tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59093170640708719752024-03-13T17:12:26.808-04:00dis-n-dat (friends edition)observations and musings from ordinary lifeEmmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-9350336120955955962010-11-01T21:28:00.003-04:002010-11-01T21:42:54.421-04:00Pursuit of Happiness: Making Tamales<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rT1-j6oI/AAAAAAAAAZs/nkWMekkqMXY/s1600/IMG00001-20101031-2001.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rT1-j6oI/AAAAAAAAAZs/nkWMekkqMXY/s400/IMG00001-20101031-2001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534760455712795266" border="0" /></a><br />(1) pan-roasted corn, delicata squash, string beans, tomatoes, peas, potatoes, carrots, scallions and garlic seasoned with smoked sea salt, oregano, cumin, red chili flakes and lime juice; chopping vegetables is better than any sedative. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rUUuLAfI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/-LzDrI0Q3DY/s1600/IMG00003-20101031-2003.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rUUuLAfI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/-LzDrI0Q3DY/s400/IMG00003-20101031-2003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534760463965553138" border="0" /></a><br />(2) meseca flour is not like corn meal; rolling tamales is like rolling maki.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rUpexiII/AAAAAAAAAZ8/0R0EF5b8C0U/s1600/IMG00004-20101031-2003.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rUpexiII/AAAAAAAAAZ8/0R0EF5b8C0U/s400/IMG00004-20101031-2003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534760469538113666" border="0" /></a>(<br />3) beautiful bundles of dough and pan-roasted vegetables in a lovely corn husk sheath. i no longer have to pine for the pasteles gifts from my washington heights neighbors. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rU2YHNDI/AAAAAAAAAaE/oHNN3GCspME/s1600/IMG00005-20101031-2006.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9rU2YHNDI/AAAAAAAAAaE/oHNN3GCspME/s400/IMG00005-20101031-2006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534760472999834674" border="0" /></a><br />(4) making tamales in pursuit of happiness. powerful tamales! food is a powerful way to connect with spirit and others. showing off my tamale and blue mani.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9salHybUI/AAAAAAAAAaM/rL_1ik7mcI0/s1600/tumblr_l5m58fq3nc1qz6yd1o1_r1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/TM9salHybUI/AAAAAAAAAaM/rL_1ik7mcI0/s400/tumblr_l5m58fq3nc1qz6yd1o1_r1_500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534761670958804290" border="0" /></a><br />are you happy?Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-36414927844761024502010-10-20T07:42:00.000-04:002010-10-20T07:43:26.680-04:00S my name is Soup on a SundayThis is the last week of my Food Project CSA <a href="http://thefoodproject.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://thefoodproject.org/</a>. For 21 incredible weeks I've enjoyed fresh, local and varied vegetables. I'm trying mightily to revel in the joy the season brought rather than despair about what lies ahead -- the sameness of broccoli and string beans.<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div><p> </p><p>I'm remembering with fondness that it was 90 degrees in September. One luscious night when I went to pick up my vegetables I spied a yolk-colored moon lying heavy low in the sky. The sight made my heart ache a little. The night was of full of flying things and hopeful spiders -- I burst through many webs on my short walk. Crickets hummed the hairs on my arms to attention. The air smelled like earth and pungent, peppery basil.</p><p> </p><p>More recently the nights have been chilly. Too cool to detect scents. Crawling and flying things are battening down the hatches. It's so silent. There's been an abundance of fat bottomed butternut squashes radiating in crates in the dark. I've resurrected a gravy spattered recipe from my cupboard for Curried Butternut Corn Chowder, Pam's favorite. I've made the soup three weekends in a row -- we eat three and I freeze one (in anticipation of the return to broccoli and string beans.</p><p> </p><p>Last week the farmers gifted us with celeriac -- a strange alien root that I've come to love and associate with the dawn of autumn. Here's what my CSA newsletter editor, Celia, had to say about it:</p><p> </p><p>It is believed that celeriac was introduced to Europe via Egypt and Alexandria. Now celeriac is a highly prized vegetable in France and other European countries where it is eaten both raw and cooked. Celeriac might look intimidating but once you try a warm bowl of celeriac puree you’ll see that beauty is clearly on the inside. While this ugly duckling of the vegetable world takes longer than average to grow, it is very hardy and will store for months making it a great winter root. Its beautiful crown of green stalks can be used as fresh celery. Once peeled celery root lends itself well to roasting, boiling, and marinating, as in coleslaw. </p><p> </p><p>I found this lovely recipe in Deborah Madison's Vegetable Soups cook book. The mise en place is the best part (after eating it, of course). There's nothing more grounding on a Sunday afternoon then meditatively chopping, dicing, slicing and mincing with a couple of good knives in hand and the Carolina Chocolate Drops on the iPod. "Snowden's Jig" is my new favorite. Take a listen, gentle reader: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFFIOVCfvBs" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFFIOVCfvBs</a>, then try this at home:</p><p> </p><p>White Bean and Black Kale Minestra</p><p> </p><p>2 cups of white beans, soaked overnight</p><p>aromatics: 2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed, a few sage leaves, a bay leaf, 4 branches of parsely</p><p>1 1/2 tsp sea salt</p><p>1 cup buckwheat, covered with cold water for at least one hour</p><p>2 - 4 tbs fruity olive oil</p><p>2 cups finely diced onion</p><p>4 mdm carrots</p><p>1 large head of celeriac</p><p>3/4 tsp oregano</p><p>3/4 tsp thyme</p><p>2 garlic cloves, crushed and chopped</p><p>1 tbs tomato paste</p><p>splash of red wine (and a glass to sip while you're chopping. only cook with wine you would drink!)</p><p>4 cups shredded kale</p><p>sea salt and freshly ground pepper</p><p>one 15-ounce diced tomatoes with their liquid</p><p> </p><p>drain and rinse beans and put them in a pot with 10 cups of water and the aromatics. bring to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer and cook, covered for an hour. add 1 1/2 tsp slat and continue cooking until beans are tender (at least 30 minutes maybe more). pick out aromatics. drain the beans and reserve the liquid. listen to summer's prayers then say good night.</p><p> </p><p>heat oil in a wide soup pot. add onion, carrot, celeriac, herbs, and garlic. cook over medium heat, giving the contents a stir every so often until softened. aromatic and golden about 15 minutes. stir in tomato paste and continue cooking for 5 minutes or until there's a glaze on the bottom of the pan then add a splash of wine. sip some too while reading a poem: <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=177231" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=177231</a></p><p> </p><p>add the kale, the buckwheat, 1 tsp salt and 1 cup water. after a few minutes, when the kale has wilted, add the tomatoes and the beans and their liquid. bring to a boil then reduce to low, cover pot and simmer slowly until the buckwheat is plump and tender, about 25 minutes. dance with a loved one.</p><p> </p><p>taste for salt and serve with freshly ground pepper, a spoonful of good olive oil and a grating of pecorino romano and a shower of gigantor homemade croutons, if you wish. chow-dee-dow-dow-down, gentle reader.</p><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1572302780354&set=o.10150294736710602"><img style="width: 420px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs760.snc4/66019_1572302780354_1019065072_31685578_5540433_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption">WTF?</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1572303260366&set=o.10150294736710602"><img style="width: 420px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs918.snc4/73175_1572303260366_1019065072_31685579_1374430_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption">Celeriac - so ugly it's cute</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1572303740378&set=o.10150294736710602"><img style="width: 420px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs779.snc4/65898_1572303740378_1019065072_31685580_2272025_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption">Celeriac tamed</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1572304620400&set=o.10150294736710602"><img style="width: 420px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs942.snc4/73529_1572304620400_1019065072_31685582_7304761_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption">White Bean and Black Kale Minestra</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1572305420420&set=o.10150294736710602"><img style="width: 420px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs785.snc4/66574_1572305420420_1019065072_31685585_7665686_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption">Me celebrating with summer's harvest, an almost 1,700 lb pumpkin at the topsfield fair</div></div></div></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-40454607250321256012010-07-16T09:12:00.001-04:002010-07-16T09:12:55.647-04:00Food glorious food, mi hermana and my cup o joy is brimmin'<div>Hands down this past week's most interesting food was chef Nadine Nelson's blueberry pesto with goat cheese served at the "Berries in the 'Bury" tea at the Shirley Eustis House hosted by Discover Roxbury (Check out their fabulous programming: <a href="http://www.discoverroxbury.org/" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.discoverroxbury</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>.org/</a>)<br /><br />It was savory not sweet, complex, surprising and blue! We need more blue food! My palate hasn't been this excited since La Mar in San Francisco this past April (if you get there try the ceviche flight. Trust you won't be disappointed. <a href="http://www.lamarcebicheria.com/web/index.php" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.lamarcebicheria</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>.com/web/index.php</a>.<br /><br />I hope I can recapture one pinkie digit of Nadine's dish by trying this internet-found recipe at home:<br /><br />Ingredients<br />2 cups fresh blueberries, washed<br />1 cup parsley, cleaned and packed<br />1/2 cup parmesan cheese, grated<br />1/2 cup toasted walnuts<br />1/4 cup olive oil<br />4 cloves garlic<br />8 oz. goat cheese<br /><br />Directions<br />In a blender, process all ingredients, except for goat cheese, until a paste forms. Spoon the blueberry pesto over the goat cheese, enough to cover and drip down sides. Garnish with fresh blueberries. <br /><br />I plan to serve it with Iggy's Parmesan Toasts <a href="http://www.iggysbread.com/main.html" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.iggysbread.com/</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>main.html</a> an amazing farmer's market find AND I intend to eat it while listening to Ahmad Jamal's Spartacus Love Theme <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFv7uVXJgp4" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ch?v=EFv7uVXJgp4</a> I'm just saying!<br /><br />By far the past week's most interesting looking dish was the Moroccan veggie couscous topped with a cumulus cloud of hummus and encircled in a basil olive oil infusion at Cafe Gitane where I dined with my sister of 48 years, Monique, and my sister of 15 minutes, Nicole. There's a long story here but the bottom line is this: I have another sister, y'all. How strange and wonderful to see my face in an unfamiliar face, to be the big sister to another! I knew my family was a Modern Family <a href="http://abc.go.com/watch/modern-family/235331" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://abc.go.com/watch/mo</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>dern-family/235331</a> when we gathered at my son's CCNY graduation this May (Go, Cyrano!). It could have been ugly but it was hella-wonderful. Picture me, my wife, Pam, my ex-husband, Chuck, his main squeeze, Lizette, my mother, Carmen, my father, Billy, my father's wife/my step-mum, Connie, my sister, Monique, her fiance, Jacques, Mo's ex-husband, Ken. I neveh in my life see sich a sight* AND it was all good. Now there's Nicole, her hubby Jimmy and her babies Phoebe and Astrid. Welcome to the family, you crazy kids!