Superheroes

I’ve was researching for my course on comic books and graphic novels and came upon, what I believe, one of the most creative and innovative program ideas that combines kids and comic books. Superhero Club is a kids program designed to encourage children to develop their imagination along with an interest in reading that will continue throughout their adult years. Children design their own comic book and superhero costume and all that that may entail. Once their costumes are completed, they use their superhero powers to defeat supervillains by completing an obstacle course.
I’d like to add that Lisa Shaia with the Association for Library Service for Children’s Tandem Library Books Literature Program Grant for the program.

The generosity of children.

I love my girls, and of course would do anything for them, I am a taxi service, café, hotel, de-toothed loan-shark, laundry service – the list goes on.

Their generosity of spirit however, seems to peak at the kindly donation of a stinking cold – 5 days before I am due to partake in the Warwick triathlon.

Not exactly the repayment I had in mind!  So it now seems that I will be competing on Sunday in a very snail-like fashion, moving very slowly and leaving a trail of mucous behind me. Just wave a cabbage at the finish line to give me something to head for.

But don’t worry kiddy-winks. I am sure payback will come, not today or tomorrow, but perhaps in 40 years time, when I am an incontinent tourettes-ridden geriatric, living, I hope one of your hotels!

4 days to go. I am just NOT ready.

Animê vs. Mangá

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In a few days of my break and AnimeSoft webpage become a chaos, i give permission for others staff member here and they post a plenty things about other OS’s and Companies. Even the fact we are friends with Google, their OS has nothing to do with us.

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Well, back to the main story. On my vacation i remembered to bring with me a Mangá. And on the end i could finally realize what kind of entertainment is most effective emotionally.

Even that I already watched Love Hina on my Netbook, this time I got to read the story again on a Mangá. At the beginning i felt odd, but i got in the story very soon, and on the end i felt that it had drawn me out of the reality. I was inside of the story, i was in the Mangá.

Because of that fact, now i can justify that Mangá is more addicted than Anime, it is more effective emotionally and ilusionally.

But why?  That’s simple to explain: In a Mangá, you create your own character voice, smell, moves, touch fellings and you create your own scenary colors, sounds, smells, moves,…

Resuming: With Mangá you can create your own desired fantasy story!

The contras about a Mangá is the fact that for creating a own fantasy you need peace, place, enjoy and to be very calm. And to watch anime, even with a disco party in your home you will be able to watch it and enjoy it.

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Remember:

God said we should love him, not humans. SingStars and MovieStars is reality, they should not be loved. Animê & Mangá are a fantasy based on stories, and they can’t be considerated as a real beloved ones.  If Goddes chosen ones created Animê & Mangá, the Devil chosen beings created Hentai and Doujins to destroy that wonderful world and create bad gossips about Goddes work.

And…  Animê & Mangá is made for grown-ups, because it’s too hard for childrens to understand.

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“ If you watch Anime or read Mangá, you are surely a good-hearted and smart being!”

How to steal your girlfriend’s password to facebook / MSN / e-mail (guide)

For all those people who want to find out if your partner is cheating or the password to your partner’s facebook/myspace/e-mail/msn and other. Or if you are a parent worrying about what your kid might be doing at the computer behind closed doors.

Business going bad? Time to check up on your employees surfing habits. But how to do this, without getting caught trying to get some information?

Keep reading, I have the solution for all of you people.
I chose to introduce you to a keylogging/surveillance program after finally finding the tool that will give myself some answers to questions regarding my own relationship. I have searched for quite a long time and thought that there just aren’t any effective programs out there yet. But I found out that there is, it’s called All In One Keylogger, I gave it a try and I was honestly said frightened about the information it is able to collect, it will give you the answers to all your questions and suspiciousness.

The program fits for:

a) People in a relationship
b) Business administration, finding out what your employees do when they “work”
c) Parents who want to keep track of their kids.

From their homepage you can read about the futures of All In One Keylogger, as I find it a bit pointless to copy paste whole production info page. Don’t be scared off by the word keylogger, YOU are the master of the program, only you will ever have control of the logs, pictures and audio that it monitors. Below is a lot of information about the features and what the program does, I recommend to read it in order to get a idea about the program.

Product Website:
http://www.plimus.com/jsp/redirect.jsp?contractId=1682768&referrer=Niar

 

I chose to speak more about my personal experiences of the program instead of talking about all the futures, those can all be found by following the link above to the product site.

What does All In One Keylogger do?

All In One Keylogger logs all keystrokes and passwords that have been typed into crypted files on your computer, it tracks all windows and applications that have been launched, clipboard, chat conversations (sent and received), all Web sites that have been visited, e-mails sent and received.

You can set it to take screen snapshots every few seconds or on each mouse click, just like a surveillance camera. It can also record Microphone sounds and restrict the access to specified Web sites and applications if wanted. It can even be set up to send these logs to your e-mail or FTP for tracking when you are away!

Personally I hate it the times I get the feeling in my stomach that something might be going on when I’m away from my partner, this is the solution to get rid of the paranoia, or to get proof for your suspicions. It snaps up all usernames and passwords into the very easily readable log viewer supported in the All In One Keylogger program. And maybe even more importantly you can set it up to take screen snapshots every few seconds and view the pictures later. I chose to divide the potential usage areas into different categories, you might wonder what the All In One Keylogger could be good for, I’ll tell you.

Relationship:
In the survey that took place in United States in the year of 2005 which includes married couples only, 56% of the participants of the survey said that during their marriage they had at least one sexual encounter with a person that is not their spouse. Are you living in a relationship and suspect that your partner is cheating on you, or doing other stuff he/she shouldn’t be doing on your/her computer (flirting harshly on community sites, MSN messenger contacts, webcam usage, microphone usage or visiting sites that are uncomfortable in a relationship.. the list goes on.

This is where All In One Keylogger can be there to save you from wasting time on your relationship, you wonder what your partner does when he/she is on the computer and you are away or working night shift. Well there is no reason to keep wondering and being paranoid about what she might be doing, you can find it out directly by downloading the trial version straight away (it is amazingly easy to set up, and the best part is that it is totally undetectable/invisible in windows, so no one can find out it’s installed and running.. read more on product site for more detailed info).

 It basically records all keystrokes, and shows in which program the text has been typed in, stores visited sites and you can set it up to take a picture of the screen for example every 10 seconds!

Employers:
In the survey that took place in Britain in the year 2006, 87% of the employees participating in the survey said that they surf on the internet during their work at least once a week. 73% of them said that they surf at least once a day. 23% of them said that they dedicate more time to surfing on the internet than to their work! In the additional survey that took place in the same year answered 36% of the employers, participants of the survey mentioned that they are afraid that secrets of the company will be sent to their competitors from the company computers by their employees. 4% announced that they fell victim to the theft of company secrets by their workers from the company computers.

Are you running a small sized company, and wonder why you aren’t getting as much work done as you should be getting. Well the solution is here, with All In One Keylogger you can make sure who are actually working and who are not. The result can be scary, you might find out that the employee is actually playing online poker half day or such, no wonder that the results aren’t so promising. There are a lot of people who don’t care as long as their getting paid, so they will just entertain themselves in some way instead of actually working.

Download trial (7 days free):
http://www.plimus.com/jsp/download_trial.jsp?contractId=1682768&referrer=Niar

Parents:
Today, almost every child has access to internet. This comes thanks to the advance in technology, but has also risks involved. Did you know that: The average age when the children encounter pornography in the internet is 11? The age of the largest pornography consumer group in the internet is between 12 to 17? 85% of children between the ages 6-16 encountered pornographic content intentionally or unintentionally (most of them while preparing their homework). 25% of children between ages 9-17 will freely disclose their home address in the internet? 60% of children who committed suicide, declared their intentions online directly or indirectly? One in five children who use the computer chat rooms has been approached over the internet by pedophiles? Only 25% of youth who received sexual solicitation told a parent.

The children today are very sophisticated and most of us parents don’t have the knowledge to know what they are doing behind their closed doors in front of the computer. Are they browsing to inappropriate websites, are they downloading illegal content using P2P programs that will in the future result in lawsuits of thousands of dollars? What personal information they disclose about themselves, are they talking to adults, or maybe they meet them?

All In One Keylogger has many features:

No activity on your computer will be able to evade this high quality Keylogger. Does your kid make secret chat conversations with adult strangers? Maybe even with a pedophile that searches for his next victim? Does he surf to pornographic sites? Maybe he even exposes his personal details where he is not supposed to? Does he use P2P programs, sharing copyrighted materials which could constitute a pretext to a lawsuit of tens thousands of dollars? Have you ever wondered why does your husband “work” on his computer so late at the night? Does he have a secret online lover?Have you ever wondered who is your wife’s “partner” she talks with all the time? Do your employees surf on the internet instead of doing their work which you pay them for? Do they sell company secretes to your competitors? A high quality Keylogger should give you the answers to all these questions. No activity will be able to evade from it. No undesirable activity will be able to evade from you! As said, a high quality Keylogger is an “All In One Keylogger”, so just press this link to download “All In One Keylogger”:

Download trial (7 days free):
http://www.plimus.com/jsp/download_trial.jsp?contractId=1682768&referrer=Niar

Link for buying full version:
https://www.plimus.com/jsp/buynow.jsp?contractId=1682768&referrer=Niar

I tried to bring up the most important things in this article, but there sure is more to read if you still aren’t sure, simply visit the links provided and read more about people who have bought the product or view the awards that the product has received. Everyone has different use or needs of the program, and it sure was a relief to my head after finally getting answer to my questions using this brilliant program.

The Grocery Store Clerk

We stood at the cashier and as I finished my transaction, she looked at the boys and said, “You’re not in school?”

“We homeschool,” they replied.

She looked at the time and saw it was not quite noon and said, “Shouldn’t you be at home in school then?”

The boys just shrugged, having no idea what she was asking or how to respond.

I interjected that we were in school, we just moved our classroom to the grocery store that morning.

She then turned to them and said, “Oh, well in that case, what’s the tax going to be on this bill?”

My seven year old piped up and said, “I don’t know, but I do know these two drinks add up to $2.”

It was an interesting exchange and what I came away with was another opportunity to revisit what we are doing and why it works so well for us as a family.

The situation helped to remind me that we are walking a different path but that my alternative view of education and learning is something that really resonates with me and seems to be working very well for my children too.

And I enjoyed another opportunity to observe the kids continuing to just be themselves and feeling confident in what they do know and how they interact with others.

IS IT POSSIBLE TO NOT SPEND ANY MONEY DURING THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS?

So here is the thing. I woke up this morning thinking it would be a great idea to have a spending detox for a week. In other words not spend any money other than for bills, groceries and petrol for a week.

When I told my 6 and 8 year old daughters, they were not too impressed. 

 I quote…. “nooooooo!” (note to self: must try and sell the idea a bit more!)

Now I could easily not spend any money for a week if I wanted to. I mean, I have done it plenty of times….granted there was usually a sick child in the house, so we were house bound…hmmm…maybe that doesn’t count??

