Greetings, humans!
This will probably be my last post until I get home, since things are pretty much wrapping up here in Gabs. Since I have the weekend free and some spare time, I thought I'd spend today making some final observations and going back to a few things that I didn't have time to get to before.
So, let the games begin!
First off, we're having a long weekend to celebrate Sir Seretse Khama, Botswana's first president, so I've had the last four days off and won't have class until Thursday. Since I've chosen not to travel to Victoria Falls with the majority of my group (reasons best explained in person) I've devised an extremely ambitious schedule of planting myself in various cafes, drinking massive quantities of rooibos tea, and sleeping for ten hours each night. I know that sounds awfully rigorous but I can handle it. I may finish a book or two.
On a side note, I saw Toy Story 3 and think it deserves about twenty Oscars.
The following conversation has occured almost daily, or whenever I meet someone new, since I arrived here:
Person From Botswana: What is your name?
Me: Hillary.
PFB: sdfiodje?
Me: Hee-lah-ree.
PFB: dfijdijd?
Me: Like Hillary Clinton.
PFB: Oooh, Hillary.
Apparently, they like her almost as much as Barack.
I have been pleased to note that the food has been suprisingly vegetarian-friendly, given the livestock-based culture. I think I have the British influence to thank for that, since most of the chain resturaunts are UK-based. Not to mention, the best Botswana delicacies are actually totally vegetarian. For example, the fatcake: A ball of dough fried in oil. It's like an unsweetened donut. Similarly, the dumpling: A ball of dough cooked in boiling water. It's like a crustless bagel. Thankfully, my host families have not tried quite as hard to fatten me up as some have in the past (my biggest point of contention with my host family in Thailand was my inability to eat nearly enough for them), because clearly it would be all too easy.
Each night, a show called Generations comes on at 8:00. This show is a soap opera with a capital S, but it's extremely addicting and I'm pretty sure that the entire country watches it. There are about tweleve different storylines- Paul and Karabo were engaged, but then she had an affair with Lungile and he had an affair with Dineo, who's living with her former husband Ken and trying to pretend to be interested in getting back together so that he'll let her stay, and...etc. I may have to see if it's on youtube when I get back, because I just don't know how I'll get around without knowing what happens to Kaphela and Sara!
So, it's been a good ride. I've met some cool people, drank a lot of tea, changed the course of my life, and all the things that you're supposed to do after a trip to Africa. This production of Hillary's Blog has been brought to you by Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate, FreshPak rooibos tea, and vaseline gel! In a few weeks, this space will be converted back to its usual forum for my political rants, so stay tuned if that sounds amusing to you.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Mochudi and Other Assorted Sidenotes
Hello from yet another internet cafe!
As suggested by the title, I spent last week in the village of Mochudi, about 40 minutes' drive from Gaborone. The purpose of this was to see how rural medicine works in Botswana, and also for the students who are staying the the dorms at the University of Botswana to get a chance to do homestays as well. (We were given a choice of where to stay in Gaborone, but everyone did homestays in Mochudi, so I've had two separate host families this trip!)
I'll address the rural medicine first. Essentially, clinics in Mochudi are exactly the same as in Gaborone. This makes sense, since the public clinics are all run by the Ministry of Health. Mochudi just wasn't as crowded; in Gaborone, when I arrive at the clinic at 6:45 each morning (my host mother drops me on her way to work), there are always people already lined up wating for the clinic to open at 7:30. In Mochudi, no one really got there until 9:00. So, what did I do all day? Not much. I literally read The Last of the Mohicans during my week in the clinic. Oh well.
My host family was great, however. When I arrived on Saturday, my mother took me to the funeral of one of her relatives, where I ended up making bread and was finally given a Setswana name (Banyana!). She wanted to know what all my pills were for and why my hair changed color after I washed it. (Answer: Because it was wet.) We had a good time.
On a side note, I have temporarily developed a phobia of dogs here. The dogs here aren't really pets; they're kept for security. Unfortunately, they do their jobs very well and I have been chased by dogs no less than four times in the past week. (Why me? It can't be the meat they smell in my blood.) I'm told they rarely actually bite, and they just bark to scare people. Well, it's working. Plus, I didn't get the rabies shot, so I really don't feel like taking chances. If anyone has a nice, chubby American dog that I can pet for a while when I get home, I'm sure I'll get over my fear in no time.
The program is starting to wind down now, as we have only twelve days left before departure. I'll have my last clinics and classwork next week, and then there's a long weekend during which I'll explore Gaborone, station myself in various cafes, and write my paper on my clinical experience. Then final exam, and then...airport! I'm looking forward to hanging out in Gaborone but also, of course, to coming home.
As suggested by the title, I spent last week in the village of Mochudi, about 40 minutes' drive from Gaborone. The purpose of this was to see how rural medicine works in Botswana, and also for the students who are staying the the dorms at the University of Botswana to get a chance to do homestays as well. (We were given a choice of where to stay in Gaborone, but everyone did homestays in Mochudi, so I've had two separate host families this trip!)
I'll address the rural medicine first. Essentially, clinics in Mochudi are exactly the same as in Gaborone. This makes sense, since the public clinics are all run by the Ministry of Health. Mochudi just wasn't as crowded; in Gaborone, when I arrive at the clinic at 6:45 each morning (my host mother drops me on her way to work), there are always people already lined up wating for the clinic to open at 7:30. In Mochudi, no one really got there until 9:00. So, what did I do all day? Not much. I literally read The Last of the Mohicans during my week in the clinic. Oh well.
My host family was great, however. When I arrived on Saturday, my mother took me to the funeral of one of her relatives, where I ended up making bread and was finally given a Setswana name (Banyana!). She wanted to know what all my pills were for and why my hair changed color after I washed it. (Answer: Because it was wet.) We had a good time.
On a side note, I have temporarily developed a phobia of dogs here. The dogs here aren't really pets; they're kept for security. Unfortunately, they do their jobs very well and I have been chased by dogs no less than four times in the past week. (Why me? It can't be the meat they smell in my blood.) I'm told they rarely actually bite, and they just bark to scare people. Well, it's working. Plus, I didn't get the rabies shot, so I really don't feel like taking chances. If anyone has a nice, chubby American dog that I can pet for a while when I get home, I'm sure I'll get over my fear in no time.
The program is starting to wind down now, as we have only twelve days left before departure. I'll have my last clinics and classwork next week, and then there's a long weekend during which I'll explore Gaborone, station myself in various cafes, and write my paper on my clinical experience. Then final exam, and then...airport! I'm looking forward to hanging out in Gaborone but also, of course, to coming home.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The Race Card
Hello All,
Today's post is going to touch on a sensitive issue: race. I'm not planning on saying anything offensive, but if you are upset/confused/amused by anything that I say, please feel free to comment/email me about it. I'm open to discussion. Otherwise, I wouldn't write a blog!
Before I start: Hi Reenuka! Hi Ravi! (And Demi, Emily, Eileen...sorry if I missed anyone MISS YOU ALL)
So, race. Coming as a white person from America, being a minority here has turned the tables in a few ways that made me think a bit. First off, the obvious: When my fellow students and I walk together, people hard-core stare at us. When I walk by myself home from the clinic, people stare but not quite as openly. Still, I stick out quite a bit. And the truth is, I've found myself doing the same thing when I see another white person in the mall or on the road. It's an adjustment, but so far one that I sort of anticipated.
On the other hand, one element has suprised me: The media. I remember reading and hearing complaints that ads in the US disproportionately feature white people, and that white people play most of the important characters on shows, etc. I sort of nodded along to these, since it seemed logical. It's a lot more striking, however, when pretty much every single ad and commercial features Black actors. I don't mean to imply that this is a problem, but it did make me realize that I'm used to seeing myself (or at least, my race) reflected back to me in ways that I may not be conscious of most of the time.
The same has happened with, of all things, fashion. I bought a copy of New African Woman magazine as part of an assignment to read local literature (and it turned out to be quite interesting, actually). After flipping through it a bit, I realized that I could completely skip all of the sections on hair and make-up suggestions...because they were all geared for hair and skin-type completely different from mine. It makes sense, of course. There's no reason to cater magazine articles to the tiny white minority in Botswana- but it definitely made me aware of how my life in America is affected by my being white.
Speaking of race, people LOVE Obama here. They tend not to know much about him or his politics, but he's definitely seen as an African, or at least closer to Africa than other presidents. After the US-Ghana game, some people were chanting something along the lines of, "Go home, USA! Come home, Obama!" Don't tell the birthers, they'll use it as evidence.
(In case you were wondering, I'm probably not going to get dreadlocks, speaking of hair. It would be possible, but a pain to take out.)
Today's post is going to touch on a sensitive issue: race. I'm not planning on saying anything offensive, but if you are upset/confused/amused by anything that I say, please feel free to comment/email me about it. I'm open to discussion. Otherwise, I wouldn't write a blog!
Before I start: Hi Reenuka! Hi Ravi! (And Demi, Emily, Eileen...sorry if I missed anyone MISS YOU ALL)
So, race. Coming as a white person from America, being a minority here has turned the tables in a few ways that made me think a bit. First off, the obvious: When my fellow students and I walk together, people hard-core stare at us. When I walk by myself home from the clinic, people stare but not quite as openly. Still, I stick out quite a bit. And the truth is, I've found myself doing the same thing when I see another white person in the mall or on the road. It's an adjustment, but so far one that I sort of anticipated.
On the other hand, one element has suprised me: The media. I remember reading and hearing complaints that ads in the US disproportionately feature white people, and that white people play most of the important characters on shows, etc. I sort of nodded along to these, since it seemed logical. It's a lot more striking, however, when pretty much every single ad and commercial features Black actors. I don't mean to imply that this is a problem, but it did make me realize that I'm used to seeing myself (or at least, my race) reflected back to me in ways that I may not be conscious of most of the time.
The same has happened with, of all things, fashion. I bought a copy of New African Woman magazine as part of an assignment to read local literature (and it turned out to be quite interesting, actually). After flipping through it a bit, I realized that I could completely skip all of the sections on hair and make-up suggestions...because they were all geared for hair and skin-type completely different from mine. It makes sense, of course. There's no reason to cater magazine articles to the tiny white minority in Botswana- but it definitely made me aware of how my life in America is affected by my being white.
Speaking of race, people LOVE Obama here. They tend not to know much about him or his politics, but he's definitely seen as an African, or at least closer to Africa than other presidents. After the US-Ghana game, some people were chanting something along the lines of, "Go home, USA! Come home, Obama!" Don't tell the birthers, they'll use it as evidence.
(In case you were wondering, I'm probably not going to get dreadlocks, speaking of hair. It would be possible, but a pain to take out.)
Sunday, June 27, 2010
USA! USA! OBAMA! YES WE CAN! Oh wait...
Hello all,
So I'm sitting here in an internet cafe, sipping an espresso con panna (they don't have Starbucks here, but they do alright), and blogging when I should be frantically working on two assignments due tomorrow. But this is so much more important, because...
Last night, I went to Rustenburg and watched Ghana kill the USA in an epic game of football.
This game was pretty awesome. A few figures:
USA goals: 1
Ghana goals: 2
Souveniers bought: 0. This was not me being cheap...shockingly, they weren't selling any souveniers (except those cursed horns, which I'll get to in a minute) at the arena. I'll be sure to get some gear before I leave, since they're selling it (oddly enough) everywhere else.
Times I lost circulation to my extremities: 3.
Times I cared: 0. There was a game to watch. USA! USA!
Seats empty in the arena: 27 (out of 40,000)- this is an official figure
We somehow managed to hire a bus large enough to take all 18 of us, and the drive was about 3.5 hours from Gabs to Rustenburg. A sidenote about South Africa: Does anyone else think it's a tad obnoxious that they just named themselves for the entire region? Every time I try to tell someone that Botswana is in southern Africa, they immediately assume that it's part of South Africa and I have to explain that it's actually a country of its own. Granted, part of the problem here is that no one knows anything (myself included) about African geography.
