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6A Daily News – Wednesday, January 15, 2014 Opinion Give us this day our daily bread DAILY NEWS RED BLUFF TEHAMA COUNTY T H E V O I C E O F T E H A M A C O U NTY S I N C E 1 8 8 5 Greg Stevens, Publisher gstevens@redbluffdailynews.com Chip Thompson, Editor editor@redbluffdailynews.com Editorial policy The Daily News opinion is expressed in the editorial. The opinions expressed in columns, letters and cartoons are those of the authors and artists. Letter policy The Daily News welcomes letters from its readers on timely topics of public interest. All letters must be signed and provide the writer's home street address and home phone number. Anonymous letters, open letters to others, pen names and petition-style letters will not be allowed. Letters should be typed and cannot exceed two double-spaced pages or 500 words. When several letters address the same issue, a cross section of those submitted will be considered for publication. Letters will be edited. Letters are published at the discretion of the editor. Mission Statement We believe that a strong community newspaper is essential to a strong community, creating citizens who are better informed and more involved. The Daily News will be the indispensible guide to life and living in Tehama County. We will be the premier provider of local news, information and advertising through our daily newspaper, online edition and other print and Internet vehicles. The Daily News will reflect and support the unique identities of Tehama County and its cities; record the history of its communities and their people and make a positive difference in the quality of life for the residents and businesses of Tehama County. How to reach us Main office: 527-2151 Classified: 527-2151 Circulation: 527-2151 News tips: 527-2153 Sports: 527-2153 Obituaries: 527-2151 Photo: 527-2153 On the Web www.redbluffdailynews.com Fax Newsroom: 527-9251 Classified: 527-5774 Retail Adv.: 527-5774 Legal Adv.: 527-5774 Business Office: 527-3719 Address 545 Diamond Ave. Red Bluff, CA 96080, or P.O. Box 220 Red Bluff, CA 96080 Editor's note: The following and carry them back, one by one, was written by Dana Roth, who is to the oven. He adds some yeast, a little salt serving in the Peace Corp in Senegal. Dana is the daughter of John and sugar, and mixes it all in the and Karrie Roth. John is retiring basin the size of a small bath tub. With his hands, he after 32 years of service scoops out balls of simiin the Park Service at the end of this month. Guest View lar size and rolls them on the heavily floured Karrie is the school Dana wood-slat countertop, nurse at Red Bluff the excess flour falling Union High School. through the cracks into a In the wee hours of rice sack rigged up the night, a man wakes below with string. When up. It is 1:30 a.m. Does he awake by an alarm clock, in his he has a good amount of balls all hut with no electricity? Or does he collected on the countertop, the fire is hot and heats up the small just know? The village depends on this room. He opens up the door in the man. He walks groggily in the wall to the oven, about the size of a dark, flashlight in hand, to the big small TV screen, and with the long mud oven on the edge of the vil- wooden paddle, pushes the ashes lage. He walks past the old medical and embers evenly around the dispensary; now an empty building oven, leaving a big space in the that sometimes dispenses food or middle for the bread. Satisfied that the ashes are clear food-like substances sent from NGOs to supplement the diets of from the cooking surface, he the village. He walks past the removes the paddle and rests it on women's garden, looking ghostly the bricks holding another longer with every plot shrouded in white wood slat countertop next to mosquito netting, reflecting the him. He rolls out the dough into ominous glow of the moon over- long shapes and places them on a head. A donkey brays in the dis- long piece of canvas on the long tance and a faint baby's cry can be wood slat, pinching the fabric between each loaf so they don't heard. Other than that, all is silent stick together. When the slat is full, except the scuffling of his feet he brings it back next to the oven through the sand. He flicks on the door and puts the loaves, five at a dim little lamp and starts the fire, time, on the paddle. He reaches over and grabs a gathering the wood he set outside earlier the previous day. Slowly, razor blade, his head cocked to one the fire grows and he warms his side holding a flashlight (the bathands with the glow. Fire going, he tery-powered lamp above the basin shuts the metal door of the oven is not bright enough to light the and latches it, now turning to the whole space). With the razor blade, big basin behind him. He measures he quickly cuts just the top of each out flour in a big tin can that used loaf, then from a metal cup next to to hold tomato paste. He uses the the oven door; he removes a paintsame can, then to measure water brush of sugar and water and lovout of the yellow benior jugs stored ingly brushes each loaf. He unlatches the door, rotating inside. This one is almost empty, he makes a mental note to fill them the latch back and forth, back and the next day at the village spigot forth gently to open it. Picking the Roth ideal spot, he sends the loaves into the coals, withdraws the paddle and carefully latches the door again. He turns to the loaves on the canvas and repeats the process. This continues until the sun rises. When the loaves are finished, five at a time, he draws them out on the paddle, latches the door again before gathering the loaves in his hands and quickly tossing them onto the canvas on the floor because they are too hot to hold for long. The pile of loaves on the cold mud floor makes cracking noises as the breads cool. Above the warm, crackling pile, is a bench. The bench is full of bread loaves hard as rocks. Deceptively appetizing, these loaves are the ones not sold from the previous day. They will be pounded down into a powder that is used in haako, a green leaf sauce dish regularly prepared by all families in the village. Around 6 a.m., the village begins to wake up. The mosque sings the morning prayer and people are up washing their hands, feet, and heads to pay homage to Allah for the first time of the day. Groggily, the first person approaches the door to the oven through the dark of the morning. It is my Baaba Mamoudu, here to pick up the bread to sell at his boutique that morning. He sleepily greets the man who is now busily working, back and forth between taking bread out of the oven and putting