Passport Magazine Fall 2007

PASSPORT Duke University’s International Magazine

SAVING SPAIN

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT STORIES OF DUKE’S NEW INITIATIVE

GOOD DRINKS

COME IN THREES

OKTOBERFEST: ALL ABOUT

BEER? TURKISH DERVISHES A WHIRLING WONDER

Volume 6 Fall 2007

EDITOR’S NOTE From the highest point on Gorée Island in Senegal, I could see the sprawling eighteenth century French buildings and the crowds of every color that come to this tourist hotspot. I had run away from my tour group and was savoring a cup of coffee with an artist who lived in an underground hut. Perhaps this was not the safest choice, abandoning people I knew for a stranger on a secluded part of a foreign island. Still, our conversation formed a genuine cross-cultural connection, and moments like these are the essence of internationalism. We don’t have to live in a different country, travel the world, and speak six languages. However, we should take the chance to learn about other cultures when given the opportunity. Especially at a university like Duke, we encounter internationalism everywhere. Too often, we stay in our comfort zones and don’t seek out the learning and understanding it takes to truly benefit from multiculturalism.

With this magazine, break out of your cultural barriers and see the world through a different set of eyes. Build a classroom in Uganda. Cook a traditional Turkish meal. See the sights and sounds of Oktoberfest. Discuss controversial politics with Korea’s netizens. Visit with locals in Anguilla. At the end of the day, maybe you’ll know your world a little better.

As the third editor of Passport, I’m honored to continue the tradition of creating an incredible magazine and sharing my love for the many peoples and places that make up our world.

For those less familiar with us, we’re a biannual internationally themed magazine, first published in 2005 under the dynamic leadership of Christy Choi. Now that many of the original staff have graduated, this issue has focused on building a strong second generation of Passporteers. I want to thank all of the staff for their long hours and hard work, particularly the senior editors and the amazingly dedicated Lindsay, Michelle, and Nick. They have all really thrown their hearts into this publication, and their dedication has made this issue a success.

We hope you enjoy the articles, and if our magazine inspires your passion, please consider joining us! Check out our website at http://www.duke.edu/web/passport and find out how to get involved.

Happy travels!

Melanie Wright

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Melanie Wright PRODUCER Nicholas Chan

MANAGING EDITOR Michelle Fang Kayleigh O’Keefe SENIOR EDITORS Cara Stalzer Sandy Sun GRAPHICS EDITOR Lindsay Emery Rosie Kilgore Joyce Kim GRAPHICS Natalie Macaruso Sunny Park Jackie Talpalar Sarah Wallingford Minette Yao Kyu-min Lee EDITORS Wendy Liu

COPY EDITOR Christina Patsiokas Nicholas Chan Bengisu Kuscu Edgar Mkrtchian Sarah Newman WRITERS Kayleigh O’Keefe Maddie Pongor Linda Qu James Smyth Julie Sogani Cara Stalzer Sandy Sun Melissa Wiesner Melanie Wright Jei Min Yoo Derrik Chan WEB DESIGN Ellen Sun

photo by James Smyth

Passport Magazine is a Franchised Publication under the Undergraduate Publications Board. The views expressed in this publication are the authors’ own and do not reflect the opinions of the magazine.

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FALL 2007

CONTENTS “Island Life” in Anguilla

2

3

by Maddie Pongor

DukeEngage

5

by Linda Qu and Julie Sogani

Online Hot Spots:

South Korean Hostage Crisis

9

by Jei Min Yoo

Fútbol Fever

11

by Kayleigh O’Keefe

A Whirling...What?

13

Turkish Delicacies

14

Beer, Babes, & Bratwurst

15

by Melissa Wiesner

by Bengisu Kuscu

by Cara Stalzer

Welcome:

Tea and Coffee

16

by Melanie Wright

Die Another Day:

Healthcare in Chavez’s Venezuela

19

by Edgar Mkrtchian

Potterocalypse

21

by Sandy Sun

Spain, Standing Still

22

by James Smyth

Anime Appeal

25

by Nicholas Chan

Constructing Happiness

27

by Sarah Newman

Airports 411

29

photo by Scott Peppel cover photo by Amanda Kline

Fall 2007

“Island Life” in nguilla

by Maddie Pongor

“M

om, I don’t see any palm trees,” my little sister piped up from the back seat of the taxi. She reminded me of Dorothy stepping out into Munchkin Land (I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more…). But instead of gazing in wonder at flower-filled gardens and charming, sparkling-clean huts like the Wizard of Oz characters, my family was staring wide-eyed at unpaved roads and unfinished cement houses caked in dust. Bare-

foot children kicked flat balls through fields where grass was indistinguishable from the dirt and trash. This is the Caribbean?

In the weeks preceding spring break, I had envisioned a tropical paradise waiting at the end of our four-hour flight to Anguilla, an island in the British West Indies. As we drove through the seemingly abandoned town square and our driver pointed out the one stoplight on the entire island, I tried to put my fantasies at bay. My mom reassured us, “Don’t worry, girls, you haven’t seen the coast yet!”

Sure enough, the shoreline turned out to be a polar-opposite atmosphere from the country’s interior. Alluring turquoise water, blinding white sand, and upbeat Caribbean music greet the American and European tourists that flock to the luxury resorts lining the beaches. Our brief sightseeing via taxi ride seemed a world away from the wealth and splendor that now surrounded us. As my sister and I gulped down fruit smoothies at a beach bar & grill, I could only imagine what our waiter, a local Anguillan,

3

must have thought about us visitors. We invade their island to take advantage of their dazzling beaches and delicious seafood but turn our heads to the poverty hovering just down the road. Our money-spending, selfindulgent habits must appear superficial and greedy.

Yet, the waiter greeted us with a smile and complimented my sister’s beach hat; the woman braiding cornrows for little girls and selling hand-crafted jewelry asked all about my hometown and how I liked Anguilla; and Sandra, the lady who cleaned our rooms every other day, held extensive discussions with my mom about the local religious life. Their overwhelming friendliness seemed inconsistent with the level of bitterness I would expect from people of socioeconomic backgrounds so different from my own. Over the course of our first week, however, I began to guess at explanations for this seemingly uncalled-for affability.

Anguilla is an island of few resources. Hurricanes rip through periodically, rendering agriculture impossible. Industrialization is limited to the resorts’ activities, and seafood is the only export. Basically, the island’s economy depends on tourism, as the citizens are well aware. To attract vacationers and keep the tourist industry thriving, locals need to make Anguilla as attractive as possible. How difficult could it be to swallow one’s resentment if it means keeping your job and your economy alive?

Following this line of reasoning, it didn’t surprise me when Sandra invited my family to her local church for a Sunday evening service. I figured she was just being polite and didn’t expect us to accept her invitation. Wearing the dressiest outfits we could find amidst our beachwear, we piled into our rental car with her (she didn’t own a car). As we approached the whitewashed church, barely larger than the average American garage, my selfconsciousness grew by the minute. We were obviously in the racial minority and, judging by the two rusty pick-up trucks parked on the lawn, the only tourists venturing

there that evening. Stunned eyes greeted our entrance; it was as if we’d walked in naked. I could only imagine what they must have been thinking – how resentment must have been mounting in that moment.

Fortunately, Sandra began making introductions to break the ice. Suddenly dozens of people crowded the aisles. Each person I met seemed exceedingly interested in me as a person, not as a foreigner. They inquired after my health, my religious beliefs, my immediate and extended families, my school, my favorite activities, and essentially all they could glean about my character. Their questions were far more genuine than the typical, monotonous questions most Americans you meet for the first time will ask (How are you? Where are you from? Blah blah blah). I became increasingly comfortable with each new acquaintance and started asking questions back. Soon I felt as at ease as I would in my church back home.

During the service, the pastor prayed aloud for members of the congregation who were sick or needed some kind of healing. When he mentioned my name, I shot a surprised look at Mom. She’d clearly mentioned my ACL reconstructive surgery to him—and now he was praying for me as if I were a close friend. I was in disbelief.

That was the first night my prejudices toward the Anguillans began to thaw. In every interaction thereafter, I looked for sincere friendliness in the locals we met, instead of masked cordiality. I developed a new appreciation for their uncalled-for kindness, which continually shone through, not only in words but also in deeds… including the deed that saved my dad’s life.

On a Monday afternoon, we got a call from the local hospital: “Hello, a man was brought into our facility about half an hour ago. He is currently unconscious and we’re unable to determine his identity. We’re calling all the homes in your area because he was found passed out on your street. Do you know who he might be?” My mother

looked at my sister and me and asked if we knew where dad had

gone. We didn’t.

“Maybe he went running,” my sister ventured.

“Can I ask what the man was wearing when he was found?” my mom asked into the phone.

“Running shorts and a thin athletic shirt. A pair of broken glasses was found nearby, I believe.”

Within a minute, the three of us were speeding toward the hospital.

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Spring break marks the peak of my dad’s training for the Boston Marathon. He is typically out on the road, running dozens of miles, rain or shine, day after day. Due to the extreme Caribbean heat, he usually limited himself to running before dawn or after dusk. However, that Monday he started later than usual and went for a run in the middle of a blazing-hot day. In the shade, it was over 90 degrees. On the road, having run thirteen miles with the sun glaring off the pavement, you can imagine how stressed his body was. Of course we would’ve discouraged him from running at all had we known his intentions—but my mom, my sister, and I had no idea that he’d left, where he’d gone, or when he would be back.

My dad had severe heat stroke and didn’t wake up for several hours. We didn’t know if he had gone into a coma or had brain damage. He had to be flown by helicopter to Puerto Rico for intensive care, but miraculously he was up and going by the time our spring break ended; he even managed to run the marathon after all. Had he been found a little later, his body temperature could’ve spiraled out of control (it was already 106 when he was brought to the hospital), he could’ve been hit by a car, or who knows… But thanks to the Anguillans’ hospitality, a total stranger picked him up and saved his life.

Anguilla may have world-famous beaches and an array of luxurious getaways, but you haven’t experienced the island’s true beauties until you’ve tapped its number one amenity: endless opportunities for true, lifelong friendships. I came to realize that the locals were more blind to ethnic and social differences than I thought I was; I was the condescending one. Fortunately, they taught me the true meaning of “island life.” Since that vacation years ago, my travel experiences have been increasingly fulfilling because I consciously try to get to know the locals I meet whenever I go someplace new. I know now that an open and curious mind is the most important baggage to carry when you travel.

photos by Maddie Pongor

Fall 2007

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

-Mahatma Gandhi

DUKE CENTER FOR CIVIC ENGAGEMENT

DukeEngage 5

by Linda Qu and Julie Sogani

photo by Aneesh Kapur

Last summer, over ninety Duke students sought to embody Mahatma Gandhi’s famous words, jetting to destinations across the globe for service experiences that would change their lives. From helping kids living in the streets of Delhi, India, to building a school in Muhuru Bay, Kenya, these students took advantage of Duke’s latest and most ambitious civic engagement program: DukeEngage.

In accordance with the goals of Duke’s Strategic Plan, Provost Peter Lange developed a program that allows students to immerse themselves in a service project at home or abroad. Lange’s idea is unique from other service opportunities offered at Duke in that the university promises to cover all travel and living expenses for each student volunteer. The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation

of the Robertson Scholars Program, said, “DukeEngage is trying to give students a perspective with which they do [things]… in the future. Whether it’s Teach for America, McKinsey Consulting, Goldman Sachs, or the Peace Corps, they are going to come in with a knowledge of the world and ethic of service that I think will make them stand apart from their colleagues.”

For either a semester or a summer, students can choose to work through faculty-sponsored programs, intern with non-profit and non-governmental organizations, or propose their own projects. The program will allow them to get involved in public service issues at the local, national, or international level. Over the next five years, Mlyn estimates that at least a quarter of the student body will participate in DukeEngage.

photo by Kelly Teagarden

and the Duke Endowment of Charlotte each provided $15 million endowments for the initiative.