<br /><br />Shameless plug: Nicole is an amazing artist. Check her out: <a href="http://www.nicolewillis.com/news.html" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.nicolewillis.co</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>m/news.html</a><br /><br />*I borrowed this line from Paul Laurence Dunbar's poem The Party. If you haven't read his work, well then, you absolutely must. He's too too wonderful! <br /><br />Here's a taste of "When de Co'n Pones Hot"<br /><br />Dey is times in life when Nature<br /> Seems to slip a cog an' go,<br />Jes' a-rattlin' down creation,<br /> Lak an ocean's overflow;<br />When de worl' jes' stahts a-spinnin'<br /> Lak a picaninny's top,<br />An' yo' cup o' joy is brimmin'<br /> 'Twell it seems about to slop,<br />An' you feel jes' lak a racah,<br /> Dat is trainin' fu' to trot—<br />When yo' mammy says de blessin'<br /> An' de co'n pone's hot.<br /><br />Read more at <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=173468" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.poetryfoundatio</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>n.org/archive/poem.html?id</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>=173468</a><br />What's a "racah"? Oh well, I'll figure it out.<br /><br />Mantra for the week: Dream more. Dream bigger. I love you for reading.<br /><br /><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411702&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs030.ash2/34857_1467086230006_1019065072_31411702_8259305_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Chef Nadine Nelson and lady Fulani's hat</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411703&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs191.snc4/37879_1467086790020_1019065072_31411703_6620135_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Ladies and their hats at "Berries in the 'Bury"</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411704&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs101.ash2/38372_1467087270032_1019065072_31411704_707150_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Veggie couscous with cloud of hummus, a basil olive oil infusion and roasted red pepper toasts (sausage extra) at Cafe Gitane -- a little bit of Cuba in NYC's West Village.</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411712&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs194.snc4/38043_1467091390135_1019065072_31411712_5684210_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Lovely Nicole and an equally lovely black lentil and smoked trout salad.</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411713&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs184.snc4/37561_1467091830146_1019065072_31411713_1642060_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Las hermanas</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411726&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs034.ash2/35050_1467094510213_1019065072_31411726_3578659_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">The modern family, for real though</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31411727&op=1&view=all&subj=10150225360940602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150225360940602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class="img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs052.snc4/34974_1467095430236_1019065072_31411727_2018471_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Pone starts with corn. Hahahahahahaha.</div></div></div> <div class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> </div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-741544601761972682010-06-14T07:34:00.000-04:002010-06-14T07:35:27.508-04:00Lady Gaga's Alejandro, Kettlebells Transformation and Fresh, Local Foods<div class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> <div>Has anyone seen Lady Gaga's video Alejandro? When she's on screen I can't look away. Check her out: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niqrrmev4mA%3D" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ch?v=niqrrmev4mA%3D</a> As Cathy Horyn says in this week's Sunday NY Times "I like that Gaga continues to explore style whether she is backtracking through Madonna country or making more abstract connections to art and film". She's strange and I like it. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUgsmsvSYow" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ch?v=jUgsmsvSYow</a><br /><br />Gaga is unusually pale and thin. Who is built this way? Certainly not the gorgeous women in Vogue Curvy that I've been reading to reinforce thickerer positivity <a href="http://www.vogue.it/en/vogue-curvy" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.vogue.it/en/vog</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ue-curvy</a>. Still I can't resist the urge to tighten things up. <br /><br />Over the next eight weeks I'm adding weights to my fitness routine so that I can transform my body into my life style's version of Dara Torres;-) . Last week I began to make the best of my insomnia by getting up to take a 6:00 AM Kettle Bell class at the Roxbury YMCA (side bar: oh, how I love working out with the peoples of Roxbury-- that's what's up!). <br /><br />Here's the promise: Add kettlebells to your workout, and you’ll reboot a sagging metabolism, lose weight and have a better shape—all in just a few weeks. I'll keep you posted, gentle reader<br /><br />Week 2 of the Food Project CSA <a href="http://thefoodproject.org/csa-farm-share" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://thefoodproject.org/</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>csa-farm-share</a> This week: garlic scapes (that I added to a white bean soup in place of garlic cloves) and spinach (that I used to make lemon garlic spinach with sauteed chickpeas) and lots of beautiful greens. I found the most lovely strawberries at the Morse Elementary School Saturday farmer's market in Central Square. I brought a quart to share with my compadres in Afro-Haitian dance (thank you for the privilege of dancing with you, dancers!) and another quart to make home-made dairy-free ice cream. There's nothing fresher than the farmer's market. There's nothing more local than my kitchen. Try this at home:<br /><br />2 cups soy creamer<br />1 cup soy milk<br />2 cups strawberries<br />2 tablespoon arrowroot<br />3/4 cup sugar... See More<br />1 tablespoon vanilla<br /><br />(1) mix 1/4 cup soy milk with 2 tbs arrowroot; set aside;<br />(2) puree 1 cup strawberries with soy creamer, remaining 3/4 cup soy milk, sugar;<br />(3) heat strawberry mixture until it boils; remove from heat;<br />(4) add arrowroot and creamer (mixture will noticeably thicken); add vanilla then chill for 2-3 hours<br />(5) add to your ice cream maker (follow manufacturer directions); fold in remaining strawberries during last minutes of freezing;<br />(6) eat<br /><br />Feel free to embellish with sliced strawberries OR chiffonade of mint picked from your window box.<div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319198&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs560.snc3/30609_1435871489657_1019065072_31319198_2831557_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Dara Torres has good muscles</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319199&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs540.snc3/30609_1435872249676_1019065072_31319199_3673880_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Shaped like a metal cannonball with a handle, the kettlebell, which has been used in Russia for hundreds of years, has recently become popular on the U.S. fitness scene—so popular, in fact, that kettlebells-only gyms have opened across the country.</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319216&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs560.snc3/30609_1435878849841_1019065072_31319216_863795_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Carrot white bean soup w/ grilled cheese toast</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319217&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs520.ash1/30609_1435879049846_1019065072_31319217_3922108_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Lemon garlic spinach with sauteed chickpeas</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319218&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs520.ash1/30609_1435879769864_1019065072_31319218_2637442_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Saturday at the Dance Complex from 1:30 to 3:00 PM. Off the chain!</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319269&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs634.snc3/31809_1435906530533_1019065072_31319269_1970762_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Vegan strawberry ice cream under a little mountain of strawberries</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31319282&op=1&view=all&subj=10150204312835602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150204312835602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs604.snc3/31809_1435915890767_1019065072_31319282_6687061_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Here's the anatomy lesson: Garlic and its relatives in the allium family, (leeks, chives, onions) grows underground, where the bulb begins its journey, soft and onion-like. As the bulb gets harder (and more like the garlic we know), a shoot pokes its way through the ground. Chlorophyll- green like a scallion (maybe even greener), the shoot is long and thin and pliable enough to curl into gorgeous tendrils.</div></div></div></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-782693754706246982010-06-14T07:33:00.000-04:002010-06-14T07:34:27.162-04:00Won't you celebrate with me? May 23, 2010<div class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> <div>Poem by Lucile Clifton<br /><br />won't you celebrate with me<br />what i have shaped into<br />a kind of life? i had no model.<br />born in babylon<br />both nonwhite and woman<br />what did i see to be except myself?<br />i made it up<br />here on this bridge between/ starshine and clay<br />my one hand holding tight<br />my other hand; come celebrate<br />with me that everyday<br />something has tried to kill me<br />and has failed.<br /><br />Didn't make it to the farmer's market this weekend but it was fantastic and full just the same. My sons visited (oh how I adore them!). Spent a hot minute with the hardest working woman in show business. Her name is LISA. Watched my men be boys at the skate park (I alternated between shouting "Hercules, Hercules" and "Oh no, baby are you all right?!" I got in a little dancing (Jean and Nailah: you keep me young, cherie). Picked up White Teeth by Zadie Smith from the library <a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/0700/smith/interview.html" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.randomhouse.com</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>/boldtype/0700/smith/inter</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>view.html</a>. Admired my baby's garden. Dreamed and made plans for the future with her too. And I cooked!<br /><br />Food highlights: grilled red white and blue potatoes; savored strawberries as big as a child's fist; gobbled down black bean, tomato, roasted red pepper and corn salad and nibbled on oven baked espresso/cinnamon french toast.<br /><br />As I am sharing poetry with you (rest in peace, dear Lucille) my son, Cyrano, hipped me to a Hudson Valley poet, Saul Williams. Check him out hipsters: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDMtaIcrfQ0" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ch?v=zDMtaIcrfQ0</a><br /><br />Shell's Strawberry Goodness: wash well in cold water a quart of strawberries, pat dry, put in a pretty handmade ceramic bowl then eat with the stems still on. not entirely necessary but if you like pair w/ Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc (deliciosa).<br /><br />Won't you celebrate with me?<br /><br /><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259058&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs319.snc3/28609_1416888495094_1019065072_31259058_6125116_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">self portrait of mi familia; me, my shorty and the fellas.</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259059&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs329.ash1/28609_1416888735100_1019065072_31259059_7136614_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">rhodies and allium past peak in miss pamela's garden. my grandmother was a master gardener like my wife and mother-in-law. it's funny how we recreate familiar patterns in relationships (friends i'm channeling alice power, my maternal grandmother, through pamela denise waterman:-)</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259062&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs329.ash1/28609_1416890175136_1019065072_31259062_8006756_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">flatblasted the rollerblading casualty with the jammie home healing</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259065&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs329.ash1/28609_1416891055158_1019065072_31259065_2105347_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">red white and blues on the barbey. a grill and potatoes are beautiful thangs.