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Archive for August, 2008

Parma is not a place to make ham

Sunday, August 31st, 2008

Italy in a nutshell:

It is hot and humid with loads of mosquitos and I have to teach in a convent.

The men all have black man-bags with silver clasps. I thought they were postmen making late deliveries to the cafes.

All the rest of the men ride heavy yellow bicycles with big tyres and front handlebar bags. Thought they were postmen making late deliveries to the cafes.

Everyone is in the cafe.

Everyone is on the phone. All the time.

The bicycles are in a state. For the country which has Campagnolo this is a disgrace, cheap imports and advertising have corrupted these people.

Here is the Parma River, known as the ‘torrente’:

Apparently they have taken the water further upstream as it didn’t rain in the spring and they have had serious water problems. Nevertheless, the fountains are still running everywhere throughout the town.

My hotel is the best hotel in the world and seems to be designed specially for writers. It is on the main road and is incredibly hot and noisy, filled with itinerant workers, including women and families. Hence round here are cheaper restaurants, pizzerias and eateries. There is ice cream everywhere and I was surprised when my contact teacher told me a certain ice-creamery is the best. Isn’t the one I went to yesterday any good?

My room is huge and airy, I lost my computer bag in it just now it’s so big. The luxurious tiled bathroom, called ’simple’ in the Rough Guide, is across the hall, which is healthier, it’s my own private

bathroom though. My bedroom seems to be furnished with antiques, and is tiled, it would be cool if anything was cool.But everywhere is hot, stifling. I think I have heat stroke and I can’t make it go, I am sweating and have headaches, which I can’t make disappear though I drink water continually. I have no appetite, but feel dizzy and sweaty. If I splash water on myself I feel chilled and start to shiver. I’m finding it hard to make decisions and calculate things like tiemtables for school, and keep misplacing things around the room. I’ve been mainly sleeping, although I went out for lunch and had incredibly expensive lamb chops, served by a sullen waiter who suddenly became the epitome of charm and English-speaking when his mate turned up to eat opposite me. Ah Italian men! When they are not crying or sulking, they are so charming.

I have remembered the disinfectant wipes for when they kiss up my arms this time.

Tags: jill

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Message for the Nigeria Women’s AGM taking place in Abuja, Nigeria

Saturday, August 30th, 2008

Congratulations to the women of Abuja for their strong faith in for hosting the AGM, also to the women of Nigeria for the first AGM in SGI Nigeria. Well done. Well done.

Nigeria has more fundamental darkness than other sub Saharan African states because it has the great strength and amazing richness of individuals there to lead Africa, the continent of the 21st Century, as a leading light for the whole world. I am sure that where Africa leads, we will all follow. So the onus is on everyone in Africa, from Africa and connected with Africa to become great leaders of Kosen Rufu for the sake of all mankind and all life on Earth. Now is the time.

Once again, congratulations.

Also all my love to my friends who I miss so much, but chant with every day.

Jill

Tags: Buddhism, SGI Nigeria, women

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Ladies of Istanbul, take your clothes off

Friday, August 29th, 2008

Kemp not too shocked at being grabbed in Istanbul. We went on a tour of the Bosphorus with the kids. A girl who had been living in the US told me she was trying to keep up her reading but all the books she wanted to read are banned. whether from her parents, school or other I wans’t able to ascertain, but she spoke hurriedly and in a hushed voice.  The women of course were dressed not only in their scarves but in overcoats, singularly inappropriate for hot weather, oh come on ladies. Take your clothes off. I wrote a poem for the Revolution called Ladies of Istanbul, take your clothes off, and will publish it later.

For the moment, I’m thrilled to be back in Vienna, but would be even more thrilled to be in the Terminus with Kemp instead of out in the sticks in a Gasthof that I swear is a Neo Nazi stronghold. At any rate it s very dirty and smelly, and my room is the child’s part of a family room. The couple next door arrive late at night and I listen to them whisper. Then they smoke and the smoke seeps under the partition door into my bit.

Nevertheless I found Shroedinger’s cat at the Donauzentrum. What would he have said if he knew that this would be one of his possible futures?