The purpose of DukeEngage is to allow students to experience a different culture and to help a community firsthand. Working beyond the classroom, students also develop life skills and expand their global identity. Dr. Eric Mlyn, founding director of DukeEngage and previous director

“There’s a certain segment of students who come to Duke and are going to do these kinds of programs, but we also want the students who don’t think this is a part of their lives to do DukeEngage. It’s a challenge, but our long term goal is that DukeEngage and civic engagement will become part of the Duke identity, so that when people think about Duke, they think about a student body that is deeply engaged with solving the world’s problems.”

While the program will be officially launched in the summer of 2008, a pilot program with over ninety students was successfully run this summer. Three students, Aneesh Kapur, Grant Smith, and Kelly Teagarden, share with us their experiences during the DukeEngage pilot program.

Kelly Teagarden Trinity ‘08 Kenya Imagine spending the summer where the closest town with running water and electricity is a two-hour drive away. The walls of your house do not reach the shanty tin roof, and mosquito nets serve as your only barrier against the nightly visits of bats. For seven weeks, senior Kelly Teagarden and six other Duke students had to adapt to these living conditions while completing their service project in Kenya. Working with WISER— Women’s Institute for Secondary Education and Research—and Duke professor Sherryl Broverman, the students sought to continue the development of the first all-girls secondary boarding school. They will also build a community center equipped with computers, Internet access, solar panels, and a windmill to pump water from the lake to the school.

After arriving in Muhuru Bay in the first week of July, the group went straight to work. Together with community leaders, Duke students hosted a town meeting to discuss WISER’s progress in the United States and learn about the efforts being made in Muhuru Bay. Not a single girl in the last nineteen years has graduated secondary school and gone on to a university. The community wants to provide its girls with better opportunities, agreeing, “We want our girls educated. We want to learn about HIV/AIDS. We want our children to be healthy.” After communicating with the residents of Muhuru Bay, Kelly said, “It was really good for all of us [students] to immediately see they want us…They know what they want and we have got to work hard to do that.”

Throughout the summer, Kelly visited the surrounding nine primary schools in the area to better grasp the Kenyan education system that prepares its students for high school. At Rabwao Secondary School, the only co-ed secondary school in the area, she led the WISER computer pilot program

Fall 2007

6

where students installed four solar panels and ten Duke-donated laptops in the school.

“Teaching them about the mouse pad and watching them watch the arrow go across the screen was fascinating, because they know what computers are but they never had the chance to use them,” Kelly noted.

On August 9, Duke students hosted the first WISER Girls’ Day, inviting 120 seventh grade students from the area to experience what the school will offer when it is built and running in January 2009. These are the girls who will be applying to WISER when it is ready to open. Kelly and her peers also led Camp WISER, a pilot version of the summer programs WISER will offer to both boys and girls of the community. According to Kelly, a typical day for students consisted of three classes on Gender in Everyday Life, Adolescent Health, and Leadership, all of which were co-taught by two Duke students. These were followed by lunch and core time, when the campers were encouraged to share their thoughts, hopes, and struggles with their fellow classmates. In addition to developing critical thinking skills, the camp fostered creativity, allowing the students to express themselves through art, singing, and poetry writing. On teaching the leadership class, which focused on team building exercises that taught students trust and communication, Kelly recalled, “It was inspiring to see them grow throughout the two weeks and see them grappling with these ideas, that maybe we can all be leaders.”

Girls and boys left Camp WISER as allies for one another in a community of respect, engagement, and empowerment.

After returning to Duke, Kelly remains very much involved in planning for the opening of WISER in January 2009, and she plans to return to Kenya this summer. But first, she is working to develop the teacher training program for WISER’s first year of inaugural teachers here in the Triangle. “We will

invite WISER’s seven Kenyan teachers to Durham for a two-month teacher training program.” They will be paired with teachers in private and public high schools, live with homestay families, and participate in professional training sessions hosted by both Duke’s Program in Education and UNC’s School of Public Health.

Looking back on her DukeEngage experience, Kelly said, “It allowed me to take my Duke education to the next level. I did the FOCUS Program ‘Humanitarian Challenges at Home and Abroad’ my freshman year and studied abroad in Geneva, doing research on girls’ education. But being on the ground and developing community partnerships was what I was looking for. It was pivotal to my Duke experience and has propelled me into pursuing something I want to do with my life in the future.”

Grant Smith Trinity ‘08 Durham 70,000 people in the United States live with sickle cell disease, an incurable red blood cell disorder. To many, this is simply a statistic, an unfortunate part of human life like countless others. To senior Grant Smith, this number represents much more – responsibility, civic duty, and a dedication to improve the lives of those who live with the disease.

Grant began volunteering at Duke Children’s Hospital and Health Center during his sophomore year. He was interested in children’s experiences with illness and how the hospital environment could be improved to make it more accommodating to them.

The atmosphere in the Children’s Health Center (CHC) seems more comforting than in the adult clinics; there is a sense of preserving and protecting childhood. At the age of 18, however, all patients are transferred to the adult clinic. Grant says the transition

can be jarring: “The Children’s Hospital is a very bright place, with smiling people and a network of support—there are extremely strong relationships between patients and their physicians, and they really get to know and rely on them. Adult clinics are very different, where you’re responsible for your health care and there are visibly sick patients on oxygen tanks or in wheelchairs.

If you look at the psychology literature, it’s shown as a very stressful adjustment.”

With the assistance of CHC child life specialist Vivian Lewis and funding from DukeEngage, Grant responded to this difficult shift by developing a transition program that targets adolescents living with sickle cell disease. Why this group? “Sickle cell is diagnosed at birth, and patients go to the hospital their entire lives,” Grant explains.

“It’s their lifeline – what keeps them healthy, what keeps them in school and doing their normal activities. There is a term called a medical home; this is where they get their care and welcome the staff as part of their family. Now, they’re leaving all that.” His objective is to help facilitate the move to the adult clinics. “[In the Children’s Hospital], we have an education program—we meet with the kids one-on-one and go over basic information on sickle cell disease: how you get it, common symptoms, and treatments.

Our goal is to have a long-term transition where we start at age 13 and work until 18.”

Also, Grant is conducting a research study on the strategies and effectiveness of his idea. Through conversation and follow-up analyses, he is able to determine whether he is teaching the kids enough and whether they feel better about the inter-clinic transfer. “We’re asking, are we making a difference in these kids’ lives?” Grant fully devoted himself to the hospital over the summer to answer this question, staying at the clinic daily until he had seen all of the patients.

He worked with child life specialists responsible for calming children down before surgeries, performing pre-operative procedures, and evaluating the psychosocial aspects of a child’s hospital experience. He also addressed issues with sustainability, including how the program could continue to grow into a staple of the care provided for patients diagnosed with sickle cell. “I wanted a project that was more than volunteering, going beyond fulfilling that day-to-day need, to change the environment so there’s less need.”

Grant says one of the greatest things about DukeEngage is the opportunity it provides to meet people outside the typical college experience. “It gives you a lot of perspective on the world and it teaches you to learn from other people. It’s the idea of bi-directional learning. These kids have so much to tell me

7 photo by Kelly Teagarden

out of their cloth. Supposedly, it keeps you from getting hungry; when they don’t have food, it keeps them from [feeling] pain. You’ll see parents and kids as young as five years old with this in their hand.”

photo by Aneesh Kapur

about what it’s like to live with a chronic illness and what it’s like to be a young adult who’s facing discrimination. You can learn a lot from these experiences about yourself and about the community.” From a simple vision of wanting to help patients at the hospital, Grant’s aspirations have begun to make a difference in our community.

Aneesh Kapur Trinity ‘09 India Around the corner from the famous Red Fort in Delhi, India, lies a stretch of open field where the poor, homeless, and jobless of the city make their living. Here, young children engage in “rag-picking,” the term that locals use for collecting trash from the streets to sell for money. School is a nonentity. The rate of HIV/AIDS infection is at startling heights. Next to the carefree crowds of tourists surrounding the magnificent fort, these conditions seem to be from another, far more backwards place and time. Junior Aneesh Kapur has seen them, and he calls the contrast “shocking.”

Last summer, Aneesh traveled to India to work with the Delhi-based non-governmental organization Sahara House on assessment of the situation in the slums, and specifically to help children struggling to survive on the streets. Sahara House was founded in the 1970s as a rehabilitative

facility for drug addicts, but it has since established over forty offices throughout India to provide basic medical care, housing, and education for the poor. The divide between the haves and have-nots is growing at an alarming pace as Delhi adapts itself to the modern concept of a cosmopolitan city; while new buildings continue to adorn the skyline, more and more children in rags are roaming the streets. Aneesh describes, “Some of them are orphans, some of them have single parents, some of them have run away from home and live in the slums on their own. They’ve never had a chance to go to school.” Sahara House’s Center for Street Children in Delhi offers food, medicine, and a place to stay, but fewer than thirty of the hundreds of homeless kids in the area take advantage of these resources. Ironically, the kids’ families even discourage them from going. “The parents aren’t supportive at all.

A lot of these parents will have kids basically as a source of income. They think the more kids they have, the more money their family will make, because they can send them out begging or picking up trash. If their kids don’t make a certain amount of money each day, they won’t even let them sleep or give them food.” Those who do come to the Centers do so to escape. Otherwise, “a lot of the kids are involved in sniffing drugs on the streets, such as glue or white-out or paintthinner,” Aneesh explains. “We’d go on outreach in the community and talk to people, and every ten or thirty seconds, they’d sniff

While the Center provides shelter, there is only room for fifteen boys per night—the organization does not have enough funding to support more, and co-ed rooms are out of the question. During the day, the Center runs a small school. However, Aneesh notes that the education is strictly memorization: “Initially, when I went there, they had slates for each of the kids and the teachers would ask them to write up to whatever they [knew]. Even if the kids could tell you the alphabet from A to Z, if you point[ed] to a letter, they [wouldn’t] know what it is.”

Aneesh worked with the staff to introduce more structure to the classes and practicality to the curriculum. Besides learning Hindi, English, math, and art, the children were taught how to read traffic signs and decipher bus schedules. Unfortunately, the teachers simply are not trained for their work. “A lot of the staff are ex-clients of the organization. They’ve all been off rehab for years, but they’re not trained as teachers.

They don’t know about collecting data or showing progress, which is key to applying for funding.” Also, student attendance is sporadic. On Tuesdays and Fridays—days of worship—the number of kids showing up for school drops by half; they feel it is more worthwhile to beg for money in the crowds outside temples and mosques than to attend school. Sahara House is working to expand its outreach programs, especially to persuade parents of the importance of education in their children’s futures.

Living in the heat of Delhi for two months was as much a part of Aneesh’s DukeEngage experience as his charity work. “Some days we’d wake up and we just didn’t have water. Even at the Center, the lights would go out for four hours a day, and so you just [wouldn’t] have electricity. There was no A/ C.” Despite the severe adjustments in lifestyle, Aneesh’s experience helped him to focus his future. “I have really felt encouraged to work internationally after this. I want to be able to work in a developing country where people don’t have all the resources we have here.”

Reflecting on Duke’s initiative, Aneesh commented, “DukeEngage is a great experience for anyone who can get involved in it, and I really think it’s going to change learning experiences at Duke.”

Fall 2007

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History

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South Korean Hostage Crisis

On

07/19/07 Taliban militants in Afghanistan capture and hold twenty-three South Korean missionaries hostage.

07/21/07 South Korean president

Roo Moo-Hyun informs the

public about the hostages in a televised speech. Taliban, previ

-ously inconsistent about

its conditions, demands

the release of twenty three Taliban prisoners

in exchange

for the hostages.

