Texture (partie 6)

Chronique  |  Maggie Léonard 

Donc, cette journée-là. Cette journée-là, j'étais chez Alexia et on mangeait des chips au vinaigre en regardant James Bond 3. J'aimais le côté… gars d'Alexia. Elle n'était pas le genre de fille à vouloir écouter des films d'amour collée-collée contre son chum. Mais, dans le fond, qu'est-ce que je savais des filles? Peut-être que c'était super cliché de penser que toutes les filles voulaient regarder Roméo et Juliette en buvant du thé à la fraise. Comment aurais-je pu le savoir ? Alexia avait été ma première et seule amoureuse. Le soleil d'été, qu'elle était à mes yeux, était venu engourdir la peine qui ne me lâchait pas depuis cinq mois.

Cela faisait un quadrimestre que je vivais sur un petit nuage. On se voyait tous les jours. On passait le plus clair de notre temps chez elle, mais parfois, on faisait un petit saut chez moi pour faire la bise à Marlène et arracher un sourire à Sacha. Ma douce vivait seule avec son père et son grand cousin. Elle m'avait raconté qu'il était plus qu'un cousin, mais bien son frère adoptif. En effet, le père d'Alexia avait adopté Vince – ledit cousin – lorsque sa mère l'avait abandonné plus jeune. On la soupçonnait d'avoir abusé des « plaisirs de ce monde » et d'être disparue dans la nature à la recherche d'autres divertissements. Je ne connaissais pas trop l'histoire de Vince, ou plutôt Vincent, mais je savais qu'en gros, c'était triste. Sa chambre était un ramassis de cannettes de bière vides, de vêtements sales, de traîneries laissées là par insouciance. Cet étrange personnage, pourtant si bien entouré de l'amour d'Alexia, me laissait perplexe de par son manque d'engagement dans la maison. Il vivait bien là, cela ne faisait aucun doute, mais il agissait comme un fantôme capricieux, qui vient quand cela lui chante, au plus grand désarroi des propriétaires. Il n'apparaissait jamais dans les photos de famille et Alexia lui trouvait toujours des excuses de ne pas avoir été à ces événements photographiés puis encadrés. « Oh! Quand on est allé à la cabane à sucre, il allait voir des amis. On aurait dû l'avertir plus tôt, c'est pas de sa faute s'il a pas pu venir, » ou encore « Ah! Non, mais à ce souper-là, il avait un concert, vraiment ça coûte cher un concert. Il allait pas y renoncer juste pour un p'tit souper... » Pourtant, je savais que cela affectait grandement mon amoureuse du temps. Elle qui était si calme, ordonnée et aimante, contrastait grossièrement avec cet être… sauvage. C'était comme s'il venait chez Alexia seulement pour se ravitailler, puis en repartait, sans culpabilité ni attachement. Vincent me fascinait, mais je ne l'avais pourtant jamais vu. Jusqu'à cette journée-là.

Alexia et moi étions donc en train de regarder Skyfall, lorsque la porte s'ouvrit brusquement. Le salon et l'entrée étaient adjacents, seul un petit muret surmonté d'une colonne délimitait les deux pièces. D'où j'étais assis, je ne pouvais voir le visage de l'arrivant, mais Alexia le reconnut.

- Vince! T'as faim? Tu veux quelque chose?

Il poussa un grognement et se retourna. À ce moment, mon cœur rata un battement et mon teint devient translucide. On aurait dit un vieux film de cow-boys où les deux ennemis, avant de dégainer leurs armes, se jetaient un regard haineux. Si j'avais effectivement été dans un western, le gros plan sur mes yeux aurait cependant montré toute la peur qui s'y cachait. Ceux de Vince, au contraire, affichaient un réel amusement. Il me sourit de la même façon qu'il l'avait fait ce soir-là, le sang en moins. Il eut même l'arrogance d'échapper un petit rire et de lancer un « Je repasse tantôt » avant de quitter la maison.