</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259066&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs329.ash1/28609_1416891575171_1019065072_31259066_1073137_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">pamela's garden in the early stages (it's gonna be good).</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259123&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs319.snc3/28609_1416910615647_1019065072_31259123_2137245_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">cyrano at the hallway gallery; my son's graduating from college this week, y'all! buttons burstin!</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31259151&op=1&view=all&subj=10150191306085602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150191306085602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs319.snc3/28609_1416941976431_1019065072_31259151_2015988_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">sole ingredient in Shell's Strawberry Goodness</div></div></div></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-58834180950677341572010-06-14T07:30:00.000-04:002010-06-14T07:33:23.454-04:00The First Taste (May 16, 2010)Blazing blue sky, sun beaming down, slight breeze, people milling all about, Ghetto-Child by the Spinner's playing in my head, the Rodster talking garden stuff. Walking past a stand of neatly stacked greens, our eyes locked. His farmer's hands thrust a package filled to overflowing with tender tendrils of pea shoots towards me. Pea tendril? he offered.<br /><br />Today was the opening weekend for the SOWA market. Has anyone else been eagerly anticipating the return of the farmer's market? My excitement started building a couple of weeks ago when the Fiddleheads (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiddlehead_fern" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://en.wikipedia.org/wi</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ki/Fiddlehead_fern</a>) appeared in Whole Foods Market. These odd "at-sign"-shaped veggies are only available two weeks out of the year. Nothing says local and now like Fiddleheads. Oh boy! Among all the beautiful handcrafted jewelry (I particularly loved: <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/LOOKAjewelry" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.etsy.com/shop/L</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>OOKAjewelry</a>) and DIY stuff I found a gorgeous crusty french baguette from When Pigs Fly bakery <a href="http://www.sendbread.com/" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.sendbread.com/</a>, hydroponic tomatoes and pea tendrils.<br /><br />I plopped one of the tendrils in my mouth. OMG. Memories of shucking peas with my South Carolina grandmother rushed back through my taste buds. The leaves had the mouth feel of watercress but tasted like lovely sweet peas. I forked over my four dollars and farmer man suggested I lightly saute them in olive oil.<br /><br />Instead I composed a lusty tomato and bread salad with large chunks of Pecorino Romano on a bed of raw tendrils (next time I will saute them). I served it with a pugnacious 2007 Shiraz that Pam said came from among the "good stuff". You hear that Elizabeth? I’m coming to join you, honey <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5dHXzmV24U" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ch?v=G5dHXzmV24U</a> I'm still sipping as I write this. Gentle reader, life doesn't get any better, or does it? <br /><br />I heart summer. I heart farmer's markets. I heart Pamela Waterman and tomato and bread salad. Try this at home:<br /><br /> * 1 tablespoon sherry-wine vinegar<br /> * 1 garlic clove, minced and mashed to a paste with a pinch salt<br /> * 1/4 cup red onions, slivered<br /> * 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil<br /> * 2 cups 3/4-inch cubes crusty bread<br /> * 1 pound vine-ripened red tomatoes<br /> * 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, washed well, spun dry, and chopped fine (I used flat parsley)<br /> * 1 tablespoon freshly cracked pepper<br /> * 1 teaspoon of smoky sea salt (I found it in St. Helen's Olive Oil Co. in Napa; it tastes like bacon!)<br /><br />Preparation<br /><br />In a bowl whisk together vinegar, garlic paste, and pepper to taste and whisk in oil until emulsified. Add remaining ingredients and salt to taste and toss to combine well. Let salad stand at room temperature 15 minutes to allow bread to soak up some dressing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31239058&op=1&view=all&subj=10150186591160602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150186591160602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs559.ash1/32559_1409848519099_1019065072_31239058_3569398_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">sweet pea tendrils</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31239059&op=1&view=all&subj=10150186591160602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150186591160602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs619.snc3/32559_1409848719104_1019065072_31239059_4667669_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">Tomatoes as the sun goes down 5/16/10</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31239060&op=1&view=all&subj=10150186591160602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150186591160602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs659.snc3/32559_1409848999111_1019065072_31239060_8079133_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">SOWA market</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31239061&op=1&view=all&subj=10150186591160602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150186591160602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs619.snc3/32559_1409849359120_1019065072_31239061_3544757_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">hydroponic tomatoes and tomato and bread salad. 5/16/10</div></div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31239062&op=1&view=all&subj=10150186591160602&aid=-1&auser=0&oid=10150186591160602&id=1019065072"><img style="width: 460px;" class=" img" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs619.snc3/32559_1409850239142_1019065072_31239062_4937059_n.jpg" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" /></a></div><div class="caption">i'se married now! Wedding Day 10/10/04.</div></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-86301005911456291602009-08-08T11:05:00.005-04:002009-08-08T11:10:25.091-04:00Neo-African Americans, the end of suffering and beautiful things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2VOThj0YI/AAAAAAAAAY0/qEpsWmuCl1M/s1600-h/DSC00871.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2VOThj0YI/AAAAAAAAAY0/qEpsWmuCl1M/s400/DSC00871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367610403887239554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2U-bP1BeI/AAAAAAAAAYs/1XBdxjTc9Dg/s1600-h/DSC00620.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2U-bP1BeI/AAAAAAAAAYs/1XBdxjTc9Dg/s400/DSC00620.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367610131082446306" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2UwPcHWoI/AAAAAAAAAYk/3CI-opOAOCk/s1600-h/DSC00923.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2UwPcHWoI/AAAAAAAAAYk/3CI-opOAOCk/s400/DSC00923.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367609887394585218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2UgUu9nPI/AAAAAAAAAYc/E5ZRSQuJbJs/s1600-h/DSC00906.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2UgUu9nPI/AAAAAAAAAYc/E5ZRSQuJbJs/s400/DSC00906.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367609613937908978" border="0" /></a><br />Last week I volunteered for the 11th Roxbury Film Festival where I saw an amazing thought provoking docu-film “The Neo-African Americans” (Check out brother Kobina Aidoo’s work at <a href="http://neoafricanamericans.wordpress.com/%29" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://neoafricanamericans</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>.wordpress.com/)</a> and spent a hot minute in Dudley Square. I ask you: What could be better than tipping into a dark theater on a swelteringly hot August day for a cool-down and a mind-tickle with films that celebrate people of color?<br /><br />Beautiful, historic Dudley reminds of the interstices of 125th Street Harlem which I used to pass through daily on my way to and from work. This black urban Mecca teems with life – street vendors, old school players, suited ladies from Freedom Hall prophesizing to AWAKE!, average-working Joes, crack heads and other chemical-dependents, shoppers in search of Aliiyah black velvet paintings, three-card Monty hustlers, bored/tense Five-Ohs, disciples of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad and more. Walking through this peculiar madness is a bit like being jettisoned into the twilight zone and Dudley Square rests squarely in this zone. I had no idea!<br /><br />Tasha, the Hibernian Hall site leader at the fest, sent me to Haley House on a lunch run. The Haley House’s food is fresh and fantastic, the vibe is copasetic and their mission is on-point. Support: <a href="http://www.haleyhouse.org/cafe/home.htm" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.haleyhouse.org/</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>cafe/home.htm</a><br /><br /><span> I haven’t needed to don my “don’t-start-none-won’t-be</span><div><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>-none” face” in a long time. Fortunately I was able to pull it out instinctively as I walked though the streets of Dudley Square. I was not in danger, mind you, but the area demands a certain sort of armored alertness. Maybe it was the old whore in the skin-tight, camel-toed hot pants with the I-Dream-of-Jeannie clip on pony tail whose posture exuded ‘Love for Sale’ while she anxiously pulled a pretty man-child behind her? She was searching for something. Maybe it was the Night-of-the-Living Dead couple who seemed so in love and so high while they nodded with ballet-like grace towards one another in defiance of the laws of physics? Or the familiar Tally’s Corner poppas pontificating at the bus stop with their brown-bagged-bottles (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tallys-Corner-Streetcorner-Legacies-Thought/dp/0742528960" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.amazon.com/Tall</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>ys-Corner-Streetcorner-Leg</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>acies-Thought/dp/074252896</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>0</a>)? Or was it brother-man cutting his drugs with a razor on the stone chess-board table in the Hibernian hall park in the afternoon sun? He gave me a shout-out. Pink! Pink! I like you in that dress! I did look good y'all. LOL. There was nothing else to say but thank you. The last sad straw was listening to an elder sister sitting in the same park as brother-man shouting “I’m just a N, I’m just a N”. ‘cept she was not saying “N”. I blamed it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol and I don't know what else that seemed to be coursing through her blood stream. Notice a pattern?<br /><br />I guess this made me ripe for this week’s NY Times/Style of the Times/Modern Love essay in which Laura Munson wrote that she’d committed herself to a non-negotiable understanding to end self-induced suffering. Munson helped me to think about the ways that I habitually suffer. I wonder what would happen if we all committed to the hard work of ending self-induced suffering? What would happen if we fought to, as Munson writes, "exile the voices in our heads that tell us our personal happiness is only as good as our outward success, rooted in things that are often outside our control? What would happen if we all worked to see the insanity of this equation and decided to take responsibility for our own happiness?” (Check out her essay: <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/02/fashion/02love.html?_r=1%29" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.nytimes.com/200</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>9/08/02/fashion/02love.htm</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>l?_r=1)</a>.<br /><br />What would the world look like indeed? A couple of times this week I tested the waters by refusing to engage in power struggles, making myself vulnerable and believing I deserved a place at “the” table. I wasn't always successful (you can't break lifetime habits in one week!) but I was happier. Not ecstatic, not reborn but more peaceful and grounded. I was reminded of Langston Hughes’ poem “Mother to Son” <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=177021...Life" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.poetryfoundatio</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>n.org/archive/poem.html?id</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>=177021...Life</a> ain't been no crystal stair but I appreciate the struggle and beautiful things like Garden Girl’s farm fresh eggs, purple cherry tomatoes and the good friends God has blessed me to have.