A GLIMPSE OF
ICELAND SNAPSHOTS FROM INDIA
THE EYES OF
MADRID
A FAMILY DIVIDED IN NORTH & SOUTH KOREA
Volume 20 Fall 2014
EDITOR’S NOTE In the beginning of the semester, I learned about tourism in China in my Chinese class. The textbook dialogue included the phrase, “zhe yang guanguangke shi de canguan lüyou, dui yi ge difang de liaojue dou shi hen fuqian de.” It roughly translates to, “this type of tourist visits leads to a very superficial understanding of a place.”1 The superficial tourist visits the textbook refers to are those that include stays in luxury hotels and stops at popular sightseeing sights. Of course, sometimes these types of visits are just the breath of fresh air that you need when getting away from the routine of your everyday life. When you’re abroad, it can be tempting to just embrace these typical tourist itineraries: even without the luxury of a packaged vacation trip organized by a travel company, it isn’t hard to flock from landmark to landmark, effortlessly following in the footsteps of many others before you. To gain a deeper understanding of other cultures, one has to stray from this path and take risks—risks like staying for an extended period in a foreign country, sometimes with a host family kind enough to adopt you for a short time while you're studying, working, or volunteering abroad. As you browse the pieces included in this twentieth(!) volume of Passport, I hope you are inspired by the risks our writers took in both choosing to go abroad and sharing their stories with the public. Whether it be exploring the way that Chinese culture emphasizes love through cooking, dissecting the juxtaposition of race and socioeconomic class in a Madrid saturated with tourists, or countering the biases of memory cemented by museums and mainstream stories we may hear about the “Troubles” in Northern Ireland, all of these actions require risk in that writer has to be vulnerable. There is vulnerability in asking hard questions—questions about one's identity, one's environment, or one's history. I am proud to have seen all these stories and more evolve in my final semester as Editor-in-Chief of Passport, and hope that you enjoy the glimpses these pieces offer you into the lives of our writers during their time abroad!
Becky Chao
editor-in-chief Becky Chao chief graphics Roshni Prakash editor editors Laura Brody Brendan Huang Liane Yanglian Annie Piotrowski graphics Faisal Alsaadi editors Becky Chao Rhona Ke Elaine Pak Anh Pham Matthew Riley Jingyan Jenny Shang Liane Yanglian writers Ashan-wa Aliogo Laura Brody Becky Chao Francis Curiel David Ivey Komal Kinger Jingyan Jenny Shang Elaine Pak Anh Pham Roma Sonik
4. Chou, Chih-p’ing et al. All Things Considered. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011. Page 4.
Passport is a member publication authorized by the Undergraduate Publications Board and sponsored by the International House. The views expressed in this publication are the author’s own and do not reflect the opinions of the magazine.
1
passport
fall 2014
photo by dave.dave. dave via Flickr
cover photo by Ilse Rejis and Jan-Noud Hutten via Flickr back cover photo by Heribert Pohl via Flickr
CONTENTS Understanding Differences and Discrimination at Home and Abroad by Komal Kinger
3
Let’s Get Married by Ashan-wa Aliogo
5
Food for the Soul by Jingyan Jenny Shang
7 10 13 15 17
Dreaming of Oxford by Becky Chao A Letter from North Korea by Elaine Pak Notes from Reykjavík by Anh Pham Historical Amnesia:
Landscapes of Memory in Northern Ireland
by Laura Brody
A Threat to National Security and the Frenzy It Evokes by Francis Curiel
21
Buniyaad: Memories and Modernities by Roma Sonik
23 26 29
The Eyes of Madrid by David Ivey Global Street Artists Staff
photo by Nicolas Raymond via Flickr
2
Memoir
Understanding Difference and D Dublin, Ireland
by Komal Kinger
S
o where are you from?” asked an elderly gentleman who sat down next to me on the bus. Having arrived in Dublin for four weeks as part of the DukeEngage Dublin program, I was beginning to get used to this inquisitive line of questioning, already knowing the direction the conversation would take. “From the States,” I replied, bracing myself for the next question.
3
passport
“But… where parents…?”
are
you
from?