07/25/07 One of the hostages, forty-two-year-old Pastor Bae Hyeong-gyu, is executed.

Cheap internet cafes and rapid gains in technological know-how have offered South Koreans a new forum to share their opinions: online communities. Hiding behind usernames, however, members sometimes lose their sense of social responsibilBlogger Discus: ity and articulate typically repressed ideas. The younger “There are almost no generation especially has embraced comments [in portal sites] message boards and blogs as places for open discusabout the lives of the sion, but disagreements escalated into verbal feuding and threats during twenty people. People don’t South Korean the hostage crisis this summer. seem to care about the

hostages

08/10/07 Taliban begins the first face to-face talk with the South Korean negotiation group.

at all.”

08/13/07 Two female hostages are released.

08/29/07 Twelve hostages are released.

08/30/07 The remaining hostages are released.

1. “Lamenting on the Afghan Crisis.” Center of Spirituality. 24 July 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 <http://cafe.naver.com/holyspiritgod.cafe>.

2. “People’s Lives Too Lightly the Idea.” Clien.Net. 26 July 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 < http://clien.career.co.kr/>.

3. “The Government, the Afghan Armed Groups in Contact.” Chosun.Com. 21 July 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 <http://bemil.chosun.com>.

4. “Issues About Afghan Crisis.” Ctzxp. 1 Sept. 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 < http://blog.daum.net/ctzxp>.

5. “Junior Has Been in Afghanistan to Return to the Embargo.” Clien.Net. 29 Aug. 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 <http://clien.career.co.kr>.

6. “Pastor En Jo Park Says, ‘Sacrifices in Afghanistan Will Turn Out to Help Christian Activities.” Chosun.Com. 14 Aug. 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 <http://bemil.chosun.com>.

7. “The Release of 19 Hostages in Afghanistan.” Chosun.Com. 29 Aug. 2007. 14 Oct. 2007 < http://bemil.chosun.com>.

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2007_South Firefox - Online Hot Spots

Timeline

07/30/07 Another hostage, twentynine-year-old Shim Seong-min, is killed.

Help

On July 17, the Taliban captured twenty-three South themselves much Korean Christian missionary workers in Afghanistan and held them hostage. Sponsored by Saemmul Church in Korea, the missionary workers encountered the terrorists while traveling from Kabul to Kandahar. Although the Korean government was willing to negotiate, the Taliban demanded the release of Taliban prisoners in exchange for the hostages—a task that only the Afghani government could fulfill.

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Google

line Hot Spots

by Jei Min Yoo

After weeks of threats, the murders of two missionary workers, and inconsistent ultimatums, the Taliban militants released the rest of the hostages. They claimed that they had won international respect for their power as well as more than $20 million in ransom from the South Korean government.

This incident, while spurring much controversy in Korea, also revealed two of the major problems in the online communities: extremism and irrational emotion. In South Korea, easy access to internet cafes and increased familiarity with computers fostered the growth of community websites where many “netizens” gathered to discuss the hostage crisis. The netizens—those who actively participate in online discussions, blogs, and the network life in general—often presented hot-headed opinions about the hostage situation.

Sometimes they achieved consensus, but at other times users harshly criticized each other. These disagreements developed into sensationalist rants on both sides.

In the midst of the criticisms and extremist opinions, some community members encouraged compassionate views. On a discussion board boiling with dispute, a blogger called “Discus” wrote, “There are almost no comments [in portal sites] about the lives of the twenty people. People don’t seem to care about the hostages themselves much at all.”1 Another netizen posted, “Let’s think about bringing them back before anything else.”2 However, their call for moderation had little effect, mainly because the com-

ments did not arouse the passions of other users to the same degree as the extremist posts. The flow of audacious comments and replies soon buried these moderate voices.

Fanatical views dominate many websites because anonymity distorts the sense of responsibility in the commentators’ minds.

As a result, those with radical opinions resort to online forums to express what they hold back in polite society. Therefore, the positions found here slant decidedly towards the extremes of Korean thought.

For instance, one netizen commented, “If the government has to negotiate with the Taliban and give them money to rescue the hostages, it will be a waste of our taxes. They better use the church offerings to save the hostages.”3 On another website, a comment read, “They wrote their wills before they went to Afghanistan. Why should we save them? Let’s let them be martyrs.”4 While remaining nameless, the users spurt controversial remarks without the fear of repercussions. This phenomenon results in discussion boards filled with hundreds of unmediated posts.

Over time, progression of the hostage crisis fueled increased tension and emotion among netizens. As the Taliban continued holding the hostages captive and the Korean government’s attempts to rescue the missionary workers stagnated, the netizens ventured beyond the central controversy surrounding the hostages. A new discussion criticizing Christians in Korea showed mounting extremism and decreased moderation. One post blasted the Christians:

“I knew it. The Christians are the source of every problem. They are hypocrites who lure the poor with food and make them sing hymnals.”5 Moving beyond controversial viewpoints, netizens began using online forums for hate speech.

This unending exchange of emotional arguments escalated into personal attacks and threats after the Taliban released the hostages. One post read, “Does anyone want to throw rotten tomatoes at [the hostages] when they arrive at the airport?”6 Another post commented on the return of the hostages: “Since they came back, they either have to pay back the ransom or shut up for the rest of their lives.”7 Behind the shield of online anonymity, conversation can potentially transform into violence, unchecked by the laws that control the world offline.

The Afghanistan incident helped shape online networks in Korea, but it also spurred discussions that spiraled toward emotional extremes. However, the radicalization of internet forums is not limited to Korea.

Online communities in general often become hotbeds of narrow-minded opinions because they supply a medium free of legal and social regulation. As such, members known only by their usernames easily become emotional and throw around impulsive comments. Left unchecked by fellow users, offhanded threats can build into actual hostility. In the age of Facebook, blogs, and network discussions, we must moderate our online personae and strive to become more conscientious netizens.

Fall 2007

FF

utbol ever

Crazed with fútbol fever, I woke up at 7:30 AM one Thursday to catch the Women’s World Cup semifinal match between the United States and Brazil. After playing club soccer and attempting to write a thesis about the sport, I was determined to immerse myself in the excitement shared by soccer fans around the world. Demoralized and confused by a last-minute, unforeseen goalkeeper change the day before the game, the U.S. played embarrassingly. They were unable to string together decent passes, let alone take a hard shot on the goal. Brazil, on the other hand, stunned the world—outplaying, outrunning, and out-finessing the two-time world champs. I spilled coffee all over myself when a U.S. defender headed in an own-goal off of a Brazilian corner kick in the twentieth minute. This was going to be a long game for an American fan. Led by the

since 2003 the CBF had spent two million dollars per year on women’s soccer, and he suggested that “if people are looking for a villain in this, it’s someone else.”1 During his weekly radio address, Brazil’s president Luiz Ignacio “Lula” da Silva recognized that the team must play together longer in order to fully compete in and win championships: “We need to give more attention to women’s soccer because they by their own effort have become a motive of pride for all of us Brazilians.” To that end, Brazil’s government strung together a series of impressive phrases outlining new policies and tactics

by Kayleigh O’Keefe

flawless footwork of the greatest player in women’s soccer, twenty-one year old “Marta” Vieira Da Siolva, Brazil crushed the U.S. 4-0, catapulting themselves into the Cup final. While Brazil lost the championship match 2-0 to Germany, who refused to let in a goal the entire tournament, the South American team remained in the spotlight as this year’s World Cup feel-good story.

The fairy tale ended, however, at the podium during the medal ceremony. Accepting the silver, the Brazilian women held signs that read “We Need More Support” in Portuguese. Although they had won the love of the Chinese crowd who chanted “Magic Marta” during the team’s stellar performance against the U.S., Brazil lacked support, both financially and organizationally, from its own country. After their public plea, Brazil’s twenty-one players signed and faxed a list of demands to Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF) president Ricardo Teixeira calling for prompter payments, the creation of more women’s leagues, and the addition of international competitions.

The CBF’s response was emphatic, then lukewarm. At first, Teixeira announced the creation of a national women’s championship next season. Then, to respond to the women’s claims that payments from the federation have been minimal and delayed, CBF spokesperson Rodrigo Pavia fired back, saying that

11 photo by GettyImages

to improve women’s soccer; however, these new measures will struggle to see the light of day.

Women’s soccer around the globe, and especially in Brazil, is a fairly new phenomenon. Brazilian men have played the sport since the late 1800s when it migrated from Europe via English ship merchants. Women, however, were barred from playing the sport until 1979, at the height of the women’s liberation and emancipation movement. In the 1980s, women’s soccer thrived in Brazil: 3,000 women’s teams existed.

The overwhelming opportunities to play

photo by Julie Jacobson

12

crumbled in the 1990s as women’s teams failed to be economically viable. Television contracts, sponsorship, merchandising, and ticket prices for the well-respected Brazilian men’s leagues soared as globalization grabbed hold of soccer, leaving little leftover to allocate to the women. However, Brazil’s women still managed to field fearsome teams in the face of their country’s economic constraints. Brazil placed third in the 1999 World Cup; second in the 2004 Olympics, just behind the U.S.; and finally scored a gold medal at the 2007 Pan-American games. Now, with the tremendous up-

scorer, plays in Germany for Wolfsburg.

Despite these challenges, Brazil still managed to impress the world with its individual star power and its unselfish teamwork. It is daunting to think of the heights to which Brazilian women’s soccer could soar if given the support it deserves.

set over the U.S. in this year’s World Cup semis, Brazil has earned renewed confidence in their ability to dominate on the international stage.

Brazil’s present-day success comes in spite of institutional and cultural obstacles.

Unlike in the United States, where ultracompetitive university-level soccer and a full-time national team develop aspiring women into world-class athletes, Brazil’s national team players don’t play together at all, save for a qualifying match to get to the big stage. Marta plays for Umea IK in Sweden, and Cristiane, the team’s other big

While league officials and presidents can do their part to create opportunities for Brazilian women interested in soccer, they cannot dilute the staunch cultural obstacles fostered at home. Marta grew up in Brazil’s non-tropical arid northeast, in a tiny and poor town called Dois Riachos. Aware of her talent for soccer and armed with personal ambition to compete, Marta traveled three days by bus to attend a club tryout in Vasco de Gama. The U.S., on the other hand, offers Olympic Development Program tryouts in almost every state. Moreover, women in Brazil are psychologically discouraged from playing soccer and sports in general.

Despite recent political victories that have propelled women to important positions in the government, women still occupy an inferior space in Brazilian society. Their expectations are traditional: cook, clean, have children, and take care of familial matters.

Those women who decide that soccer inspires them face unimaginable obstacles, often created by their own fathers, uncles, and grandfathers. For example, a recent survey taken in Brazil and Argentina showed that a majority of men believed that women play soccer to compete explicitly with men.

Others responded that if their own daughter played soccer, they would kick her out of the house.

Luckily, Marta recognized her abilities and defied the confines of her hometown provinciality. She is the “female Ronaldinho.”

Her intricate dribbling, flashy moves, and rocket-fire goals impressed the local Chinese audience and stunned the global viewers that were unaware of such style in the women’s game. Soon, as a result of soccer’s globalization, Marta may become a household name here in the U.S. The U.S. plans to launch the Women’s Soccer LLC, a new professional soccer league for women, in 2009.

This new organization will no doubt be begging for the individual finesse and style of Marta to highlight and market the sport.

Now, more than ever before, it is vital for all of women’s soccer that Brazil take the necessary steps to revamp its female leagues, professionalize its national team, and support—financially and psychologically—its young women interested in the sport.

During the semis broadcast, Julie Foudy, U.S. National team captain-turned-announcer, remarked that “there are 1,000 Martas out there waiting be found.”3 The recent success of the women’s national team, Brazil’s national obsession with soccer, and its paucity of other opportunities for women have created the perfect place and time for the nation and for the world to focus on supporting and loving Brazilian soccer.