the cold dough in. "Did you wake up?" "Fine." "Did you spend the night in peace?" "Fine." Did your family wake up?" "Fine." "How are you doing with the cold?" "Fine." These greetings are repeated back and forth until Baaba walks out of the oven room carrying the warm loaves in a rice sack in his arms. One by one people approach the oven and get either a few loaves for their family, or enough to sell at their boutique. They either pay him then or wait until the end of the month, using the honor system to remember how many loaves they get from him every day. When the sun begins to brighten the sky, the man sets out a rice sack on the floor and begins the process of washing his hands, feet, and head with water from the beniors. He then begins his morning prayer. People are still coming to get their bread for the day, but they all wait outside for he prays in the doorway - really the only space in the room. After a few minutes, he resumes business as usual, though the bread cooks slower now that the coals have cooled a bit. Around 7:30, he begins cleaning up the oven room and shuts off the light. There is now enough light to brighten the room. He gathers the old loaves of bread that hadn't been sold the day before and brings them home to be pounded down into a powder that is used in the green leaf sauce dish. Nothing is wasted. The man puts out the last burning coals and locks up the room. As everyone is waking up and starting their day, he is heading home to his family to rest and relax after a long night of work. On his way home, he passes our house, waving at me as I sit in the courtyard eating my half-loaf of bread with my cup of coffee. He passes the school-aged kids, bread in hand, running off to class for the day. This man feeds the village. He is the beginning of everyone's day. This quiet man with the smiling eyes and the flour forever in his fingernails. Bread is sustenance. It is life. Your officials STATE ASSEMBLYMAN — Dan Logue, 150 Amber Grove Drive, Ste. 154, Chico, CA 95928, 530-8954217 STATE SENATOR — Jim Nielsen, 2635 Forest Ave., Ste. 110, Chico, CA 95928, (530) 879-7424, senator.nielsen@senate.ca.gov GOVERNOR — Jerry Brown, State Capitol Bldg., Sacramento, CA 95814; (916) 445-2841; Fax (916) 558-3160; E-mail: governor@governor.ca.gov. U.S. REPRESENTATIVE — Doug LaMalfa 506 Cannon House Office Building, Washington, DC 20515, 202-225-3076. U.S. SENATORS — Dianne Feinstein (D), One Post Street, Suite 2450, San Francisco, CA 94104; (415) 393-0707. Fax (415) 393-0710. Barbara Boxer (D), 1700 Montgomery St., Suite 240, San Francisco, CA 94111; (510) 286-8537. Fax (202) 224-0454. Commentary Little Sisters vs. Goliath It's a story about how freedom is all. I speak of the Little Sisters of the Poor, an international congregation of Roman Catholic nuns who have devoted their lives to caring for the elderly poor. I am lucky to know more about this remarkable organization than many. In 2007, I wrote a column about Gorman Johnston, who was living in the Little Sisters retirement home in Pittsburgh, PA. I was scheduled to interview him one wintry December night, but didn't want to go. It was dark outside and bitter cold. The roads were icing up. I'd had a big party at my home the night before and my head was throbbing — but I went. I met Gorman in a sitting room near the entrance and he told me his story. When his wife had died a few years before, his doctors told him he needed care, too. They said he should move to a retirement home. He was a longtime volunteer at the Little Sisters home — he did odd jobs to repay the nuns for caring for his elderly mother in her last years — and was lucky when a spot opened up for him there. The best part of the story is that the nuns found a clever way to accommodate his dog, Abner. They arranged for a married couple, two regular volunteers, to adopt Abner. They took Abner home at night and brought him to stay with Gorman during the day. Abner quickly became the beloved house dog. It was a grand story, but as soon as the interview was done, I wanted to go home — but Sister Regina urged me to tour the home. I was immediately struck by the laughter and camaraderie on every floor — even in the infirmary, where people are near their end, joy was abundant. There were several people there, mostly women, sitting in wheelchairs and hooked to IVs. They were in their very last stage of life — yet they were cheerful. One woman called me over. She put her hands on mine and told me she wished me and my family the merriest Christmas. Sister Regina introduced me to 93-year-old Nick, whose eyes sparkled with mischief and intelligence. He loved to sing and took requests. He belted out a Sinatra song that was remarkable. Most cheerful of all were the nuns who cared for the elderly residents. They loved their work — That is, they can only be exempt loved serving God by bringing dignity to the last years of others' lives. from the law at the pleasure of the By the time we finished our federal government — until the tour, I was glowing. My mood had federal government one day arbibeen transformed by what I had trarily changes the rule, as it is doing now with so witnessed. There was a many other rules and powerful presence there regulations. — in my view, the presSo the Little Sisters ence of God. sued. Which brings us back They argue that their to freedom. constitutional right to The nuns who live and freely practice their work at the home are faith is being obstructed freely practicing their by our ever-growing faith. They voluntarily government. They are chose to do their godly right. Supreme Court work. Justice Sonia SotomayTheir vow is to Tom or recently issued an advance the dignity of injunction siding with life for every person, no them. matter how weak or As I said, this is realunwanted. They can never support any program that ly just a story about freedom. This runs contrary to their beliefs — is what it looks like when the state they can never fund insurance poli- disagrees with the religious conviccies that cover the cost of contra- tions of a private organization and ception, abortive drugs and steril- slowly takes that freedom away. If you want to experience real ization. Our federal government has a freedom while you still can, visit different notion, however. It has the Little Sisters of the Poor retiremandated that these things must be ment home nearest you. You will be moved by the expecovered by law. It has made some exceptions for religious organiza- rience. tions, but to become exempt, the Tom Purcell can be reached at Little Sisters must submit a waiver Purcell@caglecartoons.com. form to the government. Purcell