To be honest, I'm happy that Ghana won. Firstly because my friends and I were surrounded by Ghana supporters, and I might have feared for my life if they'd lost. (Not really, they were all very friendly.) Secondly, soccer just really means a lot more to Ghana and the rest of Africa that it does to us. If the US went to the finals, most of us would be kind of excited, but it's nowhere near the same passion.
So, life has been pretty good. I should probably do some homework. Probably.
So I'm sitting here in an internet cafe, sipping an espresso con panna (they don't have Starbucks here, but they do alright), and blogging when I should be frantically working on two assignments due tomorrow. But this is so much more important, because...
Last night, I went to Rustenburg and watched Ghana kill the USA in an epic game of football.
This game was pretty awesome. A few figures:
USA goals: 1
Ghana goals: 2
Souveniers bought: 0. This was not me being cheap...shockingly, they weren't selling any souveniers (except those cursed horns, which I'll get to in a minute) at the arena. I'll be sure to get some gear before I leave, since they're selling it (oddly enough) everywhere else.
Times I lost circulation to my extremities: 3.
Times I cared: 0. There was a game to watch. USA! USA!
Seats empty in the arena: 27 (out of 40,000)- this is an official figure
We somehow managed to hire a bus large enough to take all 18 of us, and the drive was about 3.5 hours from Gabs to Rustenburg. A sidenote about South Africa: Does anyone else think it's a tad obnoxious that they just named themselves for the entire region? Every time I try to tell someone that Botswana is in southern Africa, they immediately assume that it's part of South Africa and I have to explain that it's actually a country of its own. Granted, part of the problem here is that no one knows anything (myself included) about African geography.
To be honest, I'm happy that Ghana won. Firstly because my friends and I were surrounded by Ghana supporters, and I might have feared for my life if they'd lost. (Not really, they were all very friendly.) Secondly, soccer just really means a lot more to Ghana and the rest of Africa that it does to us. If the US went to the finals, most of us would be kind of excited, but it's nowhere near the same passion.
So, life has been pretty good. I should probably do some homework. Probably.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Health and Such
Hello All,
This week I finished my first three days observing in a clinic. The experience has been extremely interesting, and I'm seriously considering becoming pre-med now. (Then again, I'm also seriously considering getting dreadlocks, so goodness knows where my head's at. Any advice on either would be greatly appreciated!)
You may find it amusing to hear that we've been told to wear white lab coats to the clinics to identify us as "student-doctors" or something like that. It's amazing and a little disconcerting to see that, in spite of the fact that I have zero medical training, people are willing to undress and discuss their health problems while I'm in the room...as long as I have that coat on. Stanley Milgrim, you have been proved correct yet again.
In brief, everything in this clinic is on paper- people carry their health records with them in folders to the doctor, and the doctors mark everyone who comes in a huge registry book. If someone forgets to bring a prescription, or any previous file, the doctor/nurse seeing them is at a huge loss to figure out what their story is. (This was particularly an issue in the AIDS section of the clinic, where previous medications are especially important.) They take blood pressure and temperatures the old-fashioned way, and the ante-natal check-ups are limited to listening for fetal heartbeat with a plastic tube. There's always a doctor in the AIDS section, but only twice a week for the general clinic; the nurses hold down the rest. They begin each day with a long prayer session. (Sidenote: These people can SING. Not only has every single person I met had an amazing singing voice, but they seem to be able to effortlessly fall into five-part harmony. I have no explanation, but I'm jealous.)
All of these things would seem to be huge, red-flag indicators of an efficient, broken system- yet it works, so far as I've seen, amazingly well. "Doctor's handwriting" wouldn't really fly here, and each of the nurses are skilled enough at what they do that nothing takes too long. If anything, the real issue (both in what I've observed and what we've been learning in class) seems to be the patients themselves.
In spite of the government's anti-HIV efforts, there's still a huge stigma in even discussing the disease. No one wants to admit having had sex, including pregnant women. The only place where people speak about HIV openly is on that side of the clinic (which is a separate building from the general clinic). When giving babies a check-up, (don't worry, I was only recording the information and not handling anything too complex) I was told not to ask whether the babies were HIV-positive or not...even though there was a section on every sheet to mark their status. Unless the results of the test were in the baby's file (which nine times out of ten they were not), I just wrote "unknown." In spite of the fact that about one-third of adults 18-59 in the country have AIDS or another STI, it's completely taboo to mention the disease even in a clinic.
I don't mean to be a downer; the experience has been quite positive so far. After spending the first day with the babies, I observed the AIDS clinic on Tuesday, and hung out with pregant women on Wednesday. Bewarel I'm starting to think in kilograms and meters.
This week I finished my first three days observing in a clinic. The experience has been extremely interesting, and I'm seriously considering becoming pre-med now. (Then again, I'm also seriously considering getting dreadlocks, so goodness knows where my head's at. Any advice on either would be greatly appreciated!)
You may find it amusing to hear that we've been told to wear white lab coats to the clinics to identify us as "student-doctors" or something like that. It's amazing and a little disconcerting to see that, in spite of the fact that I have zero medical training, people are willing to undress and discuss their health problems while I'm in the room...as long as I have that coat on. Stanley Milgrim, you have been proved correct yet again.
In brief, everything in this clinic is on paper- people carry their health records with them in folders to the doctor, and the doctors mark everyone who comes in a huge registry book. If someone forgets to bring a prescription, or any previous file, the doctor/nurse seeing them is at a huge loss to figure out what their story is. (This was particularly an issue in the AIDS section of the clinic, where previous medications are especially important.) They take blood pressure and temperatures the old-fashioned way, and the ante-natal check-ups are limited to listening for fetal heartbeat with a plastic tube. There's always a doctor in the AIDS section, but only twice a week for the general clinic; the nurses hold down the rest. They begin each day with a long prayer session. (Sidenote: These people can SING. Not only has every single person I met had an amazing singing voice, but they seem to be able to effortlessly fall into five-part harmony. I have no explanation, but I'm jealous.)
All of these things would seem to be huge, red-flag indicators of an efficient, broken system- yet it works, so far as I've seen, amazingly well. "Doctor's handwriting" wouldn't really fly here, and each of the nurses are skilled enough at what they do that nothing takes too long. If anything, the real issue (both in what I've observed and what we've been learning in class) seems to be the patients themselves.
In spite of the government's anti-HIV efforts, there's still a huge stigma in even discussing the disease. No one wants to admit having had sex, including pregnant women. The only place where people speak about HIV openly is on that side of the clinic (which is a separate building from the general clinic). When giving babies a check-up, (don't worry, I was only recording the information and not handling anything too complex) I was told not to ask whether the babies were HIV-positive or not...even though there was a section on every sheet to mark their status. Unless the results of the test were in the baby's file (which nine times out of ten they were not), I just wrote "unknown." In spite of the fact that about one-third of adults 18-59 in the country have AIDS or another STI, it's completely taboo to mention the disease even in a clinic.
I don't mean to be a downer; the experience has been quite positive so far. After spending the first day with the babies, I observed the AIDS clinic on Tuesday, and hung out with pregant women on Wednesday. Bewarel I'm starting to think in kilograms and meters.
Friday, June 18, 2010
A Few Fun Facts
Yay, I have computer access two days in a row! My host mother has very kindly allowed me to use her laptop for internet while we watch Generations, the most addiction soap opera on any continent. So, I'll use the opportunity to give a few fun facts/hopefully interesting observations for all y'all.
On a side note, feel free to email me to say hi or respond to something you see here- I didn't want to send mass emails just because they turned out to be not so successful, but private emails are no problem. I miss you all ;-)
Normally I don't think I'll talk much about our classes, since while I find public health interesting I don't necessarily expect all of you to, here's an interesting fun fact that explains some otherwise contradictory aspects of life in Botswana.
As you may or may not know, Botswana is one of the most politically and economically stable countries in Sub-Saharan Africa, yet one-third of the adult population has HIV/AIDS. This seemed contradictory to my dad and I when we were googling a few months ago. Today, my professor noted that when observing the health of a population, it's important to look not only at total prevalance of an illness but also of new cases specifically. The fact that so many people are alive with HIV in Botswana is more due to the government's successful efforts to treat HIV patients efficiently and affordably, as opposed to other countries where thousands of people are dying of the disease. The statistic then makes Botswana appear to have a relatively large problem (which, granted, they do), but hides the reality of their successful programs.
On a side note, this is the evil, evil result of a very socialized medical system. The system isn't perfect by any means, and the AIDS campaigns have been so successful mainly because most of the resources have been devoted to it- but still. Just a heads up.
If you're following the world cup, you've surely heard those horns that they blow constantly throughout the game. I can tell you, the noise from the TV doesn't come near to doing them justice. The Booboozhellas (surely spelled wrong, but that's how it sounds) are loud and unbelievably annoying. When some of my host mother's friends came over to watch Mexico vs. France last night (domage, mes amis) there were about four of them in the room, and it literally sounded like four shofars being blown simultaneously in a fairly small room. (For non-Jews: it was really loud.) So I'm sorry to tell my brothers back home in advance that I will not be buying them one, because I would have to kill them if they ever blew it.
Not-as-fun fact: Last night, there was a blackout in my family's home for about two hours. This has been happening on schedule on Mondays and Thursdays, from somewhere between 4 and 10 pm, for the last few months, due to...the World Cup! Yes, as it turns out, Gaborone gets part of its electricity from South Africa. Unfortunately, they're in need of a bit more power these days, so the solution is scheduled blackouts in different parts of the city for several hours each night. Well, that's one way to deal with the energy crisis.
Speaking of energy, BP is advertising like mad here in Bots. My guess is that they're hoping the news of their "almost-junk" status hasn't reached this corner of the world- I'm doing my best to make sure it does. I'm sure my host brother is sick of hearing me talking about the spill by now.
With that, I present to you a list:
Western Luxeries that You Didn't Know Were Luxeries
-Soap in public bathrooms. (The details of this one cannot be given in this blog, email me if you want to hear more.)
-Purell availible to buy. (See above.)
-Hot water
-Central heating/cooling (Actually, you probably knew this one)
-Schedules
-"Alone time"
-Set prices (as opposed to, "You're white so for you it's 10 pula more)
I'll probably add more as I go. I'm actually using this list not to vent my frustration at these things, which I pretty much expected, but rather at some of my groupmates who seemed not to understand that "developing countries" are "developing" for a reason. In all seriousness, the quality of life in Bots seems superior on almost all counts to that on the Navajo Reservation where I spent some time. (I may have said this before. Sorry. It's been a long week.)
Sorry for the incoherence of these posts. They're not so well-planned. You can make fun of me for them when I see you (whoever "you," my friendly follower, happen to be) in a few weeks.
On a side note, feel free to email me to say hi or respond to something you see here- I didn't want to send mass emails just because they turned out to be not so successful, but private emails are no problem. I miss you all ;-)
Normally I don't think I'll talk much about our classes, since while I find public health interesting I don't necessarily expect all of you to, here's an interesting fun fact that explains some otherwise contradictory aspects of life in Botswana.
As you may or may not know, Botswana is one of the most politically and economically stable countries in Sub-Saharan Africa, yet one-third of the adult population has HIV/AIDS. This seemed contradictory to my dad and I when we were googling a few months ago. Today, my professor noted that when observing the health of a population, it's important to look not only at total prevalance of an illness but also of new cases specifically. The fact that so many people are alive with HIV in Botswana is more due to the government's successful efforts to treat HIV patients efficiently and affordably, as opposed to other countries where thousands of people are dying of the disease. The statistic then makes Botswana appear to have a relatively large problem (which, granted, they do), but hides the reality of their successful programs.
On a side note, this is the evil, evil result of a very socialized medical system. The system isn't perfect by any means, and the AIDS campaigns have been so successful mainly because most of the resources have been devoted to it- but still. Just a heads up.