1. Klein, Jeff Z. “The Brazilian Women Demand More Support.”

Online posting. 2 October 2007. Goal, New York Times Soccer Blog. 7 October 2007. <http://goal.blogs.nytimes.com>.

2. Ibid.

3. Ortiz, Maria Burns. “Marta unquestionably the best player in the world.” ESPNsoccernet 17 September 2007. 4 October 2007 <http://soccernet.espn.go.com>.

Fall 2007

Trinkets and treasures in the Grand Bazaar, hidden Roman cisterns, bellowing echoes of prayer calls in the night, air balloon rides over the desert, and the occasional flying carpet; Turkey never ceases to amaze. One of the many wonders that engrossed me while I was there was the ceremony of the Whirling Dervishes. I first went to Turkey for Duke’s Philosophy of Religion study abroad program in the summer of 2005 and then couldn’t help returning for a cross-cultural leadership opportunity in the summer of 2007. One night, in the desert of Cappadocia, within the stone walls of an ancient caravansarai roadside inn, I witnessed the unique ritual myself.

The Whirling Dervish ceremony is distinguished by its series of entrancing chants, pervasive flute music, and visually stimulating spinning of male dancers in wide and whirling white skirts. Dervish literally means “doorway,” and the dancers symbolize a doorway from the material world to a heavenly realm. The dervishes, also known as the Mevlevi Order, are Sufis, followers of a spiritual offshoot of Islam.

Sufism is a Muslim ascetic religious Tarika, or path, which espouses a moderate interpretation of Islam focusing on tolerance.

The Mevlana Sufi order was founded by the late thirteenth century poet and philosopher Mevlana Jalaladdeen Rumi, otherwise known simply as Rumi. His ancient teachings of peace, forgiveness, and tolerance still influence Turkey, from casual references to his sayings in conversation to the symbolic undertones of the Whirling Dervish ceremony.

The ceremony, more than seven centuries old, is still being performed despite fluctuations in popularity. Over the centuries, the dervish orders held a great deal of influence with the Ottoman political, social, and economic life. Yet when Mustafa Kemal Ataturk founded the Turkish republic in the early twentieth century, he abolished the dervish orders and converted their mon-

asteries into museums. Though outlawed, several dervish orders persisted under the guise of fraternal brotherhoods. The Whirling Dervishes were revived in 1957 in Konya as a “cultural association” intended to preserve a historic tradition. Today, appreciation for the sect and its ceremony has traveled past Turkey’s borders to Japan, Australia, and even to Duke, where the dervishes performed last year in Page Auditorium. Performances abroad occur most often on December seventeenth to commemorate Rumi’s birthday.

One sufi leads individual chants, setting the stage for the spinning of the dervishes.

The ceremony is infused with prayer, in thought, sound, and action. Soothing instrumental music weaves in and out of the slow and paced routine. The ney, a wooden flute typical of Turkey, permeates the ritual with an airy tune that progresses until it creates an entrancing atmosphere. With the bold yet subtle ney, drums, and chanting accompaniment, this music has the power to captivate even when the words of the chants are in a language one cannot understand. Despite mesmerizing the audience, the Whirling Dervish ceremony should never be confused with a show for spectators; in fact, replicating its music or practice shows disrespect for the special place these elements hold within this carefully crafted ritual. That night, for example, we were not allowed to clap, take pictures, or whisper.

Total concentration and devotion would not allow it.

The ceremony, or semâ, is practiced in a semahane (ritual hall), according to a precisely prescribed symbolic ritual where the dervishes whirl in a circle around their sheikh, who circles around his axis. The semâ begins with a chanted prayer to the Prophet Muhammad. Next, a kettledrum sounds as a symbol of the Divine order of the Creator. Shortly after, haunting musical improvisation follows on the ney, which symbolizes the Divine Breath that gives life

A Whirling...What?

by Melissa Wiesner

to everything. The sheikh bows, then leads the dervishes in a circle around the hall. As they pass by the sheikh, they bow to each other. This portrays one soul acknowledging another, a connection that overcomes the limitations of their physical bodies.

Color and decoration are minimal, while presentation and structure are strongly emblematic. The dervishes wear a white gown as a symbol of death, a wide black cloak (hirka) as a symbol of the grave, and a high brown cap (kûlah) as a symbol of the tombstone. When the dervish holds his arms crosswise as he stands tall and straight, he represents the number one to show God’s unity. When he whirls with his arms open, his right hand palm faces the sky, ready to receive God’s message and beneficence.

Conversely, his left hand palm points down to the earth. This transfers the blessings received from above to the here and now. He pivots from left to right, around the heart.

Together, this creates a flow, from God to the earth, embracing all of humankind and all of creation lovingly.

Even seeing the semâ, one may not understand, much less experience the true effects it can yield. The idea of revolving is a symbol central to the semâ. Saruhan, the historical caravanserai hosting the dervishes, quotes Rami as saying: “There is no object, no being which does not revolve. The shared similarity among beings is the revolution in the atoms, structural elements in the body, by the circulation of his blood, by his coming from the Earth and return to it, by his revolving with the Earth itself.”

The dervish is a means, not an end. The goal of this symbolic dance is to abandon the ego, in complete submission in the name of the loved One, and to experience unity with all. This state of ecstasy is the highest emotional state, defined in Islam as Fenafillah.

Nevertheless, Saruhan concludes that “the aim of semâ is not unbroken ecstasy and loss of conscious thought, but realization of [enlightenment].” The philosophy and practice of peace and love patent in the Suni sect of Islam merit deeper exploration by anyone interested, especially during a time of global turmoil, war, fanaticism, and bigotry. Next time that you hear someone ask, “A whirling…what?” continue the cycle of learning by helping to open a new door—to curiosity, understanding, and tolerance.

For more information about Turkish culture and Turkish events: Duke Turkish Student Organization Velihan Canberk Erdogdu (velihan.erdogdu@duke.edu) Burcu Kamci (burcu.kamci@duke.edu)

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1 - “Saruhan.” Saruhan - Cappadocia. 2007. 6 Oct. 2007 <http://www.sarihan1249.com/>.

2 - “Sema.” Saruhan - Cappadocia. 2007. 6 Oct. 2007 < http://www.sarihan1249.com/>.

14

Karniyarik

In Turkey, dinner is an important event that gathers the whole family together, and it is not complete without a soup, salad, entrée of meat or vegetables, and rice. The salad can be a simple combination of lettuce, onions, carrots, and tomatoes with regional herbs, dressed with lemon juice and olive oil. The other dishes? Traditional examples include red lentil soup and karniyarik, which translates into the humorous name of sliced belly. Accompanying these is perhaps the most important Turkish dish, rice – or as we say in Turkey, pilav.

Turkish

KARNIYARIK (Sliced Belly) Ingredients Eggplants Oil (for frying) Onion Minced Meat Tomatoes Green Peppers Garlic Parsley Salt Black Pepper Hot Water

Measure 6 medium ¼ cup 3 large ½ cup 4 small 3 medium 5 cloves 2/3 bunch 2 dessert spoon ½ dessert spoon 1 cup

Amount 1 kg.

50 gr.

250 gr.

250 gr.

400 gr.

50 gr.

15 gr.

40 gr.

12 gr.

1 gr.

200 gr.

by Bengisu Kuscu

Delicacies

Servings: 6 Preparation: Wash the vegetables. Cut off the stalks of the eggplants, and peel them in ribbon fashion.

Warm the oil in a non-stick pan, put in the eggplants, and cover. Turn the eggplants occasionally and cook for about 15 minutes to soften them. Arrange them on an oven tray and cut their bellies, taking care not to split the ends, and make hollows with the back of a spoon. Peel the onions. Next, wash and chop them finely. Place the onions and the minced meat into the pan with the softened eggplants and stir. Cover and let them simmer on low heat for about 8 - 10 minutes, until the meat juices are reduced, stirring occasionally. Set aside one tomato and two peppers. Chop the rest into very small pieces, add to the minced meat mixture, and cook for another 5 minutes. Peel the garlic and separate the parsley leaves. Finely chop the garlic and the parsley and add to the hot mix. Add salt and pepper and stir.

Fill the hollows made in the eggplants with this mixture. Cut the spared tomato into six circular slices, and cut the green peppers length-wise into three slices. Place these on the eggplants. Add the water slowly from the edges of the dish. Bake it covered for 20 minutes at medium heat, and remove the lid and bake for another 10 - 15 minutes.

PILAV (Rice) Ingredients Butter Butter, melted White Rice, long or medium grain Salt Black Pepper, freshly ground

Measure 2 tablespoons 4 tablespoons 1 cup 1/2 teaspoon

Preparation: In a heavy 2 to 3 quart saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons of butter over moderate heat.

When foam begins to subside, add the rice and stir for 2 or 3 minutes until all the grains are evenly coated. Do not let the rice get brown. Add the salt and a few grindings of pepper. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Cover the pan and reduce the heat to its lowest point. Simmer for 20 minutes, or until all the liquid has been absorbed and the rice is tender but still slightly firm. Pour in 4 tablespoons of melted butter and toss the rice with a fork until the grains glisten.

Drape a towel over the rice and let it stand at room temperature for about 20 minutes before serving.

Fall 2007

Beer, Babes, & Bratwurst

by Cara Stalzer

“Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, der Gemütlichkeit” photo by Cara Stalzer

“A toast, a toast, to happiness.” Germans belt out the popular drinking song that resonates throughout the fourteen beer tents of Oktoberfest. The scene inside a beer tent is quite fantastic. Decorated with symbols of their sponsored brewery and of Bavaria, the tents are packed to capacity and more with locals and tourists celebrating jointly in the spirit of Oktoberfest. Once the tents are filled, people spill out to the rows upon rows of tables that adjoin each tent. Beer flows freely, delivered by busty Bavarian women attired in traditional dirndl dresses.

At night, bands offer lively German music that invites the partiers to sing and sway in unison. This jubilant atmosphere carries on day and evening for the sixteen days of the festival, drawing about six million local and international guests to Munich each season.

Though now perceived mainly as a beer festival, Oktoberfest originally celebrated the marriage of Crown Prince Ludwig to Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen, on October 12, 1810. The celebration, located at Theresienwiese, or “Theresa’s Fields,” began in the form of a horse race and then added an agricultural show in

15

1811. As the celebration continued annually to commemorate the anniversary of the King’s marriage, it adapted to meet the desires of the Bavarian people. Swings and a carousel were introduced in 1818, followed by small beer stands and regional cuisine.

The first beer halls were welcomed in 1896, and Germany’s first roller coaster arrived in 1908. The horse races eventually ended, the last one held in 1960. Today, Oktoberfest begins in mid-September and runs through the first Sunday of October to ensure fairly warm temperatures for participants. Although an agricultural show still occurs every four years, the focus of the celebration has shifted away from agriculture and toward entertainment for the people.

One main thoroughfare of the grounds is devoted to amusement rides, games, and food. A large Ferris wheel towers above the grounds, providing riders a view of the festival and of the city. Among other rides to choose from are carousels, swings, roller coasters, and ponies. Throughout the grounds are countless stands serving whole grilled chickens, or Hendl; Bavarian Weißwürste, white veal sausages; sauerkraut; pomme frittes, fried potatoes; and, grilled corn on the cob, to name a few specialties. The aroma of the freshly cooked fare permeates the air about the festival.

On the sweet side are the popular roasted sugar-glazed almonds, or gebrannte Mandeln, and homemade ice cream. While beer is what Oktoberfest is best known for today, it accounts for only a part of the overall festivities. The weeks of celebration begin with a parade led by an enlivening brass band. The mayor taps the first keg at noon, exclaiming, “O’zapft is!”—“It’s tapped!”

