Oh Zanzibar... honestly, you were beautiful. You were warm and surrounded by cerulean blue ocean. I never knew that color crayon existed in real life. But, you were ugly and filled with people who just wanted to sell me shitty "massai" paintings of chubby antelope things swimming in greenish concentric circles. Honestly, if you ask me again if I want to buy a spice boat I'm going to lose it. Staying there as a mwanafunzi (student) was a completely different perspective. Kind of made me never want to "vacation" ever again. I'm torn because life happens and work happens and we can't all be doctors and lawyers and get that perfect job and this is far from true in so many places outside the US. I get that. Tourism is still an industry, you gotta live somehow - but honestly, Zanzibar made me lose faith in humanity a little bit. I fucking love people. I rarely trust them but I love meeting random people and having random conversations and feeling like that was a fun little moment in life. But there it was like every person I talked to tried to guilt-trip me into buying them something! Okay, like the first day I talk to a dhow fisherman about his sick daughter. Fuck it! Regardless, I buy him the malaria medication..like the actual medication from the pharmacy. Okay, great. Maybe he sold it for cash, maybe he has a daughter. Then ...everywhere I go people are asking me to buy them dinner, support their shop, buy them a beer. I slowly begin to realize that all the guys working downtown have a similar shpiel. Their needs are different. Some of them are drugged out, some actually have families, some just need to get a meal in before they go out fishing again. But seriously man, it was a serious bastardization of the virtues of human interaction in order to support their economy. Again, I get it. I get it. I get it. I never thought the world was sunshine and roses but three weeks of creeping disdain can suck you in. Regardless of the harassment and repeated "Sir, I don't need a taxi. I'm walking probably another 50 feet and no I won't want a taxi later...haven't you seen me walk this way every day?" - expect the worst from people and you get the worst. Therefore, on Christmas my friend Stormie and I wrote a fun little christmas note to santa. (You can never be too old to just be a little goofy) I said professor kringle... I just want a little faith humanity and maybe a nice hat. So there's that. I'm recovering from paradise. Go figure.
So Christmas eve we took a ferry from Zanzibar to Mainland Tanzania into the city of Dar es Salaam. Dar was interesting. Kinda crowded and shady. Now we're in Moshi in the north almost on the border of Kenya (relatively). We visited a sisal farm and today is coffee? Except I kinda got myself a parasite and am out of commission for a little bit. Tomorrow we head to Ngorongoro National Park where we're camping in a crater of sorts and then going on safari. So yea...that's life in a nutshell.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I want to destroy something beautiful.
So i wrote out this rant on dam projects and then my computer froze. Screw it for now because I'm hungry so lo siento. Here's a thing I wrote about the Ukai Dam. Rant to give it context will come later lest I forget.
Spoiled children playing God
Blacking out the mountainside
Glory be! A sight to behold
A concrete mass 2/3 it's size
we grasp at hope and social change
But, who's to say?
Blindly they spin dials and knobs
The gears: they crank and click and churn
Build until we crack the sky!
Nothing better, let them have water!
Drowning the people in saving grace
Well, who's to say?
Link the rivers! Change their course!
We call the shots around these parts
Sweep the banks for signs of life!
Discretely dispose of dire displaced
Don't worry! It's all for you dear!
but really... who's to say?
The women gape with matted silt
In their hair and clothes and flesh
Homes felled like skeleton teeth
bony ribs exposed as He wills it so
But no cries were heard through gurgling lungs
So who's to say what's right and wrong?
I'm a woman! I'm a mother! I'm a victim of sin!
I speak a language dead outside these walls.
I am rooted. I am whole. I am washed away.
Spoiled children playing God
Blacking out the mountainside
Glory be! A sight to behold
A concrete mass 2/3 it's size
we grasp at hope and social change
But, who's to say?
Blindly they spin dials and knobs
The gears: they crank and click and churn
Build until we crack the sky!
Nothing better, let them have water!
Drowning the people in saving grace
Well, who's to say?
Link the rivers! Change their course!
We call the shots around these parts
Sweep the banks for signs of life!
Discretely dispose of dire displaced
Don't worry! It's all for you dear!
but really... who's to say?
The women gape with matted silt
In their hair and clothes and flesh
Homes felled like skeleton teeth
bony ribs exposed as He wills it so
But no cries were heard through gurgling lungs
So who's to say what's right and wrong?
I'm a woman! I'm a mother! I'm a victim of sin!
I speak a language dead outside these walls.
I am rooted. I am whole. I am washed away.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Hey, remember that time I fell asleep on a plane and ended up in East Africa?