Your
“India,” I explained as he nodded in agreement, satisfied with the answer, and went back to his own thoughts. As part of the DukeEngage Dublin program, my classmates and I stayed in the heart of the city for eight weeks, working at different organizations, schools, and departments to understand and learn about the migrant and refugee population in Ireland. I worked at Cairde, an information and advocacy center that challenges ethnic minority inequalities in health. To prepare us for our placements, our program directors hosted a series of meetings to discuss the growing migrant and refugee population, discrimination and ethnic minority inequalities that exist, and the history of immigration in a country that is better known for its emigration. Despite the invaluable discussions, speakers, and the books that we read during the program, however, I was still utterly shocked when during my second week, a client walked in and cried inconsolably while describing her discriminatory experience at the doctor's, an occurrence that I thought would not occur in the twenty-first century. Between her crying and hysteria, we were able to piece together a situation that seemed all too familiar in the Irish immigrant community:
fall 2014
a woman visiting a new general practitioner only to be refused treatment and kicked out of the office because she was not white, but African. While the Cairde staff began to handle the situation professionally and recommend courses of action, I sat there dumbfounded. Even though I had read about such instances, seeing the emotionally distraught, Africanborn Irish citizen breaking down hit me like a punch to the stomach. Why do such situations occur? Why is there still discrimination when we are all human and deserve equal rights? For some reason, I couldn’t help but relate this situation to ones back home. This sort of discrimination would have never happened in the United States, I thought. Yet a quick Google search and the six o’clock news reminded me otherwise. Although the United States has more legislation conferring equal rights to immigrants than that in Ireland, discrimination continues to be prevalent. Up until last year, for example, a small town in Georgia still hosted segregated proms for their African American and white students. Freakonomics, a non-fiction book highlighting the link between economic research and underlying incentives for
photo by Giuseppe Milo via Flickr
Discrimination, at Home and Abroad human behavior, dedicated a chapter to discussing the impact of having “whitesounding” versus “black-sounding” names on job applications in which those with more “white-sounding” names had a higher chance of receiving a call for a job interview. Earlier this year, Donald Sterling, owner of the professional NBA Los Angeles Clippers basketball team, made the headlines for imploring his half-black, half-Mexican girlfriend not to associate with African Americans. Although there are legal provisions to ensure that equal rights aren’t violated, racial tensions still remain. Although the conversation with my fellow bus passenger was harmless—after all, he was simply curious—my ethnicity and citizenship confirmed a set of preconceived notions
that seemed to be sufficient enough for him to explain what kind of person I am. How is that any different from the case of blatant discrimination in which the woman was refused treatment because she was African, with the doctor assuming that the color of her skin indicated poor economic status and “dirty” diseases? More importantly, why is this situation more prevalent in Ireland than in the United States? A country that is perhaps better known for its emigration, Ireland has seen an enormous increase in immigration over the last twenty years. The country’s demographics have changed from a homogenous white and Catholic population to a more culturally and religiously diverse community. While the United States has already experienced this cycle of immigration
and continues to do so, Ireland is adjusting to this new influx of diversity and attempting to identify immigrants and their personalities in terms of their country of origin. While the United States is known as a melting pot in terms of integration, Ireland is still compared to a salad bowl, where different cultures and ethnicities are juxtaposed but not integrated. So although my time in Dublin ended all too soon, my enthusiasm and passion in social justice and immigrant and refugee rights have just begun. Editing and graphics by Liane Yanglian.
understanding difference and discrimination
4
Memoir
Delta State, Nigeria
Let’s Get
Married by Ashan-wa Aliogo
E
veryone seems to be getting married. Okay, not everyone, but my cousin is soon to wed, and it got me thinking about the dynamics of marriage in Nigeria because it is quite a journey, one I will gladly share with you, being Nigerian myself. So, will you humbly accept my proposal as I walk you through? Yes? Then, let’s begin...