The distinct Oktoberfest brew, or Wiesnbier, is traditionally an amber-gold lager, 5.2—6.2 percent alcohol by volume, and bottom-fermented with German noble hops such as Hallertau and Tettnang. The classic

Munich breweries that produce a Wiesnbier are Augustiner, Hacker-Pschorr, Hofbrau, Lowenbrau, Paulaner, and Spaten. At the beer tables, friends and strangers sit and drink together. The picnic-like tables are long and crowded, and it is often necessary to walk on top of the benches, and perhaps upon the tables, to reach a seat. This seeming infraction on personal space goes unnoticed as people offer hands to help each other pass by. To order a stein, one must shout the order across the table to the waitress, pass the money down the benches to reach her—a beer goes for 7.50 euro—and wait for the woman to return, carrying five beers in each hand. The locals are happy to talk to foreigners, teach them some of the Bavarian dialect, and share a beer. Every so often, the entire area will stand up and sway to the drinking songs, clanging steins together to show their camaraderie. If one has had too much to drink, one simply naps on the hill behind the row of tents. According to one group of Germans, however, this practice is widely looked down upon.

Today, this once local wedding party has transformed into one of the world’s largest festivals. Though few foreign visitors know of its origin, Oktoberfest persists as a great celebration that many towns and cities try to emulate. Cincinnati’s version, dubbed Zizinnati, rivals Munich’s in terms of attendance and number of beers sold.

The town of La Crosse, Wisconsin, adds its own twist to the traditional practices, including a Miss La Crosse pageant and nightly concerts. The celebration even extends to Asia, as Singapore annually hosts its version, Erdinger Oktoberfest. Despite these impressive imitations, one must travel to Munich to imbibe the electric atmosphere and eccentric people. There, just as important as knowing the favorite drinking songs is knowing how to toast properly: a loud, enthusiastic, “Prost!”

Welcome

16

by Melanie Wright

Airline ticket in hand, suitcase in tow, you are ready to take on the world. During a lightning-fast trip through Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, you catch a glimpse of tea and coffee ceremonies from many cultures, each with their own special flair and deep symbolic undertones. You seek to find out why tea and coffee are so integral to many cultures and to discover the narrative, mythical, or profound significance of three cups.

After lunch, all the villagers in Louly Ngogam in Western Senegal sit outside their mud brick huts. Beneath the shade trees, a man called Lamine offers you ataaya. As you sit in the sand, he fills a small enamel pot with a cup of water and dumps in loose leaf Chinese green tea. As the teapot boils atop a portable gas burner like an oversized camp stove, Lamine and the others ask you about your family, work, and life. Tea time may take all afternoon, but Lamine explains that the ceremony is more about the company than the drink.

After the tea has boiled a while, Lamine pours some into a small glass. He tastes a little, puts the rest back in the pot, and then adds about a third of a cup of sugar.

He lets the tea boil some more. Eventually, he empties out a tablespoon or so of liquid into one of the two small glasses on a tray by the stove. He pours the tea back and forth between the glasses, raising his hand so that the liquid falls more than a foot as he transfers it. Each time, a bit of foam builds up until the glass is half full. “Since we are Muslim and do not drink beer,” he tells you, “we have a head on our tea.” Returning the excess tea to the pot, he boils it another five or ten minutes before deciding that this round is done. Filling each glass with only a taste, he serves the eldest two people present. They down their beverage as fast as possible, almost as if they’re taking a shot. Then each returns the glass, and Lamine serves you and the others who are next in age order. The tea is so hot you can barely hold the small glass, let alone gulp it down. What you taste almost overpow-

ers you, and you cringe from the bitterness, despite all the sugar. Out of respect for the others waiting, you drink it down as quickly as you can. This continues until all adults are served. Lamine only drinks the leftover dregs. “The first cup is bitter and hot as hell,” he explains, “to symbolize how friendships begin.”

The next cup begins much the same way.

He adds a few leaves, but mostly he boils the same green tea over and over. He puts in more sugar this time, along with a few fresh sprigs of mint. Your host serves this cup in the same manner as the previous one, but it tastes much sweeter and less intensely strong. “Friendship grows sweeter over time,” remarks Lamine.

Finally, he repeats the ceremony for a third time. He keeps adding more sugar until you wonder if there’s more of it than there is tea.

This tea uses the same leaves, which have already been boiled for nearly an hour. This time he dunks two handfuls of fresh mint leaves in the boiling water. Your final cup tastes sweet and minty—more like a syrupy candy than a drink. Much weaker and a bit cooler by this point, the tea no longer overwhelms you, and you savor the deliciousness. Its richness communicates the final message—friendship that has grown over a period of time is the sweetest of all.

The gently rolling hills and fields dotted with low-lying brush give way to a cluster of mud and stick huts. The men of this Ethiopian village come out to greet you and invite you into their homes. The brown mud structure contains two rooms, and you sit in one of them as a woman wearing a white cotton dress with colorful woven patterns around the sleeves and hem approaches you. “My name is Fatima,” she tells you, “and I will serve you buna.” She fishes out some pale gray and red coals from a tray filled with ashes in the corner of a room, where a stick of frankincense burns and fills the air with almost stifling sweetness. Kneeling on the flax mat covering the floor, she places the coals in a charcoal stove, blowing to rekindle the glowing embers. Filling a pan with

Fall 2007

eldest first but eventually hands you a cup of coffee. You hold it gingerly, as the china cup has no handle, and enjoy the aroma as you wait for it to cool. When you finally sip it, the taste is strong and as heavily sugared as the tea was in Senegal. Hints of flowers, chocolate, and even citrus linger on your breath. Thankfully, you have two more cups left to enjoy!

This first cup is called abol. Tona and baraka soon follow. During the ceremony, you munch on sugared popcorn that Fatima has roasted over the charcoal stove. With each roasting and brewing of coffee beans, the perfumed air invigorates and revitalizes you, and the heat and strength of each cup warms you to the core. As you revel in the sensual experience, Fatima explains that with the third cup, you have undergone a spiritual journey that will bring you good luck—baraka even means “to bestow blessing.” The ceremony leaves you feeling cleansed, and you almost sense the spiritual renewal that this series of three cups is supposed to bring. “You do this daily?” you ask Fatima, incredulously. “Also for festivals and to show hospitality,” she replies. “Buna dabo naw—Coffee is our bread!”

Nestled in the sandy cliffs of the Arabian desert, a few small shacks brave the winds.

These concrete shelters stand where the tents of a nomadic people once were, housing Bedouins that move with the seasons no more. “Allah wa Sablan,” says an Arab man named Ahmed, welcoming you into his home. After you are seated, he takes out a cast-iron pan to begin roasting the coffee beans in front of you. Next, he grinds them with a mortar and pestle, mixing in cardamom. “Here is finjan al dayf, the cup of the guest,” Ahmed tells you as he hands you the first round of Qahwah Saadah. “This means you are welcome in my home.” He shows you respect by offering you this cup; refusing to offer it to you would be a grave insult. After drinking the first cup, you know you can be at ease among this Bedouin tribe.

photo by Melanie Wright

green coffee beans, she roasts them until they turn shiny ebony and produce a rich aroma that overpowers even the potent incense. The enticing aromas already convey to you the welcome and friendship that this ceremony signifies.

Fatima dumps the beans into a mortar and crushes them with a pestle, rhythmically grinding them into a fine powder. She then

17

gently stirs them into a black clay pot with a narrow spout, otherwise known as a jebena, filled with hot water. Topping the pot with a straw lid, she lets it sit for a moment. She strains the coffee through a sieve several times and equalizes its strength before serving it. Holding the pot high above the low table covered by tiny china cups, she pours the jebena so that the coffee falls over a foot before filling each small cup. She serves the

You and Ahmed recline on piles of pillows on the ground as he roasts more beans for the second cup. As with previous ceremonies, the lengthy process lets you talk with him, and you savor the chance at personal connection. The process doesn’t change, and neither do the rich, spicy accents of the coffee. Perhaps for this cup he’ll add a sharp touch of ginger, although the ceremony does not require any specific changes.

When the second cup’s ready, you taste finjan al sayf, the sword cup. “You will be safe here,” Ahmed tells you. “This cup means that I assure your protection. An enemy of my tribe would never receive this cup, nor

would I serve it to a guest if an outside danger threatened him. This symbolizes an end to the wars of our people, and in drinking it we honor the courageous men here.”

Once you are welcomed and protected, your worries are few. Relaxed and at home in the desert hut, you chat with the men as Ahmed roasts and brews more coffee. With the third and final cup, you simply enjoy its rich taste. Conveniently, finjan al kayf is the cup of pleasure, meant for you to appreciate the fine beverage. As you thank your host and depart, you feel warmed to the core and can still taste a tinge of cardamom on your breath.

The white walls of a country house open up to a large, central courtyard surrounded by four smaller courtyards. Deep in the Yunnan Province of China, the people living here come from the Bai ethnic group. A man in white, a color that holds great importance in his culture, introduces himself as Siping and welcomes you into the main room.

“You are our honored guest,” he says, and treats you to a ceremony reserved for only their most important visitors. First, he selects some local tea leaves and places them in a clay jar. Siping shakes the jar over the fire, baking the leaves. Once they are cooked through to a yellow color and their fragrance fills the air, he adds boiling water into the jar. You jolt at the loud rumbling sound of water in the pot, and he laughs.

“This is why they call it ‘thundering tea.’”

He pours you some into a delicate teacup, and you sip the pale amber liquid. Meanwhile, he explains, “This cup welcomes you to my household. The three cups also tell a story. The first one, in its bitterness, lets you know that you must endure hardships to achieve success.”

demand the meaning of this cup and the conclusion of the tea narrative. “Life is full of many experiences,” he explains with a gentle smile. “Some are good and some are bad. Through it all, you will be left with the impression of those difficult and those rewarding times.” Remembering the bitterness, sweetness, and pungency of the tea experience with the Bai people, you express your appreciation to Siping for his hospitality and prepare to continue your journey.

them, and they easily give off their flavor. 18 Soomoon pours the tea into a bowl, which he passes around so that each person can serve himself. When the bowl reaches you, you gawk at the tea’s bright, vibrant green.

As you stare at it, he explains that this cup is for color. Indeed, the South Korean tea ceremony is about the complete use of your senses and the appreciation of each facet of an experience. The drink tastes as strong as it looks—a flavor you can only describe as green.

In the South Korean village where you now stand, small concrete houses with bright slate tile roofs have replaced the traditional thatch-roofed clay huts. Ever since the government revitalized the rural areas in the 1960s, old-fashioned houses have become scarce and the villages have shrunk.

Though the houses have a modern exterior, within their walls still dwells a rich cultural legacy, passed on through the generations.

Introducing himself as Soomoon, a native of the town invites you to join his family for a traditional tea ceremony.

Your host prepares the final cup in much the same way as the second: hotter water, reused leaves, and a brief brewing time.

Once the bowl of tea reaches you again, you lift it to add some to your own cup. “Listen,” Soomoon urges you. “The sound of the tea being poured is like a stream. Find its place in nature. Hear the tea falling.” As it splashes and echoes, you let your thoughts take you to a waterfall in the woods, and only then do you truly hear the tea. Your heightened awareness brings your attention to the heat emanating from the cup, and you complete your sensual journey by tasting your final cup of Korean tea. Earthy and slightly bitter, it still renders a mildly sweet aftertaste. Heading back to the airport, you muse over how a few dry leaves can become such a profound experience.

Inside the house, he takes a bowl of freshly boiled water, pours some into a row of cups, and sets the rest aside. Soomoon then measures out green tea leaves and puts them into an empty teapot. Once it has cooled enough not to burn the leaves, he adds the water from the bowl to the teapot. Now that the warm water has heated the cups, he empties them. Next, he pours the full quantity of tea into the cups before returning it all to the teapot, mixing the tea and equalizing its strength throughout. Soomoon serves each guest by placing a full cup on a saucer and meticulously setting it in front of him or her. “Only one person can move at a time,” he explains, “so the cup must not pass hands directly.”

