Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Another Post?!

I just took note of the span between my last two posts.  I beat my previous record of a year and half: this time it was a year and 10 months.  One wonders why I even have a blog.

After my 9/11 post and reading the posts of old friends regarding the same, I feel inspired to blog once again.  That’s how these things work, right?  Fits and starts until some consistency is achieved?

As an update for anyone wondering: I have managed to not be expelled from med school.  Those who know me at any depth may non-ironically consider this to be an achievement.  Currently I am involved with the third year curriculum, that is clinical rotations.  For those not in the know, clinical rotations are the periods of practical medical education following a couple years of didactic education.

I am drawing to the close of my six week Surgery rotation.  Contrary to any of my preconceptions, I have thoroughly enjoyed this clerkship – one that has a reputation of exhausting students and grinding on their emotional fortitude.  Am I a future surgeon?  Too early to tell, but I have come as far as putting it on the list for consideration.  I still have a full year of rotations to go!

Next on the docket: 1) six weeks of OB/Gyn followed by 2) six weeks of pediatrics.  I have high hopes for both.  I also have high hopes for these clinical experiences to inspire more frequent blogging, without violating HIPAA, of course.  That would get me kicked out of med school…

The Journagraphist

Sunday, September 11, 2011

10 Years Ago

I was planning on actively ignoring everything that has been going on today, and throwing myself into working. Not because I don’t care, but because it is still too chilling and saddening for me too think about. But after receiving a very kind letter from a long ago friend, I decided I must address the gravity of the day in some small measure. Otherwise, it would only demonstrate unseemly negligence on my part – someone who has made it a habit of neglecting his blog.

Ten years ago, today, I was sitting in either American Heritage Literature or American Heritage History class during my junior year in high school. Suddenly, our teacher – I think it must have been Mrs. Schumacher – turned on the t.v. to images of one of the WTC towers smoking. Class activity ceased.

We were transfixed. What, was going on? How strange, a plane lost it’s way and crashed into one of the towers? Then, we witnessed the second plane fly into the other tower, and everything changed.

I don’t think any of us, in class in Iowa, or those in NYC, Washington D.C., or those in Pennsylvania were immediately comprehending what was underway. When the first tower fell, I theorized that the damage from the crash had caused the tower to get top heavy and so it fell. I remember Mrs. Schumacher saying, “Yeah”, or something along those lines – as if this were simply a demonstration in engineering physics. I think we must have been dumbfounded.

No learning happened that day. Only astonishment, shock, collapse of the illusion of American invulnerability. To this day, I still think it hugely ironic that we tuned into events while in American Heritage class.

As each period ended, we shuffled to our next classes in the hallway. I don’t remember if anyone was discussing what was happening, though they must have been. We got to our next class, where the t.v. was already on and tuned to some news channel. And once again we watched as things unfolded. I think some teachers did turn off the t.v. and try to teach, but no learning happened that day.

I remember praying, begging, hoping to whatever that it wasn’t Muslims. But really, with the geopolitical situation of early 2000’s, who else could it have been? My worst fears were confirmed. Muslim terrorists had perpetrated the most brazen, senseless, inhuman act on American soil – ever. 2,977 people dead in a matter of hours. How absurd, was this a joke? Of course it wasn’t, the tragedy was was real. There were thousands of victims dead, and several more thousands of victims alive: the deceased’s friends and families. What an unwanted distinction, to now be part of a world community that had become associated with such monsters.

Everything changed. We learned nothing that day. We only grew afraid. Non-Muslims were now afraid of and angry at anything that had the faintest resemblance to anything Islamic. Muslims were now afraid of everyone else and angry at the demented coreligionists that could do this. It was senseless then, and hindsight hasn’t yielded anymore. The only thing I have taken away from that time was: despite all calls for calm, the terrorists won – they sent a nation to the brink of hysteria.