So my first order of business (basically to make me feel better) was to do some research. I wanted to know what was out there that was free during the holidays. Do you know what? I was pleasantly surprised, there is actually quite a bit on! Bless those lovely people who are putting on all these lovely activities for the children free of charge! It is making my job to stick to this goal a whole bunch easier! yeah!!

So, I will post what I have found out, and I would love it if you would tell me what you do with your children during the holidays to stay sane, and keep from going bankrupt!

Scrapbooking with Kids - needing help here

Annie and I have been making a scrapbook about her school holidays

So far we have 3 pages. Annie was very excited about the first page, sort of interested in the second and had wandered off by the third page.

I think perhaps I need to cut out the pictures before I sit down with Annie because that was pretty boring for her… although she had very definite opinions about how she wanted the cut out.

I also need to find some scrapbook friendly pencils that Annie can draw pictures on the pages with.

What I need is tips and tricks from people who have scrapbooked with children before, what works, what really does not work?

Help Please!

79/365

6 September, 2009

After a week at Burning Man I was back in Reno – Sparks even. [You know, Reno being so close to Hell you can see Sparks and all that.] It was the annual Rib Cook-off so it smelled awesome and after three showers I was feeling pretty good. I met some former students down on Victorian square where we enjoyed some truly bad live music and yummy food from the Great Basin Brewery.

This is Pee Wee. Not her real name of course but the name I called her (often yelled at her) during her tenure as my varsity point guard. And now Pee Wee has a wee one of her own, and she is just like her mama. [And like sand through the hour glass... these are the days of our lives.]

Nothing is more powerful than regrets

Regret

Regret is an intelligent and emotional dislike for personal past acts and behaviors. Regret is often felt when someone feels sadness, shame, embarrassment, depression or even guilt after committing an action or actions that later wished that he or she hadn’t done (wikipedia)

A few days ago I went to my sister’s house attending a wedding proposal to a nephew. I went there with my wife and the two sons, as you all know it’s post Eid Al-Fitr so our two maids went home and promised to return on October 1st 2009. As soon as we got there, it’s crowded already, lots and lots people came around from both sides. What’s more terrifying was the two boys didn’t seem to enjoy the crowd too much, the full house seemed to worsen the hot day so I took them in my sister’s bedroom, a cozy and cool place to dwell temporarily.

For a moment I was busy taking pictures for the occasion, my sister wanted me to help with additional camera so that I brought one that day. The photo session had to stop since Baraka, our second son, had enough with the bedroom and all the crowd. He begged me to take him and so I did. He enjoyed my company, he was busy exploring the neighborhood, running here and there touching things and moving back and forth the neighbors’ houses. The hot sun didn’t seem to bother him at all despite his heavy sweating.

Ariq and Baraka

Baraka started walking about two months ago when he was 1,3 years that’s why babysitting him has been quite exhausting since he tends to be so active exploring everywhere. The same thing happened that day, he seemed to enjoy his new neighborhood. He started running (not walking) everywhere, every second, every place. I was heavily sweating trying to keep up with him. Actually taking pictures of him was more exhausting that his being active (LOL), I had to run after him, taking my camera, trying to capture his acts.

Baraka Badr Al-Din

When he was running towards the house, there was a boy, aged around seven, who suddenly put his arm on Baraka’s shoulder then pushed him away causing him to fall down instantly. He was crying loudly, shocked. I was startled since it happened so fast. Next, I remembered yanking the boy’s arm, furious, trying to dig why he pushed my son. I yelled at him, asking “Why did you push him?” I also yelled at him “Do you want me to push you as well?” . The boy just stood there staring at me, uttering unclear Afterwards, the sight of his father standing nearby had worsened my anger. I looked at him disgustedly, saying “Don’t you teach your children some manner?” I told him how his son pushed mine until he fell down.

However, his apologies really calmed me down, soon enough I had even forgotten what happened at least until he approached me to say that he was sorry while explaining that his son suffers from autism. This last statement was like a huge blow and soon I was overwhelmed with guilt and regret. Next, I was questioning myself “Why didn’t I think something was wrong?”. I should have come to an easy conclusion or even assumption that something must have been wrong. The boy didn’t even wink or even say he was sorry when confronted for his devilish acts. I said to him that I was sorry, the thought of raising a child with special needs can indeed be frustrating sometimes. I explained that my son suffers from cerebral palsy, a condition somewhat similar to his son and that I understood taking care such a condition is not easy.

Suddenly God revealed the most painful truth, the sight of the autistic boy running here and there screaming meaninglessly, uttering the most bizarre sentences ever. I regret myself for not seeing this earlier, I was too blind to see because of my anger. I didn’t have the guts to see his father anymore. Everything seemed so wrong and next I condemned my stupid anger over and over again. I remember my wife advised me to be more patient and calm. She said that I should have been wiser in dealing with such a situation even though my reaction as father is understandable, yet I should be more and more cautious next time.

Every now and then, I cannot stop regretting that moment. I cannot seem to forget the boy’s static look, his ashamed father, my anger and everything that contributes to this guilt. The voice of his father explaining that his son suffers from autism still echoes inside my head. She’s right, older should have come with wiser. To the boy and his father, wherever you are, forgive me for yelling at you, forgive me for yanking you in anger, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect and God knows how I feel for you.

Written in guilt, September 2009

Images: flickr

Demand Stronger Food Safety Laws

Every year, 76 million Americans are sickened and 325,000 are hospitalized from consuming contaminated food — and 5,000 of these people die, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Our food safety law clearly is not up to the task. The House of Representatives overwhelmingly passed bipartisan food safety reform legislation in July 2009 that would update the law and strengthen the system: Now the Senate must act. Our Senators have the opportunity to change course and help protect children, families, senior citizens and all others from foodborne illness. For today’s Daily Action, speak up for your health! Tell your Senators it is time to pass strong food safety legislation now! im taking action With Love & Bright Blessings “Help Save Our Mother Earth” http://blog.myspace.com/126535958 http://myspace.com/126535958 http://twitter.com/ICareDoYou

children l0v3 [17.00-18.00]

Cosmin: vreau sa mergem la Diana!

Lucian: o sa mergem.

Cosmin: Diana, o sa vii cu noi?

D.: unde? la tine sau la mine?

Cosmin: la mine acasa.

*later*

Cosmin: Ileanaa, poot sa te rog cevaaa?

Ileana: ia zi, ce vrei tu sa ma rogi?

Cosmin: pot s`o iau mai tarziu pe Diana pe la mine acasa?

Ileana: da, ti-o imprumut. adica ti`o dau. Dar ce vrei tu sa faci cu ea?

Cosmin: sa ma joc si s`o iubesc.

Nightmares

I keep having incredibly vivid really really bad dreams.  Nightmares that have me waking up in a terror and fear.  I want to rush into my girls bedrooms and cuddle them tight, shield them from my dream.  Thankfully sanity and fear of waking them up return pretty quickly most nights.  I still get up and peek into their bedrooms, make sure they are sleeping peacefully, limbs still attached, no murderers, rapists or other nightmare terrors are lurking in the shadows.  Thus far the worst I have discovered is Heidi kicked off all her blankets on night and Annie had rolled out of bed and was sleeping on the floor another night.

Be Breast Aware

Samsung launch new online campaign Over 400,000 women are diagnosed with breast cancer each year in Europe. Samsungs aim is to get over 400,000 women of all ages across Europe to be more breast aware, show your support and spread the message at http://www.morethantalk.eu/uk/#/everybody www.breakthrough.org.uk . With Love & Bright Blessings “Help Save Our Mother Earth” http://blog.myspace.com/126535958 http://myspace.com/126535958 http://twitter.com/ICareDoYou

New Programs Coming Soon!

Join us for one or more of our upcoming programs at the Newark Library:

9/26/09: Fall craft, 2-3 pm. (decorating leaves and embossed metal ornaments)

10/10/09: Halloween and Dia de los Muertos Crafts, 12-2 pm. (Please arrive within the first hour if you wish to complete both projects).

10/15/09: Friendship Bracelets, 5:30-6:30 pm.

10/17/09: Magic show with Heather, 2-2:45 pm.

10/30/09: Mystery Night at the Library for Teens (requires advanced registration. Please contact the library at (510) 795-2627 for more information and to register). 7-9 pm

Check back soon for more details on an Alice in Wonderland extravaganza sometime in winter …

Top 5 tips for days like these.

Photo from our back window by 9 year old. 6:56 this morning

1: Wear heavy shoes it’s going to be very windy.

2: Make sure you have your puffer (inhaler)  with you. The dust is choking.

3:  Don’t drive anywhere if you can help it. Wind and unusual conditions make for increased levels of road rage.

4: Leave your washing until tomorrow.

5: Take lots of photos this may be as close as some of us get to the ‘red centre’

Angela & Ryan

Amore-Infinito Photography had the pleasure of photographing Angela and Ryans wedding in Calgary earlier this month. I flew out from Victoria, was fortunate in that a Calgary photographer, Reuben Krabbe, was available to assist and second shoot the wedding. Here is a sneak preview of a selection of images taken [more images will be added to our website, amore-infinito.com shortly].

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Reuben Krabbe

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Reuben Krabbe

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Adriana Durian photographer

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Reuben Krabbe

copyright 2009 amore-infinito photography. Photographer Adriana Durian

The Cotton Candy Maker

Recently, I volunteered in an Eid celebration event to help out. Somehow I ended up behind the popcorn and the cotton candy machines.

In no time I became a pro! I got the hang of it. Don’t be fooled, it is a tough job. I mean, when making the popcorn, you gotta make sure you put the kernels at the right time, before the butter sizzles and burn. And you gotta watch out for splashing hot butter, that burns! Oh, and you gotta keep a close ear to the pan, so you would know when to flip it over, before the popcorn gets all dark and stuff.

The cotton candy was even trickier. I started out twirling that cone really fast, so I can come up with a full volume shape, but your arm would tire out a couple of minutes. Also, it’s a challenge determining how “full” to make the cone. Kids can easily play a trick on you and go “that’s not fair, his was bigger than mine!!” In which case, I ended up giving free refills… what you gonna do! The trick is, when you twirl that thing, make the circle bigger, that would build the cotton on a more fluffier form, and give a bigger shape.

It was fun. I mean, where else would you find it rewarding to make faces at people? (well I had to entertain the kids). I thought to myself “man, I would ditch my desk job in no time and do this for the rest of my life…. maybe not the rest of my life, but probably few months of my life”.

It does take marketing skills though. I figured it’s easier to make popcorn than cotton candy, so I started convincing my little clients that popcorn would actually do them better than the cotton candy- as cotton candy can decay their teeth and stick to their faces, while popcorn would probably last them 25 seconds more than what it takes eating that cotton candy. It worked on some, but not the others.

It is pretty rewarding working with/for kids. I mean, seeing their eyes widen at the view of that HUGE cotton candy cloud ought to make you smile. Oh, and when you promise them you’re making them the biggest cotton candy ever, and they go “THANK YOU SO MUCH!”.