Tonight there is a Buddhist study at the centre at Linzerstrasse and tomorrow I’m off to Parma in Italy, where I am teaching alone in a convent.


Women of Istanbul, take your clothes off!

Women of Istanbul take your clothes off!
You want to be European -
European women walk round naked
In the heat of midday,
Baring our white arms
To the cool breezes
And asking the sun
To tint us a delicate beige.
Throw off your clothes
And let the men look the other way.

Sisters of Istanbul,
We can’t move alone.
All together in one combined movement:
Cast the scarf away for the summer
And hear once more the clear trill
Of a thrush and the buzzing
Of the joyful bee.
Throw to one side that grey overcoat -
It’s not going to rain
For at least three months.
Fat or thin, nobody cares;
And without clothes, trust me,
We don’t look enticing -
The men look away.

Women of Istanbul, see
The Bosphorus, naked and blue,
Her surfaces shimmering in the sunshine,
Her waves trembling at the touch of the summer breezes.
She is with nature glorifying God
In all his wonder.
Take off your clothes, ladies,
Just for one day.
Let our mothers in law look away.

Take your lipstick and smear it
All over your legs.
Let’s laugh at your daughters’
Ungainliness.
Freedom is the right
To look foolish.
Sisters, link arms!
Let’s discover the mini skirt!
Let’s burn our bras!
Let’s link arms!
Let’s be dangerous!
Let the men dare to look away.

Tags: Poems

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It’s not

Friday, August 29th, 2008

It’s not

It’s not your blue eyes
that tempted me,
nor your hair that billows
like the Black Sea.
It’s not your mouth
that grips a hard line
that I have to make smile.
Not your piercing mind,
your harsh wit,
or the way your perceive
wrongs through your skin;
nor your feet as you march
in a hurry with life,
as if beginning an endless path.
Nor when you look at me
as if there is nothing else,
like the moon cloudy and red
over Uzkadar. Not the Strait
which you see as an obstacle,
a bridge to cross,
not the wait for papers, no!

It is the simple sum
of one plus one,
it’s fate, the vastness of the sea
and the sight of land to reach.

Tags: Istanbul, Poems, Poetry

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My Imam

Friday, August 29th, 2008

My Imam

Crisp heat rises on water,
harem-blue stained-glass
cutting the sallow patterns
of my sinewed heart,
veering round impassioned
traffic on Taksim Square,
swayed by old songs in new versions.
Hairy-armed men laugh as
they gaze critical and hungry
at European blonds. Your brow
thickens. You judge judgement
and find it lacking.

I am a woman of a thousand sequins,
taken from my jealous home
by idle curiosity. You’re a man
of dreams and firm convictions.
I sit in the dolmus imagining
your fiery hair flowing
behind you across the plains.
My dolmus breaks down
And I am escorted home
by a snow-capped man
who expounds Turkish hospitality.

Another writer smiles and gasps
at forbidden books, Jane Austen
and jail sentences.
In my mind you raise
your arms on the minaret
and sonorously call the dawn:
‘Prayer is better than sleep’.
Rising red behind tower blocks
the sun’s wind fiercely blasts
your robes. In fear and trembling
you stand firm,
and I want to stand by your side
(in your heart women are not forbidden,
my Imam) and raise
the tempests of change,
chant freedom into the
dungeons of the enterrored
as they clutch their scarves;

and I, I was blown here
into your arms.

Tags: Istanbul, Poems, Poetry

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Hallo,Hallo, Vienna Calling

Friday, August 29th, 2008

Yesterday the International Conference for Human Rights began at the Vienna International Centre near where I am staying. Chanting that they address Human Rights in Education. The Child’s right to be treated in a humane way as a future independent adult who will run everything, and needs to be most carefully nurtured.

In soka Educators’ International Network Forums we are trying to encourage education which is international in focus and free from national pressures. Following Daisaku Ikeda’s Peace Proposal, we believe education should be the ‘fourth power’ in every government of every nation, since it is the key to a nation’s well-being. We hope that education will become recognised as the main raison d’etre of government, to enable its citizens to fully develop their potential as human beings, individuals within a humane and thinking community. so Go Vienna Go!

