Here is an issue that I don't think is getting nearly enough attention: the recent catastrophic flooding in Pakistan. Not only is this a humanitarian crisis of epic scale (latest estimates are that the more than 15 million people have been displaced or otherwise affected, and access to ample clean water and food is scarce), but it presents a troubling security issue as well.
Pakistan was not a particularly stable country to begin with, saddled with an unpopular, corrupt central government and constantly battling a vicious insurgency. Now, forced to cope with a horrific natural disaster and a disappointingly anemic international response, the nation seems more vulnerable than ever. Not that crumbling states are ever a good thing, but, in light of Pakistan's hefty nuclear arsenal, this should be of special concern.
The Washington Post has compiled a list of organizations on the ground that are helping. I donated $100 to the American Red Cross. In their automatic "thank you for your support" email, they said that they had been able to make an initial commitment of $250,000. I don't know much about the cost of relief supplies, but I am savvy enough to recognize that this is a pathetically low sum in the face of the staggering level of need. Please consider giving generously.
Some stunning before and after NASA satellite photos of the inundated city of Khewali are here.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Streetcars and public education
After dinner a week ago, some volunteers from the Fenty campaign knocked on our door to encourage us to attend the Ward 4 Democratic straw poll taking place that night. With nothing else to do, Joe and I finished our dessert (ice cream) and hopped in the car.
Never having been to a straw poll before, neither of us really knew what to expect. The volunteers had touted the possibility of free refreshments (nope) and, hoping for some face time with the mayor (also no), we brought a copy of the Washington Post's editorial endorsement for him to sign. We thought it might look good on our bulletin board, next to the autographed Vic Vickers poster from Alaska and the floating Princess Diana head.
The evening turned out to be quite an experience. I have never seen so many people, all so excited about local politics, crammed into one place. After struggling to find a nearby parking space along the street, we had to wait in a very long line to cast our vote. The poll was not just for the mayoral race - supporters and volunteers for a variety of city council posts were crawling all over the place, offering literature, stickers, and an earful.
What I liked the best, I think, was the fact that all of the candidates, aside from Fenty and Gray, were working the line of voters themselves. We had a lengthy discussion with Vincent Orange, a former council member who is running against Kwame Brown for the chairmanship. I'm supporting Fenty, despite the fact that I think he's a jerk, because I respect his accomplishments and I really like the work that Michelle Rhee is doing with DC Public Schools. The guy in front of us in line was asking all of the candidates about their position on streetcars, something I hadn't even thought about as an issue, but which I strongly support. It was really interesting to hear everyone stake out their positions.
Never having been to a straw poll before, neither of us really knew what to expect. The volunteers had touted the possibility of free refreshments (nope) and, hoping for some face time with the mayor (also no), we brought a copy of the Washington Post's editorial endorsement for him to sign. We thought it might look good on our bulletin board, next to the autographed Vic Vickers poster from Alaska and the floating Princess Diana head.
The evening turned out to be quite an experience. I have never seen so many people, all so excited about local politics, crammed into one place. After struggling to find a nearby parking space along the street, we had to wait in a very long line to cast our vote. The poll was not just for the mayoral race - supporters and volunteers for a variety of city council posts were crawling all over the place, offering literature, stickers, and an earful.
What I liked the best, I think, was the fact that all of the candidates, aside from Fenty and Gray, were working the line of voters themselves. We had a lengthy discussion with Vincent Orange, a former council member who is running against Kwame Brown for the chairmanship. I'm supporting Fenty, despite the fact that I think he's a jerk, because I respect his accomplishments and I really like the work that Michelle Rhee is doing with DC Public Schools. The guy in front of us in line was asking all of the candidates about their position on streetcars, something I hadn't even thought about as an issue, but which I strongly support. It was really interesting to hear everyone stake out their positions.With such a long line to vote, we hardly got to see any of the forum between Fenty and Gray. From what I did see, they bickered like a pair of bratty, contentious schoolchildren, which was kind of silly. Gray ended up winning, even though Ward 4 is Fenty's home district and one of his strongholds. Though the results of the poll do not bode well for the upcoming primary in September, it was, nevertheless, gratifying to see such a strong turnout. Democracy is alive and well in the District.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The dominoes continue to fall
With broad public support, Argentina, a South American nation of 41 million - mostly Catholic - people, passed a law legalizing same sex marriage this morning. Even the most conservative institutions must eventually adapt to changing times. The U.S. government (and perhaps even the Vatican) will get there someday. On this matter, we are unequivocably on the right side of history.
