Alternate Vision

An average night in the streets of Ivory Coast for an average citizen. Dkosei blogs about police harassment on the streets of Ivory Coast. Eye opening for those of you who are clueless about what goes on in that corner of this planet...

The present state of the global order is, in many ways, a manifestation of the remnant inequities of our colonial past. The socio-political and economic impact of globalization on the developing world is what some refer to as "21st century colonialism." In part, I refer to the flawed monetary policies imposed on helpless developing nations by international monetary organizations such as the IMF and worldbank. This however, is just the tip of the iceberg.

In a slightly broader context, this inequity has pervaded through most every level of society. So deep is it engrained into the fabric of our daily lives that we often fail to recognize its repercussions or its very existence even. The actions of an average consumer in the west can inextricably be linked to the standard of living of a child in the streets of Kampala, Uganda. This suggests there are much greater lessons to be learned for everyone involved.

I just watched a brilliant, provocative and unapologetic documentary film on the effect of globalization and in particular the fiscal policies of the otherwise revered,global, financial and economic institutions that have, through "the mechanism of debt" and other grossly erroneous policies caused a grave injustice to a good majority of mankind.

Life and Debt is a powerful documentary on Jamaica that exposes a classic example of a country that has taken the brunt of this ubiquitous, global injustice.

"The complexity of international lending, structural adjustment policies and free trade will be understood in the context of the day-to-day realities of the people whose lives they impact. "

Mind bending as it is, I think whether you are a future, current or past policy maker, a random concerned globalista or a simply curious invidiual, you need to get a watch on.

Another email forward worth mulling over..

Audio Lotion are abu (*1975) and aleph (*1968) from Switzerland's metropole Zurich. The duo has been involved in creating electronic landscapes for over 15 years, 6 years of which in the common project Audio Lotion. Abu earns his living as a psychiatrist, while aleph is a neurobiologist currently working as a research assistent, and with a strong interest in the philosophy of mind and consciousness. Both work in Zurich's venerable University Hospital of Psychiatry »Burghoelzli«, where many of the founding fathers of modern psychiatry resided, e.g. Eugen Bleuler and C.G. Jung.

Refereshingly different. Their eclectic style fuses oriental tones, latin beats, Nu Jazz, ambient electronica and what have you...sexy very sexy...

me·tro|·sen·su·al
adj, neologism: Attuned/sensitive to urban-cosmopolitan aesthetics;
of delicate, sophisticated progressive taste.
Origin: late Middle English: via late Latin from Greek meter, metro- »mother«,
and via late Latin from sensualis, from Latin sensus »sense«.

On Feb 10, 2006 Nigeria lost one of its greatest human rights activists and national icons - Dr. Beko Ransome-Kuti, elder brother of the legendary Afrobeat hero Fela Anikulapo Kuti, who used his music to battle tyranny and oppression in Nigeria.

Born into an extraordinary family, Dr. Beko was fortunate to have been educated in the west, where he obtained his medical degree at Manchester University in England. He returned to Nigeria in the early 60s where he started working as a medical practioner abd fought hard for the ill and afflictted to have access to proper medical care. This is when he got involved with the early civil rights movement.

"Beko comes from a strong background of human rights activism. His mother, Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, was at the forefront of anti-colonial struggle in Nigeria. She organized Nigerianwomen to fight for their right to vote and be voted for. She waged many battles against indiscriminate taxation of women. One of those battles in 1948 led to the abdication from the throne of a tyrant king in Abeokuta, one of the major towns in Western Nigeria."

One thing is for sure, he will go down in history books for his relentless opposition to the dictatorial regime of former President Sunny Abacha, an act that he was unjustly imprisoned for three years. In the true spirit of the Kuti family, Dr. Beko fought for the principles of good governance, democracy and equal rights for all. He offered overwhelming support to the marginalized and powerless majority through his medical and human rights efforts.

If it interests you, here is an awesome interview by the Chinua Achebe Foundation with Dr. Beko on everything from civil rights, Nigeria's stuggle to overthrow oppressive regimes to Fela and smoking hemp. The continent needs more Beko's at the forefront of socio-political activity. Rest in Peace.

thailymeintharra: dude its an awesome day
thailymeintharra: what u upto
Decadenteuphony: haha
Decadenteuphony: I was just about the blog about it


56F outside. Warm weather with a soft breeze, perfect for running. Listening to a radio show mixed by Dj Michalek (my advisor). Mostly ambient, electronic ..mixed up with some Tori Amos and Faye Wong. Yea, he is the shit. Hmm..tahvez vou beber na fora depois de duas horas. Por que? por que eu quero quero..