So Friday was possibly the longest day ever. We had an "end of India, going away" party in which there was wine and charades. So much fun but also I always wake up so early when I drink so the day started at approximately 5:45 am. Then, (to make a long story short) a good friend of mine (Meaghan) on the trip had to leave us (again) in order to go back to the states. A bunch of other things and then we didn't even leave Dahanu for the airport until 8:30 at night. Our flight wasn't til 5am. I say this more to give you an idea of the crazy day...so is life about the timing.
The flights were kind of awful though. I was sick and didn't really get much sleep in and was motion sick too which sucked and one of the strings on the instrument I bought in India broke. Oh yea, so I bought a Dilrubaa in Ahmedabad. Appearance wise, it may be comprable to a sitar but you play it with a bow...and it doesn't sound anything like a sitar. I don't have a case for it so I've just been carrying it around in the bag for my yoga mat which is completely insufficient. It really is a beautiful instrument and I guess not many people are learning to play it anymore. Therefore I have made the executive decision to send it home. I'm sure it will get destroyed if I try to carry it for the rest of the year and what's the point of destroying a beautiful instrument? We'll see if it makes it in the mail in one piece though.
Yea so flight kinda sucked, I was buggin' out. But Zanzibar is fucking GORGEOUS. We got in around 4:30 pm.. Although, time is a completely foreign concept to me now. I guess we're about 2-5 hours behind India time (which could be completely false) and we are now under swahili time.
A: I never remembered the time difference between India and the US.
B: Swahili time starts at 6am so 6am is 0:00 and it goes from there. Like 7am would be 1:00 and so on and so forth.
C: The collective confusion from A and B is the sole source for my complete lack of interest in changing the time on my watch. Which, by the way, I have no idea how to do and it's been 7 minutes ahead for the past 2 months which is just a little too ahead and makes telling the time an annoying chore.
D: My watch tan line is out and about.
Of course, the first thing we did upon arrival was head straight to the bar for a sunset drink. We all went to this place called Livingstone and sat at wooden tables in the sand while watching wooden boats and giant cargo ships anchor near the shore. A group of locals were practicing capoiera (an afro-brazilian form of martial arts) like 10 feet from our table. We were surrounded by a lot of rich european tourists and in the distance you could see smaller islands off the coast and twinkling lights from the other ships.
Later on in the night, my friend Mike and I wandered over to the market to get some dinner. We started talking to a local and he hooked us up! We were walking and talking and he was getting us plates of food from all the "good" vendors. Moral of the story, we sat with this man by a fountain and shared octopus tentacle. The people here are fantastically friendly and seemingly genuine enough (you can't be too trusting though) and everyone says "jambo! welcome sister/ friend!" as you walk by. After I got fool, Mike and I fed a stray cat the rest of my octopus. Such a good night and Mike is my dude! I've got good friends here.
that's all for now bc i'm about to run out of internet time.
The flights were kind of awful though. I was sick and didn't really get much sleep in and was motion sick too which sucked and one of the strings on the instrument I bought in India broke. Oh yea, so I bought a Dilrubaa in Ahmedabad. Appearance wise, it may be comprable to a sitar but you play it with a bow...and it doesn't sound anything like a sitar. I don't have a case for it so I've just been carrying it around in the bag for my yoga mat which is completely insufficient. It really is a beautiful instrument and I guess not many people are learning to play it anymore. Therefore I have made the executive decision to send it home. I'm sure it will get destroyed if I try to carry it for the rest of the year and what's the point of destroying a beautiful instrument? We'll see if it makes it in the mail in one piece though.
Yea so flight kinda sucked, I was buggin' out. But Zanzibar is fucking GORGEOUS. We got in around 4:30 pm.. Although, time is a completely foreign concept to me now. I guess we're about 2-5 hours behind India time (which could be completely false) and we are now under swahili time.
A: I never remembered the time difference between India and the US.
B: Swahili time starts at 6am so 6am is 0:00 and it goes from there. Like 7am would be 1:00 and so on and so forth.
C: The collective confusion from A and B is the sole source for my complete lack of interest in changing the time on my watch. Which, by the way, I have no idea how to do and it's been 7 minutes ahead for the past 2 months which is just a little too ahead and makes telling the time an annoying chore.
D: My watch tan line is out and about.
Of course, the first thing we did upon arrival was head straight to the bar for a sunset drink. We all went to this place called Livingstone and sat at wooden tables in the sand while watching wooden boats and giant cargo ships anchor near the shore. A group of locals were practicing capoiera (an afro-brazilian form of martial arts) like 10 feet from our table. We were surrounded by a lot of rich european tourists and in the distance you could see smaller islands off the coast and twinkling lights from the other ships.