Monday, July 12, 2010
"Feel it, it is here"
When I have the time to compose something a little more thoughtful, I plan to write much, much more about my trip around South Africa and, specifically, about my time spent volunteering in Zonkizizwe. In the aftermath of yesterday's World Cup final, though, I felt compelled to share this photo.
It's out of focus and overexposed, but, I think, captures the spirit of the epically popular tournament's first trip to Africa quite well. Kids, armed with boundless energy and the creative ball skills that come from playing soccer everyday, would run circles around us in the dusty yard. Each night, in the week leading up to the opening match, a chorus of vuvuzelas would echo throughout the township, blaring loudly and fading into the distance as children paraded around, filling the air with exultant, noisy anticipation. On the afternoon of the first match, we painted dozens of faces with South African colors (matching the flags lining seemingly every major street elsewhere in the country), sang the national anthem, and chattered excitedly about Bafana Bafana's chances.
There has been much discussion, both in South Africa and in the media coverage back home, about whether or not hosting the World Cup was worthwhile. Large construction projects and a surge in tourism boosted the economy, but new stadiums are expensive, and several will now sit empty. However, economic calculations aside, I feel there is no question that the tournament was positive for the country. All you need to do is look at the faces of these kids and others like them who, despite being historically and systematically disadvantaged in just about every imaginable way, take an extraordinary amount of joy and national pride in hosting such a presigious event. It is lastingly and unquestionably moving.
It's out of focus and overexposed, but, I think, captures the spirit of the epically popular tournament's first trip to Africa quite well. Kids, armed with boundless energy and the creative ball skills that come from playing soccer everyday, would run circles around us in the dusty yard. Each night, in the week leading up to the opening match, a chorus of vuvuzelas would echo throughout the township, blaring loudly and fading into the distance as children paraded around, filling the air with exultant, noisy anticipation. On the afternoon of the first match, we painted dozens of faces with South African colors (matching the flags lining seemingly every major street elsewhere in the country), sang the national anthem, and chattered excitedly about Bafana Bafana's chances.
There has been much discussion, both in South Africa and in the media coverage back home, about whether or not hosting the World Cup was worthwhile. Large construction projects and a surge in tourism boosted the economy, but new stadiums are expensive, and several will now sit empty. However, economic calculations aside, I feel there is no question that the tournament was positive for the country. All you need to do is look at the faces of these kids and others like them who, despite being historically and systematically disadvantaged in just about every imaginable way, take an extraordinary amount of joy and national pride in hosting such a presigious event. It is lastingly and unquestionably moving.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Even I know how to play "Heart and Soul"
Public art, like so much else that is generally cultured and worthwhile, must tread a fine line between seeming inspired and pretentiously pointless. On the way home last night, I heard about the “Play Me I’m Yours” project in New York City on the radio, and definitely feel that it fits into the former category.
British artist Luke Jerram has been sprinkling collections of creatively decorated pianos on the streets of major world cities and observing how people react. Some noncommittally tap out a few bars and move on, while others become wholly engrossed, playing recital pieces and improvising as they go.
This reaction makes complete sense. Despite not having ever taken any lessons, the instrument holds a certain sway over me. Growing up, I would sit at my parents’ piano and pick out tunes, key by key – simplified versions of movie scores and classical pieces, the Maryland Victory Song, and more. What is most appealing about the piano, however, is its accessibility. More so than with any other instrument, you can walk up to almost any piano – in the lounge of hotel, in a friend’s living room, or, now, on a street corner of New York – and entertain either a crowd or yourself, for a couple minutes or a couple hours.