“The family marriage”
We’ve all seen couples get really creative with the engagement process but even with the most creative of proposals (which are very much appreciated, by the way), in Nigeria, there are steps necessary to make the engagement official. Meet Chinedu and Ama-rachi, Chinedu just popped the question and Ama-rachi accepted, but it isn’t 5
passport
officially recognized by both families until he pays homage with his family to hers. On the day he finally does this, both families get to know each other through a small, but well-prepared, gathering hosted by Amarachi’s family. While everyone is being jolly, Chinedu actively dodges the daggered stares thrown his way from Ama-rachi’s father and brothers because his family’s presence in her home only means one thing: marriage. Cutting to the chase, he rises up and (tries to) confidently introduce himself and family members before stating his intentions. Although Chinedu has already proposed to Ama-rachi, he has to ask her and her family for her hand in marriage in the presence of his because it is the respectful thing to do by tradition. Plus, he is also fall 2014
proposing to “marry” his family to hers and you would want to know the person you’re getting married to before you do, wouldn’t you? Ama-rachi, on the other hand, is enjoying the company of both families as she laughs off her mum’s “knowing” glances and peeks over at Chinedu. Ayah, her father, is scrutinizing his very existence and her brothers don’t look so amused, either. She had answered all their queries about him especially Chikha’s and she had actually thought he’d like him. Chikha hasn’t broken a smile since Chinedu walked in. Ama-rachi feels sorry for Chinedu, but hey, it was fun watching her boys purposely give him a hard time. After his intro, she accepts that it pleases her and with this, the gathering is
“This simple act signifies her final acceptance as his wife and unites their two families as one.”
a success since both families have accepted. Ama-rachi is overjoyed. Chinedu is relieved. Their families are now “married” and on that same day, the date of the traditional wedding is set....
2 months later...
“Wow”, Amarachi exclaims, “Me? Getting married? I never expected it but the Lord did it!” She gushed to her friend, Doyin. She’d gotten hundreds of calls from relatives she knew (and didn’t know), congratulating her and bestowing upon her words of advice. Chinedu’s family has paid her bride price (material goods and/or money given to a bride's family by that of the groom), and since both families are actively planning the wedding, they get to know each other even better. The traditional wedding will take place in three months in her village town, Agbor, and some parts of the streets will be closed down for the event. Royal blue and silver or purple and red? Her opinions on her wedding colors change almost everyday. However, they have decided on the color of ankara cloth that will be distributed with the wedding invitations. The ankara will be used to sew various outfits from skirts and blouses for the ladies to trouser and shirts accompanied with matching “agbada” (a full length, wide sleeved robe with intricate details on the chest) for the men. The colorful, matching clothes identify the family members and close friends of the new couple, since traditional weddings are often open to the public. Being a bride from the Ika tribe in Delta state, Ama-rachi wears traditional bridal attire that is a two-piece white cloth called “george” or “ekwa oncha” that signifies purity. For jewelry, she will wear coral beads on her head, neck, and arms plus a multistranded necklace to add a modern touch. Since she will wear two outfits that day (why not?), she will replace the coral beads on her hair with a popular head piece called “gele” that compliments her second outfit, shoes and bag. Chinedu, of course, will match in
his complimentary “agbada” ensemble. She will hold a horse’s tail as a good luck charm that signifies strength and courage along with her purse. Her makeup will stand out loud and proud like her gele. “The louder the better is the motto”, she thinks out-loud. “I cannot—will not—'carry last'— on my day.”
Ama-rachi is accompanied by her bridesmaids as she dances her way out to the open space with a cup of palm wine in her hands. She looks and feels beautiful. While dancing, she scans the surroundings for Chinedu. Once she finds him, everyone will know she is his and he is hers. There are so many thoughts running through her head; “But what if I spill the palm wine? Or I take too long to find him? Am I actually getting married?” She scolds herself, “It shouldn’t be too difficult. We’re wearing matching attire!” After a few minutes of dancing, she recognizes Chinedu and his smile is as big as hers—if not bigger. Relieved, she takes her time to really dance. When she reaches Chinedu, she gets on her knees in front of him, sips from the cup and presents it to him. He accepts and eagerly downs the remaining contents. It’s official. This simple act signifies her final acceptance as his wife and unites their two families as one. The cheers and music get louder. He picks her off the ground and leads her to the open floor to dance. Feeling happy, grateful, and fulfilled, Amarachi thinks about what is to come. Certainly they could skip the white wedding and just legalize their marriage since she is now a married woman by traditional standards but...it had been decided there would be a white wedding because...why not? As she looks forward to the beginning of a new chapter, all previous forms of doubt evaporate as she celebrates with her extended family, friends and of course Chinedu; the man she will spend the rest of her life with, her King.