Alexia s’aperçut à quel point j'étais troublé, mais elle ne comprenait pas pourquoi. Je lui avais raconté l'histoire pourtant! N'avait-elle pas fait de liens? J'entrai dans une rage folle.

-C'EST LUI! C'EST TON COUSIN!! COMMENT T'AS PU?!

- Hein? Attends, rassieds-toi. Calme-toi, Em.

- CALME-TOI?! Il a TUÉ mes parents!

Je la voyais confuse et désespérée; elle marmonna que j'avais dû me tromper, que ce n'était pas possible, que son cousin n'aurait jamais fait une chose pareille. Je tentai de me raisonner. Elle avait peut-être raison. Peut-être que je m'étais trompé, que ce n'était pas lui.

- Écoute, le 4 octobre dernier, il faisait quoi ton cousin? m'enquis-je.

- Je… je sais pas trop, bredouilla-t-elle. Le 4 octobre… je crois qu'on fêtait mon père. Oui, c'est ça. C'était un samedi et la fête de mon père avait été le jeudi.

- Et Vince, il est sorti ce soir-là?

- Ils avaient tous pas mal bu, ça m'étonnerait.

Elle fixa ses mains jointes durant de longues secondes, puis levant ses grands yeux sur moi, comme si elle implorait mon pardon, elle lâcha :

- Je lui avais demandé d'aller acheter du lait. Pour accompagner le gâteau.

C'en était trop. J'explosai en un tourbillon de jurons et de larmes. J'envoyai valser les cadres qui étaient à portée de main, à la recherche d'une photographie de Vince. Je voulais le revoir.

- TU DOIS BIEN AVOIR UNE PUTAIN DE PHOTO! gueulais-je.

- Mais merde Emmett! Il l'a pas fait exprès! C'ÉTAIT UN ACCIDENT! répliqua-t-elle sur le même ton.

Je trouvai enfin une petite image coincée entre un billet de loterie et une carte d'affaire sur le réfrigérateur. Mes yeux ne m'avaient pas trompé. C'était bien lui. Et elle l'avait encouragé à conduire saoul.

Cela faisait bien vingt minutes qu'Alexia et moi nous nous postillonnions des insultes au visage. Mon incompréhension face à son obstination à défendre son cousin s'était depuis longtemps transformée en colère. Sans trop savoir pourquoi ni comment, mes mains se ramassèrent autour de son cou. Oh, je ne voulais pas serrer pour de vrai, juste lui faire peur pour qu'elle se taise.

Je ne vis pas sa main tâtonner la table basse. Je ne la vis pas non plus empoigner le cendrier de verre. Je vis cependant le choc dans son regard. Je ne saurai dire si je ressentis la douleur avant ou après le sang qui se mit à couler sur mon visage.

***

La dernière chose dont je me rappelai de cette journée-là, c'est ma main écrivant dans mon journal intime des mots dont ma vue brouillée ne pouvait qu'à peine capter.

Elle me prive de mes parents et maintenant de mes yeux.

Secret power to menstrual blood

Lifestyle  |  Amy Gan

Right now, menstrual blood—the yields from that time of the month—may be causing you, and others around you, anguish and resentment. A pain with no gain.

What if I told you lives could be saved with that blood? That this superfluous thing you throw far away could actually be of critical use?

Recent studies show that menstrual blood contains self-renewing stem cells, similar in properties to bone marrow and embryonic stem cells. These cells multiply and differentiate into different cell types (such as neural, cardiac and bone) which are used in transplants.

These studies only reveal a glimpse of what is yet to come; there’s a great promise for the future of clinical regenerative medicinal therapies. Unlike the stem cells used now, menstrual stem cells would be collected in a non-intrusive, ethical, painless and affordable manner.

There are already institutions which are anticipating this new technology, such as Cryo Cell. This company is based in New York and has already started collecting menstrual blood to be stored for future use.

3 Ways to Counteract Climate Change (In a Doable Manner)

Environment  |  Amy Gan

It's a modern phenomenon: anguish caused by climate change, yet a majority of inaction on the world’s part. 