Pausing in his tale, he begins to make the next cup. You watch as he uses a copper kettle and strainer to add a wide array of flavors into the tea. The brown sugar doesn’t surprise you, but the chips of milk fan—a solid, fatty, fermented dairy product—do.

Soon walnuts, sesame, and popcorn join the tea, and then Siping spices it with a bit of orange peel. Finally, he completes the tea with slices of a bland, pear-shaped gourd called chayote. Not sure what to expect from this strange and thick concoction, you are caught off guard by a sweet and complex flavor. “What’s this part of the story?” you ask. “Once the hardships are over,” he continues, “you will have sweet experiences.”

You lift your cup off its saucer and admire its pale green color. “This cup is for smell,” Soomoon tells you, “so be sure to breathe it in.” You inhale and the soothing, almost bitter scent fills your nostrils. Eager to try the tea, you take the cup by the handle and raise it to your lips. Your host interrupts you. “With both hands, hold the cup with both hands,” he insists, “You aren’t just drinking tea, you are experiencing it. Using both your hands keeps all your focus on the tea ceremony. In the way of Confucius, we commit our body and mind fully to our actions.” Apologetically, you grasp the cup with both your hands and sip a tea so mild it seems almost milky.

After the second cup, you’re prepared for anything. Indeed, this last cup has a strong, almost acrid flavor. Even after you put it down, a powerful aftertaste lingers on.

In confusion that borders on disgust, you

The water is slightly hotter for the second round, but the leaves brew for only an instant. Your host uses the same leaves throughout the ceremony, just as Lamine did in Senegal. The first cup has softened

While your plane crosses the Pacific Ocean, the first streaks of dawn light the sky, and the flight attendant wakes you for your breakfast. “Would you like tea or coffee with your meal?” she asks you. You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. What once just seemed like your morning dose of caffeine now has become a way to connect with strangers and share culture. Whether it teaches lessons on friendship or struggles in life, whether it guarantees your safety, transforms your spirit, or awakens your senses, three cups of the warm brews have shown you a deeper way to live your life.

The elaborate ceremonies around each series of cups make the world seem a little smaller, even as the ingredients and the narrative vary widely among nations. “I’ll have a coffee,” you decide finally. “Maybe it’ll wake me up!” Even with these words, a glance back at your trip reminds you that the drink can mean so much more.

Fall 2007

Die Another Day Healthcare in Chavez’s Venezuela

by Edgar Mkrtchian

Sitting in a comparative global health policy class last fall, I couldn’t help but wonder why the United States spends exorbitant amounts of money on healthcare for minimal health improvements. Although the U.S. government and private insurance companies annually dish out $5,267 per capita on healthcare1, our country still lags behind other developed nations in key health indicators such as mortality, infant mortality rate, and life expectancy. Intrigued by global health disparities and the different conduits countries employ to distribute healthcare, I decided to investigate Cuba, where all citizens enjoy socialized, free healthcare. The Cuban government spends 1/25 per capita on healthcare compared to the U.S., yet it boasts strikingly similar healthcare statistics. As much as I wanted

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“Healthcare is now free and universal... [but] the program, like most endeavors in Venezuela, has become extremely politicized.”

to visit Cuba and see its healthcare system at work, visa restrictions forced me to look elsewhere. Luckily, Cuba has recently partnered with Venezuela in a groundbreaking international healthcare exchange; thus, I traveled to Venezuela this past summer to understand both countries’ approaches to healthcare provision.

I headed to the South American nation with the support of the Duke Center for International Studies and the FOCUS program.

Before I could conduct any research, I had to spend several difficult days shuttling between various government offices in the capital city of Caracas, explaining my motives to administrators before they would sanction my activities. I wanted to investigate a new socialized medicine program

called Barrio Adentro, or “Into the Neighborhood,” one aspect of the doctors-for-oil trade between Venezuela and Cuba. Cuban President Fidel Castro and Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez have implemented a revolutionary trade that sends drastically price-reduced Venezuelan oil to Cuba in exchange for the time and talent of highly educated Cuban doctors. Once I secured the government’s support, I spent the next few weeks speaking with patients, doctors, and administrators in Caracas and Merida.

Barrio Adentro has achieved palpable results. Before the program was implemented, Venezuelan healthcare was in a disastrous state; only its wealthiest citizens could afford the high prices private clinics demanded. Chavez, however, has nationalized everything from oil fields to agriculture. Healthcare is now free and universal, and it rightly focuses on prevention. The program, like most endeavors in Venezuela, has become extremely politicized. Now, giant pro-government propaganda slogans adorn the clinics, and socialist party registration sites are stationed inside the waiting rooms, both clear signs that non-government supporters are unwelcome. Still, staunch opponents of Chavez refuse to be bribed by their president’s latest attempt to win over the country while simultaneously depriving its people of personal freedoms.

One anti-Chavez protestor said that he would rather die than step foot into a Barrio Adentro clinic to be treated by a Cuban doctor—a sentiment I encountered often while in Venezuela.

One experience in Merida touched me profoundly. I spent a day following my host

family’s friend as she went to healthcare providers, searching for treatment. First we visited several private clinics where the secretaries declined our visit without an appointment. Then we went to a newly built Barrio Adentro clinic where, after waiting two hours, a young Cuban doctor called us into his office. After a few tests, the doctor speedily and competently diagnosed the problem, relieving my new friend of her ailment and her anxiety. Not only did she pay nothing for the exam, but she also received free prescriptions that otherwise would have cost her a month’s wages. In addition, after her exam, she inquired about her mother who was too elderly to leave home.

When a doctor offered to make house calls to care for her mother, she began crying. As we traveled to the different clinics, she had expressed anti-Chavez sentiments, worrying about dwindling personal freedoms and increased political polarization. Even after the visit, she still had not changed her mind about Chavez, although now she was willing to consider that the government was not nearly as exclusionary as she had thought.

I spoke to the doctor afterwards regarding his role in the program. He affirmed that politics did not interest him; rather, it was the provision of quality healthcare to people in either Cuba or Venezuela that inspired him.

Throughout my journeys in Venezuela, I became enamored with the country and its people. As a result, I was disappointed to see that Venezuela is characterized by increasing disparity. Luxury hotels and office towers compete for space with burgeoning barrios. Venezuela is experiencing escalating turbulence as Chavez’s “Bolivarian Rev-

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olution” controls more aspects of citizens’ lives. During the summer, I looked on with sadness as Venezuela continued to slide precariously towards a dictatorship.

In principle, Barrio Adentro is a revolutionary idea that has already witnessed tremendous results, but its politicization signifies a giant step backwards. Barrio Adentro is quickly morphing from a social program available to all citizens into a means of providing healthcare strictly for government supporters. Contrary to some academic opinions in the United States, Chavez is not a heroic nationalist freeing his country from American imperialist influence. Rather, as his manipulation of Barrio Adentro demonstrates, he is a cunning and calculating dictator slowly asserting government control over all aspects of society. Besides bribing citizens with free healthcare, Chavez has systematically eroded civil rights and free speech. When I lived in Caracas, the government refused to continue funding the only remaining independent television station, RCTV, removing it from the air and extinguishing hope for many that this “Revolution” can be harnessed. From my hotel balcony, I witnessed the brutality of the Venezuelan National Guard as they attacked the peaceful protestors who demanded the station’s renewal. In these turbulent times, Chavez has transformed Barrio Adentro from a service to his people into a bribe, securing political support in exchange for quality healthcare and cheaper medicine.

1. Anderson, Gerald et al. “Health Spending in the United States and the Rest of the Industrialized World.” Health Affairs 24 (2005): 903-914.

Fall 2007 photo by Edgar Mkrtchian

ocalypse A Tribute to Harry Potter

by Sandy Sun

This summer marked the end of something big: Harry Potter had grown up, left Hogwarts, and taken the last vestiges of the wizarding world with him. The life of this black-haired, bespectacled boy with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead has been documented since 1997. Fans worldwide read about Harry’s discovery of his wizarding powers and subsequent adjustment to life at Hogwarts wizarding school. They sympathized with Harry when he experienced the trials of any normal adolescent wizard, hormonal fluctuations and all. They cheered for him when he developed close relationships with his best friends, Ron and Hermione, and, most of all, they feared for Harry when he courageously fought against the notorious Lord Voldemort. Throughout the seven-part series, fans experienced all of Harry Potter’s thoughts, insecurities, and imperfections as he bravely matured into an adult.

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The emotional attachment that fans have formed for Harry Potter explains his wide international appeal. The Harry Potter novels have been translated into sixty-six different languages. The first novel, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, holds the record as the best-selling non-religious, non-political work of fiction. The release of the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was greeted with midnight release parties at bookstores worldwide.

Harry Potter fans, many of them sporting cloaks and lightning-bolt tattoos on their foreheads, gathered outside the stores to meet each other and to be the first to buy a copy of the novel. Even adults buy the books, prompting publishing companies to

release special adult editions, in which the cover art is more mature.

The popularity of the novels transcends not only physical boundaries, but also cultural divides. Harry Potter appears in Facebook groups, and there is a Facebook application that allows users to cast spells on each other. Harry Potter merchandise is found as far away as Australia, which has stamps commemorating the release of the Harry Potter films. In France, the fifth installment in the series, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, became the first English book to top the best-seller list. In China, enterprising individuals hoping to capitalize on the 哈利波特 (Harry Potter) hype have published many counterfeit copies, including Harry Potter and the Leopard Walk up to Dragon. This novel, which the publisher claimed was the fifth in the series, was in fact a translation of JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit, with the names changed to those of Harry Potter characters.

The spread of the Harry Potter phenomenon across cultures and age groups is a testament to the universality of the novels.

Perhaps this results from Harry’s humanity paired with the overarching theme of good versus evil. Or maybe it is the unique wizarding world that J.K. Rowling has so carefully integrated into “Muggle” society. The realism is just enough for the imaginative part of any fan to think that three-headed dogs and horcruxes could exist. Whatever the reason, the odds are that new generations of Harry Potter fans will continue to read the novels and identify with the coming-of-age story of this boy-wizard.

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Spain, Standing Still

by James Smyth

photo by rafaeldom

L

ish aged fourteen and under has decreased forty-four percent in the last fifteen years.2

Spain is ancient; Spain is aging. The two need not go hand in hand (as resurgent China and India are demonstrating), but in the land of Cervantes, the only thing older than the churches are the people inside them. The national fertility rate is 1.29 children per woman.1 Since men haven’t broken into the childbearing business yet, this means that without immigration, Spain’s population would be chopped in half nearly every generation. Furthermore, since most immigrants are fully-grown adults, there is a paucity of children: the number of Span-

My host family was a typical Spanish household: two retired parents in their seventies, a daughter threatening forty, and a son surpassing that age still lived under the same roof. Spaniards customarily dwell in their parents’ homes until marriage, and since it takes multiple incomes to sustain Europe’s celebrated big-city lifestyle, many people seem to prefer this arrangement anyway.

I wonder, though, if it’s made these young adults, usually the most dynamic members of a society, more juvenile. Single men in Spanish clubs are often insufferable, or in the parlance of my female American friends, “esketchy.” P. D. A. is widespread because everyone from junior high school boys to middle-aged women has parents at home who would make things awkward. Each night, my host mother packed lunch for her balding son before he went to work; his room was festooned with Real Madrid posters and a big stereo system, and he loved to play air guitar there when he thought everyone else was asleep. It’s difficult for me to see him moving out, marrying, and

ike all students of the Spanish language, when I started the study abroad process I had a philosophical choice to make: Europe or Latin America. Would it be castles and cathedrals or wildlife and warmth?

