Jeremy Kroeker

Following distance

Jeremy — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 17:01:23 +0000

When I was a motorcycle instructor… actually, I still AM a motorcycle instructor. (My license expires in three months, though.) Anyway, when I was a motorcycle instructor, I preached the importance of maintaining a proper following distance. A good following distance is four seconds (which always bugged me as a writer, because a second is a measure of time, not distance. But I had to say it anyway.)
It works like this: when a vehicle you’re following on the road passes a fixed object, like a signpost or the shadow of a bridge deck, you begin counting the number of seconds it takes for you to reach that object. If it’s less than four, you are following too close. (By the way, no one actually maintains a four second following distance and that’s why there are so many accidents. We say four in the hope that people will shoot for that and end up with a two or three second following distance. Back up, people! But I digress… again.)
So we use seconds instead of distance to make it apply to every speed. A four second following distance at 30 kilometres per hour is a shorter gap than a four second following distance at 100 kilometres per hour, but that’s OK because you’re going slower. See? It’s flexible. It’s simple. And it never changes.
Here’s my point. I’ve taken the same approach to my work as a writer. Ever since I finished the first draft of my manuscript, people have been asking me – a lot – when the book will be out. I used to get stressed about this, but no more. Now, whenever people ask, I smile and say, “By this time next year I hope to have a finished product.”
See? Just like the following distance, it’s simple. It’s flexible. And it never changes. I’ve been saying “By this time next year” for over a year a now. It gives people the answer they want, and I’m confident that no one goes home and writes the date down on their calendar.

Ahed al-Hendi

Jeremy — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 07:36:52 +0000

I can’t remember if I ever posted this. The following is an interview I conducted for “The Jerusalem Post.” Well, OK. I conducted the interview for my own personal interest. Ahed is my friend. But I nearly sold the interview to “The Jerusalem Post.” The reason they didn’t buy it (they claim) is that it was dated by the time it arrived on their desk. I was afraid to send it sooner, from Syria. You know. The Syrians monitor Internet transfers. Anyway, here it is.
BEIRUT – In spite of recent instability, Lebanon has become a safe haven for political activists fleeing persecution from the Syrian regime of President Bashar Assad. A growing number of political exiles gather in Beirut to offer mutual support, and to speak out against the human rights violations that they claim are being committed in Syria every day. Most members of the community, though cautious, welcome the chance to relate their story to outsiders in the hope that knowledge will facilitate change. As one man put it in broken English, “The word is stronger than the gun.”

Ahed al-Hendi is one member of this unfortunate community. Mr. al-Hendi fled his home after being arrested in an Internet café in Damascus, charged with publishing comments for the purpose of “weakening the Nationalist Sentiment in Syria.” Along with his cousin, Afram, Mr. al-Hendi was removed from the café after the owner reported their actions to a branch of the Syrian Secret Police.

Stripped of his clothes, Mr. al-Hendi was held in solitary confinement within a small, windowless cell. The room contained little more than a squat toilet and a hose used for both cleaning oneself after defecation and drinking. With a sliver of soap he found in the room, he wrote on the door the date of his arrest, December 15. The next day, during the first round of questioning, guards told Mr. al-Hendi that he would remain in solitary confinement for two years. When he returned to his cell he wrote the year, 2006.

In the darkness, he could hear Afram screaming as guards tortured him to give up the names and locations of fellow political dissidents. Only, he didn’t know the screams came from Afram. Mr. al-Hendi believed his cousin to be dead.

“I asked about my cousin when they took me out for questioning,” Mr. al-Hidi recalled as he lit another cigarette in a coffee shop near downtown Beirut. “They said he died. And I believed them.”

Afram had asthma. Mr. al-Hendi believed that the damp, stale air of the cell, combined with cold and stress, might have been enough to kill him. “The first night I was in prison, I pretended to have heart problems and the guard said he didn’t care. If I died in the night, he would just dump me in the garbage,” he said. “So, yes – I believed Afram was dead.”

During questioning, Mr. al-Hendi asked if he could have his clothes back, and finally the guards agreed. “I was very lucky,” he said.

In some ways, Mr. al-Hendi was lucky. Unlike his cousin, he was never physically tortured while in custody, though he can not explain why.

“Maybe I did a better job of playing dumb,” he suggested. “Or, maybe they got everything they needed from my cousin. The torture they use… they can make you say anything.” Whatever the reason, Mr. al-Hendi escaped physical injury and, following a week in solitary confinement, he was transferred to a crowded cell.