Why is there so little effort put into fixing an issue that we know is important? The election of Trump is unfortunate in many areas, one of them including the environment. He denies climate change, wants to “cancel” the Paris Climate Agreement and wants to increase coal production. 

On the other hand, the top countries with the best environmental protection are Finland, Iceland, Sweden, Denmark and Slovenia. Most of their energy consumption has changed to renewable, and they protect their biodiversity (preserving the variety of plants). However, even if Sweden makes up only 0.2% of global greenhouse gas emissions, it is still a significant 20 million tonnes.

North America has been desensitized to these issues because of the abundance of mapped territory; our created waste is simply dumped out of sight (and out of mind). Our countries were built upon ideas of capitalism and exploitation of land, but it is time to peer over at our Nordic neighbours to tweak our attitudes towards our environment.

Here are a few important things to look into, explored in this article:

• Sustainability
• Veganism
• Support for more efficient energy sources

To start off, the role of buying sustainably in improving the environment and our personal lives has been unfairly neglected. 

This comprises that the product was produced in an ethical way and that the company is socially reliable. According to Business Insider, more Millennials are concerned with the sustainability of  products compared to Baby Boomers who are more concerned about supporting the economy. This is great! Something to look further into, nonetheless, would be to provide more support to sustainable companies and ditch those that are not (e.g., McDonald’s).

Also, buying local helps in more ways than you think. It reduces carbon footprint from the trucks and planes used to deliver your items. And the big companies which may provide you some luxurious comfort (if we’re talking about fashion) or cheap food usually:

• grow things using pesticide and toxic chemicals
• produce under sweatshop conditions
• are not cruelty-free (using animals in unfair ways)
• make tons of waste products.

            Next, a minimalist lifestyle is a great option (there’s lots of great guidelines and Ted talks on this topic). This means that you only buy the necessary, in an environmental and health-conscious way (no more of “oh maybe I’ll use that one day…”). Of course, there’s no rush to jump into the extreme; starting off with an awareness is a great start.

            Here are a few examples of inexpensive, Canadian and organic products: organic soap from The Soap Works ($2.29) (TAU and well.ca), bamboo toothbrushes from Brush Naked ($4.99) (well.ca), shampoo and conditioner from Live Clean ($7.79) (most pharmacies).

      Next, let’s look at veganism and its different versions:

• Dietary veganism: against eating any animal products.
• Ethical veganism: extending the philosophy to opposing the use of animal products in any way.
• Environmental veganism: avoiding animal products with the reason that industrial farming and harvesting of animals is environmentally damaging and unsustainable for the planet.

Reducing meat (and other animal-related) consumption is not all about the animals; it’s also about decreasing the following:

• methane production (a powerful greenhouse gas)
• fresh water consumption (this is becoming a larger problem!)
• factories, which produce an abundance of pollutants.

Another take on this is that around 2000 gallons of water are required to produce one pound of meat, according to Fielding School of Public health at UCLA in Los Angeles.

Personally, the concern I feel towards these issues mainly come from looking beyond ethical treatment of animals; it’s astonishing that one thing (like eating less meat) can lead to conserving water and reducing pollutants.


      Changing energy sources from destructive to sustainable is a real tussle for many governments. Their priorities have been employment and the economy, whereas the environment is usually placed far away. 

For example, despite fossil fuel’s notorious harm, an oil pipeline is still being financed, instead of investing in more renewable energy resources. This same attitude applies for coal power plants, which kill 13 000 American each year through coal pollution (the numbers climb to 260 000 people in China and 22 500 in Europe), according to the American Lung Association.

There must be a better way… and there is!

Here’s why nuclear energy is a great alternative: lots of power and low environmental damage. As Ted Talk presenter, Michael Shellenberger, brings to light, the fear brought by the term “nuclear” keeps us from environmental improvement.

Some people associate nuclear power plants with nuclear weapons; however, out of the 21 nations which have nuclear power, only 7 have nuclear weapons. Besides, the nuclear weapons were discovered before having nuclear power; they have minimal correlation. As well, these areas (namely, China, India, Europe and North America) have established agreements on nuclear weapons. Only a few nations (Iran and perhaps Venezuela) should need a closer surveillance for their work with nuclear, according to Shellenberger.

