In the book "everything is illuminated" there is this passage where Alex reflects on what his little brother will experience when he grows up:
"Little Igor, the bruises go away, and so does how you hate, and so does the feeling that everything you receive in life is something you have earned."
I think "feeling like you've earned it" is very similar to feeling like you deserve it -- a sense of entitlement? I feel that my generation struggles with this sense of entitlement. We are supposed to be grateful for all the choices we have; yet, we are trapped by these choices. Interesting how this "deserving" applies to both good and bad things in life.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Talk
I remember a few years ago a famous jazz pianist passed away . . . I can't remember his name. In an article commemorating his death, one of his closest friends was interviewed to glean some insight into his day-to-day life. "What were some common conversation topics you had in the last few years of his life?" was the reporter's question. His life-long friend, an octogenarian himself, said something along the lines of . . .
--Oh, this and that.
--You must have spoken about music quite a lot?
--Well, actually, no. We hardly ever talked about music. Music was something he made and played. It was something he did. There was no need to talk about something one does. One just does it.
I like that.
--Oh, this and that.
--You must have spoken about music quite a lot?
--Well, actually, no. We hardly ever talked about music. Music was something he made and played. It was something he did. There was no need to talk about something one does. One just does it.
I like that.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Selfish Altruist
There is book that a friend once lent to me titled "the selfish altruist". I always think back on this oxymoron whenever I'm communicating to friends or strangers who ask about what I do (not that I believe that people should be defined by what they do, but that's another topic all together). The perception that many people, who do not deal with development work on a regular basis, have on development work seems to be one of perceived admiration. Admiration in the sense of "oh, that's great that you're willing to sacrifice (probably monetary, since that's how we measure value these days) your time and energy to do good in the world".
Of course, this is an over-simplification of what the general public thinks about development work, based on a few anecdotal experiences. I'm sure there are equally many people out there who think that development work is really just a way to stroke our own egos and appeal to the selfish need to feel relevant in this world. Aren't we all acting on self-interest in the end? I'm sure the debate on altruism has been going on since the history of man and woman.
What does international development mean anyway? What is the reality on the ground or in the so-labelled "developing" contexts? If we are all driven by self-interest in one way or another (not taking into consideration the extent of self-interest that we are willing to admit to ourselves), how does international development work? Here, I distinguish between international development, where foreign entities, persons, or even governments intervene or influence a "developing" nation or area, and local community development, where residents or local actors decide to precipitate change in their own communities. The concept of international development usually involves some sort of investment or insertion of resources, funds, capacity, or human capital from a foreign source into a local environment. Here is where the question of altruism comes in. Why would a foreign nation or entity decide to sink resources into a place and environment that is so far removed from their own self-interest?
Sometimes I wonder how far removed self-interest really is. One interesting point that Romeo Dallaire brings up in his lectures is that we, Canadians, should be more interested in the welfare of other nations, such as Rwanda, because our national security is threatened by destabilization elsewhere. Now, to Mr. Dallaire's credit, he is probably just catering his message to his audience, and Canadian national security is not the first thought on his mind when peacekeeping in Rwanda is the issue. But, Canadian national security will probably move more Canadians to action than simply identifying the difficulties and challenges that Rwandans face in trying to piece back together their country, which has been traumatized by the genocide. Where is the personal connection between a Canadian citizen living in suburban Toronto with Loblaws supplying sustenance and MTV or ESPN supplying entertainment to distract the mind and a Rwandan citizen who is paranoid about his or her relationship with their neighbour, who killed their child? It is a lot to expect from people to be able to relate to others who have such a different context of life. And even if they were able to relate to each other, what can be done that would truly improve the lives of both parties?
If a Canadian donates money towards the reconstruction of Rwanda, what actually happens with that money? If NGOs or governmental entities, who may or may not have the resources, infrastructure, or systems to be able to manage the transparent and effective use of this money, does this mean that we shouldn't really bother?