The FBI visited my father, though nothing happened to him. A man that we thought was a kind and somewhat bumbling member of our small religious community was apparently arrested, interrogated, and was later reported to have been found distraught and confused on the beaches of Malaysia. Another man who could only be described as one of the most upright people I had ever known was also arrested and deported to Tunisia.

Thank goodness, nothing happened to my family specifically, but there were plenty of stories from friends in other places. Suddenly I found myself in the unwanted position of explaining myself, and justifying my faith. Suddenly this was appropriate for public and invasive discourse. Suddenly I found myself to be put on the flight risk list, and had to undergo extra background checks at the flight check-in counter. Suddenly, I was a walking turban hiding a bomb, instead of an American born and raised patriot. But I shouldn’t overstate things: we were fortunate to live in Northern Iowa, where people were largely kind and welcoming.

Then the wars began, one I personally believe justified, the other not at all. It is fair to argue that some important military goals were achieved, several high profile targets were eliminated. But this cannot eclipse everything else that has happened in the past 10 years.

The American psyche has been indelibly marked. I am acutely aware of my Muslim heritage and that it potentially marks me as a seditionist to a contingent of Americans. That we are persona non grata in some circles and that it is now acceptable to deride, decry, defame, and disparage anything with the vaguest association with my heritage.

But I have also realized (or continue to believe, at least) that a much larger part of America shed the cloak of unreasoned fear, not too long after the towers fell, and started rebuilding solidarity amongst fractured communities.

It has been tough, and not without acrimony, but a dialogue slowly coalesced between Muslim and Non-Muslim neighbors. I think it continues to grow, and it must become robust with the inclusion of members of all faiths or non-faith. It must grow and become vocal to counter the increasingly shrill shrieking of that anti-Islam contingent. And now it seems to have broadened their ideology to anti-anyone-not-in-line-with-Judeo-Christian-Western-European-blah-blah.

Yes, I think America has drawn back from a brink. I believe America has begun to slowly heal. And I think a greater understanding has emerged from the wreckage of the WTC. It’s still quite fragile, and demands our dedicated efforts to nurture, so that some day it has expansive roots to help bind all Americans of all walks together.

America and the world has changed. Anyone who denies that is delusional. Over the past ten years, with various good steps and missteps, America and the world has meandered its way to a challenging position but with better perspective. To meet those challenges, we need to remember that we are all citizens of one nation as well as residents of one world. We’re in this together, folks. Never forget this, Never forget 9/11.

Journagraphist

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The Sacred on Earth

DSC_0073

Am I establishing a pattern? Did I only take pictures of or from churches, abbeys, and cathedrals in Ecuador? Nay and nay I say to either accusation. I will, however, accept fault for being atrocious at landscape photography. Because of my as yet limited skill set, and because the ubiquitous Ecuadorian religious building yields rich and expressive imagery, I have deemed such images as the most worthy for posting.

Here we find two angels standing in pious guard on a warm, lacquered door of this church in Banos, Ecuador. Their solemn dignity is surpassed only by the Quichua mother quietly waiting to meet her son after completing the days shopping.

This is a case of a “happy mistake”: I remember snapping this photo only because I thought the door was beautiful, giving little heed to the woman standing beside it. Only later did I realize I was beholding not two, but three angels in this image.

Though I typically would not dream of limiting the feminine exclusively to angelic iconography, I feel this photo hints at the quiet, sacred splendor of women and motherhood.

Map picture

Banos (Spanish for ‘bath’) is a resort town, nestled into a crook in the slope of the volcano Tungurahua. It is famed in Ecuador and abroad for its hot springs, waterfalls, day spas, and cuy. What is cuy, you ask? Google it.

We only spent a day and one night here, but it is far and away the most relaxing experience I’ve had abroad. Massages are only $25 for an hour – a fraction of what masseurs and masseuses demand in the states. Plus it was an excellent treatment for an aching body, earned from biking along the slopes of the surrounding mountains through waterfalls and tunnels. Tunnels which were unlit, pitch black and the bikers shared with highway traffic – including freight trucks: I don’t think I knew the meaning of terror before that.