If you're following the world cup, you've surely heard those horns that they blow constantly throughout the game. I can tell you, the noise from the TV doesn't come near to doing them justice. The Booboozhellas (surely spelled wrong, but that's how it sounds) are loud and unbelievably annoying. When some of my host mother's friends came over to watch Mexico vs. France last night (domage, mes amis) there were about four of them in the room, and it literally sounded like four shofars being blown simultaneously in a fairly small room. (For non-Jews: it was really loud.) So I'm sorry to tell my brothers back home in advance that I will not be buying them one, because I would have to kill them if they ever blew it.
Not-as-fun fact: Last night, there was a blackout in my family's home for about two hours. This has been happening on schedule on Mondays and Thursdays, from somewhere between 4 and 10 pm, for the last few months, due to...the World Cup! Yes, as it turns out, Gaborone gets part of its electricity from South Africa. Unfortunately, they're in need of a bit more power these days, so the solution is scheduled blackouts in different parts of the city for several hours each night. Well, that's one way to deal with the energy crisis.
Speaking of energy, BP is advertising like mad here in Bots. My guess is that they're hoping the news of their "almost-junk" status hasn't reached this corner of the world- I'm doing my best to make sure it does. I'm sure my host brother is sick of hearing me talking about the spill by now.
With that, I present to you a list:
Western Luxeries that You Didn't Know Were Luxeries
-Soap in public bathrooms. (The details of this one cannot be given in this blog, email me if you want to hear more.)
-Purell availible to buy. (See above.)
-Hot water
-Central heating/cooling (Actually, you probably knew this one)
-Schedules
-"Alone time"
-Set prices (as opposed to, "You're white so for you it's 10 pula more)
I'll probably add more as I go. I'm actually using this list not to vent my frustration at these things, which I pretty much expected, but rather at some of my groupmates who seemed not to understand that "developing countries" are "developing" for a reason. In all seriousness, the quality of life in Bots seems superior on almost all counts to that on the Navajo Reservation where I spent some time. (I may have said this before. Sorry. It's been a long week.)
Sorry for the incoherence of these posts. They're not so well-planned. You can make fun of me for them when I see you (whoever "you," my friendly follower, happen to be) in a few weeks.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
It's Still Cold Here
Hello All,
I'm sorry that I haven't been able to update as often over the last few days- we've started our classes and having access to computers turned out to be a little more complicated than expected, but I think it should be worked out by now.
As the title suggests, it's still pretty cold. I'm not going to spend too much time complaining about it here, since it's pointless and we do it pretty much all day anyway. Suffice to say that, according to the thermometer outside the University of Botswana's entrance, it was 3 degrees celsius when we arrived this morning. According to my friend who is better with conversions than I, that's about 37 degrees. It does get marginally warmer around noon, thank goodness.
To highlight the last few days:
Last Saturday, we climbed Kgali Hill. Our leader, Batsi, (who is kind of insanely cool) feels that it's no fun to go up the same way you go down, so we hacked through the bush to get up before using the actual trail to go down. After the initial panic of avoiding thorn bushes, it wasn't too bad, so I guess he was right. It did take three hours, but that's par for the course with 20 people I guess.
Last Sunday, we moved in with our host families. My home consists of my mother, my 16-year-old brother, and my 19-year old cousin. They all get up around 5:00 in the morning and go to bed around 9:00 or 10:00 at night, and I'm going to have to get on that schedule too once our clinic placements start next week. (For now, I can sleep until the luxerious hour of 6:15.) The daily commute via khombi bus is a bit of a hassle, but I'm glad that I chose to do a homestay. The people in dorms are having fun too, but I do that all year round anyway.
We've all been following the World Cup here, since it's on TV and the radio pretty much constantly. I'm pickign the true underdog and rooting for North Korea. Those poor folks deserve a break.
Otherwise, we're still sort of in the initial stages of the trip. Next week, we'll be working in clinics 7:30-4:00 Monday-Wednesday, and then in class Thursday-Friday. It's still sort of unclear what we'll be doing in the clinics, since we're not legally allowed to administer anything, but I'm sure that will work itself out too.
On a side note, my fellow tea-drinkers may be encouraged to know that rooibos tea is actually quite popular here. The brand that my host family drinks tastes almost exactly like a red tea latte from Starbucks. It made me happy to know that my tea habit is actually somewhat authentic, and not just Starbuck's attempt at exoticism. (Red chai, anyone? I recommend it.)
I'm sorry that I haven't been able to update as often over the last few days- we've started our classes and having access to computers turned out to be a little more complicated than expected, but I think it should be worked out by now.
As the title suggests, it's still pretty cold. I'm not going to spend too much time complaining about it here, since it's pointless and we do it pretty much all day anyway. Suffice to say that, according to the thermometer outside the University of Botswana's entrance, it was 3 degrees celsius when we arrived this morning. According to my friend who is better with conversions than I, that's about 37 degrees. It does get marginally warmer around noon, thank goodness.
To highlight the last few days:
Last Saturday, we climbed Kgali Hill. Our leader, Batsi, (who is kind of insanely cool) feels that it's no fun to go up the same way you go down, so we hacked through the bush to get up before using the actual trail to go down. After the initial panic of avoiding thorn bushes, it wasn't too bad, so I guess he was right. It did take three hours, but that's par for the course with 20 people I guess.
Last Sunday, we moved in with our host families. My home consists of my mother, my 16-year-old brother, and my 19-year old cousin. They all get up around 5:00 in the morning and go to bed around 9:00 or 10:00 at night, and I'm going to have to get on that schedule too once our clinic placements start next week. (For now, I can sleep until the luxerious hour of 6:15.) The daily commute via khombi bus is a bit of a hassle, but I'm glad that I chose to do a homestay. The people in dorms are having fun too, but I do that all year round anyway.
We've all been following the World Cup here, since it's on TV and the radio pretty much constantly. I'm pickign the true underdog and rooting for North Korea. Those poor folks deserve a break.
Otherwise, we're still sort of in the initial stages of the trip. Next week, we'll be working in clinics 7:30-4:00 Monday-Wednesday, and then in class Thursday-Friday. It's still sort of unclear what we'll be doing in the clinics, since we're not legally allowed to administer anything, but I'm sure that will work itself out too.
On a side note, my fellow tea-drinkers may be encouraged to know that rooibos tea is actually quite popular here. The brand that my host family drinks tastes almost exactly like a red tea latte from Starbucks. It made me happy to know that my tea habit is actually somewhat authentic, and not just Starbuck's attempt at exoticism. (Red chai, anyone? I recommend it.)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Written from Windsor Hotel, Gaborone
6/10/10
Hello All,
I apologize for the post below, it was composed in the type of stupor that can only be produced when the body isn’t sure if it’s 10:00 or 3:00 in the morning. I’m still working on that a little bit. There still hasn’t been much serious action and probably won’t be for the next few days as we continue to orient ourselves to Botswana time and our plans for the next few weeks. I have confirmed that I will be staying with a host family instead of in a dorm at the University of Botwsana, which means that I’ll get to learn the bus system in Gaborone. (Our director, Batsi, says that anyone who’s learned any American subway system will have no problems. It’s good to know that I learned more on the NYC subway that how not to make eye contact with people.)
I have also signed up- although this is not yet confirmed- to spend a week interning at an environmental organization instead of in a clinic. I chose to do this because it seems that most of the other students on the trip are pre=med, and that medical knowledge/experience would be necessary (or at least very helpful) in order to be of any use in a clinic. If I were staying for longer I’d be able to do both, but hopefully living with my host family and living vicariously through my other groupmates will give me a sense of how it works.
As many of you probably know, it is winter here in Botswana and it has been quite chilly so far. It’s getting more pleasant now (12:00 noon exactly) but was very cold last night and this morning. This is partly my own fault, since I only wore a sweatshirt on the plane and am still separated from my checked luggage (it’s in the airport, but we haven’t had a chance to get it yet). Luckily, lots of us were caught unprepared and we’ll make a trip to get fleeces tomorrow or Saturday. The custom of taking tea mid-morning, left over from Botswana’s British colonial heritage, has also been a great help.
Sidenote: Always bring a change of clothes in your carry-on bag. This is one of those travel tips that is actually quite useful- or would have been, had I taken it. I ask you not to estimate how many hours I have been wearing these same clothes because you’ll probably be grossed out and judge me forever.
Sidenote #2: Gaborone is pronounced Haboroneh. Just fyi.
That’s about all thus far, I’ll post all this just as soon as the hotel’s internet starts working!
6/9/10
Hello from Africa, finally! Rather than bore you with a litany of plane details, I’ve decided to boil my 15-hour ride into two lists: Highlights and Lowlights. Good news first.
Highlight #1: Got an aisle seat on the plane! Hours of awkwardness avoided.
Highlight #2: Seats were remarkably comfortable, and there was almost enough room to even stretch my legs while I was sitting. Why must American airline companies make flying so miserable?
Highlight #3: Okay, so this requires some explanation unless you were in my English class/were my English teacher (hi Ms. Stokes!), or have read The Road. In The Road, there is a somewhat obscure passage describing how the main character fills his bathtub with water immediately after a nuclear attack. In my English class, we spent the better part of a class trying to figure out what, exactly, was the purpose of doing that. Fast forward to this flight, when I was reading a 300-paged book called How to Survive a Zombie Attack (it was a 15-hour flight, don’t judge me). It explained that, in case of a zombie siege, the first thing that one should do is fill the bathtub with water, so that one has a big supply to use in case of long-term confinement. This prevents reliance on water pipes that can be cut or turned off when zombies (or nuclear attack, in The Road) turn society into chaos. The book went on so specify that the one may also need to hide from bandits that may take control in the face of said chaos- which is, in fact, exactly what happens post-nuclear fallout in The Road. Suddenly it all made sense.
So, long story short, highlight #3: Pondered great literature/ geeked out for a bit.
Highlight #4: Princess. And. The. Frog. So. Good! It wasn’t the only movie I watched during the flight, but it was by far the most exciting/adorable.
Highlight #5: Discovered by observation that putting the airline-provided pillow on the tray table and sleeping forward that way is actually relatively comfortable. Got an entire hour of sleep.
And bad news.
Lowlight #1: The air temperature was kept around 60 degrees the entire time. I literally wrapped the blanket (that South Africa Air so kindly provided) around my head and huddled for the entire flight. On another flight this would be a minor annoyance, but after 10 hours or so it was kind of sad.
Lowlight #2: Was not given my receipt when I checked my bag. Realized this may be a problem only when I got on the plane. See lowlight #3.
Lowlight #3: Bag did not arrive with me in Gaborone. I’m not too worried because several of the people on my flight also didn’t get their bags. Having the luggage receipt would have made it an awful lot easier to register the claim, though.
So, I know this wasn’t exactly cultured or even particularly interesting, but I promise I will have more as soon as I actually leave this hotel!
Hello All,
I apologize for the post below, it was composed in the type of stupor that can only be produced when the body isn’t sure if it’s 10:00 or 3:00 in the morning. I’m still working on that a little bit. There still hasn’t been much serious action and probably won’t be for the next few days as we continue to orient ourselves to Botswana time and our plans for the next few weeks. I have confirmed that I will be staying with a host family instead of in a dorm at the University of Botwsana, which means that I’ll get to learn the bus system in Gaborone. (Our director, Batsi, says that anyone who’s learned any American subway system will have no problems. It’s good to know that I learned more on the NYC subway that how not to make eye contact with people.)
I have also signed up- although this is not yet confirmed- to spend a week interning at an environmental organization instead of in a clinic. I chose to do this because it seems that most of the other students on the trip are pre=med, and that medical knowledge/experience would be necessary (or at least very helpful) in order to be of any use in a clinic. If I were staying for longer I’d be able to do both, but hopefully living with my host family and living vicariously through my other groupmates will give me a sense of how it works.