I feel that there is a lot of responsibility placed on the shoulders of donors--at the end of the day, donors in a democracy such as Canada are people like you and I. Even if the Canadian government sends money to war-torn, post-conflict, or disadvantaged communities in "developing" nations, the ultimate bearer of responsibility is the Canadian citizen. If the Canadian citizen doesn't give a shit about Rwandan genocide survivors (which is essentially 95% of the population of Rwanda's capital, for example), then there is no accountability required of governments to ensure the effective use of funds sent to Rwanda. I mean, presumably when the average person donates money to a charity, they really just want to feel good about themselves. OK, fine, this may be jaded, but let's just say that the average person may not spend an extra 5 minutes thinking about how make sure that this money will not end up in some corrupt hands. This means that there is no systemic drive for transparency and accountability in using these funds to do "good", whatever that means.
Please tell me that this is just my jaded alter ego talking.
Of course, this is an over-simplification of what the general public thinks about development work, based on a few anecdotal experiences. I'm sure there are equally many people out there who think that development work is really just a way to stroke our own egos and appeal to the selfish need to feel relevant in this world. Aren't we all acting on self-interest in the end? I'm sure the debate on altruism has been going on since the history of man and woman.
What does international development mean anyway? What is the reality on the ground or in the so-labelled "developing" contexts? If we are all driven by self-interest in one way or another (not taking into consideration the extent of self-interest that we are willing to admit to ourselves), how does international development work? Here, I distinguish between international development, where foreign entities, persons, or even governments intervene or influence a "developing" nation or area, and local community development, where residents or local actors decide to precipitate change in their own communities. The concept of international development usually involves some sort of investment or insertion of resources, funds, capacity, or human capital from a foreign source into a local environment. Here is where the question of altruism comes in. Why would a foreign nation or entity decide to sink resources into a place and environment that is so far removed from their own self-interest?
Sometimes I wonder how far removed self-interest really is. One interesting point that Romeo Dallaire brings up in his lectures is that we, Canadians, should be more interested in the welfare of other nations, such as Rwanda, because our national security is threatened by destabilization elsewhere. Now, to Mr. Dallaire's credit, he is probably just catering his message to his audience, and Canadian national security is not the first thought on his mind when peacekeeping in Rwanda is the issue. But, Canadian national security will probably move more Canadians to action than simply identifying the difficulties and challenges that Rwandans face in trying to piece back together their country, which has been traumatized by the genocide. Where is the personal connection between a Canadian citizen living in suburban Toronto with Loblaws supplying sustenance and MTV or ESPN supplying entertainment to distract the mind and a Rwandan citizen who is paranoid about his or her relationship with their neighbour, who killed their child? It is a lot to expect from people to be able to relate to others who have such a different context of life. And even if they were able to relate to each other, what can be done that would truly improve the lives of both parties?
If a Canadian donates money towards the reconstruction of Rwanda, what actually happens with that money? If NGOs or governmental entities, who may or may not have the resources, infrastructure, or systems to be able to manage the transparent and effective use of this money, does this mean that we shouldn't really bother?
I feel that there is a lot of responsibility placed on the shoulders of donors--at the end of the day, donors in a democracy such as Canada are people like you and I. Even if the Canadian government sends money to war-torn, post-conflict, or disadvantaged communities in "developing" nations, the ultimate bearer of responsibility is the Canadian citizen. If the Canadian citizen doesn't give a shit about Rwandan genocide survivors (which is essentially 95% of the population of Rwanda's capital, for example), then there is no accountability required of governments to ensure the effective use of funds sent to Rwanda. I mean, presumably when the average person donates money to a charity, they really just want to feel good about themselves. OK, fine, this may be jaded, but let's just say that the average person may not spend an extra 5 minutes thinking about how make sure that this money will not end up in some corrupt hands. This means that there is no systemic drive for transparency and accountability in using these funds to do "good", whatever that means.
Please tell me that this is just my jaded alter ego talking.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
What the f do i know about Innocence
When I was in Liberia last winter, my understanding of a child's innocence shifted from an abstract concept to a more grounded and "real" emotional understanding. For me, living in my head has always proved challenging when trying to connect ideas to feelings in my gut. So, I'm not sure if this is relevant for people who have a natural ability to emote and empathize with limited personal experience. Anyway, the team in Liberia took me to West Point, one of the toughest neighbourhoods in Monrovia.