Tags: Daisaku Ikeda, fourth power, Human Rights, humanitarian education, International Conference for Human Rights, jill, nationalism, SGI, Soka education, Soka Gakkai Internationa, Vienna International Centre

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Who are you?

Friday, August 29th, 2008

It’s a strange balance of situations when a country tries to become a developed nation and a player, finding its own place in the world.  Many countries today are searching for an identity, including the UK with its lost Empire and the USA whose Hispanic population is increasing in influence year on year. Searching for a sense of self is a result of sudden change.

Readers of this column will know that I tend to travel a lot, and I am writing this in Vienna, Austria, where there is no question about identity. This may be because Austria is in a very stable condition, being reasonably self-sufficient. The two issues looming on the future’s horizon for Austria are global warming, which threatens its key tourist ski industry with diminishing snowfall each winter, and the influx of foreigners, especially from Turkey, due to Austria’s low birth rate leaving gaps in the job market.

Like Austria, Turkey also used to be a great Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and mainly the two countries were at loggerheads. In Vienna you are continually bombarded with sites of decisive battles and heroic tales of great victorious generals who defeated the Turks at the last minute from the gates of Vienna. Austria is so far from Turkey that the Turks who come here are just proud to be counted. They too are aware of their history, and can’t be pushed around.

Back in Istanbul, an even deeper dichotomy is developing. The State wants more than anything to become part of the European Union. With the Bosphorus forming the boundary between Europe and Asia, it feels it should be the bridge between east and west, a role it has taken on many times throughout history. Unfortunately for Turkey, this history is one which is ignored in the West.

‘In your country’, said Memet, a thirty year old Istanbul man who spent some time in London as an enforced hospital patient, and had invited me for a ubiquitous glass of famous Turkish tea, ‘You think Turkish people are savages, when in fact all of your culture comes from us.’

I’m afraid it’s true: from left-handed shipping lanes, tea drinking in the afternoon, little tables with white doily tablecloths; everything we think of as typically British is indeed Turkish in origin. It’s even worse for Italy and France, which give the nod to tree-lined streets, al fresco dining, coffee, literature, mathematics, spices in cooking, astronomy, science, medicine, awareness of perspective and the architecture that makes up the Renaissance.

‘We know everything about your history,’ continued Memet, ‘We learn about your wars, I can recite all your Kings and Queens; yet you don’t even know where Turkey is on the map.’

Despite all this history and education, Turks lack a sense of unity and the attitude of strategic planning that the ignorant G2 nations are so good at. It may be even that the blinkered outlook the G2 nations insist on maintaining is in fact a tool of development. Development in the sense of global capitalism, after all, necessitates exploitation. While the British government is fully aware that its people will cough up millions each year to send aid to developing communities, it has to keep them somewhat ignorant of the causes of poverty in countries which the UK is exploiting. A tiny island, the UK is only able to insist on a voice in world politics because of its ill-gained oil purchases, a lot of which comes from the Nigerian Delta.

One of the main beliefs of the developed nations is that they are superior, when in truth they are merely more exploitative and ruthless. In Istanbul they may be fully aware of this, yet are possessed by a sort of cultural schizophrenia. Despising the West, which they deem to be corrupt as well as ignorant, and full of drunken youths and wanton women, they try to emulate it on a daily basis. While declining, in the main, to get drunk, or to ignore family values, they nevertheless try to live in a modern, obsessed with production kind of way.

This is epitomised in a sense by the headscarf issue. While Turkey has determined to be a secular nation, under pressure from a Moslem-hating West since George Bush made his notorious comments about ‘Rogue states’, most of the women want to wear the headscarf. Wearing it in their normal lives, they are obliged by law to remove it to go to work.  This they judge to be an infringement of their individual liberty.

This attitude, which has gone unheard in Europe, defines exactly what the issue is that so disturbs the European Union: the juxtaposition of traditional cultures and beliefs with the modern western concepts of individual liberty.

We have seen the same thing in China. Disturbed by western journalists’ insatiable appetite for muck-raking, they have been unable to explain to the European and American journalists that to refuse to publicly slag off their own country and to air their dirty linen is not seen by them to be an infringement of liberty.