5 months later: The T-Day
Ashan-wa is a Duke sophomore who also shares her love for fashion, beauty and culture on her blog, Miss LAJA.
Chinedu is a ball of nervous excitement as he waits in the crowd, partially hidden, for his queen to arrive. He chuckles as he remembered how Ama-rachi begged him for just a tiny hint on where he would be seated to ease her nervousness. He’d resisted telling her anything, just for the fun of it. It was good to know they were in this nervousness together. As per the tradition, Ama-rachi would have to find him. So, he waits…
upper right image by Allan Ajifo via Wikipedia Commons all other photos by author unless otherwise specified
Editing by Annie Piotrowski, graphics by Rhona Ke.
Let’s Get Married
6
Memoir
Global
FOOD FOR THE SOUL by Jingyan (Jenny) Shang
A
s an international student, I constantly crave home-style cooking. In the United States, I have had some chances to cook, and I am so glad that I learned how to cook before I departed China. Cooking makes me feel at home. In China, there is an old saying that goes, “To men, food is like the sky.” I come from a family that places great emphasis on food; in fact, the kitchen is the biggest common area in our house. We love to spend our weekends working and lounging in our kitchen. I would complete my homework over the big dining-table while my parents would work on their laptops. You would sense the aroma, the warmth, the slight bubbling sound of simmering soup… There would always be something delicious over the stove. Now and then, my parents and I would start chatting about a topic someone brings up. Usually, we would also discuss our own concerns over food; it alleviates the tension of discussing awkward interrogation-like topics. In addition, talking over food is less stressful than sitting straight on the couch with everyone
top photo by Big_Hugs via Flickr bottom photos by author
staring at each other. The coziness of the kitchen strengthens the bond between my family members. Growing up watching many American TV series, like Growing Pains, for example, I was always amused by how directly the parents showed love for their children. Even though I am close with my family, compared to what was shown on the TV series, somehow, I have felt that my relatives don’t seem to love me very much. Whether it was my parents or my grandparents, they seldom said, “I love you,” “we are proud of you,” or any words that indicated affection. This method of parenting constantly bothered me until my senior year of high school. By then, my parents were both working away from my hometown, my mom abroad and my dad a two-hour drive away. Although my dad came home every other weekend, I was basically living on my own. Turning eighteen and living by myself made me feel independent and grown-up. Prior to this burst of freedom, I had never experienced the feeling that I could manage everything as an independent individual.
For the first few months, I was excited about the various choices of food I could order, feeling glad that I no longer have to eat whatever my mother cooked that night; but after a month of take-outs, deliveries, and frozen food, I was craving for some homecooked meals. Therefore, I decided to try cooking. I decided to start my cooking adventures by making pork chops. Sweet and sour pork chops are my family’s favorite dish. These pork chops are crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, covered with rich sauce glistening with a caramel glaze. Served with fresh steamed rice, the pork chops are irresistible because when the sauce is stirred into the rice, it makes the rice savory as well. I grew up eating this dish; after so many years, this is still the dish I love the most. Whenever I visited my grandma, who lived about thirty minutes away, I asked her to teach me how to cook pork chops. Looking back, I realized that the steps were simple, but I was always too impatient to wait for the stewing, which made the pork chops tender and let the flavors penetrate
food for the soul
8
“Don’t worry about your tests. Being healthy is good enough. Good enough.” the meat, to finish. However, I had a hard time getting Grandma’s approval for my attempt at her signature dish, which she has been cooking for over several decades: “…just keep trying.” After numerous trials and my Grandma still not approving of my cooking, I was ready to give up. “The flavor is good on the outside, but inside, it’s tasteless,” Grandma commented, “Wait. Let it cook for half an hour. Good things happen when you are willing to wait for it.”
Another dish that I have learned to cook was noodles. Plain noodles can be prepared in less than five minutes, and they can be topped with any entrée. A bowl of simple yet delicious noodles reminded me of the ones my mother used to cook for me when I stayed up late to study for an exam. She would make the same kind of noodles, make me take a break from bending over the pile of books and eat the noodles first.
The next time I cooked, I waited, and good things did happen. “You know what? I think it tastes pretty good.” It was a big moment for me, getting Grandma to nod at my cooking. Up to that moment, I had spent almost two hours in the kitchen, just to cook this plate of pork chops that contained probably less than fifteen morsels. I didn’t change my ingredients; all I did was wait a little longer. I learned that patience was the secret to all the difference.