West Point is a semi-peninsula that is probably the most densely populated slum that I've ever seen.
Apparently, over the years migrants from a myriad of West African countries ended up in West Point, seeking refuge from past persecutions or simply lack of resources. So, it is in West Point that the largest group of orphans and street children live and hang out. Many of them sleep on the beach under fishing canoes and fight for their survival every day. There are several ethnic factions within West Point that live so close to each other because of the density of the community, if I may call it that, providing ample sparks for conflict. Apparently, during the Liberian war to annex Sierra Leone, the fighting avoided West Point because soldiers were too afraid to enter these slums. I guess, you could call it the ghetto of Monrovia.
Some of our staff in Monrovia tell me about aid workers who have contracted unknown diseases in West Point. It sounds possible in a place with high population density, lack of sanitation facilities, or any facilities at all for that matter. In a country that saw a war destroy all their powerlines, the lack of infrastructure is common. The sight of a water truck driving into West Point is always interesting. The crowd of children running after it, hanging on to the leaky parts, desparately trying to drink their bellies full, is illustrative of the living conditions. Germs and viruses probably have easy access to evolve beyond a person's immune system, jumping from host to host. HIV/AIDS rates are impossible to measure in a place where the UN Mission to Liberia is too afraid to enter. Every time that UNMIL personnel do enter West Point, they need to set up a check point, with very high security and blue helmets to provide a viable exit path. That was exactly what was in place when I was able to visit West Point . . . lots of blue helmets and AK47s.
It was in this context that I came into contact with the street children in West Point. The football tournament was organized for one of the schools that were set up in West Point. And entertainment in the form of a radio DJ was hired to provide the children with some messages on sexual exploitation. It was anti-sexual exploitation week in Monrovia. I was searching in their eyes for their sentiments towards all this hoopla that strangers organized for them. I wondered what they were thinking . . . do these people really care? They are going to pack up their 4x4s and their lemonade bottles and leave us here before the sun goes down. Their eyes were weary. They looked tired and many of them furrowed their eyebrows. Occasionally a fleeting smile would pass across their face when the DJ made a good joke.
There was an "obruni" (or "whitie" or whatever people in Monrovia called white people) lady standing in front of a group of children with an empty plastic water bottle in her hand. When she turned to leave, she accidentally dropped the bottle. The group of 5 or so children who had been eyeing the bottle for quite some time scrambled over each other toward the ground in order to score the precious plastic container. It must have been a valuable commodity. You could fill it with water to carry around. You could maybe even sell it. These children certainly didn't care about the DJ or his message at that moment, they cared about whatever it took to survive. It was written all over their faces. They didn't have the luxury or the privilege to remain innocent; they understood that their lives were in their own hands. There was no one else to take care of them. They had to be fierce and physically strong to fight others for the scarce resources available.
The adults had a difficult time keeping the circle of children from encroaching upon the DJ standing in the middle. They used canes to keep the children back and the circle from shrinking. MTV was rumoured to show up at this event and all I could think about was the image of the adults disciplining the kids with sticks. The sickest part was that I was thinking, that would look really bad on TRL. The inner conflict is still nauseating.
The next day, the team took me to a Sierra Leonean refugee camp just outside Monrovia. I've been to other camps before, but this one struck me as peaceful and tranquil. I know this is not the typical description of a refugee camp in a post-conflict setting. This one had been in place for over 8 years. The people who lived there had essentially formed a community with little desire to return to Sierra Leone. The infrastructure was simple, but peaceful. There was a MSF or Red Cross (I can't remember the details) station where physicians provided medical assistance. There were outhouses with giant UNHCR logos on them. The shelter or "homes" were pieced-together much like the ones in West Point, but there was plenty of space between one family's home and the next. There were central wells that pumped water (I'm assuming treated) and there were schools with football pitches built in each camp grouping. I'm also assuming that there were regular rations of food available.
The children that joined me when I walked through the camp were probably born in this camp. There was one boy who couldn't have been older than 6 or 7, who decided to walk along-side me. He had a sort of bored but trusting look in his eyes--as though he and I walked around in his neighbourhood together all the time. Then at one point, he just grabbed my hand without looking up at me.