Fortunately for Mr. al-Hendi, he and his cousin were released after just one month in prison. They were strictly forbidden from speaking to one another, and Mr. al-Hendi was pulled in by authorities every few days and questioned about his activities and those of his friends. When he realized that his life would never be the same in Syria, he fled to Jordan, Egypt, and finally, Lebanon.

Ironically, Mr. al-Hendi was imprisoned for speaking out against the arrest and unfair trial of one of his friends who dared criticize the regime of President Bashar Assad.

Syrian citizens speak out against the regime at their peril, if they can be coaxed into saying anything at all. A street vendor in Aleppo, Syria dared voice his opinion to me. “People are afraid,” he said in a hushed tone. “If I say something bad about the officials, in five minutes I’m in jail and no trace.” Pointing to the nearby Hall of Justice he added, “There is no justice here.”

Back in Beirut, Mr. al-Hendi awaits refugee status. He believes that, if he ever returned to Syria, he would be imprisoned again – or worse. Recently, this fear was substantiated. Seemingly in response to an interview he conducted for The Globe and Mail, his family in Damascus received an ominous phone call. “They told my family I had died in a car crash,” said Mr. al-Hendi. “They are sending me a message – a warning. They want me to keep quiet.”

But Ahed al-Hendi continues to conduct interviews. At this point, he believes the damage is done and further publicity may actually serve to insulate him from harm. He hopes that, if more and more people hear about his story and learn about the situation for political activists in Syria, it will become increasingly difficult for him to disappear without a trace.

Mr. al-Hendi stared out the window into the streets of Beirut and delivered a line to conclude the interview, “Last Christmas I was prison. This Christmas I am in exile. I wonder what Santa will bring me next year.” He paused and put out his cigarette. “Change. I hope for change.”

Ahed al-Hendi’s cousin remains in Syria. His name has been changed to protect his identity.

Best laid plans

Jeremy — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 20:27:48 +0000

For the second time this winter, I’ve had to cancel a ride into the arctic at the last minute. The first time was not my fault. That one is a long story. This time, however, I dropped the ball and let down a friend.
Whenever people ask me (and they often do), “What is the hardest part of any journey?” I tell them, “Getting out the front door.” I encourage people to ride, even if they feel under prepared, because you will never plan for everything. You just have to adapt. I also say, “It’s better to regret something you did do than something you didn’t.” I still believe that. But now I find myself ignoring my own advice.
I have plenty of excuses, but I won’t list them here. Basically, it comes down to time and money. My new book is a priority, and it’s in an exciting stage right now. And (this is the real reason) I just couldn’t scrape together the cash in time.
This decision is especially painful because I’ve never been “that guy.” You know. The guy who backs out of things. But here we are.
Some of you may credit yourselves with this development, the people who sent unsolicited advice to the effect of “Hey! The arctic is cold, don’t you know! Also, there are ice roads up there and it’s dangerous!” Uh, yeah. Thanks. We (meaning Rene) did the research. We talked to many people who have done it before (rides like this happen more than you’d think), and we had contacts in communities. We took the “Danger and Misery” factor into consideration. We knew the seasonal average temperatures, we knew the historical closing dates of the roads, we even spoke to the guys who build the roads every winter. We had the gear, we’ve both camped in -30 Celsius weather. None of that was the problem. But I’ve explained what the problem was already, and I’m ranting now. I just have a problem with naysayers.
So, consider this an open apology to Rene Cormier. He will probably still ride the ice roads this winter, and he will be successful. Buy his book. And when you do, tell him that Jeremy is sorry.

Deadline

Jeremy — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 17:09:57 +0000

Deadlines. I have some. One of them is for another draft of my book by March 1, 2010. Now, I know that I once claimed to have completed the first draft, but I think I’ll recant that. I’ll say instead that I finished my ROUGH draft. In March, I’ll have finished my first draft. Semantics? Maybe. (Anything to open another bottle of Scotch.)
At any rate, I’m on pace to meet that deadline. An editor in Toronto is willing to read that version. If he likes it, he may pass it along to an agent for review. If not, there’s a publishing house in Alberta that will give it a read. And if that falls through, I’ll hire an editor at that point and begin the long process of revisions myself.
Another deadline that looms is more of a departure date, really. I hinted earlier at a possible adventure up North with my friend Rene. Well, even though I feel unprepared, we still intend to ride our bikes up the ice roads to Tuktoyaktuk. We leave in March. I have lots to do between now and then, especially considering that writing is still my priority.
When I return from that trip, I have yet another deadline to finish an article for a major magazine. I hesitate to reveal the details because so far there’s no signed contract, but already I have worked a few revisions of the piece with their editors and they seem to like it.
Finally, I have just three more years to live like an adolescent. When I turn 40, I’ve decided, I will become an adult. I’ll get a job driving a tour bus, I’ll get a mortgage, and everything else that goes with it… unless I can be talked out of it between now and then.
If you’re interested, here’s a link to an interview I did with Park Radio in Banff. Just click on the POD link to download. Honestly, it wasn’t my best effort. You see, I assumed that no one listens to the show, so I didn’t really care about it. (I now know that lots of people listen to the show.)

