It's the news, stupid.

If you’re going to blame poverty on anyone, blame it on everyone.

That’s what Palgummi Sainath seemed to say at a talk he gave at Columbia University three weeks ago. A reporter on agriculture and poverty in India, Sainath had a lot to say – and a lot to be angry about.

For one, he didn’t hide his exasperation at the ambiguity of an already elusive definition of poverty. The ABCs of development study teach us precisely that there is no ruling definition of poverty, something to keep in mind when reading about the latest statistics on poverty. The official poverty line in India is 24 cents a day, but 77 per cent of the Indian population lives on less than 20 rupees a day. This large discrepancy between statistics and reality is exactly what drove Sainath’s animated talk. The headlines in India are not growth or a booming IT market. It’s poverty, and everything else that comes with it, such as the farmers’ suicide that have been taking over the country.

It is perhaps the limits of journalists that we can only talk, and not really implement policy. But according to Sainath, that’s all it takes to start change. As much as he is frustrated with India’s policies to alleviate poverty, his gripe is as much with journalists as with policy-makers.

“There is more energy in journalism than ever but there is also the most moral bankruptcy in leadership ever,” Sainath said. What he means is that while fashion, murder, caste, religion, and the booming economy makes for popular reading, newspapers in India have failed to provide full time beats on poverty, housing or primary education. Furthermore, no major newspaper in India has a full-time labor correspondent on board.

According to Sainath, this sends a clear message: “it says we are not interested in talking to 70 per cent of the population.”

The point finally sunk in when Sainath animatedly relayed the crux of this argument to his completely engrossed audience. While 512 journalists were covering fashion week in India last spring, only six journalists were covering farmers’ suicide a one-hour flight away. These suicides would have been creating headlines on their own – they were occurring one every six hours. But the final irony was this: the models at fashion week were showing off cotton garments.

This does not only point to a flaw in policy-making in India, but also a flaw in character. Sainath is perhaps one of the few reporters who actively criticize India for more than the growing inequality that accompanies the growing economy. Beyond the commercials of “I love India” laden in “traditional values”, mom’s never-forgotten home-cooked food, and unbreakable family bonds, lies a country that systematically and institutionally ignores 70 per cent of its population that is struggling to survive. There is, essentially, a moral vacuum when it comes to economic policies.

India is experiencing the largest sustained suicide trend, but as Sainath tells us, no system or higher order is working for these farmers. Instead, everything has become privatized. And government and aid policies help insofar as they encourage farmers to diversify their crops. The problem: globalization has raised cultivation costs. Whereas the cost of cultivating vanilla used to be $1.00/kg, it has increased to an appalling $100/kg. In India, Sainath says, “there is privatization of everything, including intellect and soul.”


Journalists wait for news to happen, for democracy to shine and people to rise up to injustice. But Sainath says this is not possible – don’t wait for a social revolution from the farmers when their primary concern is survival. News does not have to be larger than life to be written. It just has to be someone’s life, like the suicide farmers now who, probably unprecedented in India’s history, address their suicide notes to the PM and Chief Minister.

While Sainath may have had his own notions about what policies India’s government could enact to address rural poverty and the growing number of farmers’ suicides, he ultimately addressed the group that he can really influence: journalists. It is not enough to debate the trend of the journalism industry in India, or discuss how it fares compared to the rest of the world. Indian journalists have a duty to cover the biggest, and most often ignored, issue in the country. However, because this has failed to happen, Sainath says, “India has failed in democracy.”

su doku night

They flirt with each other without much concealment, but both are held back. From where each stands, such flirtation is enjoyable, curious and a way to make the passing time more interesting, but not meant to spill over outside the time allotted for meaningless conversation.

“But there is nothing wrong with it”
She is adament about the candle he is about to toss out.

“It won’t light”

“let me do it”

click click click. The orange blaze explodes from the small hole of the lighter but soon envelopes the entire cup she precariously holds. Just a bit further, a bit further, the flame moves to the bent and burnt whick, but then turns on her. She smiles defeatingly and gives it back to him.

“I told you”

He returns later with a fresh candle, holding it as a peace offering. Her tone turns giddy, but commanding as well. She leans towards him as he stands looking down at her, a hand clutching a pencil which she now points in his direction, gesturing towards the puzzle she has been laying on her lap as her purpose for sitting there.