But I digress, after a terrifying day of cycling exertion, the $25 hour long Shiatsu massage was exactly what the doctor ordered. Our deep muscle treatments were followed by tasty dining at Cafe Hood and the day (or night) was topped off with drunken revelry at a local dance bar with a wandering dog.

--The Journagraphist

P.S. On a technical note: I was too generous with the cropping, wasn't I? I left extra headroom to enhance how the structure dwarfs the woman, but I probably should have tightened up the sides. Let me know what you think.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Lettucehead Livelihood


Out of all the pictures I’ve taken thus far, this is among my favorites. It may not be spectacular. It’s certainly not even close to professional league in quality and composition. But it is definitely charming.

I’m not sure exactly what is going on in this scene. My friends and I were visiting a village in rural Bangladesh with a Gonoshasthaya Kendra Paramedic, and we were on our way to meet a traditional midwife. As we weaved through rice paddies, determined to maintain our balance on the rail thin ridges of dirt that separated fields, I noticed this procession of ambling shrubbery.

In contrast to our struggle to stay on the ridge-paths, this group of village natives were speeding along the same tracks without a thought to balance.

I watched as they as they marched busily and easily along, their massive bundles of leaves rustling and fluttering with each step. The field and the surrounding trees were such a vibrant viridian, suddenly punctuated with a burst of teal, orange, and red forms drifting over the stalks of rice plants – I just had to capture the moment.

To take a stab at anthropology, I think the leaves are meant to be dried and used as fuel for cooking. I noticed hillocks of dried leaves on bamboo stands – 1 or 2 per house – from which homestead cooks would draw their fuel supply.

--The Journagraphist

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Haloed Beings on Hills

I haven’t been to many European cities: only Paris and Chartre… and Bombay and Calcutta if we get technical, so I don’t have a great foundation to plant this opinion in, but Quito is totally Europe. I’d say southern Europe. From my extensive travels there, yup. It’s the churches… everywhere. Like Starbucks.

This scene is a panorama of the wide-open, plain-like non-skyline of Quito, Ecuador, from the old, Gothic Basilica del Voto Nacional. Ok, the basilica’s actually younger than me – it was consecrated in 1988, in an unfinished state. In fact, it’s still unfinished, what with end-of-the-world-if-the-basilica-were-to-be-completed scenarios floating around. But it looks f’n authentic for being a young pup of a cathedral.

If you zoom into the top of the hill at the center of the panorama, you’ll see the angel that watches over this side of Quito. The other side can go to Hell, I guess.

--The Journagraphist

P.S. This was the Spring Break 2009 trip

Monday, October 26, 2009

Ohhh… were you waiting for me?

So it’s a year and a half since my last post… as you can see achieving my lofty blogging goals got lost somewhere between the open sewers of Dhaka and the open abdomen of my lovely anatomy cadaver in med school anatomy. No matter, since my loyal following consists of exactly no one, plus the charming troll that decided my play on words for the title made me “dumb”, I will pick up where I left off. Here are the new rules: I blog when I can – which will probably be sporadic, I will post pictures and stories of my travels the past year and half, retrospectively, as they occur to me – thus adhering to the original intent of this blog.

So here’s to new beginnings!

--The Journagraphist

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Some Transcendental God-Word, Have Mercy!

Nope, we had no idea what panic was, until now. Losing my passport was a sunny day in Happyland with cute animals and pretty people and no right-wingers. Realizing that our flight is this Wednesday morning and not this Thursday morning... that is floor-dropping-from-my-feet-holy-shit-I-have-twelve-hours-to-pack-and-do-
everything-to-prepare-for-a-two-month-trip-to-a-developing-country.

That's panic.

-- The Journagraphist