Change of plan

Jeremy — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 03:17:12 +0000

How quickly things change. Just a few days ago, I posted that I was headed North with my motorcycle this February to conduct a test ride for something bigger. That February trip was supposed to be with an organized group as a way to safely gain experience on ice roads. However, that recently fell through with dramatic flair following a series of unfortunate events. Suffice it to say, Rene and I are back to the drawing board, but still planning a neat adventure for March.

Promise

Jeremy — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 01:30:58 +0000

Since announcing last month that I had completed the first draft of my manuscript, people have been asking me when they might expect to see the book. Fair enough. But what most people don’t realize is that the first draft of something is far from a finished product. Sometimes it takes years for a manuscript to take shape, even when it’s all essentially “there.” In fact, since passing that first prominent milestone, I just put the book down. I have yet to contribute one additional keystroke to the document. Actually, truth be told, I have not even read it yet. I’m working on other projects.

In that time, I wrote an article about my friend Dave Thomson that I hope to have published in a climbing magazine. Unfortunately, my first query letter was ignored by the editor. Today, my friend Mike gave me a good suggestion for grabbing an editors attention, though. He recommended that I stuff my article into an envelope along with a bunch of glitter, hard candy and a full sized fold out poster of myself. “No editor will ignore that,” he said. (Here I should mention that Mike has no experience in the publishing industry and that we had each consumed a lot of tequila before lunch.)

In addition to that article and some other writing for a travel anthology, I’ve been gearing up for my next adventure. Together with Rene Cormier, a friend mine from Edmonton, we are going on a winter ride with our bikes up the ice roads into the Canadian Arctic. (Rene will be at lots of motorcycle shows this season promoting his new book, “The University of Gravel Roads,” by the way, so stop in and say hello from me if you see him! Oh, and buy his book, too.) Anyway, we’ve planned a test ride this February with a guy who runs a charity ride every year, but our real goal is much bigger than that. Stay tuned for more details. Our target departure is in March!

But let’s back up a bit. The book. My book. It’s true, I do have a lot of things on my mind at the moment, but none of them outweigh the book. Just because I have not even read it straight through does not mean that I’ve forgotten about it. Currently, my first draft is in the hands of three capable people who are reading it in order to provide feedback. Also, letting writing sit for a while is a good thing. It allows the writer to approach it with fresh eyes (I’ve been told. I never deployed this strategy with “Motorcycle Therapy,” I’m afraid.) An editor friend of mine calls this tack “Spew and Stew.” It needs to sit.

However, starting tomorrow, I will pick it up again and begin my very first read through, start to finish. Then, taking the feedback from my friends, I will begin the rewrite process no later than January 10. My goal is to finish the task by March 1, 2010 (a little past my original goal, but still more or less on track). It will still be in draft form at that time, I should hasten to add. More rewrites will follow. However, I already have one small publishing house interested in reading that March draft. Another fantastic contact in Toronto would like to see it as well. So, for me and the book, the New Year holds promise.

Oh yeah, and I’m riding into the Arctic. Twice. Shudder.

Step one. (Put your M.S. in a box.)

Jeremy — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 06:05:40 +0000

More to follow, but yeah… my first draft is done! (Thus the Talisker.) Unfortunately, I have at least a year of work ahead of me before I can open a bottle of Lagavulin.