As many of you probably know, it is winter here in Botswana and it has been quite chilly so far. It’s getting more pleasant now (12:00 noon exactly) but was very cold last night and this morning. This is partly my own fault, since I only wore a sweatshirt on the plane and am still separated from my checked luggage (it’s in the airport, but we haven’t had a chance to get it yet). Luckily, lots of us were caught unprepared and we’ll make a trip to get fleeces tomorrow or Saturday. The custom of taking tea mid-morning, left over from Botswana’s British colonial heritage, has also been a great help.
Sidenote: Always bring a change of clothes in your carry-on bag. This is one of those travel tips that is actually quite useful- or would have been, had I taken it. I ask you not to estimate how many hours I have been wearing these same clothes because you’ll probably be grossed out and judge me forever.
Sidenote #2: Gaborone is pronounced Haboroneh. Just fyi.
That’s about all thus far, I’ll post all this just as soon as the hotel’s internet starts working!
6/9/10
Hello from Africa, finally! Rather than bore you with a litany of plane details, I’ve decided to boil my 15-hour ride into two lists: Highlights and Lowlights. Good news first.
Highlight #1: Got an aisle seat on the plane! Hours of awkwardness avoided.
Highlight #2: Seats were remarkably comfortable, and there was almost enough room to even stretch my legs while I was sitting. Why must American airline companies make flying so miserable?
Highlight #3: Okay, so this requires some explanation unless you were in my English class/were my English teacher (hi Ms. Stokes!), or have read The Road. In The Road, there is a somewhat obscure passage describing how the main character fills his bathtub with water immediately after a nuclear attack. In my English class, we spent the better part of a class trying to figure out what, exactly, was the purpose of doing that. Fast forward to this flight, when I was reading a 300-paged book called How to Survive a Zombie Attack (it was a 15-hour flight, don’t judge me). It explained that, in case of a zombie siege, the first thing that one should do is fill the bathtub with water, so that one has a big supply to use in case of long-term confinement. This prevents reliance on water pipes that can be cut or turned off when zombies (or nuclear attack, in The Road) turn society into chaos. The book went on so specify that the one may also need to hide from bandits that may take control in the face of said chaos- which is, in fact, exactly what happens post-nuclear fallout in The Road. Suddenly it all made sense.
So, long story short, highlight #3: Pondered great literature/ geeked out for a bit.
Highlight #4: Princess. And. The. Frog. So. Good! It wasn’t the only movie I watched during the flight, but it was by far the most exciting/adorable.
Highlight #5: Discovered by observation that putting the airline-provided pillow on the tray table and sleeping forward that way is actually relatively comfortable. Got an entire hour of sleep.
And bad news.
Lowlight #1: The air temperature was kept around 60 degrees the entire time. I literally wrapped the blanket (that South Africa Air so kindly provided) around my head and huddled for the entire flight. On another flight this would be a minor annoyance, but after 10 hours or so it was kind of sad.
Lowlight #2: Was not given my receipt when I checked my bag. Realized this may be a problem only when I got on the plane. See lowlight #3.
Lowlight #3: Bag did not arrive with me in Gaborone. I’m not too worried because several of the people on my flight also didn’t get their bags. Having the luggage receipt would have made it an awful lot easier to register the claim, though.
So, I know this wasn’t exactly cultured or even particularly interesting, but I promise I will have more as soon as I actually leave this hotel!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Curious George Goes to Africa
Hello all,
Welcome to my dusted and de-cobwebbed blog! (It's been a few months. I blame finals, and the fact that I do have a life outside of blogging.) While I usually use this space to rant about political events that irk me, I've temporarily renovated to instead post updates on my upcoming study in Botswana!
If you'd like to read about political events that irk me, scroll down a bit to older posts. Warning: I'm a quasi-socialist. You may be offended. Just sayin'.
I'm not sure at this point how often I'll be able/willing to post, depending on whether or not I bring my own laptop, but I'll do my best to update at least once per week.
To clarify the title: I posted an explanation on this when I first started, but I don't expect any of y'all to scroll back that far. The title of my blog is taken from a poem by Rumi, which reads:
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
I encourage all of you to comment on future or past posts, even (or especially!) just to argue with me- when I'm not being obnoxiously intellectual, I'm not all that bad to talk to.
Welcome to my dusted and de-cobwebbed blog! (It's been a few months. I blame finals, and the fact that I do have a life outside of blogging.) While I usually use this space to rant about political events that irk me, I've temporarily renovated to instead post updates on my upcoming study in Botswana!
If you'd like to read about political events that irk me, scroll down a bit to older posts. Warning: I'm a quasi-socialist. You may be offended. Just sayin'.
I'm not sure at this point how often I'll be able/willing to post, depending on whether or not I bring my own laptop, but I'll do my best to update at least once per week.
To clarify the title: I posted an explanation on this when I first started, but I don't expect any of y'all to scroll back that far. The title of my blog is taken from a poem by Rumi, which reads:
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
I encourage all of you to comment on future or past posts, even (or especially!) just to argue with me- when I'm not being obnoxiously intellectual, I'm not all that bad to talk to.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
If you give a mouse a cookie/pig a pancake/moose a muffin/ college student coffee
Greetings!
No politics now. Politics are depressing. Eww.
Tonight (actually, this morning at this point...), I wanted to attack something I've been trying to spit out for a while now. My very own children's book, If You Give a College Student a Cookie.
Don't worry, it's a children's book, so it's %100 PG rated. (Not to be confused with the black-listed angsty teen's book, If You Give a College Student a Very Special Brownie.)
I got the idea for this children's book when I was waiting to speak to my econ professor's office hours. My econ professor happens to be one of the most popular professors in the school, so students consistently wait over an hour to speak with him during office hours. He is kind enough to leave out cookies, soda, and pretzels for any and all students who wait in his office to see him. Now, there are many wonderful things about my econ professor, but let's be real: college students are obsessed with free food. We have a sixth sense that roves for it, constantly. So it occured to me, as I was enjoying a sugar cookie after 45 minutes of waiting, that anyone who gives a college student a cookie has a new best friend.
And that reminded me of a favorite book from the old days.
And so here I go:
If You Give a College Student a Cookie
If you give a college student a cookie,
You've made a friend for life,
But life without caffeine
Is a contradiction in terms, so
She'll desperately need some coffee to go with it.
So, you'll need to walk with her
To the nearest library cafe
Because she doesn't have a car
(Against the rules for freshman),
And she needs to go somewhere that accepts
University plus dollars
Because she has no real money.
You'll walk in the library door,
And she'll see thirty people she knows
Because everyone
Literally everyone
In the world
Hangs out in the library cafe
Because no one
Has cars or money,
So need you to wait in line for her
While she chats with a dozen people
Or so, not counting
The three that are texting her.
When you bring her the coffee,
She'll suddenly remember
At least a million things she'd forgotten
Because life without caffeine
Is an oxymoron
In college. So,
She'll drag you back home
But she won't bring you into her dormroom,
because it's messy
And
That's sketchy
So you'll wait in the common-room.
When she finally comes out
Laptop in hand,
She'll want to go back
To the library, or actually
A bench on the quad, or actually
The field, or...
She will finally settle
For a spot on the library steps
Which seems a good compromise.
She will open her book, and read
For exactly five minutes
About the income elasticity of demand
For milkshakes
Until she tires of econ
And her eyes involuntarily close,
Because higher learning is so very taxing.
She will take a power nap for thirteen minutes
Before a frisbee, skillessly thrown
Grazes her head
And next thing you know
She's up and chasing someone.
When she comes back, she'll be hungry
And she'll ask if you have any more cookies.
You don't, but you recommend returning
To the library cafe, because
Everyone knows
If you give a college student a cookie
You've made a friend for life,
But life is nothing without caffeine, so
She'll desperately need some coffee to go with it.
Not that I'm condoning three-year-olds drinking coffee, of course. Think of it as, I'm preparing them for the real world.
No politics now. Politics are depressing. Eww.
Tonight (actually, this morning at this point...), I wanted to attack something I've been trying to spit out for a while now. My very own children's book, If You Give a College Student a Cookie.
Don't worry, it's a children's book, so it's %100 PG rated. (Not to be confused with the black-listed angsty teen's book, If You Give a College Student a Very Special Brownie.)
I got the idea for this children's book when I was waiting to speak to my econ professor's office hours. My econ professor happens to be one of the most popular professors in the school, so students consistently wait over an hour to speak with him during office hours. He is kind enough to leave out cookies, soda, and pretzels for any and all students who wait in his office to see him. Now, there are many wonderful things about my econ professor, but let's be real: college students are obsessed with free food. We have a sixth sense that roves for it, constantly. So it occured to me, as I was enjoying a sugar cookie after 45 minutes of waiting, that anyone who gives a college student a cookie has a new best friend.
And that reminded me of a favorite book from the old days.
And so here I go:
If You Give a College Student a Cookie
If you give a college student a cookie,
You've made a friend for life,
But life without caffeine
Is a contradiction in terms, so
She'll desperately need some coffee to go with it.
So, you'll need to walk with her
To the nearest library cafe
Because she doesn't have a car
(Against the rules for freshman),
And she needs to go somewhere that accepts
University plus dollars
Because she has no real money.
You'll walk in the library door,
And she'll see thirty people she knows
Because everyone
Literally everyone
In the world
Hangs out in the library cafe
Because no one
Has cars or money,
So need you to wait in line for her
While she chats with a dozen people
Or so, not counting
The three that are texting her.
When you bring her the coffee,
She'll suddenly remember
At least a million things she'd forgotten
Because life without caffeine
Is an oxymoron
In college. So,
She'll drag you back home
But she won't bring you into her dormroom,
because it's messy
And
That's sketchy
So you'll wait in the common-room.
When she finally comes out
Laptop in hand,
She'll want to go back
To the library, or actually
A bench on the quad, or actually
The field, or...
She will finally settle
For a spot on the library steps
Which seems a good compromise.
She will open her book, and read
For exactly five minutes
About the income elasticity of demand
For milkshakes
Until she tires of econ
And her eyes involuntarily close,
Because higher learning is so very taxing.
She will take a power nap for thirteen minutes
Before a frisbee, skillessly thrown
Grazes her head
And next thing you know
She's up and chasing someone.
When she comes back, she'll be hungry
And she'll ask if you have any more cookies.
You don't, but you recommend returning
To the library cafe, because
Everyone knows
If you give a college student a cookie
You've made a friend for life,
But life is nothing without caffeine, so
She'll desperately need some coffee to go with it.
Not that I'm condoning three-year-olds drinking coffee, of course. Think of it as, I'm preparing them for the real world.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Ranting Against Rand
Hello world,
TWO new blog posts in one evening? That can't be, you say! But college is a 24-hour business, and intellectually irksome conversations can happen at any time. For example, one could have a debate on the merits of Ayn Rand at 1:00 am.
Thus, I have been inspired by this theoretical debate to compose a list: The top ten reasons why I hated Atlas Shrugged. More specifically, the top ten reasons why I ripped my copy of Atlas Shrugged to shreds only moments after finishing it.
Yes, really. I have photogenic evidence:
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/photo.php?pid=30072980&op=33&o=global&view=global&subj=1380120386&id=1295660067
Note my glee at the book's demise.
If you're lucky enough not to have read Atlas Shrugged, here's some background:
Atlas Shrugged is an 1100-page "novel" detailing a scenario for the economic collapse of society. It is, for some reason, considered an economic authority. In fact, it has been noted that copies sold of Atlas Shrugged sky-rocket every time the economy takes a down-turn.
This is unfortunate.
It is my personal opinion that, in all seriousness, the book only gets its prestige from two factors: 1) It has a nifty title, I must admit, and 2) most people never actually finish all 1100 pages. Nor should they.
