I arrived in Edmundston in the afternoon of Friday, Oct. 24th. It was cold and there was snow all around. I was fortunate to find a second hand store right away. In it, I found a pair of socks, gloves and a toque. These articles were to become indispensable as the day progressed. I retraced some steps we had made a few months earlier, and called on some dudes who'd helped us when we were down and out back in August.

After a final session in Canada, I walked over the bridge, feeling light and sort of excited. I didn't know what to expect in the next few moments, but I was optimistic that things would go well. The project of sandblasting and repainting the bridge had gone well and the workers were almost done. Things change over time.

The first person to greet me was Officer Albert, who walked out of the booth. He was the officer who first conducted the search. He was smiling, and shook my hand, saying: "Johannes, good to see you, we didn't know if you were going to make it today." He told me that Roger was in his office and was waiting for me. As I entered the building, everybody seemed to regard me in a certain way, sort of smiling to themselves, like my arrival had been anticipated. Roger came out and shook my hand, apparently happy to see me. He asked me if I had my friends Dominique or Kerrie with me, but they weren't. He invited me in to the office where we had some paperwork to go over before releasing Hemphry back to me. There was another officer present to witness our agreements.

Before I go any further, I've been dying to say this. On the left hand side of the office, on top of some filing cabinets is a big red double-chambered Graffix bong that's been turned into a lamp. I couldn't believe it when I first saw that. I guess it's a trophy of a sort.

Roger had always been courteous and somewhat apologetic while carrying out his obliged duties. Now that I was back, he was happy to be giving Hemphry back to me. "The Marijuana Seeds" as they called them had tested "Not Viable" and had no detectable THC. Those seeds were the major aspect of the seizure. The other thing, which I never really felt was an issue was a bag they claimed containing 3.54 grams of Marijuana (I wonder if they weighed the bag). What they claimed as Marijuana was actually Patchoulie that someone had given to me a long time ago. I think it was put into a bag that had carried some of the good stuff previously. Roger told me that it had tested positive and was Marijuana, but that they'd used all of it in the testing. Maine Law requires that there must be some evidence left in order to prosecute. Since there was no evidence, that charge was dropped. They had also found some screens, a toke-stone (which wasn't mine, and was catalogued as unused) and an X-acto blade they claim was a hash knife. Those articles were retained on the grounds that they could be paraphernalia. The 48 pounds of papers and the Hemp soaps were returned to me. I signed some papers stating that I received the stuff, and within moments we were back out at Hemphry.

The big question of the day was: "Will Hemphry start?" A bunch of us went out there with all of the returned stuff. It was a neat scene with all of the Officers happy to be giving Hemphry back. We put it all in. The insides were the same disaster that the Authorities had left. I got into the driver's seat, and turned the key. Dunnunnunnunnah? Dunnunnununnunnunnah? Dunnunnunnunnunnublugh? Dunnuplaughvroooom! He started! With that, Roger, smiling, told me that Hemphry was a solid van and not to get rid of him.

Roger had told me that the van was quite a hit with the locals, and that many people had stopped to photograph Hemphry. That didn't surprise me, but it did seem to surprise them. The Free The Tree saying had been staring them in the face every day, while the pulp mill rumbled incessantly behind it all. The region of Madawaska employes one of six workers in the lumber industry. Logging has been the reason that people settled there, so it's more than ironic that Hemphry was lodged there. I really think that this whole experience has caused at least a few questions in the minds of some of the enforcers of the status quo. The river between the two Countries is contaminated from the side-affects of logging. Dioxin is often found flowing beside a Fraser paper mill, that's just how it is. If we wanted that to stop, the industry would tell us not to wipe our ass and not to read the newspaper, which brings me to my point: Before it was illegal to smoke a joint, the newspaper industry was approached with the possibility to switch to a more sustainable fibre for paper. The Hemp threat to the investments of Newspaper companies fuelled the fires of miss-information and Yellow Journalism, which ultimately resulted in Reefer Madness and prohibition. Maybe the time is ripe for those people in influential positions to speak up and denounce the continued rape and pillage of the Earth so the rich can just get richer.

Roger Corbin, as we were finishing up his office had asked me a question. He asked me if I felt we had been treated well during the whole ordeal. I told him that they had done their jobs well. It was true. All the time during our first visit, the Officers were always courteous and it even felt like they were sorry to have to carry out their jobs. We were never yelled at, nor de-humanized in any way. It was more a feeling of "business as usual" throughout it all. At the time, I didn't feel compelled to get into it with Mr. Corbin, but I'm sure they'll be reading this, so I will respond with how I truly feel at this time. It's not the person in the uniform, but the uniform itself and what that represents that I have issues with. Those uniformed officers carried out their duties, their obligation to the man. The job description, and the responsibilities to uphold the fascism that is Present-day America is what I have a problem with. Hemphry was detained for nearly three months because of some seeds from a plant. In it's simplest form, this is the psychosis of America.

This plant, which people have depended upon for thousands of years, could help humanity now, in our time of need. How much more abuse can our Mother Earth survive? How many bombs have to fall on her before she destroys us? How many trees do we have to cut before we suffocate? How much water can we pollute before we choke on it? How many farmers must be put out of work before we can grow a solution? How many acres of grain must we waste feeding cattle? How many cars must we drive to justify occupying foreign homelands? How many lies must be told before the liar's pants are on fire? How many people must be imprisoned for growing or smoking this wonderful plant? How do the combined effects of genocide and slavery, industry, imperialism, racism, militarism, commercialism, consumerism, brainwashing and apathy add up to be the most powerful nation in the world? How can we stop ourselves from being the people who did that? How can we be free if the strings of oppression and exploitation are tied to every finger, every move we make? When will I stop questioning this corporately sponsored reality?

Do you think I'm crazy?

One Love.

Johannes Chapman, Pure Hemp Caravaner
www.Cycle.wild.net
www.thebet.ca

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