Funny people, kept me entertained:

“my mom would love you for making me that popcorn”- 7ish year-old boy… no idea what he means.

“that is so cool, I wish I had your job”- a 10ish year-old girl. I replied “yep, me too”

“you must be eating cotton candy all day”- 5ish year-old boy.

“how does the sugar turn into cotton?”- 9ish year old boy.

“how does the cotton change colors”- same boy.

“can I make mine? is it dangerous?”- 6ish year old boy.

“my mom is telling you give me popcorn for free!”- 8ish year-old boy.

Here I am, on a Monday, working on a desk all day long, dealing with boring people whose demands are much more than a bag of popcorn or a cotton candy cone. Makes me think how when I was young, when asked, I always said that I wanted to be an Engineer when I grow up! What was I thinking? Why a cotton candy maker didn’t cross my mind?

My little fella has JIA

It began with an unexplained pain in his right knee one day. I scrutinised for sign of bruises and cuts. Having found none, I interrogated my younger boy as to what happened and whether he fell down. All he could gave me was a puzzled look. Well, he’s only six after all.

Thus began our trips to the doctors, specialists, and so forth. A bone specialist said it is growing pains that afflicted some children. Whereas a doctor specialising in eastern medicine said he had child arthritis. We could not believe our ears. Arthritis at his age! After countless medicine and trips back to his paedrician who confirmed after numerous blood tests and X-Rays that he did have arthritis.

Since our state does not have an expert on child rheumatism, we had to go to a hospital in another state. The good doctor explained that he had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA) or Juvenile Idiopahtic Arthritis (JIA). The causes are not known but research indicated that it is an autoimmune disease. In short, this means that the white blood cells lose the ability to differentiate the body’s own healthy cells and harmful invaders. Thus instead of protecting the body, it releases harmful chemicals that can damage harmful tissues and cause inflammation.

And now my little boy has inflammation in his right knee and left wrist. He has Oligoarticular JIA which meant four or fewer joints affected. Since oral medication proved futile, he had medication injected directed into his joints by the outstation Consultant Paedrician Rheumatologist. So, far it has been five days since the injections. He had to be sedated before undergoing the treatment. He did not cry even once but just asked in a shaky voice with a huge tear squeezing out from his eye whether it will end soon. My own will nearly gave way upon seeing him lying so fragile on the hospital bed and asking me with such a trusting voice.

I know people always say God works in mysterious ways but I wonder why some children have to go through so much pain. There is a reason probably but so far I have not found it yet…

Free Donation

Let us join Welch’s in Donating 1 million Servings of Juice to Feed those at risk of hunger, which are usually women and children.  NO PURCHASE NECESSARY! All you have to do is visit Welchs.com/harvest and click on the “Donate Now” button.  THAT’S IT! Every time you click (you can only click once a day) an 8 oz serving of 100% juice is donated.  Welch’s will run this promotion from August 15 – December 31, 2009.

When life ends at twelve.

(Yemen) …”a 12-year-old girl died in childbirth after an agonizing 3-day labor.  …young Fawziya was pulled out of school and married to a man twice her age.“

She isn’t the only one.

The issue of Yemeni child brides came to the forefront last year, with 8-year-old Nujood Ali who “was pulled out of school and married to a man who beat and raped her within weeks of the ceremony.

To escape, Nujood hailed a taxi — the first time in her life — to get across town to the central courthouse where she sat on a bench and demanded to see a judge.“  [Full story]

“Yemen is full of child brides. Roughly half of Yemeni girls are married before 18, some as young as eight. Child marriage, common in South Asia, sub- Saharan Africa and Middle-Eastern countries such as Yemen, is dangerous for brides and their children…”

India is not too different. I have met a few, all unhappy.  One of my maids once confessed that she had a daughter who she had left in her village near Ferozpur. She was devoted to her son, dropped him to a ‘private school’ everyday and bought Bournvita for him. Didn’t she worry about how her other child was doing?

She said her husband hated the girl and she felt the child was safer with her maternal grandmother. When I conveyed my disapproval, she confessed that the daughter was from an earlier marriage to an older man, and although her husband had promised to take care of her, he treated her cruelly.

When she was 12 her family had married her to a 40-year old widower. He raped her and beat her. She escaped and came back to her village. She told her family she would hang herself if they tried to send her back. She was pregnant with that daughter at the time. She never went back and was married again when she was older.

Her daughter was more like a sister to her, she thought of her grandmother as her mother.

Not all girls escape or die, many stay married and live to have many children (healthy or unhealthy) over whom they have no rights. Women in such marriages are another generation, and much younger, and since our society associates wisdom with age, the husband’s word is the last word in all important matters. Dead or alive, they have no life.

>:O * '

I hate you so much.  You don’t deserve to have any kids. You don’t even deserve to have a family that treats you the way they do. I can’t believe after you ’supposedly’ cared how bad your son was getting that you can just sit there and act like nothing is happening. Just sit there on the computer, facebooking and myspacing. Trying to get sympathy from others, not for your kid, but for yourself. No, it isn’t “Poor you.” Your six month old child is in the hospital either going to die or sit in a wheelchair and have no means of communication for the rest of his life. How does it feel to know that is all your fault?

I can’t stand you. I can’t stand people like you.

Black Board Joke

One day when the teacher walked to the blackboard, she noticed someone had written the word ‘penis’ in tiny letters. She turned around, scanned the class looking for the guilty face. Finding none, she quickly erased it, and began her class.

The next day she went into the room, and she saw, in larger letters, the word ‘penis’ again on the black board. Again, she looked around in vain for the culprit, but found none, so she proceeded with the day’s lesson.

Every morning, for about a week, she went into the classroom and found the same disgusting word written on the board, each day’s word, larger than the previous day’s word….

Finally, one day, she walked in, expecting to be greeted by the same word on the board, but instead, found the words:

“The more you rub it, the bigger it gets!”

Somalia Refugee Situation Worsens

Somali Children

Recent reports coming from the Voice of America and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) are indicating that the loss of life from Somalis fleeing poverty and conflict will increase. A number of factors are influencing people to flee the country. Decades of instability, extreme poverty, and now the armed conflict between al-Shabab and the African Union Peace Keeping forces.

For some the most likely route to a better life entails crossing the Gulf of Aden to Yemen. Already this year 270 people have drowned in the attempt. For others who choose a shelter in place strategy, the results are not much better. A recent LA Times article reports that the hospital in Mogadishu is filled with gunshot and shrapnel victims. Sadly, one third are children.

Even for those removed from the conflict, daily life is at best a struggle. With nearly 50% of the population living on less than $2US a day survival is a long shot.

Ironically this humanitarian catastrophe has only recently received major media attention as Somalia gained notoriety for pirate activities. Despite rumors to the contrary piracy is not a means to finance the conflict or terrorism, according to the NATO maritime wing commander in the country. Instead piracy has become a means for a few to enhance the lives of many in a country with few other options. The RAND Corporation recently stated that as much as 20% of the ransom pirates earn goes into improving infrastructure and increasing employment. The RAND study suggested that piracy could be kept under control by enhancing economic incentives so that local residents would have other means to earn a living.

Somalia is not the only African country to experience economic or political strife. Kenya, Ethiopia, Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi all bare the scars of turmoil, famine, and civil wars. Compassion International has been working in Africa since 1980 helping children cope with famine, drought, epidemics of AIDS, cholera, and the hardships of ongoing local conflicts. Even after nearly 30 years of humanitarian efforts Compassion International still serves over 317,000 children; a testimony to the dire conditions found in most African countries.

Still, Somalia somehow stands out. It is country with economic potential, military significance, and a desire by its people for a stable government. Right now though, it is a country with not much more than hope.

[If you would like to help children in need Compassion International operates in many African countries.  Please sponsor a child. ]

 

Lynne's Family Viewing 17th September 2009

Last night, I had a lovely evening showing Lynne and her family the photographs from their photo-shoot that took place on the 24th August. (see the story of the shoot, click here).

Here are a few of the favourites:

The gorgeous collection of nine.

Catherine, Becky (Barbara) & Trevor

Daisy and the cutest dog in the world

Thank you to Lynne, Nick, Amelia, Daisy, Catherine, Trevor, Angela & Steve for a fab evening (special thanks to Catherine for her Lasagna too!)  thanks for being absolute stars to photograph! I am thrilled with the photographs, and I look forward to seeing you soon with the delivery of them all!

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POLAR BEAR'S FEET, EARTH 2009, ACMI 10am & 1pm

Polar Beer’s endangered feet, remind us  how global warming is affecting our planet and the creatures in it, by our  own actions and global footprint.

For one of the best film’s you’ll ever want to see, Earth, 2009, is screening at the Australian Center for the  Moving Image, at 10am and 1pm each day. Earth features in the Films From The Vault section of the ACMI.

“Marvel at the wonders of Mother Nature in this breathtaking documentary, Earth. Five years in the making, extraordinary camerawork captures a full year in the life of the planet in 200 locations over 21 countries. Running time: 95 mins.”

Wow –  beautiful cinematography with a powerful message. The film centers on a Fijian man’s discovery that his native coral reef is in decline due to global warming and then it traverses the plight of creatures of the earth, across the globe. As I was born in Fiji, the film particularly moved me. James Earl Jones, does the narration and the film also screens at The Polynesian Cultural Center, in Obama’s home US state, of Hawaii. When on your next vacation to Australia or Hawaii, take the children with you, to see it. Profound in Imax!

Michael's Last Wish

Michael Jackson’s children — his last wish for them, their uncertain future……

The NewsNWorld has uncovered a series of “wishes for the world” which were left on the mirror in the tragic star’s cluttered bathroom.

Michael Jackson said one of the main reasons he decided to undertake the grueling process of preparing for the 50 concerts he was scheduled to perform in London next month was for his children.

Prince Michael, Paris and Blanket in Los Angeles last summer with Michael.

He wanted them, Prince Michael, 12, Paris, 11, and Prince Michael II, known as Blanket, 7, to witness what the world saw, what he as a human being had accomplished. He wanted his children to be proud of him. He never got to see that wish fulfilled.

Michael Jackson passed away yesterday at the age of 50 from an apparent cardiac arrest.

His three children have an uncertain future as details emerge of Michael’s mountain of debt he left behind. Reports are surfacing that his lavish lifestyle has left him somewhere around $500 million in debt.

There is also no word yet on who will look after the children through this difficult time and into adulthood. Prince Michael and Paris were the product of Jackson’s second marriage (his first was to Lisa Marie Presley, but the produced no children) to Debbie Rowe, a nurse to a plastic surgeon, in 1996. It is unknown who the mother of Blanket is and if Michael knew her personally. Rowe is currently under police watch at her home in Miami.

I used a surrogate mother (for Blanket) and my own sperm cells. I had my own sperm cells in my other two children,” Jackson told interviewer Martin Bashir in a now infamous 2003 television special. “They are all my children.”