Home made Caipirinhas, Chap's Pad thai, quality family time and an imminent snow storm (read play in the snow). I must do this more often..

Grandmother was pretending to be lost in prayer, but her prayer-beads were
spinning at top speed. That meant she was either excited or upset. Mother
put the receiver down. "Some American girl in his office, she's coming to
stay with us for a week." She sounded as if she had a deep foreboding.
Father had no such doubt. He knew the worst was to come. He had been
matching horoscopes for a year, but my brother Vivek had found a million
excuses for not being able to visit India, call any of the chosen Iyer
girls, or in any other way advance father's cause. Father always wore four
parallel lines of sacred ash on his forehead. Now there were eight, so deep
were the furrows of worry on his forehead. I sat in a corner, supposedly
lost in a book, but furiously text-messaging my brother with a vivid
description of the scene before me.

A few days later I stood outside the airport with father. He tried not to
look directly at any American woman going past, and held up the card reading
"Barbara". Finally a large woman stepped out, waved wildly and shouted
"Hiiii! Mr. Aayyyezh, how ARE you?" Everyone turned and looked at us. Father
shrank visibly before my eyes. Barbara took three long steps and covered
father in a tight embrace. Father's jiggling out of it was too funny to
watch. I could hear him whispering "Shiva Shiva!". She shouted "you must be
Vijaantee?" "Yes, Vyjayanthi" I said with a smile. I imagined little
half-Indian children calling me "Vijaantee aunty!". Suddenly, my colourless
existence in Madurai had perked up. For at least the next one week, life
promised to be quite exciting.

Soon we were eating lunch at home. Barbara had changed into an even shorter
skirt. The low neckline of her blouse was just in line with father's eyes.
He was glaring at mother as if she had conjured up Barbara just to torture
him. Barbara was asking "You only have vegetarian food? Always??" as if the
idea was shocking to her. "You know what really goes well with Indian food,
especially chicken? Indian beer!" she said with a pleasant smile, seemingly
oblivious to the apoplexy of the gentleman in front of her, or the choking
sounds coming from mother. I had to quickly duck under the table to hide my
giggles. Everyone tried to get the facts without asking the one question on
all our minds: What was the exact nature of the relationship between Vivek
and Barbara? She brought out a laptop computer. "I have some pictures of
Vivek" she said. All of us crowded around her. The first picture was quite
innocuous. Vivek was wearing shorts and standing alone on the beach. In the
next photo, he had
Barbara draped all over him. She was wearing a skimpy bikini and leaning
across, with her hand lovingly circling his neck. Father got up, and flicked
the towel off his shoulder. It was a gesture we in the family had learned to
fear. He literally ran to the door and went out. Barbara said "It must be
hard for Mr. Aayyezh. He must be missing his son." We didn't have the heart
to tell her that if said son had been within reach, father would have
lovingly wrung his neck.

My parents and grandmother apparently had reached an unspoken agreement.
They would deal with Vivek later. Right now Barbara was a foreigner, a lone
woman, and needed to be treated as an honoured guest. It must be said that
Barbara didn't make that one bit easy. Soon mother wore a perpetual frown.
Father looked as though he could use some of that famous Indian beer. Vivek
had said he would be in a conference in Guatemala all week, and would be off
both phone and email. But Barbara had long lovey-dovey conversations with
two other men, one man named Steve and another named Keith. The rest of us
strained to hear every interesting word. "I miss you!" she said to both. She
also kept talking with us about Vivek, and about the places they'd visited
together. She had pictures to prove it, too. It was all very confusing.

This was the best play I'd watched in a long time. It was even better than
the day my cousin ran away with a Telugu Christian girl. My aunt had come
howling through the door, though I noticed that she made it to the plushest
sofa before falling in a faint. Father said that if it had been his child,
the door would have been forever shut in his face. Aunt promptly revived and
said "You'll know when it is your child!" How my aunt would rejoice if she
knew of Barbara!