“You know, tomatoes are rich in Vitamin C, which is good for your health, and eggs provide you with protein that makes you smarter,” she would murmur to me, though I feel like more to herself, “Don’t worry about your tests. Being healthy is good enough. Good enough.” Over
The year of living on my own was a bittersweet experience. Now that I study abroad, I realized that I have benefited so much from the skills that I developed through my year of complete independence. To date, I continue making the basics in my culinary repertoire: my favorite pork chops, as well as scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Scramble the eggs, stir-fry the tomatoes, and mix together with a pinch of salt; the dish was simple as that. It only took me five minutes to cook it, and I had it over plain soup noodles. It is the best comfort food for mid-term week.
9
passport
the years, noodles during exam-week remains the only late night snack I don’t feel guilty about. My mom, who usually went to bed early, would stay up as late as I would, and cook noodles for me that would give me warmth, compassion, and strength to continue with my reviewing.
fall 2014
That was when I realized that my family did love me after all, and I had been blessed with this love without even realizing it. Although they, like most Asian families, had high expectations for me, they also loved me, just in a way that was not expressed through words. Compared with American culture, in which people showed affection more outwardly, the Asian culture has cultivated in my family members a love that is through subtle yet concrete rather than simply hugs and kisses. It is when I start to cook, for myself or for my friends, that I come to have a better understanding. As I stand in front of the stove, watching over the steaming pot and just waiting, waiting for the ingredients to blend with one another to form the unique flavor, sometimes I wonder what my grandma or my mother felt when they cooked for the family. Cooking requires a lot of patience. Within that patience, I see love and care. The subtle affection is certainly as powerful as any portrayed on an American TV show. Whether it was my grandmother or my mother, I could imagine how their cooking was filled with love. Because they loved and cared about their family, they cooked for us; because family was important to them, they were willing to devote their time to us. Food that takes time to prepare brings people together as a family. While food is good for the stomach, it is also good for the soul. Editing by Brendan Huang, graphics by Jingyan (Jenny) Shang.
photo by SimonQ錫濛譙 via Flickr
Essay
Oxford, United Kingdom
DREAMING OF
oxford by Becky Chao
I
t is hard not to fall in love with Oxford. Home to the 38 constituent colleges of Oxford University, the oldest university in the English-speaking world, the modest-sized city is steeped with history. Bricks, stone, and wood form the vaults and towers make up the so-called “city of dreaming spires,” as dubbed by poet and Oxford alum Matthew Arnold in his poem “Thyrsis.” Stalls filled with butchered meats, fresh fruit, and homemade cookies make up the Covered Market in the city center alongside bustling cafes, extravagant hat shops, and overpriced Italian shoe stores. The market dates back to the early 1770s, and is still active today.1 And then there are the pubs like The Trout Inn, located next to the River Thames and Port Meadow where hordes of cows roam free, and The Eagle and Child, where renowned literary figures from the likes of Lewis Carroll, C. S. Lewis, and J. R. R. Tolkien have gathered. There’s also The Bear Inn, which claims to be the oldest pub in Oxford, dating back to 1242. It certainly lives up to that reputation, with its unusually low ceilings, perilously crooked spiral staircase, and frames of men’s rugby ties covering its interior along each wall. As a charming cultural capital, Oxford is truly captivating.
College, the small grocery shop that was memorialized in Alice Through the Looking Glass as the Old Sheep Shop by Lewis Carroll is now Alice’s Shop, complete with a newly furnished oval sign hanging over its door.2 The small shop no longer sells groceries; instead, it sells Alice in Wonderland memorabilia protected by a no photography policy. Though acts like these may come across as suspiciously exploitative, the dedication that Oxford has to its locally produced talent is impressive and cannot be contested. Not only does it pay homage to the author and his legacy, but it is also a means of remembering the exchanges that once
It is hard not to fall in love with Oxford.