While Latin America is warm not only for its climate but also for its generous people, my choice was obvious: I’d read so much about my cultural forbears and dreamed so much of knights on white horses that I had to see these things for myself. I haven’t looked back. My time in Spain was thrilling and astonishing, yet it was also heartrending.

starting a family, and for many of his compatriots, that part of life just never happens. The worst was when the department stores advertised on television for Christmas sales. Both children were at work, and my host mother felt comfortable enough to mutter, “How sad that we don’t have grandchildren for whom we can buy little toys.”

For that moment, gazing at a little cartoon baby crawling after a star, she and I quietly grieved. Afterwards, the barrenness of the home receded to the background, to be always felt but never mentioned.

Spain’s infertility is reflected in its countryside. Everything south of the Cantabrian highlands and east of the Valencian seaboard, from the cliffs of Aragón to the sands of Cádiz, is difficult terrain. Spanish grass is too busy fighting for survival to bother with turning green. Andalucía is thicketed with olive trees, the only plants that can sprout from those sun-baked rocks. Don Quijote’s home region, La Mancha, is so vacant it inspires the fear of God. Extremadura reminds me more of the brown swathes of the Serengeti than of any midsummer night’s dream. The poet Antonio Machado wrote

Fall 2007

that, both physically and spiritually, Spain is not the Garden of Eden but rather the arid realm of the wanderer Cain.

The Spaniards have proven, however, that such stagnation need not lead to squalor. One of my most powerful experiences abroad occurred in a hamlet called Trujillo.

This was a city of the Romans, Celts, and Moors, as well as the birthplace of sundry conquistadors, including Francisco Pizarro, destroyer of the Incas. Despite these distinctions, it is now a town of but nine thousand people; when I visited, the population seemed to be twenty. Yet it is rightly called the jewel of Extremadura. Its red-roofed houses are simple and tasteful and like most edificios stand no taller than three stories, so there is plenty of room to see the sky. Its winding roads, built for carts rather than cars, all lead uphill to a cathedral that could fit most of the town inside. The stairs to and from the bell tower were so worn I sprained my ankle on them, but the view from the top helped repay for those damages. The lands below Trujillo consist of mounds and huts nestled inside a web of Roman rock partitions, and one can see the shadow of each cloud on the vast plain below. As I ran through the turrets of the town’s thou-

sand-year old fortifications, I reflected on my good fortune. I could never achieve my dream of knighthood—that occupation, like those walls, is now obsolete—but I could still appreciate the beautiful places that had sparked so much of my imagination. Time stands still in Trujillo, but the city can be proud as long as someone is there to preserve its heritage.

former masters. Irving’s book about his experience, Tales of the Alhambra, made the place world-famous and moved the Spaniards to conserve it. Now, any pilgrim of love can go there and imagine the profound sadness of Boabdil, the last caliph, seeing his valley filled with Castilian soldiers and realizing that his people’s 800-year reign was to end on his watch.

The Alhambra is another testament to the value of antiquity. This grand palace of Granada was the final territory the Moors surrendered to the Christians. It was well-maintained at first but fell into such disrepair that for some time it was a den of thieves. Luckily, an outsider, Sleepy Hollow’s own Washington Irving, stayed at the Alhambra in the late 1820s, and he fell deeply in love with its arabesque architecture, the soothing, omnipresent sound of running water from its springs, the geometric complexity of its tiles, its tranquil enclosed gardens, and most of all, the romantic stories the servants recounted of its

Elderly Spain does not forget the past, but it is not always mourning, either. Barcelona comes to mind: it has the same demographic profile as the rest of the country, but it is one of the most modern, cosmopolitan, popular, exciting cities in Europe. La Liga, the excellent domestic soccer league, unites Spaniards like nothing else. The people also find pleasure in their old customs, including the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona and the myriad manic celebrations of patron saints’ feast days. One of the most esteemed of these traditions is the flamenco music of Andalucía. I had the pleasure of visiting a bar in Sevilla (Seville to Anglos) where the owners, a husband and wife tandem, had been singing and dancing to guitar and patron accompaniment for decades. Flamenco is a very rigid style: the rules and even the songs have not changed

23 photo by James Smyth

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photo by James Smyth

since time immemorial. The singer bends pitch with beauteous agony; hands and feet keep complicated rhythms; the guitar solo is an opportunity for the dancers to make saucy movements; the words are nigh incomprehensible due to the gypsy dialect; the subject is tortured love: “Gitana, gitana, ¡te quiero!” is a mantra. To hear this bar performance was to hear countless others before it, but thanks to the passion of the participants for the music and for each other, it became clear that flamenco, even if it never changes, will always be something to celebrate.

So, too, will some places always preserve their magic. One is Cádiz, built with stone two thousand years ago by the Phoenicians and since then made the subject of several flamenco ballads. (I happened to be in town for a two-night municipal singing contest, so I heard many of them.) The city stands on an island between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, and every square foot is developed: excepting the beaches and ports, each city wall dives straight into the ocean like a levee. Farmer’s markets, parks, and restau-

“I could never achieve

my dream of knighthood—that occupation, like those walls, is now obsolete—but I could still appreciate the beautiful places that had sparked so much of my imagination.”

rants populate the bustling town squares.

The dominant color inside the cathedral is pink. Technological advances only complement the city: street lamps make the dozens of rivulets from high tide shimmer as they flow to the ocean, and the water stretches the red-yellow-green beams of traffic lights hundreds of feet. Most importantly, the moon is simply brighter there than it is anywhere else. The songs of Cádiz will be true even if all their words are forgotten.

People ask me if I plan to return to Spain.

As enthralled as I was there, I tell them I do not. I have already seen most of the regions, and unless the Muslim immigrants take an active role in the society, the nation isn’t dynamic enough to change. Nevertheless, I will always be grateful to the country for what it has given me. May the next generation of Spaniards have the grace to preserve it.

1. “Rank Order - Total Fertility Rate.” The World Factbook. 4 Oct. 2007. Central Intelligence Agency. 20 Oct. 2007 <https://www. cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook >.

2. Spain’s Institute of Family Policies, cited in Vucheva, Elitsa.

“A Portrait of Europe’s Aging Population.” BusinessWeek 9 Oct. 2007. 20 Oct. 2007 <http://www.businessweek.com>.

Fall 2007

ANIME APPEAL

by Nicholas Chan

I am going to admit it: I watch anime. No, I am not Japanese, Emo, or Goth, and I actually have friends. And they don’t like anime.

Neither does most of the American population, it seems. Anime is an extremely polarized subject: you either love it or hate it.

On one hand, most people would die happy if they did not see another animated work for the rest of their lives; on the other hand, however, there are the few who not only watch anime, but also swear by it, buy all the spin-off products, and wear the most expensive cosplay costumes to the anime conventions. And of course, there are always those who hold the middle ground, including yours truly. But unfortunately, the overwhelming opinion of anime seems to be: hell no, I’m not a kid!

However, when it comes to any discussion about anime, most people are surprisingly ignorant of the Japanese cultural pastime they fervently label “childish,” “goth,” and “emo.” So perhaps I should start from the basics.

Anime refers to the specific style of Japanese animation where the characters usually, but not necessarily, have large, round eyes, small noses and mouths, and angular features. Much like American TV series, episodes are broadcast on a weekly basis in Japan. Depending on the series’ popularity, show times could be anywhere from obscure hours on some unheard of channel to primetime on NHK, the nation’s largest network. And yes, adults actually watch anime and read manga, the comics upon which most anime series are based . In fact, the weekly manga sales in Japan alone top the entire annual revenue of the American comic industry!

So why the popularity in Japan and the paranoia in the States?

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For starters, the anime industry in Japan flourished because of its weak film industry. In the 1940s, when movie budgets were slim and costs high, many directors turned to animation where all that was needed was drawing utensils and voice actors. By contrast, in the States, where a booming film industry was dominating the entertainment scene, animation success was limited to the few companies that managed to produce the iconic stars of Spiderman and image by miriambr

Mickey Mouse. As a result, anime matured and earned a permanent place in Japanese culture, where the target audience was a much broader age group (essentially everyone), while Western animated works remained kids-only. So when the Japanese introduced anime to the United States, its reception was limited to a younger audience. It did not help that the popular topics for anime did not suit Western tastes: much of the inspiration was drawn from the Japanese fascination with Western society, especially the gothic culture, or from the traditions of day-to-day Japanese life (which are completely foreign to the West). Few on this side of the Pacific could understand the reasons an adult would be interested in comics and animation, and since anime did not hold much appeal for the public, it was put aside and overlooked. Over time, this “let’s not bother” attitude for Japanese animation developed into the taboo and ignorance that the general American public holds today. So, to a large extent, anime remains shunned by Americans.

At its core, however, anime is the same as any TV series you would watch and love in America: maidens still need saving, villains still need defeating, and, most of the time, the heroes still have absolutely no idea what they are doing. It is the same type of storytelling, just without actors and sometimes with better music and plot twists. Most anime series have enough original music to warrant an original soundtrack recording, and popular voice actors and actresses are as well-known as Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. Also, since everything can be exaggerated at will, many anime comedic devices have developed over the years that are unique to the genre. In fact, much of it is now employed in Japanese soap operas with real actors.

For those who still need a little nudge out the door to try anime, consider the social aspect: in the same way that American culture and humor is embedded in sitcoms, anime represents the Japanese culture, with its more manic sense of humor and its unique style. Anime, one could even say, is a portal for us to experience true Asian culture, untainted by Western romanticization. As childish and immature as it would seem in the West, to watch anime or read manga is actually to join in on the regular pastime of 127 million people on the other side of the planet.

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Fortunately, the general opinion of anime in the U.S. has begun to improve, however subtly. Even if the public has yet to recognize the overall maturity of the anime industry, the American animation companies themselves have begun to evolve as a result of the success of their Japanese counterparts. No longer are animations made purely for children—recent movies such as Shrek and its sequels have begun to make the transition from the traditionally narrow audience to a wider group of viewers. Nothing unsuitable for the under twelve category is included, of course, but many subtleties and humor of the adult caliber ensure as much fun for the parents (and college students) as for the kids.

Also, Dragonball Z, Sailormoon, and Pokemon aside, a variety of anime has begun to appear in the States. Video blogs such as Veoh and Youtube have extensive collections of free fan-subs (raw Japanese episodes with the subtitling done by fans) of most series. Cartoon Network’s adult-oriented programming, Adult Swim, broadcasts select English dubbed anime series on a weekly basis, and recent anime conventions in America have reached record attendance rates. Much of the interest can be attributed to the American fascination with ninjas, since they feature in two of the currently popular anime series, Bleach and Naruto. The genres do not stop there, however. If you want to find a romance

anime, try Ah! My Goddess or Nodame Cantabile; if you want hardcore fighting and gore, Hellsing will definitely satisfy your bloodlust; if you’re aiming for a deeply philosophical series, watch the anime adaptation of Ghost in the Shell or go experience the controversy of Neon Genesis Evangelion. And of course, any Hayao Miyasaki film will be bound to capture your imagination.

So the next time you hear about an anime film or series, don’t be afraid to try it out. Treat it as a cultural exploration or just an unusual time-killer. It might not be 24, but even Jack Bauer can’t summon a fifty-foot warrior frog!

landmarks in ANIME 1958

Hakujaden: first color anime film, debuted in the U.S. in 1961 as “Panda and the Magic Serpent.” Reception was poor partially due to extensive American editing of the original film.

1963 1972 1979

Tetsuwan Atom (Astro Boy): first popular anime TV series (pictured below). It is still a source of inspiration for fashion merchandise in Asia.

Mazinger Z: considered the first popular work of the mecha (mechanical) genre. The birth of the genre was brought about by the fame and success of Star Wars.