</div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-69068292076707623232009-08-08T10:50:00.006-04:002009-08-08T11:04:32.888-04:00Gooseberries, race matters and Rosie's Place<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2T9mc3fYI/AAAAAAAAAYU/bk4eu7k-SPM/s1600-h/6015_1183746106680_1019065072_30576492_7310504_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2T9mc3fYI/AAAAAAAAAYU/bk4eu7k-SPM/s400/6015_1183746106680_1019065072_30576492_7310504_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367609017398427010" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2SdTZPdGI/AAAAAAAAAYE/E7URj75TSfs/s1600-h/DSC00859.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2SdTZPdGI/AAAAAAAAAYE/E7URj75TSfs/s400/DSC00859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367607363015504994" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2SRa4-h9I/AAAAAAAAAX8/K7lGqFnhOMA/s1600-h/DSC00863.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2SRa4-h9I/AAAAAAAAAX8/K7lGqFnhOMA/s400/DSC00863.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367607158869231570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2R-IDlAZI/AAAAAAAAAX0/W4bRpUnjgyI/s1600-h/6015_1184004553141_1019065072_30577301_6149545_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2R-IDlAZI/AAAAAAAAAX0/W4bRpUnjgyI/s400/6015_1184004553141_1019065072_30577301_6149545_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367606827395907986" border="0" /></a><br />This afternoon I left work early to go to high tea at the Shirley-Eustis (SE) House in Roxbury as part of the "Discover Roxbury" food series. The house is the only remaining country house in America built by a British Royal Colonial Governor. The missus and I were wed there. Check it out: <a href="http://www.shirleyeustishouse.org/" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.shirleyeustisho</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>use.org</a>. HEADS-UP: the grounds are covered with fruit trees that can be harvested by anyone. Apricots are due in a couple of weeks.<br /><br />High tea is distinguished by low tea by the time of day it's served -- 4:00 - 6:00 and sometimes there's alcohol (low is earlier and dry). Gooseberries were passed for us to sample as Chef Nadine Nelson who prepared our bites described the menu and the locally grown treats (of which gooseberries were one). Gooseberries look like vintage grape-green marbles with soft grey/brown striations. Their skins are tight like plum skins and their flesh feels like green tomato. They burst in your mouth with tart and citrus goodness. If you can find them, try them.<br /><br />Andrea Taafe is the Executive Director of the house. She talked at length about the importance of neighborliness -- residents connecting with institutions and vice versa. It got me to thinking about Professor Gates (Who isn't thinking about him these days?) and the mission of Discover Roxbury. How we all work so hard to dismantle perceptions.<br /><br />I had a fascinating conversation with a colleague, who is white and shared what she described as the "pervasive liberal white perspective" on the matter: Professor Gates is arrogant, got what he deserved and is trying to promote his next book/project. I was stunned (and she was too)! Not the uppity-n-word accusation!<br /><br />What can we do about this? How did Gates' neighbor manage to mistake him for a robber? How does one get pulled out of their house and arrested for peaceful discontent? I saw an article on NPR.org today that said the Cambridge cop that arrested Gates is a diversity expert on the force. See: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=122053508216&h=46Ids&u=f4Aof&ref=nf" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.facebook.com/ex</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>t/share.php?sid=1220535082</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>16&h=46Ids&u=f4Aof&ref=nf</a> Does this excuse him? Are we supposed to swallow the "he's bias-free" pablum? It fascinating how our particular lens shapes our view of this situation.<br /><br />I'm no victim but not a single day goes by without me being reminded of my race. Sometimes it's the demoralizing billboard ads featured in my neighborhood. Other times it's white colleagues diminishing my ideas then word-smithing them and claiming them for their own. I struggle with how to behave. "Should I Tom?", "Should I finger-wag, eye and neck roll?" or "Should pretend like I'm a wise mammy and teach the pretty-not-black-babies?" The shit is deep, sad and frankly, tiresome.<br /><br />Most days I focus the hazel browns on my listener (what?!) and serve up a big dose of me. HEADS-UP: The good thing about getting older: You don't worry so much about what others think:0)<br /><br />I employed this technique rather effectively last night at Rosie's Place where Pam and I are responsible for dinner preparations as part of Trinity Church's service ministries one night (sometimes two) per month (Interested in serving? Find your passion: <a href="http://www.nationalservice.gov/Default.asp" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.nationalservice</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>.gov/Default.asp</a><br /><br />I was slightly intimidated by the white professionals I was charged to lead: a college professor whose spouse is a dean, a lawyer, a public policy wonk, a pediatric intensive care nurse and more! I had to force myself to remember that we were all there to work and I was the leader (along with Pam, of course). I took a deep breath and got busy: "X (aka Dr. X), please wash the potatoes (40 pounds of' em y'all) . Y, Esq and Nurse Z please help X. So glad to see you again this month! When you're done, guys, we need to chop like nobody's business. The potatoes must be in the oven by 4:45 PM. Questions? Thank you! You are awesome!"<br /><br />I was wracked with excess energy by the end of the meal so danced it off with Michelle Bach-Coulibaly at the Dance Complex. It was fantastic. Check her out at: <a href="http://www.brown.edu/Departments/Theatre_Speech_Dance/people/bach-coulibaly.html%29" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.brown.edu/Depar</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>tments/Theatre_Speech_Danc</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>e/people/bach-coulibaly.ht</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ml)</a>.<br /><br />You know what made it all good? The seconds line. Guests of every race, creed, color, age and sexual orientation were on it (Funny? Hunger doesn't discriminate). They wanted more and I was, in part, responsible (the menu: salmon burgers on a whole wheat bun, herb-roasted potatoes, fresh salad and watermelon). I sat with Natasha, a guest, when I finally got to sit down (it's important to me to talk to the ladies we cook for at meal time plus the dogs were barking). Natasha told me everything was great and she emphasized this by ditching me and my small talk to get seconds.<br /><br />There is one elder though who describes herself as "picky". She said the meal was "so-so". My goal is for her tell me: "I loved it". It's a tall order but hey you gotta reach. Right? I have a year to work on it. Wish me luck.Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-52137060075246833822009-08-08T10:45:00.005-04:002009-08-08T10:50:45.381-04:00the Ultimate Root Soup, my roots and Black Jesus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Qu1jJ9dI/AAAAAAAAAXs/FVc5x4RX-Eo/s1600-h/DSC00574.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Qu1jJ9dI/AAAAAAAAAXs/FVc5x4RX-Eo/s400/DSC00574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367605465218414034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Qf7wZ6RI/AAAAAAAAAXk/JM5d25qVEqQ/s1600-h/DSC00597.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Qf7wZ6RI/AAAAAAAAAXk/JM5d25qVEqQ/s400/DSC00597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367605209186560274" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2QFfE0IQI/AAAAAAAAAXc/eR-OHSOIMGA/s1600-h/DSC00583.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 324px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2QFfE0IQI/AAAAAAAAAXc/eR-OHSOIMGA/s400/DSC00583.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367604754810937602" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2P3ZQtGzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/MddmYdW3FVA/s1600-h/5975_1177277384966_1019065072_30551774_6447546_a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 89px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2P3ZQtGzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/MddmYdW3FVA/s400/5975_1177277384966_1019065072_30551774_6447546_a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367604512732027698" border="0" /></a><br />My challenge ingredient this week: beets.<br /><br />My earliest memory of beets: dinner circa 1968 mid-town Manhattan East-side in the apartment of a woman who reminded me of "That Girl" -- except she was Russian and a friend of my mother. This was also one of my earliest memories of being in a white person's home. Life was pretty segregated in the 60's. We played Clue. I was Colonel Mustard. She served borscht which needless to say went gracelessly uneaten.<br /><br />Fast forward to 1999. I awoke one day with an inexplicable taste for dirt. I thought beets would help and they didn't disappoint:-) When I eat beets it triggers a reaction in my brain that makes it think I'm digging my toes in the dirt during a sun shower on hot day.<br /><br /><span> This week's CSA food stuffs: beets, carrots, cabbage, potatoes. There was nothing else to be done except to make borscht as my Brooklynite-living-in-Bost</span><div><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>on friend Jamie reminded me. It's part of my Jewish heritage which as a New Yorker I feel perfectly comfortable claiming.<br /><br />Composing this soup forced me to go zen -- my mediation: I deserve to love me (yes, I went there!). I made stock from vegetable peels and other stuff I normally send gleefully down the disposal. I shredded, minced, diced and chopped for over an hour. I was rewarded with a fragrant (even Pam said it smelled good though she's threatening not to eat it) jewel-colored soup. And lots of it! Borscht, my darlings?<br /><br /><span> on a not totally unrelated note: regarding the Brooklynite-living-in-Bost</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>on thing. I've lived in this city for nine years. New York will always be my city (and it's the best damned city on earth. Yankees rule!) but Boston is where I've chosen to lay down my roots. Provincial, slow, up-tight Boston has made me love it. Boston is home.<br /><br />Last night I was chatting with my friend, Derek (who is the Program and Marketing Manager for Discover Roxbury. Thanks to him I'm discovering Roxbury and you can too. Go to: <a href="http://www.discoverroxbury.org/%29" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.discoverroxbury</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>.org/)</a>, about Boston treasures and he hipped me to the Roxbury Black Jesus. Apparently the brown people in his MIssion Hill aka Roxbury neighborhood decided the Jesus that looked down on them e'ry day needed to look like them. In an act of communal rebellion they painted white Jesus brown.<br /><br />Wow, Jesus is black and beautiful. Repeat after me: I deserve to love me.</div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-84346812811546118882009-08-08T10:33:00.005-04:002009-08-08T10:44:28.707-04:00Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2PM9dUJQI/AAAAAAAAAXM/6moW-8i2P3c/s1600-h/DSC00549.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2PM9dUJQI/AAAAAAAAAXM/6moW-8i2P3c/s400/DSC00549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367603783714219266" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2O9ZWc8hI/AAAAAAAAAXE/ilzGTuR8xSA/s1600-h/DSC00571.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2O9ZWc8hI/AAAAAAAAAXE/ilzGTuR8xSA/s400/DSC00571.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367603516323721746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2OASeTgPI/AAAAAAAAAW0/nrO7BLd2g6U/s1600-h/DSC00569.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2OASeTgPI/AAAAAAAAAW0/nrO7BLd2g6U/s400/DSC00569.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367602466505588978" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Shout out to Amanda for the bok choy and tofu recipe. It was delish and I'd eat it again!<br /><br />For a hot minute, I thought I should resist eating meat as part of my food journey. I said "no" to the steak and mushrooms at Pasquale's Rigoletto at my nephew's graduation dinner. I convinced myself that a sober chicken cutlet was the better choice. It wasn't. But I did feel morally superior for denying myself the pleasure of meat.