How Abuse Became Just Another Day In My Life

For thirteen years we lived in Gwinnett County Georgia. It was thirteen years of hell. From the time we moved into our house, I learned how to know when he would go off the deep end and start the beatings. It was like an electricity in the air. I knew it days and weeks before it happened. Trying to avoid it was like trying to avoid a runaway train. It was impossible.

  As the days came and went and the tension built I would be able to time the beating to the exact hour. The headaches preceeded the beatings. I felt like a tightly wound spring and there was no place to go. I prepared for it by going someplace else in my mind. I turned into a robot and most times tried to have my children out of the house so they didn’t have to witness it yet one more time. I was not always successful.

  The anger this man had inside himself became so scary. His face became that of another person. He eyes became enraged – his blood pressure went so high that his face was blood red. His fists were the first thing to connect with my body, that is after he had thrown me either on the floor (more like body slammed me) or thrown me on the bed and then flipped my feet over my head cause whip lash. Thus the permanant damage to my neck.

         All I had to do to set him off was just exist. I didn’t even have to open my mouth, I just had to be in the same house.  If for some reason my children were at home, and he didn’t finish taking out all of his anger on me, they became the object of his abuse. They couldn’t get away either. They were called names that no child should ever be called. They were treated in ways t hat no child should ever be treated. 

   I found new and inventive ways to cover  the black eyes and the bruises. I became an expert in giving false answers when I was asked what had happened to my eye and face. In fact when on person jokingly said did he hit you- I was very quick to deny it.   I became adept at making excuses for not attending family functions, not going out with friends and finally becoming a recluse.

    When I turned thirty I finally had a break down. I couldn’t take anymore. I could not longer take the fact that he wouldn’t work, there was never enough money, bill collectors knocked on the door day and night, my children never knew if they would have Christmas or not. But yet the abuse continued. The beatings became more severe and more and more frequent.

        I knew that one of two things would happen, either he would kill me or I would kill myself.

EDUCATE THE GIRL CHILD TO HAVE THE NATION EMPOWERED

In the past African cultural settings, education for the girl child was almost a taboo and if a girl went to school, the best and highest level she could reach was primary or junior level. I will not say that parents were primitive, but they felt giving the girl child fees and an opportunity to reach school was wastage of resources. However, I am told that the only good and better institution they could prepare girls for was marriage because they expected bridal price. Sorry to the past generation.

During our discussion (debate) “Girls should be given priority to education”, under “NEZIKOKOLIMA” project, children shared ideas and views that made everybody agree that “educating the girl child is educating a nation” and that it was of great importance to have girls go to schools. Among the reasons raised are;

Girls are the mothers of tomorrow’s generation (nation), so they need to be educated in order to make good mothers and thus create a very good and productive future generation.

Mubezi Rose – Lugolole Learning Centre

“Educating a girl is not wastage of resources instead it is a better investment for the parents because when girls get employed they think of their parents first than boys who think of their families (wives and kids) and their parents – in law” Rose explained.

When ladies are educated, the health and hygiene in homes and families is improved because they will know what to do and how to do it.

The area councilor who was the guest speaker gave an example of a lady who went to the hospital and she was instructed by the Doctor to first shake the syrup before giving to the child but instead she forgot to shake the syrup and shook the kid.

Denying them opportunity to education is destroying their talents. Many girls have been successful, their talents have been so helpful to communities and if really given chance to education, girls make good leaders who are more development oriented.

“If we want our communities grow and develop, we should not leave other groups behind, we need to have all groups together for each has its own potential and can cause effect. The discrimination is against God’s setting because God created all equal and with a purpose and reason. Girls should be taken as boys are and also women should be handled the way men are handled. This will make us all more suiting before the presence of God the creator” Wabailewa Shaban Said

By:

Mathias Walwana

Medieval War Games

Well, they did it again.

Made a game out of wood and jumping and self-inflicted wounds.

Little did the feudal lords of the middle ages know that their catapulting weaponry would be such a hit in the backyards of the ‘burbs.

While we grown-ups chilled on the deck, sipping our Coke on ice and munching on chicken brats and kettle chips, the boys were gearing up for battle.  Actually, J had never heard of a “catapult,” instead thinking he was making a simple machine.  Remember those?  Inclined plane, pulley, wedge, screw, etc.

“Mom!  Look!  I created a LEEE-VER!!” He sounded like Bill Nye the Science Guy during 4th hour Biology.

“A what?!” I asked, just to hear him say it again.

“A leeever!”

If I could zoom in on his shorts you’d see the skulls-with-crossbones sprinkled up and down the legs.  How fitting, don’t you think, that he’d spend his time creating dangerous devices with leftover wood and landscaping bricks?  He’s clearly ready for some real fun. Bikes are for sissies.

Things got real fun, alright, when his brother joined the party and insisted on shooting plastic toys off the opposite end of the “leeever.”  They found an old reflex-checker from a toy doctor’s kit, thinking it would surely fly nicely, getting some “huge air.”

It was at this precise moment that I should have demanded they strap on their helmets or at least some swim goggles.  Perhaps the kind of headgear that wrestlers or umpires wear would have worked.  But being the stupid encourager of creative-play mom that I am, I didn’t stop them.  Not for a helmet, not for the goggles.  Even though M is drawn to accidents like moths to flame.  And sadly, this day was no exception.  Enjoy the accident in slow motion below:

Effective jumping technique, tool on opposite end appears to be catapulting in the correct direction. Watchful older brother on guard.

Oops...and there he goes, folks. Down, down, down. To the Ring of Fire.

OK.  I have to stop the show for a second and explain.  I never thought the board would actually flip up and smack M in the face. Of course not.  I mean, what kind of mother lets her children reconstruct Medieval war tools in the backyard and actually thinks it’s cute?  [At least, in the beginning it was cute.  When it was just a "leeever" and not a weapon of mass destruction.]

So here’s my poor M after going inside and being soothed by a warm bath, fresh PJ’s and a bedtime smack SNACK–did I say “smack’?!

Maybe not so much a "ring of fire," but more like a slap across the ENTIRE from of your face.

It reminds me of that scene in Tommy Boy when Chris Farley asks Richard [David Spade] if there’s a mark on his face, while motioning dramatically with his hands:

Tommy: Richard, do I have a mark on my face? It really hurts.

Richard: Nope, nothing. I thought I hit you on the shoulder.

Tommy: My shoulder doesn’t hurt very much, but my face does.

[points to huge bruised area on his face]

Tommy: Right here. Not here or here so much. Right here.

Richard: Nope. Ship shape! Waitress, can I get that shrimp cocktail I saw in the glass case?

Helen: Yep. And you, what can I get…

[pauses and looks at Tommy's face]

Helen: [**], what happened to your face?

Tommy: I knew it!

This time we were all witnesses, and we don’t need Helen to tell us.

YES.  There is a mark.

Thank you, levers and simple machines everywhere, but there will be no more Medieval War Games at our house.

Ever.  Again.

Ladles and Jellyspoons

This is a really quirky and nonsensical poem Hafsa told me about so I went and looked it up on Google…

I come before you to stand behind you

And tell you something I know nothing about

Next Thursday, which is Good Friday,

there will be a Mothers meeting, for Fathers only.

Wear your best clothes if you haven’t any,

and if you can come, please stay at home.

Admission’s free pay at the door.

Take a seat and sit on the floor.

It makes no difference

where you sit

The man in the gallery’s sure to spit.

Unhindered Reception

13 And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. 14 But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 15 Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” 16 And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them. – Mark 10:13-16

This pericope is a fitting follow-up after the Lord taught in the sanctity of marriage. In a God-fearing Jewish household, the marriage vows are held in high esteem for it is the will of God that when a man and a woman are joined together, no human authority can ever dissolve it. It is in this same household that the Law of YHWH is held in the highest esteem for their very lives revolve in the revealed will of God.  Included in this God-centered life is the instruction to teach them children in the way of the Lord at every opportunity daily.  Here we also seize the fact that a sanctified marriage is a good ground for planting the children into the knowledge and presence of the Lord. Not only are the parents to grow in the knowledge and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ but their marriage should also display the reality of His presence when husbands love their wives as Jesus love the church and when wives submit to their husbands as to the Lord (Ephesians 5:22-32).

And so we have here a continuing stream of children being brought to the Lord.  We are not told who are bringing these children, but it is obvious that whoever is leading them to Him, whether a father, a mother, a sibling or guardian, desired his blessings upon the children. A parallel story in Matthew 19:13 reveal the intention to have blessings conferred to the children.  Greater possibility still is that they bring their children to Him because they understand – how much, we do not know – who Jesus is – someone who can confer heavenly blessing, whether they perceive Him to be a prophet or the Messiah or the Son of God. That fact is still unknown here the overwhelming evidence of His ministry has provided them a good amount of understanding on His close relationship to Yahweh. Remember how people are; they would protect their children more than themselves when a stranger is involved. But to them Jesus in not a stranger anymore but are convinced that He is indeed a ‘man of God’ as evidenced by their desire for Him to confer the good blessing of God.

It is a common practice among the Jews to lay their hands on the head of those whom they will confer blessing, especially from since the time of the patriarchs in Genesis. But we know here that the children are up for the greatest conferring of God’s blessing for this one comes from the Lord who spoke to patriarchs themselves. Oh, if all Israel knew, that place at that moment would have been filled with all their children! Matthew Henry comments that this conferring of blessings upon children is a revealed will of the Lord through the prophet Isaiah 44:3 “…I will pour out my Spirit upon your offspring, my blessings upon your descendants”.

Having this in mind, it is no wonder why the Lord would be indignant (Greek eganaktesen – deep emotion, pained emotion) when the disciples rebuked those who were bringing the children to the Lord. This is not an isolated indignation. Another incident in Matthew 21:15 when the children as they shouted ‘Hosanna, hosanna’ to Jesus were rebuked by people who presume to know more about God – the Pharisees!  These children were rejoicing that the Savior has come; perhaps the very children who were brought to Him that Mark has now written about. In truth, Jesus is the only source of their blessing from God and to hinder them that privilege is to prevent them from coming to God himself. At their tender age, they do not know how, but as they are taught the knowledge of God, they will themselves have the privilege later on to come on their own.  It is the desire of God therefore that children at the youngest of age be brought to Him.  The young Israelite is taught the Law on all occasion that a child should build his or her entire life centered on the true God.  This particular moment was the greatest opportunity for them to see and hear whom that was spoken to them by their parents from the very pages of the Old Testament scriptures. And to hinder them caused deep, pained emotions for the Lord who loves them. Love is evident by what He said, that the kingdom of heaven belongs to them.

The secular world understands that people are best indoctrinated while they are young. The Chinese communist leader, Mao Zhedong (or Mao Tse Tung – more familiarly), once instructed the nation to catch the mind and heart of the Chinese people while they’re young – to indoctrinate them with Maoist communism in their childhood years. Even MTV, in one of its infomercial, in a sinister kind of way, mentioned the importance of grabbing their viewers at a tender age because that is the greatest time of influence.  Would the children then be rather exposed to corrupting influences of man’s sinful activities? Jesus forbids it so and would have the little ones know Him from a tender age.

