There’s been a lot happening. I suspect there may not be a coherent theme to this. Last night, I was on the phone with my mother, who was all hyped up about today. But for me it was still yesterday. It’s a strange conversation, when you are on the phone with tomorrow. In Hindi/Urdu, the same word – kaal - is used for yesterday as for tomorrow. Rushdie made fun of that in one of his novel, but last night, having the same word made sense. My tomorrow was her yesterday and yet we were occupying the same time, just separated by space.
Days run together and history repeats. Some days are unique for their occasions, but they all have resonance with other days. Just now, I watched Jesse Jackson be interviewed – introduced as the first African American to run for President. Obviously, the network was trying to pay homage to history. Unfortunately, it is no more true than the assertion that the US is the oldest and largest democracy in the world. Shirley Chisholm ran in 1972 and winning delegates in the primary process from a diverse base. Do we forget her because she was a woman? Or because it was over thirty years ago?
Is history truly so easy to forget? It doesn’t even have to be recent history for us to start whitewashing it. I remember being in Reno in August 2001. The headlines at the time were focused on where the Clinton surplus had gone. Nowadays, we blame the deficit on the wars – events forced on the US and beyond the control of the outgoing administration. Yet in August, there were no wars. Last year, we watched Israel start a war with Lebanon. Going back and reading the original UN documents at the time, it was evident that Israel daily violated Lebanese airspace, prior to their crying foul about Lebanese actions. Similarly, now we see the travesty in Gaza and it seems none of us remember that it was Israel that broke the ceasefire back in November.
I woke up Thursday to the news that the UN compound in Gaza had been bombed with white phosphorus. For years, accusations of using white phosphorus as a bomb rather than illumination has been made. Now it seemed like there was no denying. By the evening, the entire news cycle was dominated by the miracle on the Hudson. No one died in the miracle of the Hudson. It was a miracle, but how does that outweigh the horrors that define daily life elsewhere? One Israeli writer wrote about how she was more disturbed by sights of broken Starbucks windows, even as another commentator noted that apparently there are no “civilians” in Gaza and more than half of the dead and injured are women and children. “If you prick us, do we not bleed?” Memories run deep in some places – personal pain gets remembered, distant, other people’s pain fades. As Douglas Adams put it: SEP – someone else’s problem, visible only in the peripheries of your vision when you are momentarily distracted.
Maybe the trick is not to be linear. Maybe we do need to circle around as a society. Circling gives us time for reflection. To understand today, obviously we need to circle back to comprehend the true meaning of today. I suspect it means more to US Americans, since the onus of slavery resides in their history. In mine, the burden of the holocaust makes me sensitive to genocide.
While in Mexico, we went to Uxmal and Mani. Mani is one of those places where a lot of the Mayan codices were burned. Uxmal existed for close to 1000 years. History that was attempted to be erased is now a source of heritage and pride, as well as fueling the local economy. In medicine, local knowledge is being studied for new medicines.
So our tomorrows and yesterdays do run together. Maybe we should keep better track of our yesterdays to help understand our tomorrows. It’s all just a matter of understanding the true meaning of kaal. I was proud of the Vatican finally stepping up and naming Gaza the modern day equivalent of a concentration camp. After failing to speak out during the holocaust, they are not failing now. Maybe they know kaal. Will we as a society ever?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Traveling blithly
In about 9 hours, I will embark on a trip down to Merida, Mexico (http://www.yucatantoday.com/index.php). I’ve never been to Mexico. It’s a week long trip, with the Heartland Global Health Consortium. The best part about the trip is that I’m going with one of my best friends from Central, so I’m looking forward to it. But, as I prepare for the trip (packing the 7 shirts etc that are closest at hand), I also find myself pondering the nature and manner of my trip.