<br /><br />On my way home tonight I thought "What am I going to put on all that damned lettuce I've got in the 'frig? Cod encrusted with panko? no. Sword steak seared with sesame seeds? No. Shrimp grilled on the barby?" NO. The choice was simple, really, an organic black Angus Sirloin -- grilled medium rare with sea salt and black pepper.<br /><br />I sauteed garlic scrapes and mushrooms in enough butter to make gravy. Made a cilantro chimichurri sauce instead of salad dressing (giant handful of cilantro minced, a clove of garlic minced, the juice of half a lemon, equal part olive oil, a little salt and red chili pepper to taste). Ah....bouefgasmic!<br /><br />After several minutes in omnivore heaven I took pictures and have no regrets, burp;-).Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-47957106131341955912009-08-08T10:27:00.002-04:002009-08-08T10:33:51.881-04:00My curious relationship with food<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Mu6MDr8I/AAAAAAAAAWc/qYbBCPZQ4Ns/s1600-h/DSC00367.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2Mu6MDr8I/AAAAAAAAAWc/qYbBCPZQ4Ns/s400/DSC00367.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367601068417200066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2MI9bz4TI/AAAAAAAAAWU/argRbTvkCS4/s1600-h/DSC00420.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/Sn2MI9bz4TI/AAAAAAAAAWU/argRbTvkCS4/s400/DSC00420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367600416453550386" border="0" /></a><br />Have been recently rethinking my relationship with food. Two important things have happened to me (to those that know me well: uncle, uncle re: buying cookbooks! I'm down to one per month. I'm not hurting anyone!).<br /><br />Living La Vida Local<br /><span> I've signed up for a community-supported-agricu</span><div><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ltural share (for more info see: <a href="http://www.thefoodproject.org/buy/internal1.asp?ID=137%29" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.thefoodproject.</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>org/buy/internal1.asp?ID=1</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>37)</a> BY MYSELF. In past years, I've buffered myself from the experience by sharing my box with friends or neighbors. If food went to waste, I didn't have enough to justify a second thought.<br /><br />Spurned on in part by Pamelasitas no meat/no poultry diet I've gone hard core. The box is mine alone. I can count on Pam to take a bite of most everything I make but honestly all them vegetables are on me.<br /><br />To make matters worse, I'm a farmer's market junkie. I often buy food just because it's gorgeous -- not because I intend to eat it. With the box I'm forced to stop my wasteful ways and focus on eating the food God, by way of the Food Project, has given me.<br /><br />Last week I had bouquets of scallions (I stored them in a vase for a day or so). I made pad thai noodles and scallion pancakes. BAM.<br /><br />Week 4 -- I definitely had to step up my game. Our groceries have practically doubled as mother nature is ramping up. I've decided to meet the challenge by resisting unnecessary consumption and to frame all of my meals with the box foods.<br /><br />Lovely nubile carrots: Indian spiced carrot soup with ginger (<a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Indian-Spiced-Carrot-Soup-with-Ginger-241886" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.epicurious.com/</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>recipes/food/views/Indian-</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>Spiced-Carrot-Soup-with-Gi</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>nger-241886</a>). Gigantor zucchini: zucchini-pineapple-walnut bread and rice-zucchini frittata.<br /><br />There were some wonderful loopy garlic shoots in the box too -- they look like curly scallions. I'm using them where ever there onions and garlic are called for. This is what I enjoy about the box: it gets me out of my food comfort zone. I eat what's in season and I'm eating things I would never buy. Like my grandparents used to do. Red swiss chard, watch out!<br /><br />Don't Compare Your Life to Others. You Have No Idea What Their Journey Is All About.<br />Pam and I have been asked to lead Trinity Church's Rosie's Place ministry. This involves cooking a meal for 130 people one night per month.<br /><br />I'm blown away by the face of hunger. Whatever you think hungry people look like -- rewind! There are mothers with their school-aged children, grandmamma's, girls-nite-out women, old hermit-like ladies, addicts, trannies, back-packing students, bejeweled ladies who've fallen on hard times, mentally ill people, butches, femmes, Chinese, Haitian, Dominican, Af/Am, White, Eastern European, Indian, Jamaican, and people that look like you and me. In short: e'rybody.<br /><br />What I love about working at Rosie's Place: composing the meal, competing with other fast choppers, passing with the King's English (there are very few people of color volunteering), stirring/sauteeing/mixing big vats of food, listening to people's stories, flirting with the women (it's not about sex. It's mostly about: hey baby, I see you) and feeling real.<br /><br />Sort of related: visited my dad in Brooklyn last week: he and my step-mom, Conchetta, grow tomatoes and use them to make home made sauce.</div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-71387091309257572422009-02-07T07:36:00.012-05:002009-02-07T09:21:36.136-05:00Cape Town Highlights<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2WnnBbXHI/AAAAAAAAAV8/nBVbOYgARwU/s1600-h/PICT0182.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2WnnBbXHI/AAAAAAAAAV8/nBVbOYgARwU/s400/PICT0182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300057943718976626" border="0" /></a>entrance to Robben Island (where Mandela was jailed)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2WQNpa1aI/AAAAAAAAAV0/2qxxfOl8WIQ/s1600-h/PICT0193.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2WQNpa1aI/AAAAAAAAAV0/2qxxfOl8WIQ/s400/PICT0193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300057541770401186" border="0" /></a>Mandela's cell<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2FRusep0I/AAAAAAAAAVs/dEAx12sfNh8/s1600-h/dXNyj0.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2FRusep0I/AAAAAAAAAVs/dEAx12sfNh8/s400/dXNyj0.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300038876123801410" border="0" /></a>View from Robben Island to Cape Town and Table Top Mountain<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2E72L3TII/AAAAAAAAAVk/AEdEmLetNUY/s1600-h/PICT0217.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2E72L3TII/AAAAAAAAAVk/AEdEmLetNUY/s400/PICT0217.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300038500177366146" border="0" /></a><br />Michelle on Robben Island with Table Mountain in distance<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2AyKX0cDI/AAAAAAAAAUk/ovqPaKHjBHg/s1600-h/PICT0089.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2AyKX0cDI/AAAAAAAAAUk/ovqPaKHjBHg/s400/PICT0089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300033935751016498" border="0" /></a>View from top of Table Mountain into waterfront<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2Ajr8LkSI/AAAAAAAAAUc/i02mfLBEqHE/s1600-h/P1010566.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2Ajr8LkSI/AAAAAAAAAUc/i02mfLBEqHE/s400/P1010566.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300033687063859490" border="0" /></a>Downtown Cape Town<br />C<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzWgE2tC456v_PVVSlOoZGO0IC1cWPGLjY0Jb8w0m6s4BrA_fuzDVxcym-zIyAoND_Al33HC6fBOGwlIlIiFg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzsTGrluJozUj8P0fPLVOXQr0U57S6ZDZESJWoCzbBSZXto0VnSiKWqEMknnby1CiskB4hsX2e_a7a8HN57hA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy9jA-bP2V3WxZinti2iy4ua7QPA8e33aGxzSHTI0C36HEBll4fBmkQfikEZ5SVSUjiMbaqalrwoTL16VtwMQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwm4YeXMjI9baXGxqsIKmqW4Sfv30r5OaPXnS4-jQTB3VXKf3hybuBh2eX1wFztxBdLdU2746RorCSa7hGS5A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-73807510683492980682009-02-07T06:38:00.022-05:002009-02-07T09:04:22.556-05:00Cape Town Housing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-tA0HS7I/AAAAAAAAAUM/UFlaJlCGxrU/s1600-h/P1010748.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-tA0HS7I/AAAAAAAAAUM/UFlaJlCGxrU/s400/P1010748.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300031648262736818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-k3NBF9I/AAAAAAAAAUE/rSncdnkKSiw/s1600-h/P1010746.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-k3NBF9I/AAAAAAAAAUE/rSncdnkKSiw/s400/P1010746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300031508243879890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-WyZPsTI/AAAAAAAAAT8/CR-xHRvpQGk/s1600-h/P1010724.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-WyZPsTI/AAAAAAAAAT8/CR-xHRvpQGk/s400/P1010724.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300031266434822450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-OsL-D9I/AAAAAAAAAT0/1CRS_un4vcU/s1600-h/P1010718.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-OsL-D9I/AAAAAAAAAT0/1CRS_un4vcU/s400/P1010718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300031127329574866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-Gk21O1I/AAAAAAAAATs/UGSwZ5cImjk/s1600-h/P1010722.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1-Gk21O1I/AAAAAAAAATs/UGSwZ5cImjk/s400/P1010722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300030987922914130" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2AK62kP_I/AAAAAAAAAUU/BPRMR2q5rbs/s1600-h/PICT0150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2AK62kP_I/AAAAAAAAAUU/BPRMR2q5rbs/s400/PICT0150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300033261570113522" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY12syvvbTI/AAAAAAAAAR8/bTru93I5AO4/s1600-h/P1010646.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY12syvvbTI/AAAAAAAAAR8/bTru93I5AO4/s400/P1010646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300022848393276722" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1282tsPJI/AAAAAAAAASE/Gik9sVhqjyM/s1600-h/P1010649.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY1282tsPJI/AAAAAAAAASE/Gik9sVhqjyM/s400/P1010649.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300023124336327826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY13Xp-gsSI/AAAAAAAAASM/wg--ttcxB7Q/s1600-h/P1010663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY13Xp-gsSI/AAAAAAAAASM/wg--ttcxB7Q/s400/P1010663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300023584773681442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY13yyzH2zI/AAAAAAAAASU/e41vJEUnGLI/s1600-h/P1010666.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY13yyzH2zI/AAAAAAAAASU/e41vJEUnGLI/s400/P1010666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300024050998303538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY15I4dXU0I/AAAAAAAAASs/JLLuAOH71h0/s1600-h/PICT0124.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY15I4dXU0I/AAAAAAAAASs/JLLuAOH71h0/s400/PICT0124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300025529986405186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY16Q5sydCI/AAAAAAAAATE/B5qT9wpjRqA/s1600-h/P1010688.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY16Q5sydCI/AAAAAAAAATE/B5qT9wpjRqA/s400/P1010688.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300026767270114338" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY14dyDtrVI/AAAAAAAAASc/OeqsMIh-dWI/s1600-h/PICT0105.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY14dyDtrVI/AAAAAAAAASc/OeqsMIh-dWI/s400/PICT0105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300024789533830482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY15wvw_0PI/AAAAAAAAAS0/AUpTklAPllo/s1600-h/P1010679.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY15wvw_0PI/AAAAAAAAAS0/AUpTklAPllo/s400/P1010679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300026214847598834" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY17-BjQisI/AAAAAAAAATM/IZGm7HW91rQ/s1600-h/PICT0099.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY17-BjQisI/AAAAAAAAATM/IZGm7HW91rQ/s400/PICT0099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300028641983367874" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY19OI91QNI/AAAAAAAAATk/iV9ZxaEllVU/s1600-h/PICT0100.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY19OI91QNI/AAAAAAAAATk/iV9ZxaEllVU/s400/PICT0100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300030018363408594" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">January 30, 2009<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">all of these dwellings are within a mile of one another. my perspective on race/class has shifted in a profound way with my visit to south africa. you want social disparities? you want racial invisibility? visit beautiful cape town south africa where squatter towns border all white gated communities and all colored communities. millions of blacks live without running water, toilets, unemployment ranges between 60 - 70%, TB rates crest at 45% and 1 out of 4 are HIV+.