Developing nations’ diplomats and artists continue to patiently explain to the West how they see things differently, and wonder at the West’s inability to get it, when it seems so straightforward. How can it be that Turkish people are able to so easily understand Western culture whereas this is never reciprocated? And yet it may be indeed these nations’ natural naivety and innocence which blocks this understanding. Turkey and other countries just don’t get it. It’s not that we can’t understand; we just don’t WANT to know. It suits us much too much to keep you down there my friend.

 

926 words ©Jill Rees 25 August 2008

Tags: east and west, EU, identity, Leadership Abuja Nigeria articles 2008, national identity, Turkey, Western Europe

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Istanbul

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

The Moon over Uzkadar  as I crossed the Bridge with L, crossed Taksim square on Friday night the crazy people drinking and loud music, a live Turkish band but L said they were old songs done up in new version.

Tags: jill

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Taking Africa back, one village at a time

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

‘Vampire states in Africa are sucking the life blood out of our nations’, Ghanan George Ayittey said  during his address to international academics and experts at the recent Technology, Education and Development  conference in Tanzania, ‘and that is why Africa’s begging bowl leaks.’

According to his thinking, it leaks from corruption, capital flight and over dependence on food imports. In the 1960s, Africa was self-sufficient in foods, fed itself and exported from its agriculture.

Africa today is made up of cheetahs, he went on, and hippos. The cheetahs are the go-getting young, that new generation who are angry about the state of Africa, and those who are trying to change. The hippos, well, just look at them! They blame colonialism for what has happened since the 1960s, when the facts suggest it is not colonialism but themselves who are responsible for the denigration of their respective countries.

‘The question Africans should ask themselves’, he continued, ‘is this: are you a cheetah or a hippo?’

Post colonial leaders have failed their people, he says, and he calls them ‘fou-fou heads’. I have no idea what a fou-fou head is, but I would not dream of calling a Nigerian one, much less a head of state.  Still, President Yar’Adua seems to think there are a lot of fou-fou heads around him who he is enjoying getting rid of. Perhaps he is in agreement with Mr Ayittey.

A British woman at the airport ahead of me was found to have $6,000 in cash on her.

‘My husband insists that I travel with an emergency fund,’ she explained. The two customs men looked at each other and smiled,

‘Is your husband Nigerian?’  At the airport, you are handed a notice saying ‘There is currently no restriction on taking money out of Nigeria’, as if almost encouraging this rupture of the nation’s wealth, which everyone knows stems from corrupt practises somewhere down the line, and maybe at every stage in the line.

Africa has two problems, rats and the governments. They are not governments, continues Ayittey, but ‘vampire states’, that suck the lifeblood out of their people.  Africa’s problem is its governments and its governments are its problem. People who think the problems stem from colonialism are wrong, for colonialism would be taking an entirely different tack.

A country that reminds me continually of Africa, despite its trying desperately to become European, is Turkey. Recently I was at a school prize giving. As soon as their own child received their certificate, the parents left. They didn’t even clap other children receiving certificates. In Europe and even more so America, we have a big thing about celebrating success, and it doesn’t really matter whose success it is. The success of all our children is what will make our country great to live in in the future. This selfish inward looking attitude seemed to sum up all that is blocking progress in Turkey.  Every citizen matters. Every citizen matters equally: this is the principal of democracy.

African countries have, since colonialisation ended, adopted a modern approach to their economies, and they have done this very quickly. The traditional ways of running market economies, and the largely informal ways of markets which are mainly local and very successful, especially in areas where the climate is unpredictable, have been downgraded and almost lost. In a sustainable economical project in Jos, one of the arms of the project is to encourage local people to find their old methods once more through narrative and exploring their traditional cultures while some people are still alive who remember them. This is enabling local people, especially women, who traditionally ran the markets, to realise ways to re-establish local economies, and work their way back out of the recent plague of localised poverty. Run mainly by local people, this project has not tried to impose any external solution on this community. This isn’t colonialism, but local inspirations for local solutions which are sustainable.