Let the children therefore come to the knowledge of Christ Jesus and God’s saving grace while they are young. No hindrances should be spared for this one great privilege for any Christian adult to bless their children with.

Proceeding now to verse 15, careful reading of it allows us to see an important shift in the focus of the statement of the Lord, yet it provides us a heavenly truth with regards to how we should welcome Him. Sometimes when we read a particular section in God’s word, presuppositions are injected into what is being read resulting to a failure to comprehend properly. In this particular verse, there can be failure of the reader to see the shift from ‘children to whom the kingdom of God belongs’ to ‘the kingdom of God to be received like the way children were received by the Lord’ – unhindered.

Yes, there should not be barriers or obstacles in receiving the Lord. The parallel of Jesus and the kingdom of God is established here. To receive the kingdom of God is to receive Jesus Christ. Nothing should be placed as a hindrance in between the Lord and children in particular, and all men in general.

Verse 16 now continues and as all hindrances now removed, Jesus proceeds to bless the children. He blessed them not only by His prayer but by showing to them Himself.

Observe then that this narrative is set between two other stories: the teaching on marriage and its sanctity (Mark 10:1-12), and then the rich young ruler (Mark 10:17-27).  In both pericopes, hindrances were the contributors of the discontinuing of what should be. 

• In marriage, a hindrance such as infidelity committed by one of the partners would result to the discontinuing of the marriage. From the very beginning it is ordained that marriage should not be broken for it runs contrary to the expressed will of God. In order for a disobedient heart not to further hardened, divorce was allowed but each divorcee are never to remarry until one of the partners die for this is the only acceptable means to God for a remarriage.  To contradict God in this matter and marry another person while the divorced partner is still alive is to fall into the sin of adultery – consequently putting the idol of ‘self’ in place of God (this is the very essence of the Ten Commandments where the breaking of commandment nos. 4-10 is ultimately breaking commandment no. 1-3).
• In the next pericope of the rich young ruler, it can be perceived also to be the amplification of the narrative about children coming to Christ.  This time it is a rich person coming to Jesus and asking how he should inherit the kingdom of heaven. Yet his desire is prevented by the very statements he was asserting about himself to the Lord.  I will discuss this in another post but to be sure another hindrance this story was preventing a union between Lord and himself.

And it is no coincidence either the pericope on marriage and this narrative was taught in one sweep for many times in the Scripture the union between God and his people is represented by the metaphor of a marriage that cannot happen when there are hindrances nor can be dissolved what God has already joined.  Although I use the word ‘hindrance’ here often, one thing is true, whatever that hindrance be, is definitely considered sinful for it rubs against the will of God. 

Suffice it for us to understand that no hindrances must be placed in between the kingdom of God and ourselves.  Encouraging as this may sound, it is unfortunate that the reality is that we always have something that hinders us from receiving Him.  It is called sin. And like the disciples we hinder.  Who then can be saved? The answer of the Lord is still the same, “with man it is impossible, but with God nothing is impossible” (Mark 10:27).

Going back to the verses that we are particularly studying here, Christian parents primarily are conferred by God the responsibility of telling their children who Jesus Christ is at whatever age they are in.  All Christians are by extension conferred this responsibility for all children.  We take all what is possibly necessary to bring to them the Gospel and at the same time, protect them from the corrupting influences of the world. Also, let us be careful in teaching them.  Many times, we do teach them that by obeying commandments they go to heaven without perhaps realizing that we put a false gospel as a hindrance. And many times, like the disciples who prevented the children to be brought to Jesus, we presume to know the Lord’s mind when we say things that the Scriptures have not instructed us to say or do.  We should teach them that Jesus is their only means of their salvation, the One who paid with His life so that they will be at peace with God, and this promise is their blessing.  And because it is so, they are supposed to be taught to receive Him, to receive Him by faith, to entrust their lives to Him alone – to do all these without any hindrances for the Lord says that the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. And they would not know until we bring the Gospel to them and pray to the Lord for their salvation.

As a footnote, let this be a means of joy to parents who have lost young children whether in disease or mishaps, that as Jesus explicitly says, that children belong to the Kingdom of God. Not that the children are sinless for also in them is the seed of Adam, a sinful nature, but rather it is a gracious blessing conferred by the Lord Jesus Christ to them. This is also an encouraging truth for me for I have a sister with Down’s syndrome who will never know her left from her right, nor will she comprehend the fullness of her blessings in Christ.  Yet while she is still alive, we endeavor to teach her through biblical songs and stories about God’s salvation through Christ. And when she gives praise to the Lord, it is the most wonderful sight and sound to behold from her. To God be the glory!

 

The Absent Hen

Posted by Abigail

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful hen, the pride and joy of the farmyard. Always she had an encouraging word for everyone, a smile, a pat on the back. Watching her from the farmhouse window one spring morning, the farmer thought to himself, “How wonderful it would be to have a whole brood of chicks just like my little hen!” This goal in mind, he set her on a soft feather-lined nest.

The little hen was so excited when the first egg appeared, warm and brown beneath her. It was so smooth and round and perfect. She vowed she would raise it to be a perfect chicken, to scratch and cluck and lay eggs for the farmer.

Soon her nest was filled with eight beautiful eggs, each one seeming more special than the last. Clucking delightedly to herself, the hen would settle in at night to think about all the things she must do the next day. And always, always she had an encouraging word for everyone around the farm-yard.

Then tragedy struck. Not the little hen, but Old Mrs. Goose woke up one morning to find all of her eggs broken, their jagged edges pricking up out of the hay. As she wept, the little hen was right there to comfort her. She scratched up corn to bring Old Mrs. Goose and sent her sympathetic notes.

Not long later an old duck came down sick and the little hen rushed to her side and stayed by her night and day for three days until she was well.

When she returned to her nest she discovered a terrible thing: one perfect, round brown egg was missing. Where could it have gone? How could it have been taken? She had loved those eggs and cared for them and sought the best for them. And she had left them warm and comfortable and well-provided for, hadn’t she? What more could eggs need? Sadly she shook her head and settled back onto her nest of seven.

The little hen visited all the other hens. Some of them had nests, some did not. All of them were delighted to see her. But one old hen, glad as she was to see the little hen, dared not even get off her nest to visit. “Pardon me, Little Hen,” she said gently, “but I’m afraid my eggs might grow cold.”

“What a pity,” clucked the little hen. “She is such a capable hen and she could be doing so much good for others. Her eggs will keep.”

When she settled back onto her nest that night, there was a frightening crash. One of the perfect round, brown eggs had gone bad and exploded underneath her! All that remained was an empty, shattered shell and a nauseating, lingering stench.

“This is terrible!” moaned the little hen, holding her nose as tears came to her eyes. “It must have been a bad egg to begin with! I did everything I knew to do!”

“What a tragedy!” said all the barn animals, sadly. “That hen is such a good hen, so kind to everyone, so eager to help and she has such a fine nest of beautiful eggs. And she STILL gets to much done!”

But the farmer said, “I wish that hen would stay on her eggs.”

When two sheep decided to take the plunge and get married, there was the hen overseeing the festivities. The cows complimented the lovely hay arrangements. The goats thanked her for the lovely things to eat. The barn fowl cheered her efforts and threw grain on the newlyweds as they rushed out to the pasture. The rejoicing continued late into the night.

During the reception a tiny chirp came from one of the round, brown eggs. The little hen could not hear it over the sound of music and dancing. A tiny crack appeared in the side of one of the eggs as a little chick began to peck its way out of the shell—too early! Soon it had shaken off the pieces of shell and began searching for its mother. No one was there to tell the little chick that a nesting box is too high for a little chick to climb out of. It tumbled from the nesting box and lay still. Tired but happy the little hen walked slowly back to her nest. In the hay below she discovered the tiny, stiff form of her dead baby chick.

Again the barnyard mourned. “How can this happen to such a good hen?”

Not one of the warm, brown eggs ever hatched.

A slithering black snake ate one while the little hen was attending a first-freshening cow at her calving. A raccoon stole another while she was chatting with Mr. Turkey over afternoon tea. During the late frost, one froze and cracked while the little hen was sitting on Mrs. Duck’s eggs for her. One cracked and broke late one night as she turned them after returning home from a visit. She was just too tired and was a bit rougher than she’d meant to be.

The last egg was picked up and placed in a basket by the farmer’s daughter who was collecting abandoned pullet eggs for a picnic.

When the hen began to lay again, the farmer quietly instructed his daughter to pick up the little hen’s eggs. He sighed as he spoke, “No use letting that little hen keep eggs she won’t stick around to hatch.”

The hen hardly seemed to notice that her nest was always empty. She was so busy ministering to the other barn animals that she even stopped laying eggs at all.

The other animals watched in admiration as she fluttered about here and there, doing this and that, always with an encouraging word and a smile or a pat on the back. “What an amazing hen! She’s the best of her kind!”

But the farmer said sadly to his daughter as they watched the little hen scratching in the dirt, “Not much worth in a hen that won’t hatch eggs. Pretty little thing, and so cheerful and full of energy, but doesn’t do what she’s made to do. Guess I won’t be getting any fine chickens from her. She means well, but her focus is all wrong. See, those other animals? They’ve got me. She does so many things that are nice—but don’t have to be done. Times are hard sometimes, but really, they can get along without her. In the grand scheme of things there are lots of other animals that could pitch in and do what she does to help. But not a creature in this barn can hatch her eggs.”

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I am Evil. Evil but Wise...

Today has been one of those days where I seem to have started many things, finished nothing and found the day over with before it has really begun.  It is ten o’clock at night and I am kind of sitting here thinking ‘what the hell happened?’  I seem to have watched a lot of television, eaten a lot of junk food and not a lot else.

I can’t say that’s a bad way to spend the day quite honestly, although I wouldn’t want to do it all the time. I just feel that there were crucial things that should have been done that weren’t.

Having said that, Tallulah got to her swimming party and didn’t drown.  This is good.  She cannot swim.  For ages she was a nightmare to take into the water because she had an absolutely unshakeable belief that she could swim and was adamant that nobody was to hold her, teach her or even go near her.  She would not wear arm bands because of course she could swim, so why would she need them?  The general scenario would be that we would go to the edge of the pool, she would jump in with tremendous verve, and then sink like a stone.  You would hop in, fish her out and shake the water out (she would of course be hollering all the way down), and attempt to keep her head above water.  She would go mental because she didn’t need any help.  Eventually you would let go, she would sink like a stone. etc. etc. etc.  It all got very tedious and I stopped taking her.

When we had a nanny, she used to take her, which was very brave.  But not much progress was made on the swimming front as she was too busy keeping her alive.