“I’m not smart” he says, creeping towards the door.

“Of course you are, help me. Of course you’re smart.”

He turns away.

He comes back again. His visits become more and more frequent. He sits next to her now, adding in his two cents, finally, to the puzzle she insists he has brains for.

The courage in his voice strains underneath the weight of his uncertainty. “what are you doing tonight?”

“oh, I’m going to be a couple hours…”

The conversation becomes inaudible, she sips on her wine and her head looks up only once as a little girl runs by. He continues to creep into the door frame, lingering in her wake as he fingers his towel. He is about to turn away when the customer sitting nearby says, “excuse me, can I place my order?”


-- Max Cafe, Saturday night.

The Difference

Tonight, Barack Hussein Obama won the presidency of the United States of America. After spending five hours glued to the television in anticipation of results, I viewed the thousands of people standing at Grant's Park in Chicago to see their new president, the masses cheering in Harlem, in Atlanta, in Times Square - tears, screams and smiles dressing the entire country.

What surprises me most is that on the other coast, my parents were both eagerly watching the same acceptance speech. My parents - who came here in 1990 as immigrants without experiencing the "American dream", who have no U.S. citizenship and who have previously shown no political inclination - tonight they were just as joyous and excited as their four children. Obama's victory tonight, I think, was an attribute to the other side of the U.S. that they had heard about but unfortunately never experienced. That is, the other side of America that does not make one cynical about being an immigrant or minority in this country, but points to hope, optimism, and - finally, tonight - reality.

In one of my earlier blog posts, I had rambled about balancing duty with free will, and finally doubting an individual's ability to break from his own history. History goes something like this:

"We were always playing on the white man's court, Ray had told me, by the white man's rules. If the principal, or the coach, or a teacher, or Kurt, wanted to spit in your face, he could, because he had power and you didn't. If he decided not to, if he treated you like a man or came to your defense, it would because he knew that the words you spoke, the clothes you wore, the books you read, your ambitions and desires, were already his. Whatever he decided to do, it was his decision to make, not yours, and because of that fundamental power he held over you, because it preceded and would outlast his individual motives and inclination, any distinction between good and bad whites held negligible meaning. In fact, you couldn't even be sure that everything you had assumed to be an expression of your black, unfettered self - the humor, the song, the behind-the-back-pass - had been freely chosen by you. At best, these things were a refuge; at worst, a trap. Following this maddening logic, the only thing you could choose as your own was withdrawal into a smaller and smaller coil of rage, until being black meant only the knowledge of your own powerlessness of your own defeat. And the final irony: should you refuse this defeat and lash out at your captors, they would have a name for that, too, a name that could cage you just as good. Paranoid. Militant. Violent. Nigger."

That was written by Barack Obama more than ten years ago. The same man, who today, tells us this:

"Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope. For that is the true genius of America - that American can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow."

Perhaps my parents joined me in my eager and breathless phone conversations tonight because they also recognized that it's not just a country that changes, but people as well and the destinies that are expected of them. Someone commented on Obama's speech saying, "Regardless of what you might believe, we didn't elect a black man to the Presidency tonight. Rather, I submit to you that tonight we elected a man to be President who happens to be black. The difference therein is great and we must never confuse the two." Is it? Is the difference great? Obama didn't grow up in Harlem, nor was he as underprivileged as most African-Americans in this country. But he did recognize a feeling of defeat in his life - a feeling of being black and being put into cages of labels. Tonight, a man broke from the history and future written for him. And tonight, there is no difference between the man the US elected who happens to be black and each person who believed they were destined to be trapped in cages. 

double-standard honor?