Later on in the night, my friend Mike and I wandered over to the market to get some dinner. We started talking to a local and he hooked us up! We were walking and talking and he was getting us plates of food from all the "good" vendors. Moral of the story, we sat with this man by a fountain and shared octopus tentacle. The people here are fantastically friendly and seemingly genuine enough (you can't be too trusting though) and everyone says "jambo! welcome sister/ friend!" as you walk by. After I got fool, Mike and I fed a stray cat the rest of my octopus. Such a good night and Mike is my dude! I've got good friends here.
that's all for now bc i'm about to run out of internet time.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
So you think you've figured out everything? But we know that our minds are just made out of strings to be pulled.
My one issue with social activism is how do you create a personal definition for effective action and then enact that ideal? I know that there are too many issues to take on yourself - you'd spiral straight into the ground. Do you close your eyes and choose at random? Do you give a small vague piece of your efforts to every movement in your general vicinity?
I know that at some point every person must come across a moment of passionate illumination. I also know that apathy is as slow seeping as it is addictive and toxic. So, do you wait for illumination or do you search for it and if you search for it does that compromise the organic revelation of the moment?
I guess that the act of the search will inadvertently guide you to clarity. Your action is only a ripple in the pool and each ripple carries numerous reverberations. Also, what do you do with the indefinite wait? Okay, so you're desperately hoping for inspiration but that doesn't mean you should lay comfortably swaddled in the cradle of inaction. I tend to look for (read into... synonymous) the bigger picture in many scenarios. At least, I notice a trend of that variety. Therefore, with every situation I try to break it down into smaller manageable pieces, steps, whatever. So when dealing with the effects of globalization (i.e. displacement slums), I can't see what I can do for those specific people (maybe I'm just desensitized). My mind focuses on how to make larger shifts which is then met with a swell of insignificance. When did the displacements begin? Why is there displacement? What is India's role in the global economy? How do you work towards a more functional nation? What do I mean by functional?
Yet, you can't help make large change without helping the individual and visa versa. That also is the most frustrating conclusion ever! Hell, everything is a balance so can you really sit down and formulate some sort of golden ratio?
And then, what about the persons who dedicate their lives to a very specific cause? Are some born to speculate and others act? I've always secretly wanted both. The actor gives their time to the concrete and the philosopher struggles with the infinitely abstract. They can be the same person but how do you strive for one without sacrifice and can that sacrifice also be a contradiction?
I think that, at my core, I favor the philosopher. I see the world as too complex to comprehend most of the time. We need to reach a certain understanding. What are the pieces?
I know that at some point every person must come across a moment of passionate illumination. I also know that apathy is as slow seeping as it is addictive and toxic. So, do you wait for illumination or do you search for it and if you search for it does that compromise the organic revelation of the moment?
I guess that the act of the search will inadvertently guide you to clarity. Your action is only a ripple in the pool and each ripple carries numerous reverberations. Also, what do you do with the indefinite wait? Okay, so you're desperately hoping for inspiration but that doesn't mean you should lay comfortably swaddled in the cradle of inaction. I tend to look for (read into... synonymous) the bigger picture in many scenarios. At least, I notice a trend of that variety. Therefore, with every situation I try to break it down into smaller manageable pieces, steps, whatever. So when dealing with the effects of globalization (i.e. displacement slums), I can't see what I can do for those specific people (maybe I'm just desensitized). My mind focuses on how to make larger shifts which is then met with a swell of insignificance. When did the displacements begin? Why is there displacement? What is India's role in the global economy? How do you work towards a more functional nation? What do I mean by functional?
Yet, you can't help make large change without helping the individual and visa versa. That also is the most frustrating conclusion ever! Hell, everything is a balance so can you really sit down and formulate some sort of golden ratio?
And then, what about the persons who dedicate their lives to a very specific cause? Are some born to speculate and others act? I've always secretly wanted both. The actor gives their time to the concrete and the philosopher struggles with the infinitely abstract. They can be the same person but how do you strive for one without sacrifice and can that sacrifice also be a contradiction?
I think that, at my core, I favor the philosopher. I see the world as too complex to comprehend most of the time. We need to reach a certain understanding. What are the pieces?
It's hard to remember we're alive for the last time
Hey so sorry for the lack of updates. Been to Ahmadabad, netrang, waghai and now dahanu since vacation. Am currently on retreat on this awesome farm which also embodies what I want in life. Okay and the following is this thing I wrote after visiting a displacement slum in Ahmedabad where the community there was complete uncertainty as to how long they would be able to live there and as to where they would go if their homes were in fact demolished. A random rant will follow this post.
