The first sandbags I saw upon my return to Kelowna this June were in the Mission: a pyramid of a hundred or so piled high in the parking lot of my winter time watering hole, the Eldorado Hotel. With the threat of flood abated, and the parking lot a madhouse of minute-by-minute boat launches and landings, I asked the bartender why the hotel had not disposed of its sandbags.
“Infection,” he said scooting past. “They’re
infected.”
“With what?” I asked.
“Poorly-built septic fields,” said the woman sitting
next me.
The woman has a friend who works for the City. It was
her friend who said that the initial notification sent out by staffers
was a ruse, that those with sandbags on their property were told not to take
them to the beach and empty them because the sand was not beach sand, when the
real reason was that many of these bags were now “equal parts sand and fecal matter.”
“It’s God’s will!” I thought, in honour of an earlier
declaration.
“There’s a lot of crap this City passes off as truth,”
said the woman.
“It’s a conspiracy!” declared the bartender scooting
back.
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