Another concern is the waste created, but nuclear still wins: in a year, nuclear waste would gather to be 20 tons, whereas coal waste would gather up to suffocating 8,000,000 tons of CO₂. Particularly, the 20 tons of nuclear waste can be sealed in a vehicle sized storage, whereas the 8 million tons of CO₂ spreads to every corner in our atmosphere.

Fossil fuel fans claim that less coal power plants leads to job loss, but there is large employment need in the clean energy sector as well. According to the Solar Foundation, the U.S. solar industry alone employed more people than the coal industry in 2014.

As countries turn towards nuclear power instead of fossil fuels, it would indicate an upcoming global readiness to enter a peaceful zero nuclear weapon world. As well, perhaps a combination of nuclear and renewable resources, such as wind and solar, would be an optimal way to provide a nation’s energy; one which runs 24/7, and the other runs when weather conditions allow it. The important thing is to cease the fear around nuclear, and help the change towards greener energy.

In essence, sustainability, veganism and cleaner energy sources can bring our planet to finally breathe again (we shall return the favour!). Starting with awareness, steps towards these three things can bring a world of difference if we all do even a little of what we can. Cheers!

CSA Expenses and What Followed

Editorial  |  Jérémie Gaudet

"Communism" is back. A "riot," a "revolution," a "socialist takeover" is needed. What we see is "corruption." They have been "collaborating with Trump."

Such are a few excerpts of posts one may currently find on Spotted: Champlain College Saint-Lambert. 

Fascinating. 

Sure, it may seem somewhat surprising to learn that the CSA has spent around $13,000 for administration and other high amounts for events, clubs, etc. Such numbers have been detailed and made explicit during the CSA General Assembly last February 20. 

The Blue Ink may not confirm or infirm the numbers posted on the CSA Facebook page and announced at the assembly, and whether the CSA is perfectly transparent or not is beyond the realm of knowledge of the situation of the newspaper. 

However, as an editor of the newspaper, I may confirm on behalf of The Blue Ink that it is somewhat unfounded to post that the CSA is corrupted without prior information. I am not writing this to defend the CSA or anything like that, but I am rather mentioning this on behalf of my journalistic disposition, which makes me tend to always seek correct information and facts before making any assumptions. 

On another side, I sure am proud to see that students try to get involved and concerned about the CSA and its expenses, as denouncing and criticizing is certainly part of the role of an active student citizen, provided that it is done grounded on realistic evidence. 

And now, as for what concerns the expenditures of The Blue Ink. 

The first thing one may note is that the students' newspaper is absolutely independent from the CSA. This entails that, aside from funding, all decisions and actions regarding The Blue Ink are solely taken by editors in chief Magalie Masson and myself. The CSA has no power whatsoever over us, unlike Champlain's other clubs. 

The budget allotted for the newspaper until this point of the current school year has been around $2,000. Of this money three paper publications of $600 each have been published and $200 worth of pens have been distributed to students in the past fall semester. 

Admittedly, this may seem like a lot. We have tried to trim the costs of the paper version of the paper, yet we use the least expensive format and paper the company with whom we deal offers. We have considered other printing businesses, but the transition would be too complex. Perhaps next year it will be possible. 

However, thanks to the great work of my colleague Magalie Masson, $300 worth of partnership with various sponsors have been approved for the current publication. Hopefully, this lightens the expenditures. 

The main point to be made here is to stay informed. Visit the CSA group on Omnivox. Ask questions. Come talk to us. 

Then you may criticize, once up-to-date with the facts. 

This is real involvement and your role as a student, not just posting unjustified comments on Facebook. 

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. 

Because her hero said so

Short Story  |  Merlin

It had been days now that the little girl witnessed the sunset and the sunrise through the vents of the clandestine rusty train. Her long black curly hair was caressed by her older brother, holding her close every hour of every day.