I thought, ok, this little bugger is going to hit me up for some cash or at least ask for some sort of material good. But, he never did. He was just happy holding my hand and walking with me. He was totally trusting towards me and every few minutes, he would look up with a smile. At that point, I truly understood the effect a peaceful and stable environment has on a child. I know this sounds incredibly provincial, but I don't think the importance of a child's innocence has ever hit home so hard for me. The contrast between the look in this boy's smiling eyes to those I saw on the faces of the children of West Point was incredible. I'm in awe of people who are ready to bring children into this world and are ready to be responsible for their innocence. The failure to do so has such devastating consequences.
West Point is a semi-peninsula that is probably the most densely populated slum that I've ever seen.
Apparently, over the years migrants from a myriad of West African countries ended up in West Point, seeking refuge from past persecutions or simply lack of resources. So, it is in West Point that the largest group of orphans and street children live and hang out. Many of them sleep on the beach under fishing canoes and fight for their survival every day. There are several ethnic factions within West Point that live so close to each other because of the density of the community, if I may call it that, providing ample sparks for conflict. Apparently, during the Liberian war to annex Sierra Leone, the fighting avoided West Point because soldiers were too afraid to enter these slums. I guess, you could call it the ghetto of Monrovia.Some of our staff in Monrovia tell me about aid workers who have contracted unknown diseases in West Point. It sounds possible in a place with high population density, lack of sanitation facilities, or any facilities at all for that matter. In a country that saw a war destroy all their powerlines, the lack of infrastructure is common. The sight of a water truck driving into West Point is always interesting. The crowd of children running after it, hanging on to the leaky parts, desparately trying to drink their bellies full, is illustrative of the living conditions. Germs and viruses probably have easy access to evolve beyond a person's immune system, jumping from host to host. HIV/AIDS rates are impossible to measure in a place where the UN Mission to Liberia is too afraid to enter. Every time that UNMIL personnel do enter West Point, they need to set up a check point, with very high security and blue helmets to provide a viable exit path. That was exactly what was in place when I was able to visit West Point . . . lots of blue helmets and AK47s.
It was in this context that I came into contact with the street children in West Point. The football tournament was organized for one of the schools that were set up in West Point. And entertainment in the form of a radio DJ was hired to provide the children with some messages on sexual exploitation. It was anti-sexual exploitation week in Monrovia. I was searching in their eyes for their sentiments towards all this hoopla that strangers organized for them. I wondered what they were thinking . . . do these people really care? They are going to pack up their 4x4s and their lemonade bottles and leave us here before the sun goes down. Their eyes were weary. They looked tired and many of them furrowed their eyebrows. Occasionally a fleeting smile would pass across their face when the DJ made a good joke.
There was an "obruni" (or "whitie" or whatever people in Monrovia called white people) lady standing in front of a group of children with an empty plastic water bottle in her hand. When she turned to leave, she accidentally dropped the bottle. The group of 5 or so children who had been eyeing the bottle for quite some time scrambled over each other toward the ground in order to score the precious plastic container. It must have been a valuable commodity. You could fill it with water to carry around. You could maybe even sell it. These children certainly didn't care about the DJ or his message at that moment, they cared about whatever it took to survive. It was written all over their faces. They didn't have the luxury or the privilege to remain innocent; they understood that their lives were in their own hands. There was no one else to take care of them. They had to be fierce and physically strong to fight others for the scarce resources available.
The adults had a difficult time keeping the circle of children from encroaching upon the DJ standing in the middle. They used canes to keep the children back and the circle from shrinking. MTV was rumoured to show up at this event and all I could think about was the image of the adults disciplining the kids with sticks. The sickest part was that I was thinking, that would look really bad on TRL. The inner conflict is still nauseating.
The next day, the team took me to a Sierra Leonean refugee camp just outside Monrovia. I've been to other camps before, but this one struck me as peaceful and tranquil. I know this is not the typical description of a refugee camp in a post-conflict setting. This one had been in place for over 8 years. The people who lived there had essentially formed a community with little desire to return to Sierra Leone. The infrastructure was simple, but peaceful. There was a MSF or Red Cross (I can't remember the details) station where physicians provided medical assistance. There were outhouses with giant UNHCR logos on them. The shelter or "homes" were pieced-together much like the ones in West Point, but there was plenty of space between one family's home and the next. There were central wells that pumped water (I'm assuming treated) and there were schools with football pitches built in each camp grouping. I'm also assuming that there were regular rations of food available.
