television, as evidenced by my former obsessions with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, True Blood and Battlestar Galactica. But my newfound interest in zombies is a different beast altogether.

The sex appeal of vampires is readily evident. So is our interest in immortality. But why are we drawn to stories about walking corpses

that rove around, trying to kill us?

Why do we find these creatures so interesting?

I’m sure there are a multitude of answers, but I think one of the basic interests boils down to this: we all want the chance to be a survivor, to be the special person singled out to battle the rest of the world. And at the heart of most zombie narratives

is the desire to protect our families and our loved ones.

When I surfaced from my dream and answered Skype to talk to my girlfriend, I was relieved to see her body devoid of rotting flesh and oozing blood. I felt thankful to see her pretty, smiling face. And I felt it, just a little bit stronger, when I told her how much I love her. U

12 | Games | 03.05.2012 46- Sheath 48- Bigshot 50- “From according to his abilities…”

51- Not ‘neath 52- Equipment 54- Pass through 61- Singer Sedaka 63- Functional 64- Bargain 65- Rice-shaped pasta 66- Farm machine 67- Hostelries 68- Abound 69- Condensed moisture 70- Carry

42- Agreement 44- Dedicated to the Love 47- Small tree 49- Accept as true 52- Gnarl 53- Able was ...

55- Not much 56- Egypt’s river 57- Killed 58- “All The Way To ”, song by REM 59- Pessimist’s word 60- Additional 62- Actor Herbert

Down

(CUP) — Puzzles provided by BestCrosswords.com. Used with permission.

Across 1- June 6, 1944 5- TKO caller 8- Garage sale sign 12- Green land 13- Having auricular protuberances 15- Ammo 16- Thin stratum 17- Babble 18- kleine Nachtmusik 19- At once 22- One circuit

23- Writer Hentoff 24- Blue hue 26- Reebok rival 29- Kitchen 31- Admiration 32- Sleep disorder 34- Rice dish 36- Beaver creations 38- Small mountains 40- James and the Giant Peach author 41- Sag 43- Device with 88 keys 45- Sticky stuff

1- He loved Lucy 2- Per 3- Composer Khachaturian 4- Aden native 5- avis 6- Part of Q.E.D. 7- Celebration 8- Enzyme ending 9- Cudgel 10- New Rochelle college 11- Pace 13- Tomb inscription 14- Fourth letter of Greek alphabet 20- Arp art 21- Quick sharp bark 25- Put on it!

26- Alert 27- Withdraw money from use 28- Long-billed sandpiper 29- Australian cockatoo 30- Lout 31- Append 33- Actor Wallach 35- Andy Capp’s wife 37- Caribbean dance music 39- Meddling person

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Never use me, please..

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