Jerram was inspired to start this project by seeing the same people, over and over again, in the laundromat. Everyone recognized each other, but no one spoke. Assuming that these types of situations existed everywhere, he envisioned the pianos as a way to jumpstart conversations that might otherwise go unspoken. I only wish I had a reason to be in New York in the next two weeks. Maybe the next city Jerram chooses will be DC.
British artist Luke Jerram has been sprinkling collections of creatively decorated pianos on the streets of major world cities and observing how people react. Some noncommittally tap out a few bars and move on, while others become wholly engrossed, playing recital pieces and improvising as they go.
This reaction makes complete sense. Despite not having ever taken any lessons, the instrument holds a certain sway over me. Growing up, I would sit at my parents’ piano and pick out tunes, key by key – simplified versions of movie scores and classical pieces, the Maryland Victory Song, and more. What is most appealing about the piano, however, is its accessibility. More so than with any other instrument, you can walk up to almost any piano – in the lounge of hotel, in a friend’s living room, or, now, on a street corner of New York – and entertain either a crowd or yourself, for a couple minutes or a couple hours.
Jerram was inspired to start this project by seeing the same people, over and over again, in the laundromat. Everyone recognized each other, but no one spoke. Assuming that these types of situations existed everywhere, he envisioned the pianos as a way to jumpstart conversations that might otherwise go unspoken. I only wish I had a reason to be in New York in the next two weeks. Maybe the next city Jerram chooses will be DC.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Down at the New Amsterdam
It's been a week now, that Dave and I have been in Africa. We spent several days in Cape Town, where Sarah is studying, and managed to do a number of touristy things, including hiking Table Mountain, a tour of the Stellenbosch winelands, and a visit to Robben Island. Since then, we rented a car and drove down to Cape Point and onwards (on the left side of the road) to the smaller towns of Swellendam and Oudtshoorn.
Between the quaint Cape Dutch architecture to the lush green scenery to "Mr. Jones" playing in the rugby bar, it has, so far, been easy to forget that we're in Africa and not Europe. But then, we'll pass a sprawling, ramshackle township on the side of the highway, with kids playing soccer in the grassy shoulder and minibuses and trucks buzzing around, packed with commuters who hop off in the middle of the road and dart across to safety. Or our car will be accosted by a herd of baboons, scuttling down the cliffside on the side of a mountain pass. Or, when sitting down to dinner, we'll be presented with fascinating options such as ostrich steak (delicious), bobotie (delicious), and grilled crocodile (so so).
The sightseeing part of our trip has hardly begun, but we've already seen so many great things. I can only imagine what we'll experience and learn once we settle into Zonkizizwe. We actually met a pair of 19 year old Brits last night who had done something similar, for five weeks, and are now exploring several countries during their gap year. They seemed to have had an amazing time. I'm hopeful that, in a few weeks, we can say the same.
Between the quaint Cape Dutch architecture to the lush green scenery to "Mr. Jones" playing in the rugby bar, it has, so far, been easy to forget that we're in Africa and not Europe. But then, we'll pass a sprawling, ramshackle township on the side of the highway, with kids playing soccer in the grassy shoulder and minibuses and trucks buzzing around, packed with commuters who hop off in the middle of the road and dart across to safety. Or our car will be accosted by a herd of baboons, scuttling down the cliffside on the side of a mountain pass. Or, when sitting down to dinner, we'll be presented with fascinating options such as ostrich steak (delicious), bobotie (delicious), and grilled crocodile (so so).
The sightseeing part of our trip has hardly begun, but we've already seen so many great things. I can only imagine what we'll experience and learn once we settle into Zonkizizwe. We actually met a pair of 19 year old Brits last night who had done something similar, for five weeks, and are now exploring several countries during their gap year. They seemed to have had an amazing time. I'm hopeful that, in a few weeks, we can say the same.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
A moment in May
The New York Times' Lens Blog recently sponsored a really cool project. Called "A Moment in Time," it is a collection of photos that people around the world submitted. All were taken at the same time, 11:00 am Eastern, on Sunday, May 2, 2010. The resulting mosaic is inspiring.
