Employing Empowerment Part One

Now back at the Manor, and delighted to receive and talk to a very special visitor. This was Ayaan Hirsi Ali, the courageous Somali woman who had fled Somalia, thereby freeing herself from the vicious tentacles of fundamentalist Islam. From Somalia, she had gone to the Netherlands, and shortly after, got elected to the Dutch Parliament. But her championing of liberal values resulted in numerous fatwas from the criminally insane imams and mullahs who have hijacked Islam. Bluntly put, the fatwas guarantee a life in Paradise (wherever that is) if she could be caught, tortured, and killed. Indeed, one particularly nasty fatwa aimed directly at her was pinned by a dagger to the chest of murdered filmmaking colleague Theo van Gogh.

All Merciful Allah wins again.

Things getting rather hairy at this point, Ms Hirsi Ali fled to America, where she continues to lash out at the crazed jihadists that have done so much to wreck the Islam that in saner times had made enormous contributions to science, art, health care, mathematics and philosophy. Of course, she has minders, but then, so do I. When dealing with the insane, you must perforce expect the unexpected.

In any event, when Ms Hirsi Ali got in touch, and requested a meeting, I was glad to invite her to the Manor (it is very, very secure) and to learn what she is presently involved in.

She arrived in due course, accompanied by two men who appeared to know my butler and minder, Irving, really well. Interesting that Ms Hirsi Ali winds up being protected by two Mossad agents. But if you think about it for a moment, makes sense. However, speculation here is not what we're about, for she was particularly interested in Camp Can Do located in Northern Ontario.

This startled me, and indicated that this is a woman who does her homework. The camp is not well known (for reasons that will become clear in due course) and the administrators even less so. As readers will remember, I support a number of oddball charities, one of which is a woman's shelter run by the Little Sisters of Poverty and Pain. The nuns involved are atheists, and Holy Mother Church would close the enterprise down in a heartbeat, save for certain information I possess with respect to Church finances and three missing paintings by Rubens. But I digress.

We quickly became Ali and Simone, and over tea and scones, Ali made her wishes clear. She wanted some background on the camp, and wondered if it was possible to visit. Over the next three days, both possibilities became fact.

I explained to her that the idea for the camp came from my own experience as a young girl growing up badly in the back streets of Naples. Fortunately, I encountered a mentor, of which I have only had three. This individual introduced me to the motorcycle. I was entranced, but until I could totally strip it and re-assemble the thing, riding it was prohibited. Took some time, but eventually, wow! I was in control of something that I understood. Maybe for the first time in my life I felt supremely confident.

"Who was this person?" asked Ali.

"A Canadian by the name of Ken Low. He had lost his government job after writing a Liberal Party progress report entitled 'We're Lost, But We're Making Good Time.' Bit too close to the truth, there."

Ali continued. "So this camp has motorcycles?"

"Oh, yes," I replied. Six 2009 Dyna Harley-Davidsons, V-Rods, 1250 cc and with a twin cam 88 engine. Powerful beasts."

Ali's eyes glazed over a bit at this.

"It will be better if I show you. Can you drop by tomorrow, by the helipad? And jeans and a tee shirt should serve." (A plan was forming in my mind, and the sari-like thing Ali was wearing would be rather inappropriate). I added, "Given your background, you will be intrigued."

"You really are passionate about this," Ali said.

"Certainly am. But I also remember my Benjamin Franklin, who thought driving passion was just fine provided reason held the reins. Now perhaps a short tour of the Manor?"

Ali agreed, and away we went. But stay tuned.