Then I had Oscar. This was just at the point where Tallulah decided that flexible thinking over the swimming issue might be rewarding, after years of positive mental thinking had done not much at all except allow her to get a taste for chlorinated water.  Unfortunately I am not a brave enough woman to take three small children swimming on my own, so we rarely go.  Consequently she cannot swim.  I feel very guilty about this.

I keep meaning to take them for lessons.  We have three pools nearby, none of which are on a direct bus route. This is something else I will have to do when I can drive.  Even then it still needs two of us ideally, as Oscar is a great sinker now. 

Today Tallulah took her armbands.  I worried that the other children would tease her.  Apparently not.  Which is good.  One mother I know, who is lovely, but a bit of a worrier, has a child who can swim, but still makes the girl wear arm bands just in case.  She was at the party, which was a great help to Tallulah.

So was another mother who is a friend of mine. She is an exceptionally good mother (I do not know what she is doing hanging out with me frankly).  Her children are always immaculately dressed and have everything ready for school.  They are ironed and labelled and clean.  They do lessons in useful things and are community minded.  My friend goes to every single party her children are invited to and stays and joins in.  Today she actually got in the pool with the kids.  She kept an eye on Tallulah for us while we went to McDonalds (urgh! I was outvoted) and then went to look at Minis!

I admire this mother greatly. Truly. I do.  She must have infinite patience and kindness and stores of benevolence that I cannot even imagine let alone access.  She really, genuinely enjoys doing these things.  I see it in her face. She is not making it up.  I do not know how she does this.

I loathe childrens’ parties.  Even my own childrens’.  I Other peoples’ parties are more loathesome still  I hate hanging out with parents I have nothing in common with, eating horrible food and sitting in plastic play places while the noise deafens worse than a teenage disco and everything smells vaguely of wee and ground in biscuits.  I hate having to nod enthusastically at my child while she scrambles about showing off, when at home I could be secretly reading my book and pretending to look.  There is nowhere to hide.  It is barbaric.

Yesterday Tallulah went to a roller disco party.  It was at another local leisure centre for two hours from six until eight in the evening with a McDonald’s Happy Meal thrown in.  I had just come back from several hours of driving and as we were walking up to the entrance Tallulah looked a bit collywobblish and asked me if I wouldn’t like to go too?  What could I say?

No. That was what I said.  I gave her two choices, either she went on her own and we found her friends to hang out with so she would feel more comfortable, or she came home with me.

It seems mean, I know, but the place was heaving with small, sweaty bodies zooming about, the smell of Happy Meals wafted through the air and the disco beat was pumping.  I’d rather spend two hours in a leper  colony.

Yet again I ended up feeling guilty as I waved her off (she chose to stay).  I spent the next two hours worrying that she would be rollered to death, or worse, stay in the toilets crying until someone found her and called me.  As it turned out she had an absolutely fabulous time and is now an expert roller skater.

Today she had a fabulous time and can now swim under water.  I am dubious about this claim and am now more concerned about the next time we take her swimming.  Are we going to go back to the sinking like a stone business? I can’t cope.  My feeble brain cannot manage it.

Still, at least she had a wonderful time.  Next week she has another party at a kids adventure play place.  I’m sure by then there will be something else to worry about, but at least I’ve got a week’s respite first.

Tilly spent most of the weekend at her best friend’s on a sleepover.  They desperately needed this sleepover because her friend is on the school trip next week to the Isle of Wight and they won’t see each other for a whole week.  A WHOLE WEEK.  It is hardly to be borne frankly.  There were wobbly bottom lips upon parting this morning and the subject of how come Tilly wasn’t allowed to go to the Isle of Wight was sort of mentioned, kind of, once more.

Tilly is not allowed to go to the Isle of Wight because a) I am an evil parent, b) it cost nearly two hundred pounds for four days in the ISLE OF WIGHT for God’s sake and c) I am an evil parent.  I am also an evil parent who realises that not only could I get a package holiday in Spain for that sort of money and we wouldn’t have to do a project on Queen Victoria if we went to Fuengirola, but also it isn’t £200 is it? No it isn’t? Why isn’t it? It isn’t because every single school trip I let her go on, I have to let the other two go on as well.  It’s six hundred quid is what it is. And that doesn’t account for the fact that next year it will be significantly more expensive when news breaks of one more school child who has died through someone not being attentive enough in an amateur pot holing day and insurance prices go through the roof again. 

It’s bad enough having to sign four hundred release forms and sign in my own blood that it’s o.k. for her to climb up the inside of Glenfield church spire at Brownies next week.  Who knows what I’d have to promise if she went on a ferry to the Isle of Wight? It’s not worth it.

Blooded Broken Crosses [BBC]

I watched a documentary program on killing innocent children in Nigeria. Apparantly an Evangelist church denounces many children as witches who should be killed!!

I was very troubled to see images of beautiful innocent children who had been murdered by a group of misguided church goers.

I pray that one day very soon this barbaric practice will come to an end.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbDu0-K9cPk

(part 1)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUJSME0TORw

(part 2)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7C8Znyf510

(Part 3)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wE8epBkSPfo

(part 4)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYG-h1avVrc

(part 5)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nH8ZJbJ9lY

(part 6)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXUKF8dHf4A

http://www.guardian.co.uk/observer/gallery/2007/dec/09/witches?picture=331488389

http://helen-ukpabio.com/

[Via http://kombizz.wordpress.com]

oh, grow up

Education is about growth. Meaning what? The movement is from immaturity to maturity in thinking, analytical skill, problem management, intellectual ability, and so forth. But education is not about the fulfillment of an intellectual destiny, at least not for Dewey. Immaturity certainly has negative connotations, implying as it does the absence of maturity and all of the ideological and cultural significance wrapped up in that term. Dewey interprets immaturity in a positive sense, as a capacity or power. Just as Merleau-Ponty will argue that the indeterminate is not a negative state, but a positive phenomenon, Dewey argues that immaturity harbors its own internal force. He affirms the productive logic of the immature. This is in Democracy and Education, chapter 4, and it ties into my earlier post about what a child can do.

‘Taken absolutely, instead of comparatively, immaturity designates a positive force or ability–the power to grow’. Immaturity has two primary components, dependence and plasticity, both of which are powers. Note that plasticity is not interpreted here as flexibility or malleability. The child is decidely neither a parasite nor a repository. He or she is a producer, the product is the force of thought. We can speak of their growth as a form of metabolization of knowledge and skill, which is acquired from the educational environment and converted into intellectual energy. This is not mere coping or consumption. (Following Foucault, we could conceive the disciplined body as a site of growth.)

Dewey defines the plasticity of the child as something like ‘pliable elasticity’, suggesting that it is like how ’some persons take on the color of their surroundings while retaining their own bent’. ‘But’, he adds, ‘it is something deeper than this’. Deeper: plasticity is more substantial than indeterminate adaptability. It denotes a real property of the child’s constitution; it is an ontological structure, as we can discern from the following passage: ‘[Plasticity] is essentially the ability to learn from experience; the power to retain from one experience something which is of avail in coping with the difficulties of a later situation. This means power to modify actions on the basis of the results of prior experiences, the power to develop dispositions. Without it, the acquisition of habits is impossible’. Dewey is here echoing the ‘Habit’ chapter of James’s principles, wherein James speaks about the plasticity of the brain. Habits are like the fundamental mechanism of the body. Dewey seems to want to stress again the reality of the body’s plasticity, so as to account for how it is possible for body’s to take on the mechanism of habit.

This interpretation of the body is decidedly nonreductive because it takes instinct and the responsiveness proper to instinct as essentially learned action. Reactions and instincts are all habitual and result from trial and error. This means that experimentation, especially at an early age, is crucial to the growth of the child. The child’s plasticity enables them to develop a wide range of instincts and responses: their childhood is a powerful, explosive laboratory. The possibility of variations in the instinctual armature is immense, which means that the basis for and results of evolution (taken in a broad sense) are powerfully indeterminate. This indeterminacy is influenced and acted upon by the social network in which the child is physically situated. Aristotle, in the Ethics, recognized that this social milieu has a grand impact on the ‘original’ disposition of the child, and that beyond a certain threshold of moral development the child’s character becomes almost irremediably set. Dewey and James follow up with material base of this capacity for dispositional metamorphosis, and it is quite interesting to consider the ontological status of both this material base (plasticity) and dispositionality itself.

To close, Dewey notes that habits become methods. A method is like a generalized habit, applicable to a range of similar situations. What is key for the child is that he or she acquires the habit of learning. The child ‘learns to learn’. The educational evolution of the child will depend upon the reach and intensity of their time in the laboratory of learning, that is, in immaturity and dependence. Which is simply to say that the power of the child is directly proportional to the diversity of their experimental milieu. This does not imply a rejection of discipline, but rather the importance of a disciplined method.

[Via http://plasticbodies.wordpress.com]

Despite all odds, Palestinians carry on with living in the Heart of Hebron

Hebron, or Al-Khalil, lies 30 km south of Jerusalem and is the second largest Palestinian city with a population of 163,000 Palestinians. Hebron is one of the commercial centres of the Occupied Palestinian Territories and several industries emerged in Hebron and continue to find their home there. Like the rest of Palestine, the cancer of illegal settlements has set its lethal teeth in Hebron. This city is not only surrounded by settlements like other Palestinian cities and towns, but has settlement points in its heart. In 1968 a group of Israelis rented a hotel room in Hebron for 48 hours, after which they refused to leave, and 6 months later the establishment of a Jewish neighbourhood in Hebron was approved by the Zionist state, to be followed in 19070 by another approval to establish the illegal settlement Kiryat Arba. In 1980 the Israeli government decided to add a floor to the Beit Hadassah point, to be used as a school, the corner stone for a settlement in the heart of the old city of Hebron. 4 years later, a Jewish settlement point was established in Tel Rumeida. In 1994 a fanatic Jewish settler entered the Ibrahimi mosque and opened fire on the worshippers there killing 29 Palestinians. According to the Protocol concerning the Redeployment in Hebron, signed 1997 between the PLO and Israel, Hebron was divided into 2 sections: H1 and H2. H1, forming 80% of the city (18 square km), is home to some 120,000 Palestinians, and is under Palestinian control. H2 covering the old city with the commercial centre and the Jewish settlements (4.3 square km), where around 40,000 Palestinians are forced to live with some 600 fanatic Jewish settlers, fell under Isreali control. The presence of these illegal settlers in the heart of Hebron, mainly in the Casaba, had led to the closure of many commercial shops, and many residents were either forced out of their houses or left due to lack of security and livelihood. Severe restrictions are placed upon the Palestinians, including restrictions on movement in H2. Many streets are completely or partially closed, and Palestinians are not allowed to drive cars in large areas in H2. Also, the movement of ambulances has to be coordinated in advance with the IOF, even in cases of emergency, and in Tel Rumeida even the ownership of kitchen knives for house use is not allowed. None of these restrictions apply on the illegal Jewish settlers. Today, Hebron is surrounded from the east by the illegal settlement Kiryat Arba and to the south by Bet Haggai. Settlement points inside the old city include the Avraham Avinu neighbourhood, Beit Hadassah, Beit Romano and Tel Rumeida.

