Recent Columns

As obesity becomes an issue in developing nations, I ask you this: Will you go hungry with me?

You don't want to raise a generation that cares about others, do you?

Let's hope any pursuit of justice takes the highest road possible.

The booby prize given by the U.K.-based Plain English Campaign for funniest remark last year by a public figure goes to U.S Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld.

Christmas doesn't ask, Who is Jesus? It asks, Who are we?

A car is sprayed with gunfire. Several men in the bullet-riddled vehicle are left slumped over, bloodied, quite dead. A scene from The Godfather? No, just Yemen.

In the Middle East there s as big a debate over the media as there is here. Some back Al-Jazeera and some CNN. And some read independent papers.

Call me a dreamer, but ever wonder how things would look if John F. Kennedy was involved in today's so-called war of civilizations?

Liberal democracies almost never fight each other. They'd rather have the good things.

We're in what's called the Pearl of Africa, where red-dirt roads cross rolling, green countryside; where elephants get the right-of-way when on safari, and, even in the capital, wild monkeys might run across your tin roof and wake you in the morning.

Iraq. Can it be saved? Six months after its liberation, Iraqis are still short on power, electrical and otherwise. The Yanks are still being greeted with grenades as much as with flowers and hugs. And how did those weapons of mass destruction disappear?

This country is one of contrasts. Red-dirt roads cross lush- green landscapes. People familiar with war smile easily and greet you genuinely. Beauty meets ugliness, plenty meets want, and life meets death here. Uganda may be, as Winston Churchill said, the Pearl of Africa. But, if so, it's a tarnished jewel.

Irshad Manji doesn't come across as your typical religious reformer. With stylish glasses and punkish hair, this pint-sized woman is better known as a TVO journalist and gay rights activist than a Martin Luther nailing his 95 Theses on Wittenburg's church door.

Today, Jean and I, with our bright-eyed bambino, Elizabeth, are on a jet plane flying back to Yemen. Our condo in Ancaster is again a speck that has disappeared over the horizon.

You don't need to be a flaming, bleeding-heart liberal or a limp- wristed lefty to see that it's a man's world when it comes to some basic privileges in life.