Also, to explain reason #6- the book begins with someone asking, "Who is John Galt?" In the society of the book, this question is something that people say to express a sense of futility or complacency- as in, "Oh dear, the trains are late again, but it's not as if anything can make them run on time. What to do? Who is John Galt?" Eventually, part of the book revolves around actually trying to find John Galt. It's not as exciting as it sounds.
But enough screwing around.
The Top Ten Reasons Why I Ripped Apart My (Dad's) Copy of Atlas Shrugged
1) It was falling apart. I would never rip apart a book in good condition, obviously. It had already lost a few dozen pages and was threatening to lose 50 more. Not that anyone would have missed them.
2) It's extreme to the point of being laughably unrealistic. Thus, the only people who treat it as an authority (assuming they've actually finished the book) are hopelessly fanatical believers in free capitalism.
3) I read it while I was on the Navajo Reservation, which is one of the most oppressed and neglected areas on American soil. The book makes a very strong arguement against any type of welfare system and pretty clearly implies that poor people are lazy and thus deserve their situation. Yeah, tell that to my host family with no running water.
4) This is more a problem I have with all Ayn Rand's books- all of her female characters enjoy being raped. I just find this weird.
5) Perhaps because she didn't expect anyone to actually read the entire book, Rand is extremely repetitive. After reading 600 pages over the course of two insomniatic nights, I discovered that some paragraphs seemed to be directly copied from earlier sections. Most insufferable was the 100-page speech towards the end, that repeats not only the rest of the book, but itself, endlessly. This speech took me literally ten days to finish because I simply could not stomach more than ten pages at a time. Either make the book shorter, or find something new to say.
6) "Who is John Galt?" I figured it out on page 413. Really. I even marked it in my journal, figuring that when Galt was revealed 400 pages later, I could gloat. He was revealed 500 pages later. I was right, but by then I was too eager for the book to end to do much gloating.
7) The story itself is completely transparent- rather than simply writing an essay to express her ideas, she created a loose story and spread the essay over 1100 pages.
8) Besides the story being an poorly-constructed backdrop to Rand's endless ideological rant, the characters themselves are so closely modeled after those of her previous book, The Fountainhead, as to be insulting to anyone who has read both books. The main characters have the same personality traits, similar professions, and the same initials. We all know how I feel about plagiarizing oneself.
9) Rand portrays destroying nature as man's great quest to realize his true domination of the world, and any attempts to conserve the environment as weak and (naturally, by extention) Communist. Granted, I haven't read all of her essays on this point, and I wonder if she'd feel differently given the information availible today. Still, it's silly and somewhat perverse.
10) It's just too long.
Since reading Atlas Shrugged, I have taken an economics class or two, and see that some aspects of the book were based in reality. The accusations that higher minimum wages cause unemployment, or that people have less incentive to work hard if they know they're subsidizing others, or that equality stifles innovation, all are at least partially true. I have also witnessed a global economic meltdown. None of this makes me an expert by any means, but I feel comfortable saying that greed is not, as Rand claims, a beneficial factors that stimulates markets. Markets reach a point of equilibrium naturally- that is, a point where companies are willing to provide goods at a price that consumers are willing to pay. This point is not, as Rand claims, necessarily the most beneficial point for society, nor are people best off by living in a free market system. If the economic crisis shows nothing else, it has highlighted the need for governmental monitors on large companies that have the hubris to think themselves above ethics. (Madoff, anyone?)
As much as I despised everything about Atlas Shrugged, I only read it in the first place because I'd so greatly enjoyed Rand's previous book, The Fountainhead. At "only" 700 pages, the story has some actual substance and the thesis is centered more on human potential than on crazy economic scenarios. The female character in The Fountainhead also enjoys being raped, which I still think is weird, but somehow it didn't bother me as much. I really do recommend that book.
If you had not read Atlas Shrugged before reading this post, you're welcome! I just saved you the pain of 1100 pages of insanity.
If you had, feel free to debate me on anything here. I glossed over the specifics of the book, but I'm happy to defend my hatred of Rand any time.
Oh, and for the record- I bought my dad a beautiful new copy of the book to replace the one I sacrificed. It's now sitting in our home in Texas, hopefully never to be opened again.
TWO new blog posts in one evening? That can't be, you say! But college is a 24-hour business, and intellectually irksome conversations can happen at any time. For example, one could have a debate on the merits of Ayn Rand at 1:00 am.
Thus, I have been inspired by this theoretical debate to compose a list: The top ten reasons why I hated Atlas Shrugged. More specifically, the top ten reasons why I ripped my copy of Atlas Shrugged to shreds only moments after finishing it.
Yes, really. I have photogenic evidence:
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/photo.php?pid=30072980&op=33&o=global&view=global&subj=1380120386&id=1295660067
Note my glee at the book's demise.
If you're lucky enough not to have read Atlas Shrugged, here's some background:
Atlas Shrugged is an 1100-page "novel" detailing a scenario for the economic collapse of society. It is, for some reason, considered an economic authority. In fact, it has been noted that copies sold of Atlas Shrugged sky-rocket every time the economy takes a down-turn.
This is unfortunate.
It is my personal opinion that, in all seriousness, the book only gets its prestige from two factors: 1) It has a nifty title, I must admit, and 2) most people never actually finish all 1100 pages. Nor should they.
Also, to explain reason #6- the book begins with someone asking, "Who is John Galt?" In the society of the book, this question is something that people say to express a sense of futility or complacency- as in, "Oh dear, the trains are late again, but it's not as if anything can make them run on time. What to do? Who is John Galt?" Eventually, part of the book revolves around actually trying to find John Galt. It's not as exciting as it sounds.
But enough screwing around.
The Top Ten Reasons Why I Ripped Apart My (Dad's) Copy of Atlas Shrugged
1) It was falling apart. I would never rip apart a book in good condition, obviously. It had already lost a few dozen pages and was threatening to lose 50 more. Not that anyone would have missed them.
2) It's extreme to the point of being laughably unrealistic. Thus, the only people who treat it as an authority (assuming they've actually finished the book) are hopelessly fanatical believers in free capitalism.
3) I read it while I was on the Navajo Reservation, which is one of the most oppressed and neglected areas on American soil. The book makes a very strong arguement against any type of welfare system and pretty clearly implies that poor people are lazy and thus deserve their situation. Yeah, tell that to my host family with no running water.
4) This is more a problem I have with all Ayn Rand's books- all of her female characters enjoy being raped. I just find this weird.
5) Perhaps because she didn't expect anyone to actually read the entire book, Rand is extremely repetitive. After reading 600 pages over the course of two insomniatic nights, I discovered that some paragraphs seemed to be directly copied from earlier sections. Most insufferable was the 100-page speech towards the end, that repeats not only the rest of the book, but itself, endlessly. This speech took me literally ten days to finish because I simply could not stomach more than ten pages at a time. Either make the book shorter, or find something new to say.
6) "Who is John Galt?" I figured it out on page 413. Really. I even marked it in my journal, figuring that when Galt was revealed 400 pages later, I could gloat. He was revealed 500 pages later. I was right, but by then I was too eager for the book to end to do much gloating.
7) The story itself is completely transparent- rather than simply writing an essay to express her ideas, she created a loose story and spread the essay over 1100 pages.
8) Besides the story being an poorly-constructed backdrop to Rand's endless ideological rant, the characters themselves are so closely modeled after those of her previous book, The Fountainhead, as to be insulting to anyone who has read both books. The main characters have the same personality traits, similar professions, and the same initials. We all know how I feel about plagiarizing oneself.
9) Rand portrays destroying nature as man's great quest to realize his true domination of the world, and any attempts to conserve the environment as weak and (naturally, by extention) Communist. Granted, I haven't read all of her essays on this point, and I wonder if she'd feel differently given the information availible today. Still, it's silly and somewhat perverse.
10) It's just too long.
Since reading Atlas Shrugged, I have taken an economics class or two, and see that some aspects of the book were based in reality. The accusations that higher minimum wages cause unemployment, or that people have less incentive to work hard if they know they're subsidizing others, or that equality stifles innovation, all are at least partially true. I have also witnessed a global economic meltdown. None of this makes me an expert by any means, but I feel comfortable saying that greed is not, as Rand claims, a beneficial factors that stimulates markets. Markets reach a point of equilibrium naturally- that is, a point where companies are willing to provide goods at a price that consumers are willing to pay. This point is not, as Rand claims, necessarily the most beneficial point for society, nor are people best off by living in a free market system. If the economic crisis shows nothing else, it has highlighted the need for governmental monitors on large companies that have the hubris to think themselves above ethics. (Madoff, anyone?)
As much as I despised everything about Atlas Shrugged, I only read it in the first place because I'd so greatly enjoyed Rand's previous book, The Fountainhead. At "only" 700 pages, the story has some actual substance and the thesis is centered more on human potential than on crazy economic scenarios. The female character in The Fountainhead also enjoys being raped, which I still think is weird, but somehow it didn't bother me as much. I really do recommend that book.
If you had not read Atlas Shrugged before reading this post, you're welcome! I just saved you the pain of 1100 pages of insanity.
If you had, feel free to debate me on anything here. I glossed over the specifics of the book, but I'm happy to defend my hatred of Rand any time.
Oh, and for the record- I bought my dad a beautiful new copy of the book to replace the one I sacrificed. It's now sitting in our home in Texas, hopefully never to be opened again.
Back to Earth
Hello All,
As promised, tonight I will post something legit, i.e. something that requires some thought on my part to write. Hopefully it will not require too much thought on your part to understand, unlike the speech I attempted to give at the UVA Jefferson Literary and Debate Society last week. I talked about art. They claimed I had no thesis.
It made sense in my mind.
Anyway, I thought tonight I'd take a few steps back and re-address the irksome issue that inspired me to create this blog in the first place: The Palestinian/Israeli crisis (or the occupation of Palestine, or the attempt of the Palestinians to destroy Israel, depending on who's talking.)
I realized that, in spite of the three or so posts I spent ranting on the issue, I never actually got to the big finish- offering my solution to the issue.
For those of you who I more recently guilted into looking around here, you may want to go back and investigate what on earth I'm talking about. But only if you feel like it.
My solution is simple- not because I think the issue will be easily solved, but because I'm so pessimistic about the whole thing that I'm now convinced that it's either a simple solution or no solution. I'm not sure what no solution would look like, but I can envision some pretty unfortunate scenarios that I'd rather not focus on quite yet.
The first and most important step to my solution is giving Jerusalem special status as an international city. So many nations and religions have owned Jerusalem at one time or another that it legitimately occupies a sacred place in many collective hearts and minds. Does it really matter who was there first, or who deserves it more? Splitting it has never worked; everyone wants all or nothing. So, nothing it must be.
The British actually suggested this idea in 1948 when the original state lines for Israel and Jordan were being partitioned, using this very logic. They suggested that it be owned and governed by the UN, and designated a "corpus seperatum." I'm not sure that the UN would be the ideal governing body at this point- since 1948 the UN has proved pretty inept at dealing with any real conflict (anyone who's seen "Hotel Rwanda" knows what I mean) and seems best resigned to distributing mosquito nets to children in malaria-stricken countries. I'd say that it would be better served by a joint religious council of the three Abrahamic traditions (Jews, Christians, Muslims) and guarded by an army set up only for that task. Because realistically, you'll need an army. Even if you somehow managed to get leaders from these said traditions (not to mention the entire Arab world and all the Jews in Manhattan), there's no way the Holy City would be relinquished without a fight.
Clearly, removing Jerusalem from the picture would be enough to solve a conflict that has gone on since, literally, biblical times. I just don't think that you have a prayer (pun?) of resolving the conflict with Jerusalem in the picture.
Besides this major point, there aren't really any specific measures that I think would otherwise be necessary for peace. The transformation that must take place is more ideological than political, and is thus much more difficult than re-drawing lines on a map. You could argue that more balanced cultural education on both sides would improve things, and that's probably true- but how on Earth do you plan on convincing Hamas and Hasidic rabbis that their children should really learn more about their mortal enemies? On the bright side, there have been some encouraging movements recently, as moderate Palestinians and Israelis are beginning to ignore their respective leaders' rhetoric and realize that they all want more or less the same things.