The children that joined me when I walked through the camp were probably born in this camp. There was one boy who couldn't have been older than 6 or 7, who decided to walk along-side me. He had a sort of bored but trusting look in his eyes--as though he and I walked around in his neighbourhood together all the time. Then at one point, he just grabbed my hand without looking up at me.
I thought, ok, this little bugger is going to hit me up for some cash or at least ask for some sort of material good. But, he never did. He was just happy holding my hand and walking with me. He was totally trusting towards me and every few minutes, he would look up with a smile. At that point, I truly understood the effect a peaceful and stable environment has on a child. I know this sounds incredibly provincial, but I don't think the importance of a child's innocence has ever hit home so hard for me. The contrast between the look in this boy's smiling eyes to those I saw on the faces of the children of West Point was incredible. I'm in awe of people who are ready to bring children into this world and are ready to be responsible for their innocence. The failure to do so has such devastating consequences.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Systems
I've been thinking about systems and structures for a long time. Systems and structures existing or lacking in a society that address the following thoughts:
Fighting for survial vs. Survival needs being fully met
Base internal motivations in humans: self-interest vs. group interests
Good vs. bad . . . does this really exist? What does being good really mean . . . cooperative? In which context?
Trust--what are prerequisites to it?
In a difficult situation or emergency, what makes certain people hide and others step forward? Does altruism really exist in people or are there other systemic incentives that lead them to act altruistically?
This last question is puzzling to me. You know when you picture yourself in an emergency, you tend to think that you would be totally brave, risk your own wellbeing, and save the little boy who got stuck on the train tracks. I guess, the reality is, that most people would probably stand by and do nothing, and only a few people would actually act. What separates these few from the rest? The answer given may be bravery. But, what is bravery really? It's just a word that we use to describe the behaviour of some people in this situation. What is it made of? I remember Nelson Mandela explaining that he didn't feel like he had a choice in doing what he did. He said that he wouldn't want to or be able to go on living if he didn't do something about apartheid. So, does that mean that he didn't have a choice if he wanted to live? In his mind, was he choosing between life or death? As in, I could not live in this current system, so I have no choice but to try and change it. I wonder what it was in his upbringing or the people that influenced his formation as a person that created this intolerance for oppression? Maybe I should read the book again. There is some pretty extreme and cruel advice on this issue in the Art of War . . . something about destroying all your own food supplies and sinking your own ships before you start an offensive--essentially creating a situation of "die or win the war". I'm wondering, does it all come down to survival in the end? And what sort of systems, be it in family, government, or society, provide space for people like Nelson Mandela to flourish? More importantly, what sort of systems provide space for "average" people--the people who did not step up against oppression--to flourish?
Ok, that's enough.
Fighting for survial vs. Survival needs being fully met
Base internal motivations in humans: self-interest vs. group interests
Good vs. bad . . . does this really exist? What does being good really mean . . . cooperative? In which context?
Trust--what are prerequisites to it?
In a difficult situation or emergency, what makes certain people hide and others step forward? Does altruism really exist in people or are there other systemic incentives that lead them to act altruistically?
This last question is puzzling to me. You know when you picture yourself in an emergency, you tend to think that you would be totally brave, risk your own wellbeing, and save the little boy who got stuck on the train tracks. I guess, the reality is, that most people would probably stand by and do nothing, and only a few people would actually act. What separates these few from the rest? The answer given may be bravery. But, what is bravery really? It's just a word that we use to describe the behaviour of some people in this situation. What is it made of? I remember Nelson Mandela explaining that he didn't feel like he had a choice in doing what he did. He said that he wouldn't want to or be able to go on living if he didn't do something about apartheid. So, does that mean that he didn't have a choice if he wanted to live? In his mind, was he choosing between life or death? As in, I could not live in this current system, so I have no choice but to try and change it. I wonder what it was in his upbringing or the people that influenced his formation as a person that created this intolerance for oppression? Maybe I should read the book again. There is some pretty extreme and cruel advice on this issue in the Art of War . . . something about destroying all your own food supplies and sinking your own ships before you start an offensive--essentially creating a situation of "die or win the war". I'm wondering, does it all come down to survival in the end? And what sort of systems, be it in family, government, or society, provide space for people like Nelson Mandela to flourish? More importantly, what sort of systems provide space for "average" people--the people who did not step up against oppression--to flourish?