You know the story already. The poor are poor. The rich are rich. The rich shit on the poor. The world spins madly on.
I on't want to write about the facts exactly. You may not know the current events of Modern India or where Ahmedabad is on a map, but you know there's injustice. You may have never visited a slum or more specifically a displaced community but you know the people. They are mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and friends. These people, these victims, these "others" are not others at all.
A mother fighting to keep her home from being bulldozed by the Indian Government is the same woman living in Detroit. Her home has been foreclosed, the invisible fist of the American economy strikes again. The american woman may be able to pull herself up by her bootstraps. She may have the money or the know how to finance a new locale.
The Indian mother doesn't even have that option. She looks to the doorway to find 40 policemen coming to enforce the name of misguided social justice. Pleading to salvage tin scraps from the roof, she is denied. She is denied like the other families within her community. Her country is scrambling to mask their poverty in front of the other children of the global playground. And this is only one example in a sea of homogenous horrors.
Yet, the government is doing their part. They're funding to build affordable housing! Sometimes you have to give a little to get a little, right? All you have to do is prove your need. Do you have a ration card? Well, in 2008 - the Indian government cut the number of available cards by 1.7 million. The country's population is about 1.14 billion and 50% of those people are below the poverty line (BPL). You starting to get the picture? The Indian mother is struck by the swift guillotine of chance; if only she was born on God's golden shore. Better yet, the government funded affordable housing, this possible symbol of hope and security serves as scenery, a backyard, a slap in the face for every forcibly mute neighbor of binding plight.
I want to put this out there as a call to live intentionally. I don't want to tell you to move to India and devote your life to abolishing poverty. I don't want to tell you that America is evil or corporations are bad or inequality is so wrong! Ask yourself what those words even mean and form your own opinions. If you are in any way affected by reading this, then do something now. India is brimming with communities of displaced poor being constantly shuffled and bludgeoned through the system. Again, I know you already know that it's a sick, sad world but hearing something is completely alien to the act of witness. I met that Indian mother, shit's real. If you don't know what to do...read. Yet beyond that, if there is something that keeps you up at night, something that inspires you or makes you happy - run towards it with everything you've got. Your inspiration will inspire others and collective inspiration is what will save the Indian mother at the end of the day
You know the story already. The poor are poor. The rich are rich. The rich shit on the poor. The world spins madly on.
I on't want to write about the facts exactly. You may not know the current events of Modern India or where Ahmedabad is on a map, but you know there's injustice. You may have never visited a slum or more specifically a displaced community but you know the people. They are mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and friends. These people, these victims, these "others" are not others at all.
A mother fighting to keep her home from being bulldozed by the Indian Government is the same woman living in Detroit. Her home has been foreclosed, the invisible fist of the American economy strikes again. The american woman may be able to pull herself up by her bootstraps. She may have the money or the know how to finance a new locale.
The Indian mother doesn't even have that option. She looks to the doorway to find 40 policemen coming to enforce the name of misguided social justice. Pleading to salvage tin scraps from the roof, she is denied. She is denied like the other families within her community. Her country is scrambling to mask their poverty in front of the other children of the global playground. And this is only one example in a sea of homogenous horrors.
Yet, the government is doing their part. They're funding to build affordable housing! Sometimes you have to give a little to get a little, right? All you have to do is prove your need. Do you have a ration card? Well, in 2008 - the Indian government cut the number of available cards by 1.7 million. The country's population is about 1.14 billion and 50% of those people are below the poverty line (BPL). You starting to get the picture? The Indian mother is struck by the swift guillotine of chance; if only she was born on God's golden shore. Better yet, the government funded affordable housing, this possible symbol of hope and security serves as scenery, a backyard, a slap in the face for every forcibly mute neighbor of binding plight.
I want to put this out there as a call to live intentionally. I don't want to tell you to move to India and devote your life to abolishing poverty. I don't want to tell you that America is evil or corporations are bad or inequality is so wrong! Ask yourself what those words even mean and form your own opinions. If you are in any way affected by reading this, then do something now. India is brimming with communities of displaced poor being constantly shuffled and bludgeoned through the system. Again, I know you already know that it's a sick, sad world but hearing something is completely alien to the act of witness. I met that Indian mother, shit's real. If you don't know what to do...read. Yet beyond that, if there is something that keeps you up at night, something that inspires you or makes you happy - run towards it with everything you've got. Your inspiration will inspire others and collective inspiration is what will save the Indian mother at the end of the day
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