Several months ago, two members of One Voice, an organization promoting this type of bipartisan efforts, came to speak at UVA. Their message was encouraging, but also held a warning: "The time to make peace is now," said the Israeli member, "If we don't take advantage of the support now, the violence will be worse when it starts again." His Palestinian companion agreed, "If we don't make a tangible deal within the next year, and let this slip, we may not get another chance for this generation."
It sounds melodramatic, but then again life is pretty melodramatic in Israel, where sometimes your friends never come back from the pizza place they went to, or your brother is trampled under a tank "by accident." If it weren't so melodramatic, we'd have solved it by now.
My hope is that by removing Jerusalem from the negotiations, the whole process might become just a little more rational. Political negotiations aren't just strategies when you're competing for the holiest city in the universe; they're a cosmic negotiation. Let's bring the fight back to earth, at least.
And that's tonight's word.
As promised, tonight I will post something legit, i.e. something that requires some thought on my part to write. Hopefully it will not require too much thought on your part to understand, unlike the speech I attempted to give at the UVA Jefferson Literary and Debate Society last week. I talked about art. They claimed I had no thesis.
It made sense in my mind.
Anyway, I thought tonight I'd take a few steps back and re-address the irksome issue that inspired me to create this blog in the first place: The Palestinian/Israeli crisis (or the occupation of Palestine, or the attempt of the Palestinians to destroy Israel, depending on who's talking.)
I realized that, in spite of the three or so posts I spent ranting on the issue, I never actually got to the big finish- offering my solution to the issue.
For those of you who I more recently guilted into looking around here, you may want to go back and investigate what on earth I'm talking about. But only if you feel like it.
My solution is simple- not because I think the issue will be easily solved, but because I'm so pessimistic about the whole thing that I'm now convinced that it's either a simple solution or no solution. I'm not sure what no solution would look like, but I can envision some pretty unfortunate scenarios that I'd rather not focus on quite yet.
The first and most important step to my solution is giving Jerusalem special status as an international city. So many nations and religions have owned Jerusalem at one time or another that it legitimately occupies a sacred place in many collective hearts and minds. Does it really matter who was there first, or who deserves it more? Splitting it has never worked; everyone wants all or nothing. So, nothing it must be.
The British actually suggested this idea in 1948 when the original state lines for Israel and Jordan were being partitioned, using this very logic. They suggested that it be owned and governed by the UN, and designated a "corpus seperatum." I'm not sure that the UN would be the ideal governing body at this point- since 1948 the UN has proved pretty inept at dealing with any real conflict (anyone who's seen "Hotel Rwanda" knows what I mean) and seems best resigned to distributing mosquito nets to children in malaria-stricken countries. I'd say that it would be better served by a joint religious council of the three Abrahamic traditions (Jews, Christians, Muslims) and guarded by an army set up only for that task. Because realistically, you'll need an army. Even if you somehow managed to get leaders from these said traditions (not to mention the entire Arab world and all the Jews in Manhattan), there's no way the Holy City would be relinquished without a fight.
Clearly, removing Jerusalem from the picture would be enough to solve a conflict that has gone on since, literally, biblical times. I just don't think that you have a prayer (pun?) of resolving the conflict with Jerusalem in the picture.
Besides this major point, there aren't really any specific measures that I think would otherwise be necessary for peace. The transformation that must take place is more ideological than political, and is thus much more difficult than re-drawing lines on a map. You could argue that more balanced cultural education on both sides would improve things, and that's probably true- but how on Earth do you plan on convincing Hamas and Hasidic rabbis that their children should really learn more about their mortal enemies? On the bright side, there have been some encouraging movements recently, as moderate Palestinians and Israelis are beginning to ignore their respective leaders' rhetoric and realize that they all want more or less the same things.
Several months ago, two members of One Voice, an organization promoting this type of bipartisan efforts, came to speak at UVA. Their message was encouraging, but also held a warning: "The time to make peace is now," said the Israeli member, "If we don't take advantage of the support now, the violence will be worse when it starts again." His Palestinian companion agreed, "If we don't make a tangible deal within the next year, and let this slip, we may not get another chance for this generation."
It sounds melodramatic, but then again life is pretty melodramatic in Israel, where sometimes your friends never come back from the pizza place they went to, or your brother is trampled under a tank "by accident." If it weren't so melodramatic, we'd have solved it by now.
My hope is that by removing Jerusalem from the negotiations, the whole process might become just a little more rational. Political negotiations aren't just strategies when you're competing for the holiest city in the universe; they're a cosmic negotiation. Let's bring the fight back to earth, at least.
And that's tonight's word.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Stopping for the Bus on a Snowy Evening
Hello from the frozen wasteland formerly known as Virginia!
It has been one of those days. At first, I tried to get something done. Failing to work up any motivation to do this, I tried to go somewhere where I might be more encouraged to get something done (namely, a library). Couldn't make it happen. Somehow I got to class.
I blame the weather. The four feet of snow in two weeks, plus this new driving wind that started a few days ago, has all convinced me that I am actually in Chicago and this has all been an elaborate hoax.
So tonight, as a sort of warm-up for the legit post I plan on writing tomorrow about either vegetarianism or Jerusalem (decisions, decisions), I thought I would share a few of my favorite motivational quotes. I keep a notebook where I write funny/inspirational quotes that I come by in literature, day-to-day life, or facebook walls. It has been most helpful, though not today. Nothing can beat a blizzard-induced coma, I supposed.
Anyway, prepare to have your mind blown.
"This whole earth we inhabit is but a point in space"
-Thoreau
"Not everyone is born a witch or a saint...We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in concempt, but often tedious and regretable as we flesh ourselves out."
-Gregory Maguire, Son of a Witch
"Sanity is not statistical"
-George Orwell, 1984
“Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: That we are here for the sake of others...for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of people, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received.”
-Albert Einstein
"A Small But Noteworthy note: I've seen so many young men over the years who think that they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me."
-Death, The Book Thief
"All bodies have the same fate; all voices don't have to."
-Poet Li Young Lee
"Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet. They are what we call civilization."
-Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible
"If I'd asked my customers what they wanted, they'd have said a faster horse."
-Henry Ford
"The beginning of wisdom is to understand that it is our challange and our responsability to act like Noah- to create arks, not floods."
-Thomas Friedman, Hot, Flat, and Crowded
"It is the unknown that we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."
-Albus Dumbledore
"What is the body?
Endurence.
What is love?
Gratitude.
What is hidden in our chests?
Laughter.
What else?
Compassion."
-Rumi
And a personal favorite:
Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver.
Author unknown
;-)
It has been one of those days. At first, I tried to get something done. Failing to work up any motivation to do this, I tried to go somewhere where I might be more encouraged to get something done (namely, a library). Couldn't make it happen. Somehow I got to class.
I blame the weather. The four feet of snow in two weeks, plus this new driving wind that started a few days ago, has all convinced me that I am actually in Chicago and this has all been an elaborate hoax.
So tonight, as a sort of warm-up for the legit post I plan on writing tomorrow about either vegetarianism or Jerusalem (decisions, decisions), I thought I would share a few of my favorite motivational quotes. I keep a notebook where I write funny/inspirational quotes that I come by in literature, day-to-day life, or facebook walls. It has been most helpful, though not today. Nothing can beat a blizzard-induced coma, I supposed.
Anyway, prepare to have your mind blown.
"This whole earth we inhabit is but a point in space"
-Thoreau
"Not everyone is born a witch or a saint...We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in concempt, but often tedious and regretable as we flesh ourselves out."
-Gregory Maguire, Son of a Witch
"Sanity is not statistical"
-George Orwell, 1984
“Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: That we are here for the sake of others...for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of people, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received.”
-Albert Einstein
"A Small But Noteworthy note: I've seen so many young men over the years who think that they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me."
-Death, The Book Thief
"All bodies have the same fate; all voices don't have to."
-Poet Li Young Lee
"Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet. They are what we call civilization."
-Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible
"If I'd asked my customers what they wanted, they'd have said a faster horse."
-Henry Ford
"The beginning of wisdom is to understand that it is our challange and our responsability to act like Noah- to create arks, not floods."
-Thomas Friedman, Hot, Flat, and Crowded
"It is the unknown that we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."
-Albus Dumbledore
"What is the body?
Endurence.
What is love?
Gratitude.
What is hidden in our chests?
Laughter.
What else?
Compassion."
-Rumi
And a personal favorite:
Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver.
Author unknown
;-)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The Mighty Dollar Vote
Hello friends, Romans, countrymen
It's a snowy day and I'm feeling sort of lazy, so for today I'm just going to post something that I already wrote for a class.
But perhaps I'm being unfair to myself.
I wrote it, in fact, as part of my final exam on the Nicaragua trip, and over the last few days I've been struck by the truth and utter brilliance of my own words. So naturally, I expect that you will be, too.
Technically, I'm plagiarizing myself right now. Thus, legal issues compel me to include the following disclaimer:
I, Hillary Goldstein, do hereby grant myself, Hillary Goldstein, temporary rights to the following work that I, Hillary Goldstein, wrote.
Granted, the odds of my suing myself would seem pretty slim, but you never know with some people.
The prompt for this essay was, to paraphrase: The documents we've read and opinions we've heard in Nicaragua have not always placed the US government in a positive light. As citizens of a democracy, aren't we directly responsible for any of our government's misdeeds and faults?
So I said:
While I am often appalled by the ignorance and indifference that many American citizens express towards current affairs, I do not think that Americans can necessarily be held responsible for every government action. First, to do so implies a completely different type of democracy than actually exists today. With the exception only of the president, the government itself is elected on a state-by-state basis, giving any individual a very limited say on the ultimate body. It would be unreasonable to expect the citizens of Maine to understand and try to influence an election in Hawaii, and it would be unreasonable to expect the citizens of Hawaii to endure people of completely different states trying to impact their elections. While state elections in Hawaii do ultimately affect Maine, it would be impossible to keep track of all the elections in all fifty states.
Second, campaigning for office has long involved politicians essentially manufacturing images of themselves. Promises are made and never kept, deals made in secret change how politicians actually vote once elected, and even Americans who do make an effort to be informed have little real knowledge on which to base their voting decisions. For example, when former President Bush was re-elected in 2004, a great deal of information regarding the original intentions, and subsequent mismanagement, of the Iraq war had not yet been released (or were dismissed as extremist rumors). Whether this knowledge would have changed the outcome of the election is another question, but in any case it was simply impossible at the time to make a truly informed decision. In the case of Nicaragua, I doubt that the voters who elected the officials the siphoned money to the Contras were focused on that issue in particular, or even that they knew the US government was involved in Nicaragua at all (though I am not sure of when exactly the scandal became apparent). However, I do not mean to downplay the responsibility that Americans hold for our general ignorance of current affairs. In this age, when any information can be accessed in minutes and online news is updated every ten seconds, there is simply no excuse for not being aware of the world’s events.
More frustrating to me than outright ignorance, though certainly just as serious, is when people fail to act on information that they do know. While I don’t expect everyone who reads Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma to immediately become a vegetarian, I am mystified when people who claim to be disgusted by the practices the that book describes continue to support the exact same brands that they always have, even knowing that in doing so they perpetuate the very system they resent. The dollar vote may be even more powerful in America’s consumer culture than the civil one, yet we don’t seem to take our dollar votes any more seriously that those at the ballot box. Consumer sovereignty is not all-powerful, but it comes shockingly close: public preference removed Styrofoam from McDonalds’ meals, and put organic yogurt on the shelves at Wal-Mart. These changes happened more quickly and effectively than any government-mandated regulation, showing true power of the conscious consumer.