Last week, a friend of mine sent out this article to a small group of people. A woman in Lucknow, India severed a man's head when he tried to rape her while she was cutting plants. My friend later told me she thought carefully about who to send it to given what type of responses she may get in return from some of her friends. Despite the censorship, she was still taken aback by some of the comments. The general responses found the article laughable - the thought of a woman beheading a man and then carrying his head through town is a ludicrous image, I'm sure. But why laugh at a woman trying to defend her honor? Although we may not condone it, we at least take seriously honor killings that occur by men. Women burned with their husbands, women killed after being raped - they're disgusting but they're not comical. Is it because we are accustomed to men doing the killing in the name of honor? Perhaps this is a generalization, but most women think about and understand (consciously or not) that they represent the honor of the family, community and culture. And while they are vulnerable to their honor being tainted, it is the men whose place it is to traditionally defend it. Is there something humorous, then, about these roles becoming convoluted and a woman deciding how she will defend her honor and dignity - as horrific as it is? One of my friend's characterized the incident as "a real honor killing". Horrific, yes. Humorous, hardly.

you were supposed to dance

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERbvKrH-GC4

clean slate

I didn't mean for there to be such a long hiatus since my last post, but here we are, another late night, another city...and another computer. I'm currently borrowing a friend's computer, given that mine is currently inoperable. This past week, my hard drive crashed and I lost five years worth of writing, music and pictures. It's one of those events that make you realize, there's more to life than your computer. Oh, sure there is BUT I know that as soon as koobi (jr) is back, I'll be putting the rest of the world on a pause. I had been pretty down about losing my writing - it meant losing papers, some poetry, free-writes, starts of stories, letters, and probably a file of ideas. It's a lot to lose; they were evidence of thoughts and feelings and knowledge - essentially, they were parts of me on paper. But, as I was telling a friend, perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I had become too accustomed to my writing, and was having a difficult time letting some go. With writing, as with other things one can do, there is always something to improve on. The crash forced me to let go and start again with a fresh mind - certainly it helped me to not be tied to stale ideas and styles of the past.

It's 3.26 AM and I can no longer churn out my best piece of work at this hour of the night. Unfortunatley I think graduating from college means they take away that power. LifeasIknowit in the middle of the semester in the middle of the night in a sentence summary: cold feet about journalism; excitment about classes; letting go (or, as Adrienne Rich would say "stepping backwards"; too bad she didn't write it about computers); dreams of brunch; intention of drawing again; potential photography.

sickening

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26223335/

Cruelty meets beauty for Pakistan burn victims
After acid attacks, women find refuge, independence as beauticians
By NAHAL TOOSI
The Associated Press

LAHORE, Pakistan - Saira Liaqat squints through her one good eye as she brushes a woman's hair. Her face, most of which the acid melted years ago, occasionally lights up with a smile. Her hands, largely undamaged, deftly handle the dark brown locks.

A few steps away in this popular beauty salon, Urooj Akbar diligently trims, cleans and paints clients' fingernails. Her face, severely scarred from the blaze that burned some 70 percent of her body, is somber. It's hard to tell if she's sad or if it's just the way she now looks.

Liaqat and Akbar are among Pakistan's many female victims of arson and acid attacks. Such tales tend to involve a spurned or crazy lover and end in a life of despair and seclusion for the woman.

The two instead became beauticians.

The women can't escape the mirrors or pictures of glamorous models that surround them, but they consider the salon a second home and a good way to make a living. The two also serve as reminders of that age-old lesson on beauty — a lesson that, needed or not, they learned the hard way.

"Every person wishes that he or she is beautiful," says Liaqat, 21. "But in my view, your face is not everything. Real beauty lies inside a person, not outside."

"They do it because the world demands it," Akbar, 28, says of clients. "For them, it's a necessity. For me, it isn't."

Liaqat and Akbar got into the beauty business in the eastern city of Lahore thanks to the Depilex Smileagain Foundation, an organization devoted to aiding women who have been burned in acid or other attacks.

About five years ago, Masarrat Misbah, head of Pakistan's well-known Depilex salon chain, was leaving work when a veiled woman approached and asked for her help. She was insistent, and soon, a flustered Misbah saw why.

'A girl who had no face'When she removed her veil, Misbah felt faint. "I saw a girl who had no face."

The woman said her husband had thrown acid on her.

Misbah decided to place a small newspaper ad to see if others needed similar assistance.
Forty-two women and girls responded.

Misbah got in touch with Smileagain, an Italian nonprofit that has provided medical services to burn victims in other countries. She sought the help of Pakistani doctors. Perhaps the biggest challenge has been raising money for the cause, in particular to build a special hospital and refuge for burn victims in Pakistan.

Her organization has some 240 registered victims on its help list, 83 of whom are at various stages of treatment.