A couple of weeks ago, some friends and I were invited by a Hebronite friend to visit him in Tel Rumeida. I, personally, was only a couple of times in Hebron as a little kid, and only to visit my uncles in Israeli prisons. So, I was anxious to see this city, especially Tel Rumeida. On the way to Hebron we were accompanied by the views of the illegal settlements on both sides of the road, and junctions leading to more illegal settlements. The land spreading between these settlements was often surrounded by wire fences, indicating it was confiscated. Every now and then one would come across an olive field or a vineyard and would wonder how long before this piece of land would also be confiscated in the name of “peace“. The same scenario repeated in all Palestinian areas: settlements spreading on the hilltops, land surrounded by wire fences and construction sites for building more settler roads or expanding existing settlements. The sight of these settlements causes not only heartache, a headache, but an eye ache as well. With their European-styled red brick roofs, they were out of place, and trying to be part of the Palestinian landscape but failing drastically. Palestinian villages and towns were on the other hand a much-welcomed change of view, a delight to see, mingling with the whole landscape and forming an integral part of it. They are so natural there, as if the landscape was created with these Palestinian houses as part of it. There was something attractive about the way the houses scattered here and there, surrounded by the beautiful olive fields or vineyards. You could feel life shining out of them, not like the artificial red bricks trying to force themselves on a landscape that is refusing them. The various shades of green, red and brown of the Palestinian landscape was only interrupted by the grey colourless sites and barren areas where Palestinian land was being torn to pieces and Palestinian landscape desecrated by the illegal roads and settlements. These barren areas were fertile only a decade ago. At junctions, we passed settlers standing at bus stops, feeling at home in our home, the home they were kicking us out of. Many settlers waiting at the bus stops were armed with machine guns and rifles, parading them. I suppose they think this is the way to put fear into the hearts of the Palestinians. Yes, one does feel fear seeing these fanatics with their rifles because they have been known to kill innocent Palestinians for no reason at all except their thirst for blood. But what they fail to see is that parading like that, on our roads, only strengthens our will to kick them out of our lands.

At one junction we saw a sign with the warning that one was about to enter a Palestinian area and that Israelis were not allowed in, and I couldn’t help thinking whether the Nazis had such signs on the entrances to Jewish Ghettos: you are about to enter a Jewish Ghetto, good citizens of Germany are not allowed in. After a few minutes drive throw the city of Hebron, we were welcomed by our Hebronite friend in the H1 area, who was to show us his hometown. This part of the city was very lively, with shops on both sides of the road, streets buzzing with life, people coming and going, students hurrying to their university, taxi drives hooping, men arguing and women doing the weekly shopping. For some, this chaos may seem annoying and painful to the ear. To me, it was bliss, and I walked through these streets taking everything in, with a large smile on my face the whole time. I was extremely happy to see such a lively city, because it shows that despite all Israeli terror and all restrictions they cannot take this city out of us, we live and Palestine will continue to live with us. People were showing their pride at being Palestinian, for I haven’t seen a Palestinian town before, where so many Palestinian flags were hanging from buildings, shops and cars. Traditional carts driven by horses were waiting for tourists and fruit and vegetable carts were displaying their commodity with various colours that attract the eye. Here one wouldn’t have to worry about the source of the fruits and vegetables one was purchasing or what kind of poisons one was eating. It is all the product of Palestine, planted and cared for by Palestinian hands and hearts. As we walked further in the direction of the old city, the lively atmosphere began to fade.

An IOF observation tower on the one side and an IOF observation post on the roof of an old building on the opposite side, signalled that we were about to enter the H2 area of Hebron. Being in the centre of a Palestinian urban area and because it is under Israeli control, H2 attracts the most fanatic and violent of the illegal Jewish settlers. Our local friend told us that one huge building behind the tower used to be a Palestinian school, later confiscated and turned into a Jewish one for the use of the settlers. If I’m not mistaken, I believe this is the Osama Bin Munqaz school, which is now known as Beit Romano. The other IOF observation post with camouflage netting stood on an old building that seemed abandoned. We were told that there are several such posts, occupying the roofs of about 20 Palestinian buildings, and in some cases, like this one, the IOF taking over the whole building. There was also a huge gate that stood open, and I wondered if at night, the residents of that area were locked in like sheep. According to B’Tselem “at least 35 Palestinian residential dwellings and shops in Hebron are currently held by security forces permanently for their continuous or sporadic use.”[1]

The old city of Hebron has always been not only the commercial heart of the city, but that of the whole southern West Bank. This centre collapsed economically and stopped functioning with the arrival of the illegal settlers and the various Israeli restrictions on Palestinian livelihood. Many Palestinian families were thus forced directly or indirectly out of their neighborhoods. The old city with its traditional market or “souq“ was lined up with narrow alleyways and covered up with wire mesh, some sort of wire-fencing, sheets and rags that covered all exposed areas to protect the pedestrians and the shop owners from the stones, the dirt, the garbage and urine-filled bottles thrown at them from the settlers occupying the apartments above, after their original inhabitants had been kicked out. The Casaba extends till the Ibrahimi mosque, and is know for its old houses and narrow alleys, many of which were closed by the IOF, the sideway steps, passageways and the old-styled windows with the outward windowsills. We were met by endless alleys and arches leading to more arches, so beautiful were the views, and yet so sad. We’d pass under the old arches above which stood houses with beautiful old-styled windows. These arches, together with the old houses with the windowsill and traditional windows are common in the old centres of Palestinian cities, such as in Jerusalem and Bethlehem. This was in my opinion the most beautiful part of Hebron, and I felt an outrage, such a beautiful city treated with such disrespect by these land thieves. A once powerful Palestinian centre turned into a weak, almost ghost city, by the IOF restrictions on Palestinians and the terror acts of the fanatic invaders. In that moment, I so much wished I could turn time back and see these streets in their full glance, to the time when the real owners of their houses ruled over the whole city, when this city talked to the people.

We walked through the narrow streets, the high building on both side together with the wire mash and sheets, limiting the amount of sunlight pouring in. Many shops were closed here by Israeli military orders, others because of lack of security and long curfews. A number of shops were open and displaying their multi-coloured products. Some were selling traditional items and representations of the Palestinian folklore. They were all tiny shops with barley a place to stand, one would have to admire the items exhibited from outside. We took a rest at the entrance of one of these shops. The owner, a Palestinian woman, told us that she and a group of women, mostly housewives, sell their products here. They had a variety of things on display such as handbags, T-Shirt, shawls, purses, pillow covers, etc… all decorated with traditional Palestinian stitches, in addition to traditional Palestinian dresses and the Palestinian Kafeyyeh. The shop owner told us that they sell their products directly here, and don’t advertise nor distribute to other shops, and that is why they sell these items for very reasonable prices. I inquired about the price of a few items I planned on buying as presents for friends in Germany and elsewhere in Europe, and was surprised that the prices were one third of those offered for the same items in Ramallah or Bethlehem. We went on, and were delighted to see that despite all, the heart of the city was slowly, but steady regaining its strength and pumping life into the whole area. I stand corrected, this isn’t a dying city, this is a city that refuses submission and refuses to die. On the stands one is able to find almost everything, from meat and fish, oil and olives, spices, fruits and vegetables to all sorts of house utensils. Freshly slaughtered meat hung in butcheries while traditional sweets, such as Knafeh, were being prepared in pastry shops.

As we walked deeper into the old city, we encountered rows over rows of closed shops with their typical green colour. The settler garbage above our head also increased and one could only wonder at the culture from which these fanatics have emerged, if they have a culture of any sort, i.e. other than that of murder and land theft. As we came closer to the Ibrahimi mosque, we passed a few shops selling items for tourists. I could hear the shop owners telling the foreign passers by: if you want to help Hebron, please buy our local products. At the entrance to the mosque we were welcomed by revolving doors and a wire fence dividing the entrance into 2 paths. The metal detectors went buzzing the minute we went through, and after a struggle with our cameras and our handbags and after having our IDs and passports controlled by the IOF, we were allowed into the courtyard of the mosque. This was a “welcome” fit for a prison or a military base, not a place of worship. The Ibrahimi mosque is spilt into two parts, one small part is reserved for the Palestinian Muslims and the other for the Jewish settlers. On Jewish holidays, Palestinians have no access to the mosque as the whole complex is turned into one big synagogue. The first thing I saw was the huge building, then the red cabins in front of the Mosque. People would have to go through these cabins and be searched before being allowed inside the mosque. Israeli policemen were everywhere and I was told that snipers are also present on the roof. There were a few Palestinian worshippers coming and leaving and a few kids trying to sell postcards and other small items to the tourists. We were in a hurry and thus didn’t have time to go inside the mosque, which annoyed me a little bit because you never know if you’ll have a second chance to see the place. Ethnic cleansing and changing the realities in Palestine happen at such a speed that every time I come to Palestine, I search in vain for the old familiar landscapes, and instead I’m confronted with new ones, those of settlements, settler roads, checkpoints, apartheid walls and barbed wires.

We made our way onward to the solidarity tent, where a week of solidarity with the old city of Hebron had been organized by the “National Campaign against the Israeli Closures in Hebron Old City”. The old city is under continuous Israeli siege and the people are daily threatened by the Israeli measures aiming at emptying the city of its original inhabitants and causing a “quiet transfer”. While Palestinians suffer under the various restrictions, including the use of a number of their streets and neighbourhoods, the Jewish settlers roam freely. Heavily armed, these fanatics often harass and attack Palestinians with stones or bottles. The settler violence and Isreali policies and restrictions on Palestinians in the old city have forced thousands to leave their homes and the closure of “1829 Palestinian businesses in the areas of the settlements in the city”[2], according to the B’Tselem report titled “Ghost Town”. The report adds that 1014 Palestinian housing units stand vacant.

Isreali soldiers positioned everywhere in the old city are only there for “protecting” the Jewish settlers and seldom intervene to prevent settler violence. On the contrary, they often participate in harassing the Palestinians. Jewish assailants are rarely brought to justice, while Palestinians are often punished for the violent acts of the settlers, such as curfews which are imposed for weeks. We could see some people hurrying on their way back home, groups of boys playing here and there, little girls sitting in a corner whispering and giggling. These people are steadfast here, and as long as the children fill its streets and its alleys, the old city will never be abandoned, and will always be lively and waiting for those who were forced out to come back and reclaim their homes, shops, streets and neighbourhoods.

There were many people there and the lots of TV crews. The next day we heard that Luisa Morgantini, deputy president of the European Union parliament had visited Hebron, and during an argument with the Jewish settlers had shouted “You are thieves who steel buildings!” and “You assault Palestinians day and night to force them out of their homes”.[3] Behind the tent one had a superb view of the Hebron, and below us we could see the streets we had just passed. We were actually standing above the closed shops. Old styled houses spread all around us in a panorama fit of the city of the Patriarchs, the city of Abraham. Children were everywhere around us, waving Palestinian flags and chanting with the national songs coming from the loud speakers surrounding the tent. How can anyone think of this city as dead, seeing all this life?