My sense of the average American citizen’s relationship to the electoral process is best summarized with a quote by Marianne Williamson: “Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.” Many people who express indifference to current events claim that their lack of participation doesn’t matter, because their contributing would make no difference. If more people invested their time and wallets to reflect their morals and opinions, the results would be dramatic.
It's a snowy day and I'm feeling sort of lazy, so for today I'm just going to post something that I already wrote for a class.
But perhaps I'm being unfair to myself.
I wrote it, in fact, as part of my final exam on the Nicaragua trip, and over the last few days I've been struck by the truth and utter brilliance of my own words. So naturally, I expect that you will be, too.
Technically, I'm plagiarizing myself right now. Thus, legal issues compel me to include the following disclaimer:
I, Hillary Goldstein, do hereby grant myself, Hillary Goldstein, temporary rights to the following work that I, Hillary Goldstein, wrote.
Granted, the odds of my suing myself would seem pretty slim, but you never know with some people.
The prompt for this essay was, to paraphrase: The documents we've read and opinions we've heard in Nicaragua have not always placed the US government in a positive light. As citizens of a democracy, aren't we directly responsible for any of our government's misdeeds and faults?
So I said:
While I am often appalled by the ignorance and indifference that many American citizens express towards current affairs, I do not think that Americans can necessarily be held responsible for every government action. First, to do so implies a completely different type of democracy than actually exists today. With the exception only of the president, the government itself is elected on a state-by-state basis, giving any individual a very limited say on the ultimate body. It would be unreasonable to expect the citizens of Maine to understand and try to influence an election in Hawaii, and it would be unreasonable to expect the citizens of Hawaii to endure people of completely different states trying to impact their elections. While state elections in Hawaii do ultimately affect Maine, it would be impossible to keep track of all the elections in all fifty states.
Second, campaigning for office has long involved politicians essentially manufacturing images of themselves. Promises are made and never kept, deals made in secret change how politicians actually vote once elected, and even Americans who do make an effort to be informed have little real knowledge on which to base their voting decisions. For example, when former President Bush was re-elected in 2004, a great deal of information regarding the original intentions, and subsequent mismanagement, of the Iraq war had not yet been released (or were dismissed as extremist rumors). Whether this knowledge would have changed the outcome of the election is another question, but in any case it was simply impossible at the time to make a truly informed decision. In the case of Nicaragua, I doubt that the voters who elected the officials the siphoned money to the Contras were focused on that issue in particular, or even that they knew the US government was involved in Nicaragua at all (though I am not sure of when exactly the scandal became apparent). However, I do not mean to downplay the responsibility that Americans hold for our general ignorance of current affairs. In this age, when any information can be accessed in minutes and online news is updated every ten seconds, there is simply no excuse for not being aware of the world’s events.
More frustrating to me than outright ignorance, though certainly just as serious, is when people fail to act on information that they do know. While I don’t expect everyone who reads Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma to immediately become a vegetarian, I am mystified when people who claim to be disgusted by the practices the that book describes continue to support the exact same brands that they always have, even knowing that in doing so they perpetuate the very system they resent. The dollar vote may be even more powerful in America’s consumer culture than the civil one, yet we don’t seem to take our dollar votes any more seriously that those at the ballot box. Consumer sovereignty is not all-powerful, but it comes shockingly close: public preference removed Styrofoam from McDonalds’ meals, and put organic yogurt on the shelves at Wal-Mart. These changes happened more quickly and effectively than any government-mandated regulation, showing true power of the conscious consumer.
My sense of the average American citizen’s relationship to the electoral process is best summarized with a quote by Marianne Williamson: “Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.” Many people who express indifference to current events claim that their lack of participation doesn’t matter, because their contributing would make no difference. If more people invested their time and wallets to reflect their morals and opinions, the results would be dramatic.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Thirsty: A watery tale
As promised, today's lecture will be an environemental, social, and economical rant on water.
Luckily for you, you brave readers of my blog, I happen to be an environmental science nerd. Enjoy the ride.
Why water, you ask? Why not earthquakes, or nuclear proliferation?
Simple:
Lack of clean water is killing a lot more people than nuclear proliferation these days.
First off, let's review why water is essential to human life (a minor detail that we like to conveniently forget). The human body is 70% water, and can survive without water for about a day and a half. My own relationship to water became aggressive when, on a trip to Thailand, I was ordered to drink 128 ounces of water every day. (I never made it past 80) But more importantly:
Environemental science fun fact!
Without water, earth would be uninhabitable for humans. (Not counting all the reasons I just mentioned.) Water has unique chemical properties that allow it to release heat when the air is getting colder, and absorb heat when the air gets warmer. This keeps the global temperature relatively constant, as is the reason why deserts experience greater temperature extremes between night and day than coastal regions. Even better, the oceans of the world absorb massive amounts of carbon every day, such that the ocean floors contain enough carbon to raise the global temperature to disastrous levels immedately.
As the wise artist Sting sings in a song that I may or may not have played endlessly while studying for my ecology 101 exam, "On and on the rain will fall, like tears from a star/On and on the rain will say, how fragile we are."
Fragile, indeed. But where does poverty come into all this? Aren't certain regions, like deserts, always going to have less water than others, like tropical forests?
Well, yes. But there's a lot more to the story.
I usually dislike statistical representations of reality. But as far as water goes, the statistics are revealing:
-30,000 children under the age of five die DAILY around the world. (This is the average, and may be higher on days when, say, earthquakes strike overpopulated, underprivelaged capitals of certain Caribbean nations).
-The leading causes of death for children under five are malnutrition, malaria, and diarrhea (or other gastrointestinal illnesses). All these are either caused directly, or could be greatly reduced, by lack of access to clean water.
To explain, malnutrition in young children occurs often as an indirect result of there not being enough water to grow food, or else dehydration magnifies the effects of malnutrition so that it becomes fatal more quickly than it otherwise might. Malaria is spread my mosquitos, which breed more readily in stagnant or shallow water than in pure, deep water. Diarrhea and related illnesses are caused directly by drinking contaminated water.
It's often quoted that 1.5 billion people live on less than one dollar per day. At the same time, 1.1 billion people lack access to clean water. Would you be suprised to find that those are the same people?
(Spoiler: They are.)
Sometimes, environmental issues are really humanitarian issues. In fact, environmental issues are usually intrinscially tied to political and humanitarian unnease, such as the death toll in a certain overpopulated, underrepresented Caribbean nation's earthquake. This is more clear on the subject of water than anywhere else. The poor are more likely to live in more infertile areas, to have less technology that would allow them to take advantage of what water they do have, and yet tend to spend a higher percentage of their income on water than any other demographic in the world. It is not a coincidence that sub-Saharan Africa is one of the most agriculturally unproductive regions of the globe, and also one of the poorest.
We in the US are lucky, both from an environemental standpoint and from one of relative affluence. North America lies on a fairly temperate latitude, so that we are less affected by climate extremes and climate change than areas (such as the Sahara) that were fragile to begin with. Yet, we are not as removed from the issue as we may like to think.
When one thinks of California, one probably envisions palm trees, bling, and orchards growing fruit to be shipped to New York in January (cuz you can't go without peaches for a whole three months, can you?). So what's up with these wildfires we keep hearing about?
The truth is, California is a desert. Its ecosystem cannot support the amount of agriculture currently in place, and only has for this long because of intensive irrigation that has made California the state that consumes the most water.
Similar ecological nightmares, in which the colonizing people instituted economies that just weren't appropriate for the climate, include sheep farming in Australia, beef production in the Middle East (although this has been mostly stopped due to its sheer lunacy) and...intensive agriculture in a certain Caribbean nation. Granted, I'm not sure if slavery is well-suited to any ecosystem, so maybe Haiti (suprise!) deserves some slack.
If you're still reading, I salute you. You deserve a latte and a pat on the back for swimming through all this madness.
Luckily for you, you brave readers of my blog, I happen to be an environmental science nerd. Enjoy the ride.
Why water, you ask? Why not earthquakes, or nuclear proliferation?
Simple:
Lack of clean water is killing a lot more people than nuclear proliferation these days.
First off, let's review why water is essential to human life (a minor detail that we like to conveniently forget). The human body is 70% water, and can survive without water for about a day and a half. My own relationship to water became aggressive when, on a trip to Thailand, I was ordered to drink 128 ounces of water every day. (I never made it past 80) But more importantly:
Environemental science fun fact!
Without water, earth would be uninhabitable for humans. (Not counting all the reasons I just mentioned.) Water has unique chemical properties that allow it to release heat when the air is getting colder, and absorb heat when the air gets warmer. This keeps the global temperature relatively constant, as is the reason why deserts experience greater temperature extremes between night and day than coastal regions. Even better, the oceans of the world absorb massive amounts of carbon every day, such that the ocean floors contain enough carbon to raise the global temperature to disastrous levels immedately.
As the wise artist Sting sings in a song that I may or may not have played endlessly while studying for my ecology 101 exam, "On and on the rain will fall, like tears from a star/On and on the rain will say, how fragile we are."
Fragile, indeed. But where does poverty come into all this? Aren't certain regions, like deserts, always going to have less water than others, like tropical forests?
Well, yes. But there's a lot more to the story.
I usually dislike statistical representations of reality. But as far as water goes, the statistics are revealing:
-30,000 children under the age of five die DAILY around the world. (This is the average, and may be higher on days when, say, earthquakes strike overpopulated, underprivelaged capitals of certain Caribbean nations).
-The leading causes of death for children under five are malnutrition, malaria, and diarrhea (or other gastrointestinal illnesses). All these are either caused directly, or could be greatly reduced, by lack of access to clean water.
To explain, malnutrition in young children occurs often as an indirect result of there not being enough water to grow food, or else dehydration magnifies the effects of malnutrition so that it becomes fatal more quickly than it otherwise might. Malaria is spread my mosquitos, which breed more readily in stagnant or shallow water than in pure, deep water. Diarrhea and related illnesses are caused directly by drinking contaminated water.
It's often quoted that 1.5 billion people live on less than one dollar per day. At the same time, 1.1 billion people lack access to clean water. Would you be suprised to find that those are the same people?
(Spoiler: They are.)
Sometimes, environmental issues are really humanitarian issues. In fact, environmental issues are usually intrinscially tied to political and humanitarian unnease, such as the death toll in a certain overpopulated, underrepresented Caribbean nation's earthquake. This is more clear on the subject of water than anywhere else. The poor are more likely to live in more infertile areas, to have less technology that would allow them to take advantage of what water they do have, and yet tend to spend a higher percentage of their income on water than any other demographic in the world. It is not a coincidence that sub-Saharan Africa is one of the most agriculturally unproductive regions of the globe, and also one of the poorest.
We in the US are lucky, both from an environemental standpoint and from one of relative affluence. North America lies on a fairly temperate latitude, so that we are less affected by climate extremes and climate change than areas (such as the Sahara) that were fragile to begin with. Yet, we are not as removed from the issue as we may like to think.
When one thinks of California, one probably envisions palm trees, bling, and orchards growing fruit to be shipped to New York in January (cuz you can't go without peaches for a whole three months, can you?). So what's up with these wildfires we keep hearing about?
The truth is, California is a desert. Its ecosystem cannot support the amount of agriculture currently in place, and only has for this long because of intensive irrigation that has made California the state that consumes the most water.
Similar ecological nightmares, in which the colonizing people instituted economies that just weren't appropriate for the climate, include sheep farming in Australia, beef production in the Middle East (although this has been mostly stopped due to its sheer lunacy) and...intensive agriculture in a certain Caribbean nation. Granted, I'm not sure if slavery is well-suited to any ecosystem, so maybe Haiti (suprise!) deserves some slack.
If you're still reading, I salute you. You deserve a latte and a pat on the back for swimming through all this madness.
An Open Letter to Superman (a.k.a. Barack Obama)
Dear Mr. President,
Let's first clarify one thing: I like you, man. Quite a bit, actually. In spite of all you haven't accomplished since you took office one year ago, I still think you're an all-around brilliant and decent human being. And you kind of look like my dad. (Remarkable, since my dad is white and Jewish, but true nonethless. My mother agrees.)