<br /><br />pam's cousin, a black american telecomm professional, lives in a mostly-white community. his 3000+ sq ft condo is nestled in a bay with table mountain behind and the indian ocean in the front. we sat by the pool drinking a fabulous pinotage that is produced locally. as we watched the moon settle in the horizon i couldn't help but acknowledge "life is damned good" even as i was sobered by the doom of apartheid's legacy.<br /><br />in nigeria, my african colleagues told me that i am not black but rather muzengi, that is, foreigner. there are very few mixed race peoples. you're either a dark skinned black or you're a white. i'm not soul sister number one in abuja, i'm vanilla cha (WTF?).<br /><br />then there's south africa....where the shit gets deep and raw. racial categories: white, coloured, asian, black. i, apparently, am coloured and it comes with privileges! in education, employment and housing. people that pass the paper bag test still mostly marry one another or whites/asians exclusively (you can be outed in the newspaper for going black!). they've created generations of light skinned people who proudly call themselves coloured (WTF?). american blacks don't know disparites. when SCIENTIFIC data are presented, coloured is a racial category. my social standing has improved in cape town. it's fucking scary.<br /><br />segregation is alive and well in this "post-racial" Mandela society, NOT. thousands upon thousands live in shanty towns with no running water, bootleg electricity and no toilets. unemployment ranges from 60 - 70%. eduation is severely under resourced. there's a raging "tik" (crystal meth) epidemic. there are NO recreational facilities, parks, supermarkets in these communities. these people are dooomed (and it's mostly black people).<br /><br />more scary is that everyone says shit like "ja, it's a shame but what can you do?" i say burn the mother fucker, BURN IT!<br /><br />email from reggie:<br />OMG! Shug, thanks so much for sharing this! I can't imagine what that must feel like. Honestly, I think that's why my research focuses on domestic issues as the international ones seem too insurmountable. Although the domestic issues usually make me angry, the international ones make me feel angry and guilty. There was a student in my doctoral program (Cassandra O.) who usually put all of our African American complaining into perspective too. Whenever we (black students) would be sitting around complaing about how hard we had it growing up..she would chime in..where I grew up in Nigeria we didn't have a roof (game over! none of us had anything else to say after that...). I heard something at a recent conference where someone said that "race is a cohort experience" (that is race is experienced by our parent's cohort very differently from the way our age cohort experiences it) and it appears we should add that it is also a country specific experience as well.<br /><br />email from carmen</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">Darling few Americans know the reality of life around the world. Even those who travel, rarely travel to where the indigenous people live or have a clue as to what day-to-day survival really means. We worry about our economy while others worry about having food to eat and clean drinking water. Africa probably is the worse because the contrasts are so great and divided along color lines, but India, China, the Middle East, South America, Central America, it is hardly different except that the divisions aren't based on color. This is the reality as hard as it must be on you to see it so blatantly in action. It takes travel and I don't mean tourist vacations to get an understanding about life and I'm glad you are able to do it. It's not pretty, but in spite of it, people still can smile, be welcoming and loving. It is the life they know, not necessarily the life they want to live and certainly not the life that an American - no matter how poor - could even fathom.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />email from joanne<br />I always find that when I travel extensively as you are doing now I feel more grounded and connected. Outside of the US I've been to Morocco, Spain, Belize, El Salvador, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Panama, St. Lucia, Ecuador, Chile, and a few other countries. There is not one year of my "formal education" that compares to one month in any of these countries. Living in the US we are raised to believe how big we are. We believe everything going on here and now is the center of the universe. I believe it myself most of the time unless I purposefully stop the spiral. Then it takes something major (health/sickness of a loved one, an inspirational trip, some other hippy-dippy self-actualizing moment) for me to be catapulted back to reality and remember what matters. Looking at people as individuals with perspectives that are both deeply rooted and fluid. Realizing that everybody has something to teach.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">January 31, 2009<br /></span><div><span style="font-size:100%;">i'm trying not to be judgmental because in spite of this system i recognize ours is quite imperfect. america after all has doomed its indigenous people to reservations -- which are hardly better than these shanty towns.</span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">the good news is that there are many people, influential powerful people, who understand their responsibility and obligation to change and not in the remote sense. we had breakfast today with the rector of stellenbosch university (i think this is equivalent to the president of the university -- the role larry somers played and that drew faust is now playing at harvard, impressive). he was hired in 2007 and has increased the enrollment of blacks at the university from less than 20% to just under 40% (and has a goal to increase it to 50% by 2011). they purposefully seek rural and urban poor blacks to cultivate (and fund their entire education as well as providing other aggressive support. this is due in no small measure to the fact that the stellenbosch is housed on land that the blacks were ousted from). </span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">good work is being done. it's just stunning to see the disparity. especially when ignorance lulled me into thinking Mandela's freedom liberated the blacks.<br /><br />like Obama's election, we've still got serious work to do.<br /></span></div> <div> </div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-18206667661184269592009-02-06T06:57:00.026-05:002009-02-07T07:54:08.523-05:00Where we went and why we were there<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwpD2tTQrI/AAAAAAAAARc/c__6SPjTpRk/s1600-h/oCMI9S.jpeg">Powerpoint presentation created by Dr. Michelle Holmes.<img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwpD2tTQrI/AAAAAAAAARc/c__6SPjTpRk/s400/oCMI9S.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299656007710098098" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwo-rM_28I/AAAAAAAAARU/1hQPVKhyYg8/s1600-h/dDom7x.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwo-rM_28I/AAAAAAAAARU/1hQPVKhyYg8/s400/dDom7x.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299655918722472898" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwo57Kmq7I/AAAAAAAAARM/WPfLunL5qMg/s1600-h/HqBoB5.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwo57Kmq7I/AAAAAAAAARM/WPfLunL5qMg/s400/HqBoB5.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299655837108054962" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwotCU1Y-I/AAAAAAAAARE/x-IdaTkWyM8/s1600-h/GXZVIn.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwotCU1Y-I/AAAAAAAAARE/x-IdaTkWyM8/s400/GXZVIn.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299655615691711458" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwoooJsCkI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/MMxRFgqMdno/s1600-h/mWA7Mf.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwoooJsCkI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/MMxRFgqMdno/s400/mWA7Mf.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299655539946162754" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwojLenlJI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/9damwXeNzDA/s1600-h/dI47zb.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwojLenlJI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/9damwXeNzDA/s400/dI47zb.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299655446349976722" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwn_G_6pYI/AAAAAAAAAQs/INUxAxEP66k/s1600-h/Ywnj9C.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwn_G_6pYI/AAAAAAAAAQs/INUxAxEP66k/s400/Ywnj9C.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654826672170370" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwn4GYk_PI/AAAAAAAAAQk/xGckhe-q3LU/s1600-h/DVY3f0.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwn4GYk_PI/AAAAAAAAAQk/xGckhe-q3LU/s400/DVY3f0.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654706248088818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnyrDA83I/AAAAAAAAAQc/_7mXvBQUwGM/s1600-h/enZELh.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnyrDA83I/AAAAAAAAAQc/_7mXvBQUwGM/s400/enZELh.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654613010543474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnuYbZ07I/AAAAAAAAAQU/ckR4qldCMFo/s1600-h/K3Vrro.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnuYbZ07I/AAAAAAAAAQU/ckR4qldCMFo/s400/K3Vrro.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654539293086642" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnnxII34I/AAAAAAAAAQM/esSwE6Mo8zM/s1600-h/RxCVaI.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnnxII34I/AAAAAAAAAQM/esSwE6Mo8zM/s400/RxCVaI.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654425664085890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnfyFjRwI/AAAAAAAAAQE/fk6BnxJNyKc/s1600-h/rMt7xW.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnfyFjRwI/AAAAAAAAAQE/fk6BnxJNyKc/s400/rMt7xW.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654288482715394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2DeNgtUDI/AAAAAAAAAVM/cxLvMPwVuis/s1600-h/P1010618.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2DeNgtUDI/AAAAAAAAAVM/cxLvMPwVuis/s400/P1010618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300036891531104306" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnTFQr4NI/AAAAAAAAAP8/2lqWuHroKCs/s1600-h/V0mqnz.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwnTFQr4NI/AAAAAAAAAP8/2lqWuHroKCs/s400/V0mqnz.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654070291390674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmvXI4NBI/AAAAAAAAAP0/apH0ap_Ewh8/s1600-h/Gx8TiP.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmvXI4NBI/AAAAAAAAAP0/apH0ap_Ewh8/s400/Gx8TiP.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653456615191570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmofTjJhI/AAAAAAAAAPs/oDirHz8edVY/s1600-h/Gx8TiP.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmofTjJhI/AAAAAAAAAPs/oDirHz8edVY/s400/Gx8TiP.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653338548348434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmjJc_9tI/AAAAAAAAAPk/TdEtuevwjNs/s1600-h/mu7RmD.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmjJc_9tI/AAAAAAAAAPk/TdEtuevwjNs/s400/mu7RmD.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653246783059666" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmeOTtk3I/AAAAAAAAAPc/a6PInG_HL7k/s1600-h/Gd3M2R.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmeOTtk3I/AAAAAAAAAPc/a6PInG_HL7k/s400/Gd3M2R.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653162186937202" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmX2u-QgI/AAAAAAAAAPU/hnqrMTaKXyM/s1600-h/CGvhpq.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmX2u-QgI/AAAAAAAAAPU/hnqrMTaKXyM/s400/CGvhpq.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653052779610626" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmSdUQebI/AAAAAAAAAPM/DvfrgjCMgho/s1600-h/daX62i.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmSdUQebI/AAAAAAAAAPM/DvfrgjCMgho/s400/daX62i.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652960057326002" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmML9rnRI/AAAAAAAAAPE/wTyH9xwOtRg/s1600-h/FgAgPo.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmML9rnRI/AAAAAAAAAPE/wTyH9xwOtRg/s400/FgAgPo.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652852320017682" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2CPpVEC6I/AAAAAAAAAVE/cQHX5Rl2xv0/s1600-h/P1010478.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2CPpVEC6I/AAAAAAAAAVE/cQHX5Rl2xv0/s400/P1010478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300035541788789666" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2B7GpPAvI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BF8GP_YBKYU/s1600-h/P1010474.