We turned back and walked on in the direction of the Tel Rumeida neighbourhood. I have so often heard stories and seen disturbing videos of the settler brutality against the locals there, their violence, the seizure of houses and the harassment, and the humiliating treatment the Palestinians get on the hands of the settlers and the IOF. At one corner we encountered an entrance closed with heavy blocks of stone and wire, so no entry was possible. Behind the wire fence, there stood an additional number of stone blocks, similar to those used by the IOF in blocking roads or closing entrances, and similar to those placed in areas where the apartheid wall is yet to be built. The only thing visible, were the tops of building, old Hebronite houses and the tops of closed shops with the Arabic nameplate still there. The building closest to the entrance had several windows and they all had shutters that were down. Our friend told us that the settlers live there now and it is them who throw the garbage and the rocks at Palestinian pedestrians on the other side of the building. As I took some photographs, I noticed the observation camera placed in one corner and with full view of the whole street. And then, at another corner, we saw a couple of old houses that were sadly left to decay, but as we passed the corner into the next street, we could see some workers renovating part of the road. Some shops were open and people were coming and going, despite the settler houses above their heads, and the danger coming from these houses. At that moment, when asked about my thoughts, I replied that walking these streets, despite the closed houses and shops, and settler garbage above and settler racist writings on the walls accompanying us the whole way, one has a strong feeling that this city can only be Palestinian. These fanatic settlers are trying to impose realities that are not possible. Their presence is so artificial and out of place, it is bound to end one day, simply because it doesn’t fit in the picture, they have no place in Hebron. It’s like a painting of a beautiful landscape, with trees, birds and flowers, all mixing in to give the painting its uniqueness and its beauty. And then by mistake a drop of paint falls on the painting and forms a blot that destroys the whole view. It will be a long, tedious and annoying task to remove this blot from the painting without harming its other elements, but after that one is rewarded with a perfect landscape, where everything is where it belongs. The Jewish settlers are the blot on the Hebron landscape, but a blot can always be removed and life and beauty will be restored to our precious painting.

Finally, we reached the end of the street and in front of us we could see again the bustling part of Hebron. To the left, there was an upward going street, with some kind of container at its top that was blocking the view of what lay behind it. This was the entrance to Tel Rumeida. A red sign told us that we were entering an Israeli area. We were to go through the IOF check and as our friend said, we’re to say we were his personal guests. Since some time Internationals were not allowed into that neighbourhood, because much of what is going on there was coming out, in the form of film and photos. He said that they used to have regular visits from Internationals coming to show their solidarity. Also, members of the “Breaking the Silence (BTS)” used to come here and bring Israelis and Internationals and show them the reality there. Co-founded in 2004 by an Isreali soldier who served in Hebron, BTS aims at breaking the silence about the behaviour of the IOF in the Occupied Palestinian Territories and expose what they were doing there. They used to organize tours, where participants would have the chance to see the realities of life in H2 for themselves. The tours were interrupted a number of times by the Jewish settlers who attacked the participants. During one tour, the “Israeli settlers blocked the path of the bus and poured scalding water over several tour participants while the police stood by. None of the settlers were charged.”[4] After which the BTS were banned from entering Hebron by the IOF. After going through the container, with its electric devices and metal detectors, we were ordered by the army to return back. It was after our friend assured the IOF that we were friends and invited to his home for dinner that they let us in. And there we were: in Tel Rumeida.

Tel Rumeida is a neighbourhood is in the H2 area of Hebron. Here, some 600 of the most violent and fanatic of all Jewish settlers occupying Palestinian land live in the midst of the Palestinian Hebronite population, and are “protected” by around two thousand Israeli soldiers, who assist them in abusing the Palestinians. They are responsible for a reign of terror, assaulting and attacking the unarmed Palestinian population on a regular basis. While the settler men walk the Hebronite streets boasting with their machine guns and clubs, which they often put to use, settler women and children abuse Palestinians by kicking them, spitting on them and throwing stones and garbage at Palestinian women and school children. Settlers are also known to have tried to run Palestinians over with their cars, and have not only kicked Palestinian families out of their houses and occupied them, but have also destroyed Palestinian property, like doors and windows of houses and shops, cut down trees, and are known to have broken into Palestinian homes and shops and committed theft.

The first thing that came to my mind was: this is scary. In front of us we saw a typical Hebronite street with row after row of houses and shops, and Israeli flags hanging here and there. The street was completely empty and at the end of it stood the Jewish school that used to be Palestinian, the one we saw when we first entered H2. We just walked a little bit in the direction of the school but decided to turn back on the advice of our friend. We took instead a street that was going upwards, and as we walked we saw a wall with graffiti and murals, all in Hebrew, most probably painted by the settlers. On seeing some International flags drawn on the wall, I couldn’t help thinking how pathetic! They are stealing our land, our culture, our history and even our food, and now they want to imitate the international solidarity movement that draws these murals on the apartheid wall in support of the Palestinian people. As with all walls, behind it there was an Israeli tower serving as observation point. Our friend told us that Palestinian movement in this street ends with another checkpoint maybe a 100 m away from where we stood, marked by a visible stone block. Here, only Jewish settlers are allowed to drive cars, while Palestinians have to go through the checkpoints in order to enter Tel Rumeida and then carry their shopping and walk all the way to their homes.

We then went up some rocks and through a garden of some sort, walked through trees and climbed a rock here and jumped down there, until finally we reached the house of our friend. Before anything else, he showed us the marks on his house door where settlers had tried to break in, and said that he was unable to repair the iron door because the equipment needed was not allowed in Tel Rumeida, this restriction applying only to Palestinians, as with all restrictions in Hebron. Gunshot marks were also visible above the door. We then went around the house and right there, a bit elevated on a hill, were the unholy neighbours. Their position there gave them full view of the few Palestinian houses below them. Our friend pointed to one house and told us that it’s the house of the infamous Baruch Marzel, a leading right-wing politician and leader of the religious Zionist party the “Jewish National Front”, who was also head of the secretariat of the terrorist group Kach. Around us we saw the signs of living near fanatic settlers: their garbage was everywhere, one big stone block lie in the way, and nearby an old washing machine. I shivered at the thought of that stone block falling on one of the kids who were running around us as we viewed the area. Vine stems were cut in the middle and left hanging in the air to rot. From where we stood, the settler houses were high above us, with garden the trees covering the view, so we went to a narrow path where the houses stood in full view. As we started taking photos, our friend hurried us to come back, because these settlers won’t hesitate in shooting at us. There was a small piece of land there planted with olive trees, and our friend told us that he was not allowed to pluck his olives because of the settlers. One time, when he wanted to pluck the olives with a number of internationals, the settlers tried stopping them and some even stole his olives. He showed us where some stone wall stood separating his garden from the settler’s compound, which previously had been the entrance to his home, but since the settlers moved in these homes, the IOF closed the way, so he was forced to walk the way we came. On the backdoor we saw a David star and were told that it was drawn by the settlers who often come at night, walk around, make noise, turn things over, throw stones and cut off trees. Going back to the house, we passed the vine stems again and I thought: who would cut a tree like this? What did the tree do to these people? But then I remembered that these people wouldn’t hesitate to kill innocent people, so why wouldn’t they cut off a tree? Nearby was a huge olive tree, maybe a thousand years old. Many branches were cut off and it was easy to see that someone had tried cutting down the whole tree. As I commented on that, our friend pointed to a few branches that lay nearby and said that these were cut off by the settlers one night, and that the settlers had left messages telling them to leave the house.

Inside, we met the family and had dinner with them. The house was very simple and we were told about their daily life and suffering, living near such fanatics. The family as a whole can’t go out shopping or visiting relatives or friends, someone has always to stay at home, otherwise the house would be taken over by the settlers. They told us that the settlers observe them the whole time, to the extent that it happened that sometimes when they were having friends visiting, one of the settlers living nearest to them would come and threaten them in front of their guests. They showed us a number of videos filmed of settler attacks and told us that they got a video camera from B’Tselem to record all that happens to them. Their sweet little daughter told us how the settlers would attack them on their way to school, and how she herself was often hit by stones and once had her arm broken. She attends the Cordoba school, and because they are not allowed to use a section of Al-Shuhada street, closed by the IOF, the pupils and teachers had every day to take a steep dirt road and pass the settlement synagogue on their way to school and later to get home. There settler youths would be waiting for them for the ritual stoning. To help these pupils, members of the “Christian Peacemaking Team (CPT)” established a daily escort for the pupils, but this didn’t stop the settler attacks. After a couple of hours there, and as it was getting dark, we bid the family good bye and went down the road in the direction of the container checkpoint. On the way, we passed a house with green doors and some broken windows, and our friend told us that the settlers had occupied the house during a curfew, assisted by the IOF, who were secretly filmed opening the doors for the settlers with the help of the equipment used for opening locked doors. The owners and the neighbours protested taking over the house and in this case the settlers were forced to evacuate it. We walked further and at the checkpoint we bid our friend good bye, since he had to go back home before night falls and the settlers start their nightly terror.

We left Hebron, still shocked at the blatant display of hate, racism and violence by the illegal Jewish settlers, and wondered why there are still people defending the Zionist state. In recent weeks, settler violence had been on the rise, particularly in Hebron and its surroundings. Palestinian farmers have often been attacked by the settlers while farming their lands or during the olive-picking season. The presence of internationals, including aid workers and diplomats, or international observers, had not succeeded in preventing attacks, physical or verbal, from Jewish settlers. In a report titled “Justice for All”, the Isreali human rights organization Yesh Din “examined 205 cases of alleged assault by the Israeli settlers that were reported over the years. Only in 13 cases were indictments filed, while 163 cases were closed.”[5] On the way home, as we passed the stream of Palestinian towns and villages interrupted by the illegal Jewish settlements and IOF posts. The isolated settlements on top of hills, their bare houses with not a single view of tree, were a great contrast to the Palestinian towns and villages, where colours and sounds mixed. I thought of the children running the streets of Hebron, holding Palestinian flags and singing for Palestine. I thought of those shop-owners who insisted on opening their shops despite their horrific “neighbours”, and I thought of our friend and his family and all the families in the old city of Hebron, who continue to endure the suffering and harassment, but won’t leave their homes to the settlers. By the time I reached Bethlehem, a city bustling with life, I was full of hope that Hebron will one day rise and brush off these illegal settlers of its hills, plains and of its heart. One day, this city will once again be the pearl of the south.

[1] B’Tselem: Ghost Town: Israel’s Separation Policy and Forced Eviction of Palestinians from the Center of Hebron. 07

[2] B’Tselem: Ghost Town: Israel’s Separation Policy and Forced Eviction of Palestinians from the Center of Hebron. 07

[3] http://www.maannews.net/en/index.php?opr=ShowDetails&ID=33017

[4] http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article9876.shtml

[5] http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article9750.shtml

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