Ransom

Jeremy — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 23:40:34 +0000

A word about ransoms – speaking about them publicly is foolish.
In the case of Amanda Lindhout, the damage may have already been done. Just two hours after her release, following 15 months of captivity and mistreatment, someone put a microphone in her face to conduct the first interview. In it, Amanda alluded to a ransom and the dam was breached.
Of course you can’t blame her for that – imagine everything she had to process in those moments. At that point, people could have still denied everything.
“Amanda was misinformed,” they could have said. But soon after, others jumped in, spouting off about their contributions to a ransom effort while ungraciously disparaging the work of others. News stations speculated on the dollar figure. Together, it all amounted to wiping away any hope of plausible deniability.
You see, in a hostage situation there are two groups of people with distinct roles: First, there are the kidnappers. To save face, they must claim that they got paid. Then there is everyone else who must claim that they did NOT pay. That’s how it should work.
“We did not pay a ransom,” should be the uniform statement to the media. If it’s about cost recovery for contributors, or getting credit for their good deeds, they should go about it another way.
“Yes, we raised money for the family,” they could say. “But that money went towards travel expenses, security firms, lost time at work, hospital bills, and so on. If we had only known that it would get so expensive and drag on for so long, we would have just paid the ransom… but we didn’t.”
Regardless of what the Canadian Government did or did not do during Amanda Lindhout’s captivity, at least now they are doing one thing right – they are stating that they do not pay ransoms.

Relief

Jeremy — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 19:18:08 +0000

Relief. That’s the predominate emotion when I think about recent developments in the Amanda Lindhout epic. At last, after 15 months of captivity in Somalia, she is free and reunited with her family.
She has a potentially long road of recovery ahead of her. She has been beaten, tortured and deprived of human contact. As she said in a recent interview, she is not the same person that she was 16 months ago. She needs to reevaluate her entire life – perhaps something that we should all do occasionally, now that I think about it.

Thankfully, Amanda is strong. If there is anyone that can recover gracefully from such horrific events in their lives, it is her. She has a wide network of family and friends to help with that, but we must all be patient.

This is Amanda’s time, not ours. Too many people are expecting things from her, as if she belongs to them somehow because they prayed for her, or gathered to support the family, or saw her on TV. But we still have more to give. Right now, Amanda needs space.

She will be cloistered for a while, spending time with a handful of her dearest family members. She will reach out to people when she can, and while I look forward to seeing her, or speaking with her, I do not expect that privilege anytime soon. It may be days or weeks, but most likely months. That’s fine.

Amanda, we’re just relieved that you are free.

In the mean time, all sorts of people are coming forward claiming to have helped Amanda Lindhout while she was in captivity. Do not believe everything you read, or everyone that appears on TV. Remember all the rumours that the media circulated that proved to be untrue? The ransom was lowered to $100,000, for example. That never happened. Amanda’s pregnancy and delivery of a child that never existed. Presently, there is a Calgary based security firm claiming to have played a role in Amanda’s release when, in fact, they did nothing – nothing measurable, anyway.

Recently, to my horror, I found out that the CBC was trying to contact a man who claimed to be Amanda’s friend for an interview – only, that man has never met Amanda. The only thing he ever did was establish a website, a facebook group, and a blog all designed to generate advertising revenue for himself, profiting from Amanda’s ordeal. Some friend. Many of you know that story and of the efforts that were made to shut down his websites. Thankfully, someone alerted the CBC and other news agencies to that fact, robbing this man of further media exposure.

Media exposure. It’s a delicate subject. Yes, I have done interviews with the press in spite of the fact that I am not Amanda’s oldest or dearest friend. However, I did the research first. I read about the experiences of Robert Young Pelton, one of Amanda’s hero’s incidentally. When he was in captivity, some of his friends said incredibly naive things to the press which may have further endangered him. I read about things to say, and things to avoid saying while on camera. (For example, at this stage, you do not speak about paying ransoms, or your contribution to any ransom efforts. Far too much has been said about that already, but for what it’s worth I will continue to disavow that subject.)

Also, and this is important to me, I have striven to break the link between Amanda’s story and my work. Whenever a reporter has asked about my writing, I have explicitly asked them to keep that off the record, which they have honoured. At this time, I do not wish to promote my agenda or benefit in any way from what happened to Amanda. It’s just underhanded and wrong. (I feel safe to write about it here because this site gets, like, 20 hits per day from people who already know my work, and an additional several dozen from media types that will hear it directly from my mouth anyway if they ask.)

Well, what a rant. As you can see, I do struggle to process other emotions when I think about Amanda Lindhout and what she has had to endure. I feel frustration, anger, sorrow… but mostly I just feel relief.

Amanda Lindhout Freed at Last

Jeremy — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 01:05:31 +0000

I was skeptical at first. It’s just that there have been so may unfounded rumours surrounding my friend’s abduction in Somalia. But finally, after 15 months of captivity in one of the world’s most dangerous countries, Amanda Lindhout is free. She’s not out of the woods yet. First she has to leave Somalia, which should happen later tonight. Then she faces a potentially difficult recovery period where she must process 15 months of abuse. She does, however, have a strong support network of friends and family to help with that.