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SY2B7GpPAvI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BF8GP_YBKYU/s400/P1010474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300035188880769778" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmGFScTzI/AAAAAAAAAO8/tLIkvKqYINs/s1600-h/3XguqF.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwmGFScTzI/AAAAAAAAAO8/tLIkvKqYINs/s400/3XguqF.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652747448831794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwl9sI6PdI/AAAAAAAAAO0/fEiGkX__cZY/s1600-h/GBdwB8.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwl9sI6PdI/AAAAAAAAAO0/fEiGkX__cZY/s400/GBdwB8.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652603259010514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwl3aGW_4I/AAAAAAAAAOs/qmhH22vMsNQ/s1600-h/bnzMwm.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYwl3aGW_4I/AAAAAAAAAOs/qmhH22vMsNQ/s400/bnzMwm.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652495337258882" border="0" /></a>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-51996616751286270902009-02-05T07:24:00.013-05:002009-02-09T12:32:43.792-05:00Tanzania (Excursion to Rufiji)<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrhNrlitLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/lG2-PdToIog/s1600-h/P1010574.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299295536709547186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrhNrlitLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/lG2-PdToIog/s400/P1010574.JPG" border="0" /></a>Heading to Rufiji district, David, Shona, Michelle and school boy (first leg on a ferry leaving Dar es Salaam)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrhefALY2I/AAAAAAAAAOk/V25llBz4pk8/s1600-h/PICT0067.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299295825389380450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrhefALY2I/AAAAAAAAAOk/V25llBz4pk8/s400/PICT0067.JPG" border="0" /></a>Heading to Rufiji district (first leg on a ferry leaving Dar es Salaam)</div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrdXXDO10I/AAAAAAAAANk/jyWWQ6NGqWw/s1600-h/P1010594.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299291304949110594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrdXXDO10I/AAAAAAAAANk/jyWWQ6NGqWw/s400/P1010594.JPG" border="0" /></a>Rural Tanzania, Rufiji district<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYreNtEdYHI/AAAAAAAAAN8/ZhZP1YrYADw/s1600-h/P1010619.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299292238572773490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYreNtEdYHI/AAAAAAAAAN8/ZhZP1YrYADw/s400/P1010619.JPG" border="0" /></a>Town of Ikewiriri, Rufiji district Tanzania<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrdikNgbUI/AAAAAAAAANs/9lV9kHUTTQ4/s1600-h/P1010601.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299291497460428098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrdikNgbUI/AAAAAAAAANs/9lV9kHUTTQ4/s400/P1010601.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ikewiriri dwelling<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrfeDGh8fI/AAAAAAAAAOM/_UsJY9YbzKE/s1600-h/P1010611.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299293618876576242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrfeDGh8fI/AAAAAAAAAOM/_UsJY9YbzKE/s400/P1010611.JPG" border="0" /></a>Leaving the rest stop facilities<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrehwq3ArI/AAAAAAAAAOE/3SQQxZbwvRE/s1600-h/P1010658.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299292583136527026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYrehwq3ArI/AAAAAAAAAOE/3SQQxZbwvRE/s400/P1010658.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:+0;">The rest stop facilities (this was actually taken at the health center we visited. The rest stop facilities were adorned with hornet nests, lizards and many cobwebs. Charming!)<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:+0;"><br />January 27, 2009<br />Notes on Tanzania<br />email message from sister Monique to mother, Carmen, describing our telephone conversation.<br /><br />"I just hung up from Miss Shelly!<br /><br />She is in Tanzania where the life expectancy is 47. The locals call her a "Muzenge" which means foreigner. She stands out like a sore thumb; because the locals either look African or European, but the blended folk come from somewhere else. They are working her from morning to night. Meetings begin at 8 in the morning, proceed non-stop throughout the day. She has no alone time as the entire group regroups for dinner. It was after 11pm when I spoke to her. They are 8 hours ahead and she was just getting ready for bed. She called me b/c she couldn't reach Pam. I am so glad to have to receive her call!<br /><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span style="font-size:+0;"></span></div><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span style="font-size:+0;">She described her experience of using the bathroom at a state of the art hospital. The toilet facilities are separate from the main structure; it was an outhouse covered in cob webs and populated by lizards and spiders and flies. They have been coached to carry their own toilet paper. Inside the outhouse, there was a hole in the floor. That was it. A hole, where she had to squat and aim. There was no running water, not to flush, or wash so she had to get it right the first time or she would be wearing it to the rest of her meetings throughout the day. I won't describe the process of trying to make it go down, you can use your imagination. </span><span style="font-size:+0;">We remarked how lucky she is to be traveling for work rather than born into those circumstances.<br /><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span style="font-size:+0;"></span></div><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span style="font-size:+0;">She sounded like she was in good spirits. She is flying to her third country tomorrow. Not sure where to; At $2.40 a minute on her global phone, I am sure that we will find out by email."</span></div><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span style="font-size:+0;"></span></div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-63262585110119168812009-02-03T08:49:00.006-05:002009-02-05T08:11:00.349-05:00Abuja: The National MosqueJanuary 24, 2009<br /><div align="center">To learn more see: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigerian_National_Mosque">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigerian_National_Mosque</a><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhMRIIaWVI/AAAAAAAAANU/6CmC1d4hrAI/s1600-h/PICT0041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298568818725640530" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhMRIIaWVI/AAAAAAAAANU/6CmC1d4hrAI/s400/PICT0041.JPG" border="0" /></a>Friday night and the mosque is jumping!</p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhL8kjcPRI/AAAAAAAAANM/0lGzyI6Arcw/s1600-h/PICT0026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298568465577950482" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhL8kjcPRI/AAAAAAAAANM/0lGzyI6Arcw/s400/PICT0026.JPG" border="0" /></a>View from the National Christian Center </p><p><br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhLo9iZfFI/AAAAAAAAANE/nthdjtNDjVU/s1600-h/P1010558.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298568128687078482" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 239px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhLo9iZfFI/AAAAAAAAANE/nthdjtNDjVU/s400/P1010558.JPG" border="0" /> </a><p align="center">Women must be veiled in order to enter mosque grounds.</p><p align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyPbq_4O7psYMz5ykyJEDbL9-rLNMpgC_FseyBJsiaWFBk6k4i7d9PUjS-qb7Ps0LFqNrkJA_PYAcl6GGnZcA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p align="center">The exterior of the Nigerian National Mosque.</p><div>We visited the National Mosque during our last morning in Abuja. It was an amazing sight -- best described through pictures. The women in our group had to veil themselves to enter the grounds of the mosque. It was a hot dusty day. My polyester scarf soon began to feel like a plastic bag entombing my head. I do not mind dressing modestly but veiling is too much. How chauvanistic! How oppressive! </div> <div> </div> <div>There's a traveler's advisory warning travelers to show extreme caution when traveling in Nigeria (the Delta region is the worst. It's where oil is produced). Lagos has a reputation too for street crime. In my less than 24 hours experiene Lagos is notorious indeed, for its traffic. If Obama thinks we suffer from infrastructure deficiency -- he ain't seen nothing yet! Highways are woefully unsuitable for this bustling urban center. Our host told us that the capital was relocated to Abuja because of the bad traffic. The city is in constant gridlock. </div> <div> </div> <div>Petrol is cheap. Car dealerships are on every corner (Purchases are on a cash and carry basis. ATMs were introduced less than 3 years ago but the economy is largely based on cash. Hence, we settled our hotel bills in cash). The roads can not acommodate the number of drivers. Corruption has left many roads unfinished and in some cases unstarted. But the industrious Nigerian has developed an entire thriving economy based on stopped traffic.</div> <div> </div> <div>You can literally set-up house just sitting in traffic. There's the usual fare: gum (orbits), sacks of fruit, bags of water, bootleg CDs and phone cards. More unusual: bathroom accessories, sandals, sunglasses, clothing, live pheasants bound at the feet and mouse glue traps (?). And there are squegee boys too.</div> <div> </div> <div>Driving, as usual in Africa, is risky business. The road rule: Survival of the fittest. You must wear your seatbelt at all times even as a taxi passenger. Cars are riddled with dings and dents from frequent fender benders. Settlements are negotiated quickly. No one waits for the police because it will only result in both parties being "shaken down". Whatever it costs fo repair damages is settled on the spot. $10,000 naira? $50,000 naira? Bam, cash is rendered on the spot. (1 U.S. dollar = $140 naira)</div> <div> </div> Adabo for now.Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-74778859903125606582009-02-03T08:18:00.010-05:002009-02-05T21:34:11.182-05:00Abuja: The Nigerian National Christian Center<div align="left">January 24, 2009 </div><div align="center"><br />To learn more see: </div><div align="center"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigerian_National_Christian_Centre">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigerian_National_Christian_Centre</a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCo7IXakI/AAAAAAAAAMs/hs6nY0qO4tc/s1600-h/PICT0025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298558232436369986" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCo7IXakI/AAAAAAAAAMs/hs6nY0qO4tc/s400/PICT0025.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhJXywmV7I/AAAAAAAAAM8/bpyc13K85j8/s1600-h/PICT0036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298565634712819634" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhJXywmV7I/AAAAAAAAAM8/bpyc13K85j8/s400/PICT0036.JPG" border="0" /></a>The HSPH African Cohort team, from left to right: Michelle Holmes, Hans-Olov Adami, Clemente Adebemowo (Nigeria lead scientist and host) Michelle Coleman, Doug Dockery, Shona Dalal, David Havelick, Juan Jose Buerza, Adejumo (IHV Nigeria colleague)<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyN9q-iNa9W8nimrQoMwF6Io4r2s53qa1TC_YcDKQyus0geSqtahKhxFPUz_2pHpkoKUNOvmju-dUU41qbIuw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />A little video of the exterior (sorry I don't know how to orient this correctly).<br /><br /><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz2O0zOBSNkSFd6QZKhYZdxxtRt860UJroyKhziSUlzvKdNrNqH-cYSxffzD1FW27HJYJzrkxu4It_eNJ2EUQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>A video of the interior.</p>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-78944089311478769272009-02-03T07:36:00.006-05:002009-02-05T08:03:29.067-05:00Abuja, Nigeria Third Day<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-vzYE-nI/AAAAAAAAAL0/X52ZG_RGxms/s1600-h/P1010600.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-vzYE-nI/AAAAAAAAAL0/X52ZG_RGxms/s400/P1010600.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298553952567360114" border="0" /></a>Wusi market butchers.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-YVbzaEI/AAAAAAAAALk/PuwaYWIK5fk/s1600-h/P1010590.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-YVbzaEI/AAAAAAAAALk/PuwaYWIK5fk/s400/P1010590.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298553549392930882" border="0" /></a>Foreground: dried shrimp.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-hAmHJWI/AAAAAAAAALs/9vbe8ARUz68/s1600-h/P1010593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg-hAmHJWI/AAAAAAAAALs/9vbe8ARUz68/s400/P1010593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298553698417845602" border="0" /></a>Curlicues: dried cow skin<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg6weSLR7I/AAAAAAAAALc/LUq638Z8pKg/s1600-h/P1010591.