Just wanted to let you know that you really shouldn't take this too personally.
In the earlier days, between that first victory in Iowa and the day before my 18th birthday (that would be November 4th, 2008) I really stood up for you. When my conservative friends said you'd never make it, I shouted "Yes we can!" and pumped my fist in the air until they were awed into silence. When my father tried to tell me why Hillary's experience would make her a better choice, I cited Kennedy and Lincoln in such persuasive detail that my history teacher would have been impressed. (Though I admit I stole a few "Hillary for President" stickers just to boost my self-esteem.) When my uncle told me that no one could change Washington, I told him that I didn't expect any miracles.
But I was lying.
I tried to stay realistic, I really did. I thought that living in New Jersey and growing up under the Bush doctrine wold surely have developed my cynicism to an unbreakable shell that I could retreat into at any time for a reality check. But you got to me, Barack. Like everyone else, I caved. You said, "America, now is our time," and I thought- I knew- that you were The One that would save the world.
Did you know that dreams make a pretty sound when they shatter? Really, I swear I can hear them.
I guess it's unfair for me to blame you, per se. It's not really your fault that Congress watered down, and now probably won't pass, the beloved healthcare bill that was supposed to save thousands of people every year. Or the climate bill that was supposed to finally give America back some credibility with developing countries. Or that you won a Nobel Prize for breathing. Or that the Supreme Court just handed the future of democracy to the wealthiest coorporations.
But really, can't you show some remorse about it?
At first, I thought that your lack of apparent anger at the GOP's blatant efforts to bring you down were a sign of your superior strategizing and cool-headedness. Now, you just seem indifferent. Indifference is not a very presidential quality.
It's one thing to be stoic when your own dreams get destroyed. But they were mine too, Barack. Mine and aproximately 51% of the rest of the country's.
You promised to bring bi-partisan efforts back to Congress. Epic fail. You also promised to fight for the middle class, the youth, and all the huddled masses. Nada. And frankly, I'm sick of the emails I keep getting from your various managers about your "victories" and new initiaties for "change."
If I didn't know better, Barack, I'd think the GOP was cowing you. You didn't really think they were just going to let you tax bonuses, did you? Why aren't you ready to fight for it, then? Get down and dirty with the GOP, since they're way ahead of you on that game and I'm starting to fear that they will win. If you want to be socialist, go for it. You promised some pretty radical things during your campaign, so you can't get scared now that they're putting Hitler mustaches on your picture.
You love to talk about your hero, Abe Lincoln. The bi-partisan efforts didn't go so well for him, either. He dealt. Man up. You promised us a revolution, and you will have one on your hands if you don't start fighting it yourself.
Yet, even though you've made me pretty angry these last few months, I still believe in you. I still think you're the best chance America has for living up to its promise of liberty and justice for all. I still catch my breath when I hear you speak. I still suspect that you're The One.
No pressure.
Sincerely,
Hilldog
P.S. If you ever need a babysitter for your freakishly adorable daughters, please let me know.
Let's first clarify one thing: I like you, man. Quite a bit, actually. In spite of all you haven't accomplished since you took office one year ago, I still think you're an all-around brilliant and decent human being. And you kind of look like my dad. (Remarkable, since my dad is white and Jewish, but true nonethless. My mother agrees.)
Just wanted to let you know that you really shouldn't take this too personally.
In the earlier days, between that first victory in Iowa and the day before my 18th birthday (that would be November 4th, 2008) I really stood up for you. When my conservative friends said you'd never make it, I shouted "Yes we can!" and pumped my fist in the air until they were awed into silence. When my father tried to tell me why Hillary's experience would make her a better choice, I cited Kennedy and Lincoln in such persuasive detail that my history teacher would have been impressed. (Though I admit I stole a few "Hillary for President" stickers just to boost my self-esteem.) When my uncle told me that no one could change Washington, I told him that I didn't expect any miracles.
But I was lying.
I tried to stay realistic, I really did. I thought that living in New Jersey and growing up under the Bush doctrine wold surely have developed my cynicism to an unbreakable shell that I could retreat into at any time for a reality check. But you got to me, Barack. Like everyone else, I caved. You said, "America, now is our time," and I thought- I knew- that you were The One that would save the world.
Did you know that dreams make a pretty sound when they shatter? Really, I swear I can hear them.
I guess it's unfair for me to blame you, per se. It's not really your fault that Congress watered down, and now probably won't pass, the beloved healthcare bill that was supposed to save thousands of people every year. Or the climate bill that was supposed to finally give America back some credibility with developing countries. Or that you won a Nobel Prize for breathing. Or that the Supreme Court just handed the future of democracy to the wealthiest coorporations.
But really, can't you show some remorse about it?
At first, I thought that your lack of apparent anger at the GOP's blatant efforts to bring you down were a sign of your superior strategizing and cool-headedness. Now, you just seem indifferent. Indifference is not a very presidential quality.
It's one thing to be stoic when your own dreams get destroyed. But they were mine too, Barack. Mine and aproximately 51% of the rest of the country's.
You promised to bring bi-partisan efforts back to Congress. Epic fail. You also promised to fight for the middle class, the youth, and all the huddled masses. Nada. And frankly, I'm sick of the emails I keep getting from your various managers about your "victories" and new initiaties for "change."
If I didn't know better, Barack, I'd think the GOP was cowing you. You didn't really think they were just going to let you tax bonuses, did you? Why aren't you ready to fight for it, then? Get down and dirty with the GOP, since they're way ahead of you on that game and I'm starting to fear that they will win. If you want to be socialist, go for it. You promised some pretty radical things during your campaign, so you can't get scared now that they're putting Hitler mustaches on your picture.
You love to talk about your hero, Abe Lincoln. The bi-partisan efforts didn't go so well for him, either. He dealt. Man up. You promised us a revolution, and you will have one on your hands if you don't start fighting it yourself.
Yet, even though you've made me pretty angry these last few months, I still believe in you. I still think you're the best chance America has for living up to its promise of liberty and justice for all. I still catch my breath when I hear you speak. I still suspect that you're The One.
No pressure.
Sincerely,
Hilldog
P.S. If you ever need a babysitter for your freakishly adorable daughters, please let me know.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Como mi Toña, niguna!
Spoiler alert: In this post I will make you jealous of my Latin America experience and then make you feel guilty about Haiti. Partaaaaaay!
Hola amigos,
Sadly, even after two weeks of coconut bread and Tonas (the Nicaraguan favorite beer), that still represents most of my Spanish language capacity. I did discover that I can understand Spanish better than Creole, which is odd since Creole is based partly in English, but either way I managed to make myself understood.
“Quanto?”
“Trenta corduba.”
“Ah. Si. Gracias.”
“You’re welcome.”
But enough with the banter.
Some backround on Bluefields:
Before coming to Nicaragua, I was so ignorant of its geography that I didn’t know I was ignorant. Nicaragua is divided into the central region (referring to the government, not its position on the map), the Southern Autonomous Atlantic Region (RAAS) and the Northern Autonomous Atlantic Region (RAAN). Managua is the capital of the country at large, Bluefields is the capital of the RAAS, and I have no idea what the capital of the RAAN is. Bluefields has approximately 85% unemployment, and most people get more of their income from money sent home by people who have left to find work elsewhere.
For our part, we didn’t actually do much in Bluefields. After all, this was a sustainability class, and those projects where Americans jet in and build houses are unsustainable, because you haven’t actually improved the country’s ability to build their own houses. So, instead we worked with students at the university in Bluefields to make a tourism website (this may sound fluffy and it is on some level, but there was no information on Bluefields at all on the internet before we began). Since making a website is not really a 30-person job, this implied a lot of strolling around the city, stopping occasionally for a Toña or a water (usually water for me, usually Toña for the frat boy in my group), and copying down a few phone numbers.
For those of you who know me well (which is probably all of you, realistically), you can probably suspect that this drove me a little nuts. I don’t do strolling very well.
My feelings were shared by several people on the trip, including my new friend Ania. Ania is a freshman, like me at UVA. She lives in a dorm close to mine, but we had never met before the trip. Ania is from Haiti, specifically, from Port-au-Prince.
Oui.
Out of respect to Ania and her family, I don’t want to talk too much about the details of what she specifically experienced when we found out about the earthquake. I will say that it was eerie that I spoke and thought more about Haiti in the week leading up to the earthquake than I ever had in my life. For me, the most telling moment of what life in Haiti must be like came not after the earthquake, but a few days before it. One night, one of our roommates woke up screaming because of a dream (she couldn’t remember the dream; we blamed the malaria pills). The rest of us asked if she’d seen a bug or something. Ania thought she was being kidnapped and hid under the bed, as she’d been taught. Ania is the bravest person I’ve ever met.
There’s only so much we as individuals can do to help the victims of the earthquake, or the impoverished of Bluefields, or the billion and a half people who live on less than one dollar per day. It is times like these, though, when the warm water in your shower and the clean water you don’t have to boil to drink and the fact that you woke up again this morning start to mean a little more. Or so I hope.
But water is another post for another day.
Hola amigos,
Sadly, even after two weeks of coconut bread and Tonas (the Nicaraguan favorite beer), that still represents most of my Spanish language capacity. I did discover that I can understand Spanish better than Creole, which is odd since Creole is based partly in English, but either way I managed to make myself understood.
“Quanto?”
“Trenta corduba.”
“Ah. Si. Gracias.”
“You’re welcome.”
But enough with the banter.
Some backround on Bluefields:
Before coming to Nicaragua, I was so ignorant of its geography that I didn’t know I was ignorant. Nicaragua is divided into the central region (referring to the government, not its position on the map), the Southern Autonomous Atlantic Region (RAAS) and the Northern Autonomous Atlantic Region (RAAN). Managua is the capital of the country at large, Bluefields is the capital of the RAAS, and I have no idea what the capital of the RAAN is. Bluefields has approximately 85% unemployment, and most people get more of their income from money sent home by people who have left to find work elsewhere.
For our part, we didn’t actually do much in Bluefields. After all, this was a sustainability class, and those projects where Americans jet in and build houses are unsustainable, because you haven’t actually improved the country’s ability to build their own houses. So, instead we worked with students at the university in Bluefields to make a tourism website (this may sound fluffy and it is on some level, but there was no information on Bluefields at all on the internet before we began). Since making a website is not really a 30-person job, this implied a lot of strolling around the city, stopping occasionally for a Toña or a water (usually water for me, usually Toña for the frat boy in my group), and copying down a few phone numbers.
For those of you who know me well (which is probably all of you, realistically), you can probably suspect that this drove me a little nuts. I don’t do strolling very well.
My feelings were shared by several people on the trip, including my new friend Ania. Ania is a freshman, like me at UVA. She lives in a dorm close to mine, but we had never met before the trip. Ania is from Haiti, specifically, from Port-au-Prince.
Oui.
Out of respect to Ania and her family, I don’t want to talk too much about the details of what she specifically experienced when we found out about the earthquake. I will say that it was eerie that I spoke and thought more about Haiti in the week leading up to the earthquake than I ever had in my life. For me, the most telling moment of what life in Haiti must be like came not after the earthquake, but a few days before it. One night, one of our roommates woke up screaming because of a dream (she couldn’t remember the dream; we blamed the malaria pills). The rest of us asked if she’d seen a bug or something. Ania thought she was being kidnapped and hid under the bed, as she’d been taught. Ania is the bravest person I’ve ever met.
There’s only so much we as individuals can do to help the victims of the earthquake, or the impoverished of Bluefields, or the billion and a half people who live on less than one dollar per day. It is times like these, though, when the warm water in your shower and the clean water you don’t have to boil to drink and the fact that you woke up again this morning start to mean a little more. Or so I hope.
But water is another post for another day.
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