Ok, that's enough.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Toad wins the Gorilla Cup
Driving in Rwanda is very similar to driving in the Alps. Well, except for a few minor differences. When the posse and I decided to see the mountain gorillas in Rwanda’s volcano national park, we packed up the 4x4 and decided to brave the hilly ride. I was getting really good at dodging the pot holes and down-shifting on really steep down-hills when I came up behind another vehicle with a cracked rear window. It was swerving from side to side in front of me and then (gasp!) its passengers started throwing banana peels out the window. Luckily, I’ve played Mario Kart a gazillion times and knew exactly what to do. Since there is a sincere lack of sidewalks, dodging people and bicycles as well as occasional rocks laid out in the middle of road was part of the adventure. You know those big rock things that drop down on you in Mario kart and if you’re Toad (my Mario kart character of choice) you get squished and then probably run over by some brute, like Bowser. Well, long story short, I manoeuvred like a sly toad and managed to pass the motherEFer AND won the Star Cup by arriving in good time in gorilla country. Mom and dad, I’m exaggerating; it was totally safe!
Rwanda is stunning. No wonder people say that it’s the Switzerland of Africa. It really does looks like the Alps. The mountains are covered with temperate forests and the people are incredibly organized, relatively speaking. The plots of cultivated land are neatly divided into rectangles covering entire mountains and the streets are surprisingly smooth and clean. People take a lot of pride in beautifully manicured gardens with beautiful flowers and bushes of all kinds. The whole country is very clean and hardworking. In some other African countries you see a lot of people lounging and observing the day, while in Rwanda everyone is busy working, carrying bags on their heads, or lugging carrots to the market. And driving through Rwanda is incredibly fun. The roads are full of cliffs and snake around mountain passes with some of the most silver-glistening trees lining the sides. If you squinted and imagined Heidi and Peter running around with the goats instead of a Rwandan youth balancing bags of shoes on his bicycle, you’ve got the Alps hands down. All these stunning landscapes and an incredibly organized population are strange backdrop to the genocide.
Gorillas are a funny bunch. They are really docile and, well, seem to enjoy a good life in the mountains along the Ugandan, DR Congo, and Rwandan border. I can definitely see why Diane Fosse was able to get so close to them. The group that we were observing allowed their babies to get very close to us—1.5 metres. So trusting! The best part was that the babies wanted to imitate the silverback and practised pounding their chests, subsequently losing their balance and tumbling to the ground. The silverback, who actually had silver hair on its back (I know crazy concept), was essentially asleep the entire time we were there. We sat in the bush for about an hour watching the little tumblers while the Canadian Ambassador and his wife were playing paparazzi. Why is it that tour guides are able to walk up and down these steep, tangled mountain slopes in Wellingtons, as though they were walking up and down stairs, while I was tripping over vines, struggling to find my footing, and getting stung by stinging nettles? My theory is that my baby toes turn inwards and don’t provide me with the same level of balance as those of other human beings. Did you know that gorillas eat about 30 kg of greenery from which they draw over 10 L of water per day? AND they have little unique scratch-marks above their noses that provide their identity to scientists and trackers? AND they’re really good at Mario kart. No, wait, that’s me.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Forget Hollywood. Hillywood is where it's at.
I went to a very interesting opening of the 3rd Rwandan Film Festival today. The title of the festival is “Sharing Stories: Hillywood”—as in Rwanda, the land of a thousand hills. The film shown at this opening was a documentary called “Rwanda Rising” made by Andrew Young, former U.S. ambassador to the UN.Not to give the content away, the film was essentially an infomercial/60 Minutes interview segment on how great Rwanda is doing for an American audience, with guest testimonial by Wolf-slaya-o-witz (my boy has been busy), Quincy Jones, and Bill Clinton. All it was missing was the 60 Minutes ticking sound effect at the end. Just to make sure you all understand, Quincy Jones is the new spokespersons/experts on Rwanda. And the film was punctuated with Young’s insightful comments. For instance, Young tied the USAID coffee success story together with statements like “this coffee bush has brought peace, prosperity, and reconciliation to Rwanda.” No, I have no idea if someone in the room had significant shares in Starbucks.