Mobile Suit Gundam: also an early work of the mecha genre. It is one of anime’s best known titles due to numerous sequels, games, and spinoff models.

1984 1986 1992

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind: one of the most influential films of all time, whose success spurred experimentation in anime. Studio Ghibli was set up soon after by film director Hayao Miyazaki.

Dragonball Z: one of the more popular anime series in America. It was first introduced to the West in 1989, but it did not gain popularity until 1998.

Sailormoon: the best known shojo series (aimed at the teenage girl audience). Western audiences have associated it with the Girl Power movement.

1995

Neon Genesis Evangelion: one of the most controversial anime series to air due to its psychologically disturbing themes.

1997 2001

Pokemon: popular anime series adopted from Nintendo mega-hit with the same title (pictured at right).

Spirited Away: first anime film to earn an Academy Award and the second to receive the Best Animated Feature Oscar.

Fall 2007

Constructing Happiness

by Sarah Newman

T

rembling with fear, I hopped on the back of my first boda-boda. I hugged the driver tightly as we bounced over the rocky roads and swerved to avoid divots.

After ten minutes, my driver screeched to a halt, and I jumped off the bike tingling with excitement: we were in Kangulumira.

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I arrived in this Southern Ugandan village on July 8, eager to begin my three-week community service project. Having been exposed to Africa solely through media and classes, my original views of Africa were those of poverty and disease; this was my chance finally to let my own experiences

shape my perspective. Facilitated by AV Adventures, a British gap-year program, I worked with eleven other students to construct a classroom for the local children’s school.

Kangulumira, located on the White Nile just under an hour from Lake Victoria, has one main street, dotted with small convenience stores and individual vendors selling fruit, vegetables, handmade clothes, and small crafts. The villagers live in small clay-brick homes along the two paths that intersect with the main road. During the day, the women complete household chores—cutting vegetables, washing clothes, and cooking dinner—as they socialize with other women and villagers passing through. Their children linger nearby, tossing small rocks or toy balls made of maize leaves. Many of the men work in Jinja, a large town about forty-five minutes away, while others farm the fertile land near the Nile. At night, people gather around the few buildings illuminated by flickering oil lamps. There, Kangulumirans recount the day’s events, gossip about relationships, and pass on town folklore.

At the end of one of the paths, we settled into our new home, which we affectionately named the “Green House” after the green tin of which it was made. It consisted of several small, separated buildings overlooking Kalagala Falls, the popular grade six rapid renamed “The Bad Place” by whitewater rafters. The living room was a covered, open patio with several benches and a wooden table for meals. The kitchen, open on two sides, faced the river; our dorm was a closed room, lined with four-tier bunk beds draped in white mosquito nets. On the hill sloping down to the Nile, three open-air showers had been installed. Slightly removed from the main rooms, there was a small building with two non-flushing toilets. The layout of the house made it so that, with the exception of our bedroom, we were always outside, facing the fantastic view of the river.

Each day we would wake up at dawn and walk twenty minutes down the path through the village to the local Kalaga Nursery, a school for three- to five-year-olds, as well as a few older students who had been needed at home as children and were now entering a formal education. As we walked, ten or fifteen children would shout, “Mzungu!” (white person), run towards us, and grab onto our hands and arms. I got used to this label, and I even recited “mzungu” in my head as white rafters ended their Nile adventures and passed through the town.

On our first day, Justus, the Kenyan representative for AV Adventures, greeted us and laid out our construction goals. Two photo by Laura Newman

local builders, Taiga and Jeffrey, guided us through the construction process. While they handled the more technical aspects of the job, such as the scaffolding and overall blueprint, we built and plastered the walls, laid the floor with clay rocks, and mixed cement from sand and water. In the end, we were not able to put up the new room’s roof, but the headmaster assured us that the classroom would be in use for the new school year beginning in January.

As we worked diligently through the morning hours, the teachers would encourage us, offering juicy slices of fresh pineapple. We would finish our day’s work in the afternoon and spend the evenings reading, eating, and retiring to bed shortly after sunset. Occasionally, a group of two or three of us would travel into Jinja to pick up needed groceries at the open-air market. After a quick boda-boda ride to the main street of Kangulumira, we would squeeze at least twenty people into a twelve passenger matatu for the bumpy ride into the bigger city.

During our stay, we built a relationship with Sherif, an older, mentally disabled boy at the school. Observing the poor treatment he received from his peers, who laughed at him and pushed him around, we invited him to our work site to help us out.

While Sherif’s classmates giggled about our shorts, our hair, and our pale skin, he grew attached to our work and to us. Methodical and organized, he loved to arrange patterns with the bricks we carried in our wheelbarrows. Sherif looked at us curiously when we stopped for water; he was so energetic that he could not understand why we needed a break.

After a few days, I grew accustomed to my new schedule and new environment. More importantly, however, I became familiar with the local people, their daily routines, and the village. I enjoyed walking through Kangulumira, perusing the market goods and observing the community’s interactions. I even began to anticipate the once nerve-racking boda-boda motorcycle rides that served as the town’s taxi service.

Working directly with the people, I recognized the value of experiencing a culture as opposed to being a passive tourist. The people of Kangulumira lead cheerful and mostly carefree lives, and they find happiness in their large families, close neighbors, and extended community. Though the living conditions may seem lacking by Western standards, in Kangulumira the focus is not on modernization but rather on community. Kangulumira did not represent the sorrowful African towns filled with suffering and disease that I had learned about in a classroom here at Duke. Within this specific

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community, I discovered that Kangulumirans derive personal happiness from communal experiences.

For three weeks, I didn’t have electricity, music, Internet, proper bathrooms, or even running water—the fast-moving headwaters of the Nile, it turns out, are a great bathing spot! I used the time I would have spent browsing the web or chatting with friends on my cell phone to converse with the schoolteachers and build friendships with my peers. While the media and university classes had initially shaped my view of Africa, my personal experience in Kangulumira gave me hope that these people are not as miserable and desperate as the Western world often assumes.

almost as important as the actual trip is your experie MOST BEAUTIFUL ARCHITECTURE: (pictured above) BARAJAS AIRPORT (MADRID, SPAIN) •It is most notable for its “dramatic and geometric beauty.”

•Its newly opened Terminal 4 won its designers, Antonio Lamela and Richard Rogers, the 2006 Stirling Prize, a prestigious British award for architectural achievement.

•The use of natural lighting through glass walls and domes reduces stress for travelers so that, as Rogers noted, “[people are] not squashed by low ceilings or dominated by retail and shops.”1 •Surrounded by beautiful landscape, Terminal 4 matches rolling hills with sloping roofs and forests with treeshaped support pillars.

LEAST ATTRACTIVE ARCHITECTURE: IQALUIT AIRPORT (IQALIUT, CANADA) •It is known affectionately by locals as the “Yellow Submarine” due to its mustard yellow coloring, which helps with visibility.

•It was built as part of a military base in 1943.

•Steel pylons help prevent its heat from melting the permafrost by elevating it above the ground, but they also give the structure a boxy look.

•It has its own fire station—with its very own yellow fire truck.

1. “Airport Scoops Architecture Prize.” BBC News. 14 Oct. 2006. <http:// news.bbc.co.uk>.

29 photo by Laura Newman

SAFEST: BEN GURION INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT (TEL AVIV, ISRAEL) •Recently, the airport received a 97.8 safety rating, the highest out of any international airport, by Conde Nast Traveler.2 •Security officials monitor behavior and search for clues that hint at danger, such as bulky clothing, before passengers even enter the terminal.

•Guards operate both in uniform and undercover.

•Profilers make a point of interviewing travelers, and passengers are only allowed to proceed to the check-in counter after profilers are satisfied that they pose no risk.

MOST DANGEROUS: BAGHDAD INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT (BAGHDAD, IRAQ) •Outside the airfield, there are bands of insurgents who target civilian and military aircraft with surface-to-air missiles.

•Pilots frequently use a spiral or corkscrew landing approach to avoid being knocked out of the sky by missiles.

•It functions as a critical supply line into and out of the country and is frequented by U.S. military convoys, Iraqi and foreign businessmen, journalists, and aid workers.

•As reporters Jill Carroll and Dan Murphy write, the “fourlane, six-mile stretch of road leading from central Baghdad to the country’s main airport remains one of the most dangerous stretches of highway in Iraq, if not the world.”3 2. Jacoby, Jeff. “What Israeli security could teach us.” Boston Globe. 23 August 2006. 18 October 2007. <http://www.boston.com/news/globe>.

3. Duffin, Allan T. “Landing in Baghdad.” Air and Space. 18 October 2007 <http://www.airspacemag.com>.

30

AIRPORTS 411

ence in the airport. find out where to be, and definitely not be, during a 5-hr layover.

MOST NAVIGABLE: ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT (ORLANDO, U.S.) •Clear, easy-to-follow signs mark the terminals, gates, and baggage claim.

•A simple layout with a shuttle running between terminals and baggage claim facilitates traveling throughout the airport.

•The staff is known for being friendly and helpful.

•Food and shops are easy to find on maps throughout the airport.

LEAST NAVIGABLE: HEATHROW AIRPORT (LONDON, U.K.) •Buses and trolleys break down frequently.

•It was described by Fodor’s travel writer Michelle Delio, as “designed by a sadist who gets his jollies from watching tourists run frantically around a huge labyrinth.”4 •Statistics from the Association of European Airlines show that more than one flight in three leaves Heathrow more than fifteen minutes late.

•On the bright side, construction of the new terminal started in September 2002; phase one of the project is scheduled to be completed and opened by April 2008 with the second phase opening in 2011.

4. Delio, Michelle. “Airports We Love (and Hate)”. Fodor’s. Fodor’s Travel. 2007.

18 Oct. 2007. <http://www.fodors.com> .

YUM: HONG KONG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT (HONG KONG) The first and business class lounge, The Wing, hosts a wide variety of eateries including:5 •The Haven for a stylish buffet that serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

•The Noodle Bar for a quick and quality meal consisting of freshly made noodles and snacks.

•The Long Bar, the longest airport bar at 80 ft, for a variety of beverages.

•The Short Bar for a selection of international coffees, wines, liquor, cocktails, and soft drinks.

BEST SHOPPING: CHANGI AIRPORT (CHANGI, SINGAPORE) •It houses over 160 retail stores and eighty eateries.

•It won “Best Duty Free Shopping” in World Airport Awards

by Skytrax research.7 •The stores sell a staggering range of products, from a can of soda worth seventy cents to a diamond ring costing more than $100,000.

•The airport provides a pricing guarantee that retailer prices match those of major shopping centers in the city—you can even get a refund of two times the price difference if you can prove otherwise.

YUCK! DOHA AIRPORT (DOHA, QATAR) •Its dining areas are often crowded and lacking in dining choices.

•Customers must obtain meal vouchers in order to buy a meal.

•The food is described as “mediocre fast food.”6 •Fortunately, Doha Airport is undergoing expansions, which are expected to finish in 2009.

WORST SHOPPING: JOHN F. KENNEDY AIRPORT (NEW YORK, U.S.) •There are far too few shops spread over too many terminals.

•The International Terminal only has about ten small shops, which includes an inefficient McDonalds and a pub that is closed half the day.

•Hudson’s and the two Brookstones are among some of the finer, more notable shops.

•The shops are of extremely poor quality compared to New York City’s other offerings, and all of them overcharge.

5. “The Wing”. Cathay Pacific. Cathay Pacific Airways Limited. 18 Oct. 2007. <http://www.cathaypacific.com>.

6. Toli. “Doha: Worst Airport Ever”. Travel Experience. 27 March 2006. 18 Oct. 2007. <http://kilot.blogspot.com>.

7. Flairview. “Best Airport for Shopping.” AccomBlog. 10 September 2007. 18 October 2007. <http://blog.accomline.com>.

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