She had been strapped like a belt to him since he told her their mom was gone for a long trip in a country where bombs did not fall from the sky, where guns where not cheaper than cigarettes at the convenience store. No matter when she asked, he would always say that she was gone far away since thunder hit their house in the countryside.

She still remembered his blue eyes glaring at the rocks falling from everywhere, the roar of the weird metallic eagles flying in the sky. The dust was covering her from top to bottom, even when her war hero was done wiping tears off her face.

The flower at the muzzle of the community followed her brother everywhere, whatever he was hired to do. She would sometimes look at the watch pointer make two full circles before he would walk back to her.

But every night, when she thought she heard him crying in the darkness, he told her he was doing fine and that he would never lie to her; he would rather die than do so. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

And, finally, with stars shining in his eyes, he announced he bought tickets to meet their mother again. They only needed to catch a train, a legendary moving wagon that apparently never stopped.

One night, they fled their uncle that hosted them. She mounted on his shoulders and felt the fresh wind full of gunfire smoke swiftly draw peace signs in her hair.

Hundreds in the wagons were drawing hands for the little princess and her prince. They hopped on board rather sharply, as muscled men pulled her skinny but tall brother inside, her being his trustful backpack.

But as he seemed tense because everyone claimed they were approaching the border, he told her he was fine. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

The next morning, the shriek of the train brakes clawed into her brain. The unstoppable wagon was somehow now completely silent, completely desperate.

She followed her commands and climbed unto his shoulders. Her brother, the yin to her yang, asked her, trembling, if she trusted him. He wanted the certitude that the dearest piece of him would follow him anywhere.

She held him tighter than she never thought she could to answer. He whispered that they would be fine. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

The doors were slammed opened with a furious racket. The screams of agony of all the refugees next to her buried the blinding light in a pillar of dust. They all were horses galloping to their freedom.

"Stop! Or we will shoot!" someone shouted.

She asked her brother why they weren’t stopping, but he did not answer. The only thing he could see was the fence to jump. He ignored the barbwire facing him, he ignored the guns facing him. He imagined others would take the fall.

One loud bullet rang in the air. The stampede furiously stopped, looking for any wounded amongst the runners, to find none.

The few men on the other side watching her held machine guns, ready to fire, with enough bullets for every single one of the wild horses.

"This was the warning shot. There will be no other…" claimed their leader.

"They won’t shoot," said her brother.

"How do you know?’’ she answered.

"They won’t shoot," he repeated louder.

The crowd herd him this time. It was the spark that ignited the flame of their resilience, the drop that overfilled the vase of their sorrow. With cannons against them, they all lunged towards the fence.

She stuck her hear in his back, listening to his rapid heartbeat increase gradually.

She felt herself raising in the air and hitting the fence. Her brother, with the agility of a monkey, was climbing the only wall between them and her mother.

As he reached the top of the fence, a second bullet tore the air. The sound of her brother’s heart was as silent as the small flapping of butterfly wings.

It took only one other shot for the whole herd to be vanquished. Her brother’s corpse fell on the other side of the border, feeling more calm already, and her with it. She quickly tried to free herself from the cadaver, almost immediately grabbed by American border officers.

And, as they prepared to throw her over the fence into this war-torn country, she heard her war hero scream:

"Just take the kid. Just take the kid."

The officers suddenly stopped, observing the crowd stranding in the distance. The small girl, crying her heart out, held her arms out towards her brother, trying to hold him again in her arms. He was her only home, her only country.

There was no ticket. There was no safe haven. Her family was gone.

Without a brink of hesitation, her tears were forbidden from rolling down her cheeks. Her hands joined themselves in front of her; her mind closed itself to any weakening opening. Hope escaped her through every orifice.

"I’m going to see mom, and you will too one day. "

She saw her own reflection in the eyes of her brother. The soldiers were pulling her away from him, dragging her to this sainted America. And as this war finally found its way into her heart, she finally tore the veil covering her innocence.

"You’ll be fine," he desperately whispered.

And, even if her hero said so, she knew deep down that she never would.