My friend checked out Spanish lesson CDs from the library. She’s prepping for the trip. I’ve pretty much blown off any preparation. On one hand, I’d like to say that’s not typical, wanting to think of myself as more worldly, but then again, I suspect that it is rather typical of me. I head off into the world rather blithely. I’ve never really worried too much about traveling, unlike my mother who prepares her will even for small roadtrips. I suspect that part of this comes from the fact that I feel incredibly comfortable traveling and am probably more at home at airports. Airports have structures and rules and traveling is always an adventure, which brings twists and turns that one can never anticipate. Those two contradictory realities provide my sense of security.
My favorite memory is heading off to Kenya for my master’s research. The plan was that after arriving at the Nairobi airport, I would make my way to the Nairobi main post office and research associates would meet me there and take me to Kampi ya Samaki. No clue who would pick me up, no clue as to how to contact them. Last night, I watched “Slumdog Millionaire” and was struck by the scene where Jamal waits for his girl at the train station – a place just awash with thousands of people constantly moving and milling. I suspect that’s what the Nairobi main post office would have been like.
I don’t know – we never got that far. I got to the airport at midnight, changed money, caught a taxi to the Fairfield (recommended to me by other grad students at the University of Toronto) and settled in for the night. Right after getting into bed, the phone rang (what – who’d call me here? At this time of the night?). I got dressed and went downstairs, where I met the cousins of Margaret who were tasked with picking me up. They’d missed me at the airport and just started checking likely hotels.
This summer, I traveled to Turkey. Since I’m familiar with Istanbul and my friend there had sent me an email stating that I would be picked up at the airport, I hadn’t bothered to print out any of the information of where I’d be staying or his contact info. At the airport, no one was there. I circled around, checking out all the people with signs. No one. I had a nice chat with a guy holding a sign whose person wasn’t showing up. So, while I was at home at the Istanbul Airport, I had become too comfortable – normally I’d have taken the subway to Yeni Bosnia and then the bus to Beykent and been home. But after 6 years gone, I had no home there. And as it turns out, the Cakmakli bus didn’t run anymore, so it’s good I didn’t try that.
As luck would have it, I had just invested in an international cell phone (Estonian!!) and had gotten some phone numbers of friends via facebook. I texted those I thought most likely to know the organizers of the conference and then proceeded to hang at the airport until the situation resolved itself (Istanbul traffic).
But back to the point –I’m about to head to a country I’ve never been. I don’t speak the language and I really have no idea what to expect. I’ve done no research about the culture or the customs (well, okay, I did look at that website at the top of the blog). To be honest, if I step back and reflect upon this, it is rather disgraceful. It reeks of the attitudes I despise in the stereotypical American tourist. And yet here I am, not bothered...
The language barrier isn’t really too worrying – I know I have people in my group that speak Spanish. I’ve got some basics from Ellie’s CDs, and yet listening to Ellie’s CDs I also realized that likely I would mix Turkish in with any attempts to speak a foreign language. Trying to get by on what I have should be interesting, but I don’t feel bad about my not knowing Spanish, since I do have the ability to communicate with over 1/5 of the earth’s population (Hindi/Urdu gets you far these days, what with desi population growth rates).
Central’s contact in Merida has set up meetings for us as well as trip to Chichen Itza (ruins!! I love visiting archeological ruins). Most of what I need to know I will pick up while I’m there. I’ll be fascinated; I’ll take gobs of pictures; I’ll recount the facts I remember to innocent bystanders henceforth.
So what makes a global traveler? How does one prepare for new encounters? Or does one prepare at all, instead just being open to the experience? How much should one know before heading off? Where does preparation begin and where does experience?
All I know is that it will be another leg in the journey of my life…and that regardless of what happens, my life will be enriched by the experiences..
My friend checked out Spanish lesson CDs from the library. She’s prepping for the trip. I’ve pretty much blown off any preparation. On one hand, I’d like to say that’s not typical, wanting to think of myself as more worldly, but then again, I suspect that it is rather typical of me. I head off into the world rather blithely. I’ve never really worried too much about traveling, unlike my mother who prepares her will even for small roadtrips. I suspect that part of this comes from the fact that I feel incredibly comfortable traveling and am probably more at home at airports. Airports have structures and rules and traveling is always an adventure, which brings twists and turns that one can never anticipate. Those two contradictory realities provide my sense of security.