The masses of aid sent to Africa by well-meaning groups has been largely wasted. It is one thing where there is a disaster or a war, and where outside help is clearly needed, and in this kind of situation Nigeria has itself been very active in sending economic and army assistance; and quite another to use foreign aid to shore up corrupt economic governmental management. This is why Africa begging bowl leaks. Reliance on aid, which is largely accepted throughout modern Africa, is a form of colonialist attitude.

Well meaning projects in Nigeria such as the education reforms for every primary school age child to be in school, start off well and then realise aid can be obtained for these projects. Consequently government funding dries up, and the infrastructure never improves. All projects which improve life for people become temporary again.  The building up of Nigeria’s infrastructure needs to be certain, reliable, long-term, and locally managed.

Communities need to develop further in a sustainable way, based on traditional communities and including, though not exclusively, agriculture and traditional industries, locally produced exportable goods such as Shea butter products which are much sought after in Europe and the USA, and expanding areas such as eco-tourism. In some countries such as Malawi, this is starting and shows signs of being successful.

‘We can take Africa back,’ concludes Mr Ayittey, ‘one village at a time.’  The best thing is, every person who begins some kind of small project, making their own clothes in Gandhi style, or producing some simple marketable item which funds their daughter’s schooling, is creating the basis for the New Africa, the Africa that works, and is truly independent.  However minor one’s efforts may seem to be to begin with, each person can feel empowered and confident that they, not the seemingly powerful fat-cats, are the foundation stones of the new Nigeria.

982 words

©Jill Rees

25 August 2008

Tags: Africa, George Ayittey, Jos, Leadership Abuja Nigeria articles 2008, Nigeria

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Turkish coincidences

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

Met my brother tonight in Istanbul, and his name is The Dawn. If you’re reading this hi welcome online. Just one of those not so surprising coincidences that make up our daily lives in SGI. The person I went to meet, Anna, brought him along, for company, security or to help his English I don’t know but I’m glad she did

Dolmus in Uzkadar

Dolmus in Uzkadar

as we are obviously going to be great friends and he put me on the dolmus home. No dolmus is not a food, although the connection with dolma is that it does mean ’stuffed’, but this time it is stuffed with people, and acts like a cheap taxi when it’s full it drives you to specific points, unless it breaks down as mine did of course. In that event the driver gets one of the other passengers to walk you home, and give you a handy pack of wipes for the journey home. I don’t actually speak Turkish, but Turkish people don’t care, they talk to you anyway.

To back track, I rendezvoused with Anna and TD at the ferry port in Kadikoy after some adventures getting on the wrong boat - but only because I was following an English speaking man who got on the wrong boat as well. We walked up the amazing jungle of streets and markets, and caught a taxi to her house. On the way, she asked if I knew Rhona, an English Buddhist she knows. My first thought was, yes of course Rhona is here, that’s what brought me to get in touch with this lot. My rational thoughts stopped this and thought , how could I possibly know every English Buddhist? Then the thought, but Rhona is an unusual name. Turned out it was our Rhona who first taught me to chant and inspired me to become a teacher of French, following in her footsteps. She’s here teaching English and French, which is what I’m just about to apply for a job doing.

She will be surprised - can’t get rid of me that easily Rhona!!

Anna has so many connections with me, she’s French, she lived in Newcastle, her mother lives in Manosque…. when will it end?

After a chant, TD and I came back on dolmus taxi to Taksim Square, where I have managed to avoid up to now. It is madness, full of parties, live music and people who are not drunk but having a good time. By the way we did some experimentation with not drinking. If you go out for the evening but don’t drink, you end up feeling drunk anyway, but minus the hangover, and the cost. It is the night out relaxing with friends that makes you feel high my friends, not the alcohol after all.

That’s where TD put me in the dolmus, who drove past Topkapi Palace which is pictured here in daylight, with the Bosphoros Bridge behind, pretty eh? And the bridge is good too. He pulled in for some petrol just before he broke down, which is where he picked up the guy who walked me back. Travelling round Istanbul is so easy, and there is so much choice, but it took one and a half hours to get back. Friday traffic is bad, not going to the Mosque though oh no, going dancing.

Tags: Buddhism, dolmus, Istanbul, jill, SGI

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