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Meet Traute Klein, biogardener.

Related Articles

Paradise Lost, the Tyranny of Conformity
Carol Wallace's article on the demolition of my garden

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The 911 emergency system failed miserably in the city where it originated.

How protected are we? II
To whom should I turn for protection when a sexual pervert invades the sanctity of my own garden and the police won't even write out a report on the incident? It took two months for me to get help.

Man or Politician?

by Traute Klein, AKA biogardener

Power corrupts. The champion of the people, my friend, turns into a polititan when he realizes his dream. We no longer know each other. Hopefully he will again turn into a man when his political career crashes.

Politician or Man?

I knew a man once. He was my friend. I also thought that he was a politician. I was wrong. He was no politician then. He was just a man. And yes, he was my friend. Now he is a politician. He is no longer the man I used to know and neither is he my friend. I do not want to mention his name here, even though everything I am writing is well documented. I am hoping that after this former man crashes as a politician he will return to being a man and a friend.

A Man and a Friend

I had heard his name. The media loved him. He provided them with lots of material to write about. He was the popular elected official who actually tried to bring justice and reason to the political arena. Before his election, he had worked in an outreach facility for young people in trouble. He was also the youngest local elected official. His only regret was that his father had not lived to see his victory. I first met the man when I appealed an order to dismantle my garden to make it conform to the gardens of the community. He sat directly across the table from the inspector who presented the City's point of view. His evident support of my case and his outrageous laughter at the inspector's blundering remarks proved to be rather unsettling to the poor inspector.

The Support of a Man

I met this man many more times in the following years. He strongly supported my cause of establishing and maintaining a naturalised garden in the midst of the desolation of herbicided front lawns. He visited my garden whenever he was in the area, just to enjoy the country setting in the middle of the city. The last time I saw him, he assured me that he would support me in whichever way he could. I believed him. I thought he was my friend and a man of his word.

Where are you when I need you?

Then my garden was demolished without warning on June 1, 1998. I felt helpless, not knowing where to turn. I now needed the support of my friend, the support of someone who would be able to guide me to prevent further demolition. I needed that man, and I needed him now. I called his office. His assistant would help me as she had before. She was the one who had first noticed my unusual garden from a passing bus, and she had introduced her boss to it. I telephoned the office and left a message. I telephoned again. And again. He eventually got back to me and left a message on my answering machine, saying that he had called. That was my last contact with him.

Reaching for the Top

It soon became apparent why this man was too busy for me. He was running for a higher office and no longer had time to talk to people in need or to defend the rights of common citizens. When people asked me if this man was helping me, I made excuses for him, because I wanted to see him as the man I trusted. He was elected to the office he was seeking. I voted for him. Obviously so did the majority of voters. We all wanted to believe that a new era of honesty, openness, and responsibility was dawning, a new era when the common people would feel protected. We had elected the champion of the people to a position of responsibility!

Call for Help

When Carol Wallace's article on the demolition of my garden hit the internet, many email protests were sent to this politician's email address. One reader alone sent daily protests, hoping that sooner or later, he would receive an answer. None of the letters were ever acknowledged. Either they were not passed to the person to whom they were addressed or he chose to ignore them, day after day, week after week. I continued to believe in him. I continued to invent excuses for his silence.

"How am I doing?"

Then one day, I watched as this politician opened the new Young People's Theatre at the historic Forks at the confluence of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers. No sooner had he finished his prescribed function, than he walked away from the crowd. I just happened to be in the shadows where he was headed and overheard him ask his aide, "How am I doing?" Oh, he was doing fine! He was, in fact, doing great as a politician, but he was no longer the man I had known. He had realized his dreams. He had become a politician. I no longer send him emails. I no longer wait for his call. I no longer expect him to talk to me when I brush shoulders with him at public functions. I don't know this politician. I don't know any politicians. I only knew a man who had been my friend and who had promised to support me. He is no more. Several people have talked to me to tell me of similar experiences. They all predict that this politician will not win another election, because he has forgotten his friends and his promises. I am hoping that the politician will then find his way back to being a man and a friend.