The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan found that in 2007, at least 33 women were burned in acid attacks, and 45 were set on fire. But the statistics are likely an undercount, since many cases go unreported for various reasons including out of fear of their attackers, or because the victims can't afford the legal bills.

The victims Misbah has helped need, on average, 25 to 30 surgical procedures over several years, but she soon realized that wasn't enough. Some, especially those who were outcasts in their families, had to be able to support themselves.

To her surprise, several told her they wanted to be beauticians.

"And I felt so sad," Misbah says. "Because beauty is all about faces and beautiful girls and skin."
She helped arrange for 10 women to train in a beauty course in Italy last year. Some have difficulty because their vision is weak or their hands too burned for intricate work. But several, including Liaqat and Akbar, are making their way in the field.

Images of beauty and brutalityThe salon in Lahore is not the usual beauty parlor. There are pictures of beautiful women on the walls — all made up, with perfect, gleaming hair. But then there's a giant poster of a girl with half her face destroyed.

"HELP US bring back a smile to the face of these survivors," it says.

Working for the salon is a dream come true for Liaqat, whose mischievous smile is still intact and frequently on display. As a child she was obsessed with beauty. Once she burned some of her sister's hair off with a makeshift curling iron. She still wears lipstick.

Akbar, the more reserved one, also carries out many administrative and other tasks for the foundation. One of her duties is collecting newspaper clippings about acid and burn attacks on women.

Both say they are treated well by clients and colleagues, but Misbah says some clients have complained.

"They say that when we come to a beauty salon, we come with the expectation that we're going to be relaxed, in a different frame of mind," Misbah says. "If we come here and we see someone who has gone through so much pain and misery, so automatically that gives us that low feeling also. They have a point.

"At the same time, there are clients who take pride in asking these girls to give them a blow-dry, or getting a manicure or pedicure taken from them."

Sometimes they ask what happened.

According to Liaqat and a lawyer for her case, she was married in her teens, on paper, to a relative, but the families had agreed she wouldn't live with him until she finished school. Within months, though, the man started demanding she join him.

One day at the end of July 2003, he showed up at their house with a package. He asked her to get him some water. He followed her to the kitchen, and as she turned around with the water, she says, he doused her with the acid. It seared much of her face, blinded her right eye, and seriously weakened her left one.

Liaqat shakes her head when recalling how a few days before the incident she found a small pimple on her face and threw a fit. After she was burned, her parents at first wouldn't let their daughter look at a mirror. But eventually she saw herself, and she's proud to say she didn't cry.
"Once we had a wedding in the family. I went there and all the girls were getting dressed and putting on makeup. So that time, I felt a pain in my heart," she says. "But I don't want to weaken myself with these thoughts."

Her husband is in prison as the attempted murder case against him proceeds. The two are still legally married.

Akbar says she found herself in an arranged marriage by age 22. Her husband grew increasingly possessive and abusive, she says. The two had a child.

About three years ago, Akbar says, he sprinkled kerosene oil on her as she slept and lit it. A picture taken shortly afterward shows how her face melted onto her shoulders, leaving her with no visible neck.

Akbar has not filed a case against her now ex-husband. She says she'll one day turn to the law, at least to get her daughter back.

Both women were reluctant for The Associated Press to contact their alleged attackers.
Liaqat and Akbar have undergone several surgeries and expect to face more. They say Misbah's foundation was critical to their present well-being.

"Mentally, I am at peace with myself," Akbar says. "The peace of mind I have now, I never had before. I suffered much more mental anguish in my married life."

'Strong girls'Bushra Tareen, a regular client of Liaqat's, praises her work.

"I feel that her hands call me again and again," Tareen says. She adds that Liaqat and Akbar remind her of the injustices women face, and their ability to rise above them.

"When I see them, I want to be like them — strong girls," she says.

Liaqat is grateful for having achieved her goal of being a beautician. She worries about her eyesight but is determined to succeed.

"I want to make a name for myself in this profession," she says.

Akbar plans to use her income one day to support her little girl, whom she has barely seen since the attack.

"I'm independent now, I stand on my own two feet," she says. "I have a job, I work, I earn. In fact, I'm living on my own ... which isn't an easy thing to do for a woman in Pakistan, for a lone woman to survive."