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg6weSLR7I/AAAAAAAAALc/LUq638Z8pKg/s400/P1010591.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298549566038820786" border="0" /></a>Black rings are dried fish (a wire is run thru the fish and its dried in a circle so that the fish looks like its swallowing its own tail (first imported from Iceland during the Biafran conflict to provide much needed protein supplementation in the local diets. Now it's a delicacy)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg6p92Ej1I/AAAAAAAAALU/Mrn4_pGyS2g/s1600-h/P1010601.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYg6p92Ej1I/AAAAAAAAALU/Mrn4_pGyS2g/s400/P1010601.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298549454251790162" border="0" /></a>Live chickens with proprietor taking a break on top of cages.<br /></div><div><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">January 24, 2009<br />Today, our last day in Abuja (day three), we visited the Wusi market. The scientific justification I think was to get a sense of local customs, diet and culture. And did we ever. I'm sort of starting at the end of my Abuja experience but it was pretty fascinating.<br /><br /></span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">Imagine a market packed with stalls with bags filled to overflowing with snow white millet, sunshine yellow ground cassava, black eyed peas, red orange and yellow scotch bonnets, ripe plum tomatoes, tiny dried caramel colored shrimp so strongly scented they made your mouth water, periwinkle colored snails the size of your thumb pad, huge grey/brown snails the size of a small foot, canned goods stacked 10 feet high, cages packed with live auburn feathered chickens with bright red combs, cages of rabbits and guinea pigs and pheasants, bunches of spinach, bottled water, pineapple, plums, green and red grapes, tiny apples, fruits with the skin of papaya but the size of a lime, drums of palm oil (a red very viscous oil that's used in abundance in local food preparation), canola oil, tubs filled with live catfish the size of carnival baseball bats and very little water and more! Not to mention the people...brown faces everywhere!<br /><br /></span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">Everything was in close proximity to everything else -- only enough room for two adults to pass one another. Children followed us as if we were the pied pipers. Some watching the mysterious whites, other trying to sell us stuff and some just asking us to "snap" them (take my picture).</span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">I "accidently" wandered into the slaughter house section of the market where I was met with headless skinned goats and piles of blood and entrails and other recently hacked animal parts. It was revolting but I couldn't turn away. The air was thick with the sweet metallic smell of blood and rotting meat. I had to sip the air to breath. There was no mistaking this was local at it's truest and purest. It's permanently changed my perception of the farmer's market.</span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">The vendors, as you can imagine, were an enterprising bunch. When they realized we weren't there to buy but to watch and snap. They angrily said "no buy, no snap!" I couldn't blame them. I have so much more to say about the day but there is a queue for the one computer in this hotel (I am now in boogie down Lagos -- it has a well deserved reputation but that's another story). I'll write soon to tell you about my first time veiling , visiting the national mosque, the Lagos highways and more!<br /><br /></span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;">Did you know that Nigeria is the most populous country in Africa boasting 14M? One in every black in the world is of Nigerian descent?<br /><br /></span></div> <div> </div><span style="font-size:100%;"> E'che. Yoruba for thank you, for reading my story.</span>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-79464417616077239142009-02-03T07:04:00.009-05:002009-02-06T06:57:23.414-05:00Abuja, Nigeria First Day (Impressions and Street Scences)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhC_xo2WRI/AAAAAAAAAM0/WwP-edjIwsY/s1600-h/PICT0041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298558625025251602" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhC_xo2WRI/AAAAAAAAAM0/WwP-edjIwsY/s400/PICT0041.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCY_5OsqI/AAAAAAAAAMk/zDrLG-QHXFA/s1600-h/P1010452.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298557958837154466" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 299px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCY_5OsqI/AAAAAAAAAMk/zDrLG-QHXFA/s400/P1010452.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCPV6GUFI/AAAAAAAAAMc/k2RqNHnk6us/s1600-h/P1010465.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298557792947687506" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 299px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCPV6GUFI/AAAAAAAAAMc/k2RqNHnk6us/s400/P1010465.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCEbzhA1I/AAAAAAAAAMU/6sXCGRTOuzk/s1600-h/P1010551.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298557605552128850" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 299px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DBvdfev0pPo/SYhCEbzhA1I/AAAAAAAAAMU/6sXCGRTOuzk/s400/P1010551.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>January 22, 2009<br />Arrived in Abuja (love the ripeness of this word when it rolls off my tongue) this morning about 5:30 AM. We had a little excitement at check-in -- our rooms weren't ready. This wouldn't have been so terrible had not the desk person tried to jack up the price of our rooms by ~100% when she saw we were foreigners. We'd been warned in advance that credit cards weren't accepted. But we weren't prepared to pay 565 for a two night stay).</div><div></div><div><br />Given my jet laggedness I seriously considered yeilding and bunking with David (Hans-Olov's assistant). I was in desperate need of ZZZZs. We called our host who quickly settled everything. Our room rates were reduced to ~$150/night and we got free breakfast. Hans-Olov, who is usually slow to anger, was pissed. He kept grumpbling about Nigeria's corruption souring the deal. I was assigned a room about 11 AM. I slept until about 1 then was off to my first meeting at the Institute of Human Virology.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>I site-visited the facility solamente (which I wasn't prepared to do but hey, it felt good to fake being a grown-up). I met their COO, CFO saw all of their core facilities, met their internal auditors, IT team, media relations team and senior managers. It was pretty interesting. I discovered a small flaw in their operation which is that they're an entity of University of Maryland. Any project we would propose would have to be vetted by their scientists and administrators. Not sure anyone on my team knows this). Also, like in the other African countries we visited all the resouces flow HIV/AIDS. The CFO assured me, when I asked, that the Institute was prepared to take on other initiatives. As an example he cited they were able to "drop everything" to manage an Avian Flu crisis in 2007. He told meother health priorities were managing non-communicable diseases like hypertension and diabetes. I like I earned the trip gleaning these simple facts.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>The CFO divides his time between Baltimore and Nigeria. I'm a little like a fish out of water without Pam and now without my team but I'm enjoying this unsettled feeling. It's challenging to walk in this new world. And to be able to speak admin speak with surety. I even took notes!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>The city is modern what little I've seen of it, very 70s. With small industrial complexes everywhere. It's not unlike other African metropolis' (signs of agrilife are everywhere). It's very brown. Lots of bad drivers who toot their horns non-stop for no apparent reason. You're just as likely to see veiled women with black chadors as women in colorful native turbans with matching dresses as women in tank tops and skin tight jeans. On the way to the Institute I saw two huge edifices -- the national mosque and the national church, side by side. The visual symbolism of the balance between Muslims and Christians is very interesting. </div>Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-86785102872837021282009-01-24T12:14:00.001-05:002009-01-24T12:16:07.409-05:00Barack does "Single Ladies" spoof<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8PqI12R8YNU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8PqI12R8YNU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-69186181718141626772008-12-30T23:11:00.002-05:002008-12-30T23:44:40.748-05:00New Year's ResolutionsIt's that time of year again -- resolutions.<br /><br />I'm incredibly blessed with health, love, purpose, employment, family and friends. Barack Obama's win helped me to realize that I have power as an individual and its spurred me to make the world better. To this end, my year end donations have gone to Wesleyan University, The Greater Boston Food Bank, WBUR (my local NPR radio station) and fulfilling the wish list of a family in transition. I remember this was one of the earliest lessons I learned from grandma Alice. She gave to e'rybody. She sheltered and fed many needy people. <br /><br />Have taken a scan (physically, emotionally and spiritually). Am thinking that my intention for 2009 is to stop imposing my script on others. Everyone has their own unique set of challenges and experiences. I will work to let others walk their own path without my judgement.Emmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04597036583823825040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-35580917052107311482008-10-10T23:40:00.000-04:002008-10-10T23:44:08.519-04:00Behind-the-scenes video of Barack & Michelle<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eCeNPAaGVVY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eCeNPAaGVVY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-44885803446641677432008-10-02T11:39:00.003-04:002008-10-02T11:42:49.720-04:00The Love/Avon Army of WomenI saw Dr. Susan Love on the Today Show yesterday, talking about her next focus: identifying the causes of breast cancer so one day, we can have a vaccination like exists for cervical cancer. Dr. Love is committed to enrolling 1 million women who are not breast cancer survivors to participate in clinical research. Leona & I just signed up...thought you all might be interested too.<br /><br />Here's the official blurb from the organization:<br /><br />The Love/Avon Army of Women offers women the opportunity to partner with the scientists who are conducting research that will end this disease--once and for all.<br /> <br />Breast cancer has been around for decades, but it does not have to be our future. We can be the generation that stops breast cancer once and for all by figuring out what causes this disease and how to prevent it!<br /> <br />Sign up for your sister, mother, daughter, granddaughter, best friend, and the woman you met last week. This is YOUR chance to be part of the research that will end breast cancer.<br /> <br />It takes a just a minute to join. But the impact we will have will last a lifetime.<br /> <br />Please Join Me in Being One in a Million!Kathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05977607332213449273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-63951183688672214882008-08-26T00:10:00.004-04:002008-08-26T00:19:26.507-04:00Gay Marriage Is As Old As History: When Marriage Between Gays Was a Rite<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYvTZkNFCE4/SLOCZLA6m2I/AAAAAAAAAmk/3SH6W2sFlYs/s1600-h/SameSexUnions.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674160526990178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYvTZkNFCE4/SLOCZLA6m2I/AAAAAAAAAmk/3SH6W2sFlYs/s320/SameSexUnions.jpg" border="0" /></a>This is really interesting! I was reminded of Professor Boswell's research when reading a story this evening posted on one of my gay Blogs and felt compelled to share it with you all. I actually have this book but have not read it yet so if you want to read it let me know. <a href="http://www.gaychristian101.com/Gay-Marriage.html"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>Click</em> <strong>HERE</strong></span></a> for a synopsis of what this book is about provided by <a href="http://www.gaychristian101.com/index.html"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>GayChristian101.com<br /></strong></span></a><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909317064070871975.post-2705982153511409292008-08-20T19:38:00.000-04:002008-08-20T19:39:26.862-04:00great new post on J&J Politics from MoveOn.orghttp://www.jackandjillpolitics.com/2008/08/excellent-moveonorg-video-about-obama-v-mccain/gemini72http://www.blogger.com/profile/09119332320904730138noreply@blogger.com0