My favorite memory is heading off to Kenya for my master’s research. The plan was that after arriving at the Nairobi airport, I would make my way to the Nairobi main post office and research associates would meet me there and take me to Kampi ya Samaki. No clue who would pick me up, no clue as to how to contact them. Last night, I watched “Slumdog Millionaire” and was struck by the scene where Jamal waits for his girl at the train station – a place just awash with thousands of people constantly moving and milling. I suspect that’s what the Nairobi main post office would have been like.
I don’t know – we never got that far. I got to the airport at midnight, changed money, caught a taxi to the Fairfield (recommended to me by other grad students at the University of Toronto) and settled in for the night. Right after getting into bed, the phone rang (what – who’d call me here? At this time of the night?). I got dressed and went downstairs, where I met the cousins of Margaret who were tasked with picking me up. They’d missed me at the airport and just started checking likely hotels.
This summer, I traveled to Turkey. Since I’m familiar with Istanbul and my friend there had sent me an email stating that I would be picked up at the airport, I hadn’t bothered to print out any of the information of where I’d be staying or his contact info. At the airport, no one was there. I circled around, checking out all the people with signs. No one. I had a nice chat with a guy holding a sign whose person wasn’t showing up. So, while I was at home at the Istanbul Airport, I had become too comfortable – normally I’d have taken the subway to Yeni Bosnia and then the bus to Beykent and been home. But after 6 years gone, I had no home there. And as it turns out, the Cakmakli bus didn’t run anymore, so it’s good I didn’t try that.
As luck would have it, I had just invested in an international cell phone (Estonian!!) and had gotten some phone numbers of friends via facebook. I texted those I thought most likely to know the organizers of the conference and then proceeded to hang at the airport until the situation resolved itself (Istanbul traffic).
But back to the point –I’m about to head to a country I’ve never been. I don’t speak the language and I really have no idea what to expect. I’ve done no research about the culture or the customs (well, okay, I did look at that website at the top of the blog). To be honest, if I step back and reflect upon this, it is rather disgraceful. It reeks of the attitudes I despise in the stereotypical American tourist. And yet here I am, not bothered...
The language barrier isn’t really too worrying – I know I have people in my group that speak Spanish. I’ve got some basics from Ellie’s CDs, and yet listening to Ellie’s CDs I also realized that likely I would mix Turkish in with any attempts to speak a foreign language. Trying to get by on what I have should be interesting, but I don’t feel bad about my not knowing Spanish, since I do have the ability to communicate with over 1/5 of the earth’s population (Hindi/Urdu gets you far these days, what with desi population growth rates).
Central’s contact in Merida has set up meetings for us as well as trip to Chichen Itza (ruins!! I love visiting archeological ruins). Most of what I need to know I will pick up while I’m there. I’ll be fascinated; I’ll take gobs of pictures; I’ll recount the facts I remember to innocent bystanders henceforth.
So what makes a global traveler? How does one prepare for new encounters? Or does one prepare at all, instead just being open to the experience? How much should one know before heading off? Where does preparation begin and where does experience?
All I know is that it will be another leg in the journey of my life…and that regardless of what happens, my life will be enriched by the experiences..
Friday, December 26, 2008
Introduction
There's nothing here yet, but hopefully, I'll post random musings here. I haven't thought out a theme for the blog yet, but it seems like random postings seem to fit my style. Like for example, pondering as to whether distributing viagra in Afghanistan seems to be the best long term strategy for the CIA given that population pressures are often the root causes of conflicts and instability. But, I have a cat on my lap at the time and not enough time to fully develop a proper blog right now. So, this is just a start...
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