On day five of her visit, the family awoke to the awful sound of Barbara's
retching. The bathroom door was shut, the water was running, but far louder
was the sound of Barbara crying and throwing up at the same time. Mother and
grandmother exchanged ominous glances. Barbara came out and her face was
red. "I don't know why", she said, "I feel queasy in the mornings now." If
she had seen as many Indian movies as I'd seen, she'd know why. Mother was
standing as if turned to stone. Was she supposed to react with the
compassion reserved for pregnant women? With the criticism reserved for
pregnant unmarried women? With the fear reserved for pregnant unmarried
foreign women who could embroil one's son in a paternity suit? Mother, who
navigated familiar flows of married life with the skill of a champion
oarsman, now seemed completely taken off her moorings.
She seemed to hope that if she didn't react it might all disappear like a
bad dream. I made a mental note to not leave home at all for the next week.
Whatever my parents would say to Vivek when they finally got a-hold of him
would be too interesting to miss. But they never got a chance. The day
Barbara was to leave, we got a terse email from Vivek. "Sorry, still stuck
in Guatemala. Just wanted to mention, another friend of mine, Sameera
Sheikh, needs a place to stay. She'll fly in from Hyderabad tomorrow at
10am. Sorry for the trouble."

So there we were, father and I, with a board saying "Sameera". At last a
pretty young woman in salwar-khameez saw the board, gave the smallest of
smiles, and walked quietly towards us. When she did 'Namaste' to father, I
thought I saw his eyes mist up. She took my hand in the friendliest way and
said "Hello, Vyjayanthi, I've heard so much about you." I fell in love with
her. In the car father was unusually friendly. She and Vivek had been in the
same group of friends in Ohio University. She now worked as a Child
Psychologist.

She didn't seem to be too bad at family psychology either. She took out a
shawl for grandmother, a saree for mother and Hyderabadi bangles for me."
Just some small things. I have to meet a professor at Madurai University and
it's so nice of you to let me stay" she said. Everyone cheered up. Even
grandmother smiled. At lunch she said "This is so nice. When I make sambar,
it comes out like chole, and my chole tastes just like sambar". Mother was
smiling. "Oh just watch for 2 days, you'll pick it up." Grandmother had
never allowed a Muslim to enter the kitchen. But mother seemed to have taken
charge, and decided she would bring in who ever she felt was worthy.

Sameera circumspectly stayed out of the puja room, but on the third day, was
stunned to see father inviting her in and telling her which idols had come
to him from his father. "God is one" he said. Sameera nodded sagely. By the
fifth day, I could see the thought forming in the family's collective
brains. If this fellow had to choose his own bride, why couldn't it be
someone like Sameera? On the sixth day, when Vivek called from the airport
saying he had cut short his Guatemala trip and was on his way home, all had
a million things to discuss with him. He arrived by taxi at a time when
Sameera had gone to the University. "So, how was Barbara's visit?" he asked
blithely. "How do you know her?" mother asked sternly. "She's my secretary"
he said. "She works very hard, and she'll do anything to help." He turned
and winked at me.

Oh, I got the plot now! By the time Sameera returned home that evening, it
was almost as if her joining the family was the elders' idea. "Don't worry
about anything", they said, "we'll talk with your parents."

On the wedding day a huge bouquet arrived from Barbara. "Flight to India -
$1500. Indian kurta - $5. Emetic to throw up - $1.The look on your parents'
faces - priceless" it said.

Watched Osama last night. No, its not about Bin Laden but a story far more powerful and moving. Part of me is seething inside but a greater part is just depressed. Maybe thats why I slept through my alarm this morning and didn't wake up in time to go skiing.

As much as the movie destroyed my mood I still think we all need healthy doses of such films every now and them.

conversation at the men's room...

Random wasted individual: Steeler's yea?
Me: Here we go! (loud)
Random wasted individual: lemme guess...you speak Spanish
Me: why would you say that?
Random wasted individual:..no offense....wait..are you Mexican?
Me: nah man..I think you have the wrong continent
Random wasted individual: ..ooo dude..my bad...South Spain (totally serious)
Me: *grin.. more like a snigger*..wrong..keep going
Random wasted individual: dude you so don't look Asian
Me: hmm
Random wasted individual: I know you guys like soccer
Me:..well.. I love soccer but my people.well their into cricket
Random wasted individual: ofcourse..thats right South Africa
Me: good luck sunday, *after the man at the third urinal announced* "..he's Indian smarty pants"

The penny pitchers helped me through my evening

Am all set to go skiing this Saturday. Seven Springs ain't no Rockies but for a first timer it will suffice. Elated...