Impressive in both scope and execution, this project provides a broad glimpse of life on Earth. You can browse the shots by geographic area or by theme. Some of the photos are loaded with emotion. Others are quick snapshots, bolstered by strong composition and nice camera work.
While it's enlightening to be able to peer momentarily into the lives of people everywhere, it's also, global significance aside, simply a collection of fantastic pictures. Check it out.
Impressive in both scope and execution, this project provides a broad glimpse of life on Earth. You can browse the shots by geographic area or by theme. Some of the photos are loaded with emotion. Others are quick snapshots, bolstered by strong composition and nice camera work.
While it's enlightening to be able to peer momentarily into the lives of people everywhere, it's also, global significance aside, simply a collection of fantastic pictures. Check it out.
My contribution to the project is below. I had just finished teaching Sunday school and had snuck to the back of the sanctuary to take a quick picture. I wish I had been able to photograph something a little more interesting than a church congregation, but I guess part of the point is to document your life at that particular moment in time.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
I think it's called Atlantis
The space shuttle Atlantis blasted off for its final journey yesterday morning. All of the three remaining shuttles - Atlantis, Discovery, and Endeavour - will be decommissioned by the end of the year: a long-planned but, nevertheless, deflating end to the current era of American manned spaceflight.
Particularly in light of Obama's cuts to the Bush-era Constellation program, it is difficult to picture the future. Although I understand that it can be hard to justify funding manned spaceflight when we have so many other competing priorities, I can't help but feel saddened by the fact the lack of something definitive to look forward to.
Of all of the shuttles, I have the most fondness for Atlantis. When I was growing up, in maybe 1993 or '94, my sister and I spent a week or two with our grandparents in Florida. Their house was in Palm Coast, which I guess is relatively close to Cape Canaveral. We were in my grandfather's white Cadillac, returning to the house (possibly after a breakfast at Denny's) when one of the neighbors flagged us down. He was standing in the street and asked if we were planning to watch the shuttle launch.
It seemed silly to stand there in the middle of the road in the summer heat, staring up at the blue sky. But, sure enough, we could see it blasting off in the distance, ascending like a bright skywriter. As the shuttle climbed higher, the neighbor, who spoke with a thick British accent, murmured, "Yes, there it is. I think it's called... Atlantis."
Even as the shuttles are retired, my love affair with NASA will continue. Sadly, however, it will have to do so without the most recognizable and dream-inspiring symbol of space exploration. Maybe they'll put one in the Air and Space Museum downtown?
Particularly in light of Obama's cuts to the Bush-era Constellation program, it is difficult to picture the future. Although I understand that it can be hard to justify funding manned spaceflight when we have so many other competing priorities, I can't help but feel saddened by the fact the lack of something definitive to look forward to.
Of all of the shuttles, I have the most fondness for Atlantis. When I was growing up, in maybe 1993 or '94, my sister and I spent a week or two with our grandparents in Florida. Their house was in Palm Coast, which I guess is relatively close to Cape Canaveral. We were in my grandfather's white Cadillac, returning to the house (possibly after a breakfast at Denny's) when one of the neighbors flagged us down. He was standing in the street and asked if we were planning to watch the shuttle launch.
It seemed silly to stand there in the middle of the road in the summer heat, staring up at the blue sky. But, sure enough, we could see it blasting off in the distance, ascending like a bright skywriter. As the shuttle climbed higher, the neighbor, who spoke with a thick British accent, murmured, "Yes, there it is. I think it's called... Atlantis."
Even as the shuttles are retired, my love affair with NASA will continue. Sadly, however, it will have to do so without the most recognizable and dream-inspiring symbol of space exploration. Maybe they'll put one in the Air and Space Museum downtown?
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