AND . . . picture the commentator proudly describing the high percentage of female leaders in the Rwandan government. Cut to Bill Clinton with a knowing nod “that’s because during the genocide the majority of men were killed leaving a much higher female to male ratio.” I mean, can’t give the women ALL the credit, right? Frankly, I could not believe this was being screened in Rwanda. Apparently I was the only one since the audience (majority Rwandan) applauded heartily and gave Young a standing ovation. I guess it’s no surprise that the French diplomats were kicked out a few months ago—the Americans are doing a much better job in supporting the Kagame administration with near-propaganda quality films such as this one. Sigh.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Can you say Red, Yellow, and Green?
Ok, Ghana's 50th was probably the most exciting thing that has happened in this city so far. I mean, if the president of the World Bank, Wolf-slaya-o-witz himself, felt the need to show up on stage with Ghana's hiplife artist Rocky Dawuni for the occasion, then you know Accra is where it's at! Yes, the Wolf-slaya was getting down with some afro-funk on the most crowded beach in Accra. How screwed up is it that I could just walk right through security to the VIP section of the concert and enter a luxury resort hotel to use their bathroom, just because of my appearance or the colour of my skin? Yay, 50 years of independence.
Oh yeah, one of my Beninese co-workers has "Remember Jesus loves you more than anyone. Stay blessed in His abundant grace . . ." as his Skype slogan. AND the other day a car full of Elders and Sisters of the Mennonite crew pulled up to a restaurant in Accra as though they just left Ohio that morning. I'm slightly overwhelmed by religion these days.These two kids and their dad saw us on the beach dressed like total lunatics in Ghana 50th gear. The dad was pretty impressed and asked if his kids could pose in a photo with us. I think we showed more patriotic spirit than 73% of Ghanaian that day. The fabric of our home-make skirts and shirts have a special Ghana 50th print. I mean, come on, how could you beat the umbrella hats? Somehow the last entry showed up on facebook with incessant shrieking. I have no idea how to fix it.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Ghana anyone?
In Accra, there is also this huge trade exposition area the size of 6 football fields that is supposed to be a trading area in the city, called "Trade Fair" with all sorts of buildings for vendors and traders, etc. Every year there is a . . . well, trade fair put on for about a week and vendors and businesses set up shop to sell anything and everything in the usually deserted stalls and halls. Yes, usually this place is almost empty! It's so weird.
The exciting part is that you can buy an industrial gas station fuel pump, a wedding dress, really tacky furniture, and delicious jamaican goat curry all at the same place. I love Trade Fair; it's so hot right now. My roommate Lindsey has got to be the most excited person of all. We're going to get fully decked out in Ghana 50th gear. She even got Ghana 50th fabric from her work the other day. We bought Ghana 50th umbrella hats and are ready to rock; this anniversary is not going to know what hit it. I even saw a car that had a Ghana flag draped over its windshield. OBviously, the 50th is more important than road visibility. At least his horse has eye-holes cut out for him; it's such an animal!
Monday, January 08, 2007
Celebrity gossip
By the way, I haven't really had any updates on the newest celebrity gossip. Anyone care to leave some snippests of the newest news? Please.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
1001 nights
I am totally in love. 
Stonetown on Zanzibar island is my new favourite place. The hotel formerly known as Emerson & Green (now renamed 237 Hurumzi) has these rooms that are absolute fables straight out of 1001 arabian
nights. The rooftop terrace in this picture comes as part of one of the suites you can book. Your own private 'tea house' overlooking the town. The Indian ocean is azure blue and the sand is like icing sugar. 
The food is amazing and the people mysterious, with women wearing various types of hijabs. 
The town is so rich in smells, culture, and history, it's impossible to describe.
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