Narrow sidewalks line the rustic architecture. Though it has evolved into an energetic tourist town, especially crowded by foreigners during the summer months, it was never intended to be one. But local businesses have capitalized on the success of the University’s ever-growing list of renowned alumni, marketing their shops as common haunts of so-and-so person, placing sometimes not-so-inconspicuous plaques here and there indicating so. Across the street from Christ Church 11
passport
occurred here years ago: after all, the old grocery store was once frequented for sweets by Lewis Caroll and Alice Liddell, the daughter of the dean of Christ Church College for whom he wrote the story. In a similar manner, the city and its institutions have honored long-standing traditions. In order to obtain a reader’s card for the Bodleian Library, persons not fall 2014
attached to the University must attend a ceremony in which they swear an oath promising to not remove or deface any object belonging to the Library, nor “kindle any fire or flame” before librarians sheathed in black robes. The flourish and formality of the ceremony are well worth it: a reader’s card grants you entrance to the Radcliffe Camera, a domed library with spiral staircases and filigree steel railings leading you up floors of old books and uniform windows at its top, allowing for plenty of natural light. The fine, delicate details of its architecture, with its duplications of minute protrusions of ridges and texture supporting a nameless face, certainly distracts from reading as the structure resembles more a theater than a library—but it also makes studying much more bearable. There is also the Divinity School with its vaulted ceiling, invocative of a church, and Duke Humfrey’s Library right above—rooms of the Bodleian made popular by the Harry Potter movie franchise as the hospital wing and the library, respectively. Along the outside of the Bodleian, characters from the works of famous Oxfordian authors take the form of gargoyles and grotesques: Tweedledee and Tweedledum mingle with the likes of Aslan and the founder of the library himself, Sir Thomas Bodley. Compared to the rest of the buildings and its contents, the grotesques are relatively new: affixed in late 2009, the new designs were selected among entries accrued through a competition launched in June 2007 as part of a city-wide festival called “Millennium Myths and Monsters” that celebrated 1,000 years of Oxfordshire. 3 It is truly unfortunate that the original grotesques had been eroded by time, and that no historical record of what they had looked like remained. Given the grandiose style of the Bodleian, it is original photo on previous page by Tejvan Pettinger via Flickr
no wonder that the library makes readers go through such pomp and circumstance before granting them access. Perhaps it serves an additional purpose as well: it is a reminder to appreciate the books the Bodleian holds inside, their authors’ legacies, and the long-standing tradition that it has upheld. Oxford’s colleges have continued this same sense of dedication as well. Magdalene College has had its own herd of fallow deer since the 18th century (supposedly, they served as sources for dinner when venison was in demand then). Today, the college still maintains its own deer park, called The Grove, and its deer are free to roam the college grounds for the most part. The Grove is just one part of the college’s expansive grounds: each college has its own gardens, no matter how small, and some have chapels, bell towers, and cloisters as well. New College’s grounds also host a section of the city wall, dating back to the twelfth-century, making it older than the college itself. The remains of the wall mark the boundaries of Oxford when it was but a medieval town, and the college has a responsibility to maintain the wall—a condition it accepted when its founder secured the land on which to build it—and every three years, the Lord Mayor and the Corporation of the City of Oxford walk around the wall to ensure that the obligation is being fulfilled.4 The Oxford colleges also serve as outdoor stages for plays in the summers. Most of the works performed tend to be classics—Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, and William Golding’s Lord of the Flies were just several offerings in the summer of 2013—but sometimes, the theater troupe puts a modern spin on their adaptations. In addition to theater, many of the colleges offer concerts put on in all photos by author unless otherwise noted
Down to the very last detail, Oxford never disappoints. their chapels: musical notes of classical pieces fill the centuries-old divine spaces, played on instruments like a grand piano with its lid propped up to reveal a beautiful painted landscape on its underside. Sometimes, it’s the unexpected splendors that make Oxford the gem that it is— down to the very last detail, Oxford never disappoints. Graphics by Becky Chao. 1. “Oxford’s Famous Covered Market.” Oxford City. <http://www.oxfordcity.co.uk/shops/market/>. 2. “History.” Alice’s Shop Oxford. <http://www. aliceinwonderlandshop.co.uk/history.html>. 3. “Unveiling of new gargoyles at Bodleian.” University of Oxford. <http://www.ox.ac.uk/ media/news_stories/2009/090914_1.html>. 4. “New College A Visitor’s Guide.” <http://www. new.ox.ac.uk/sites/default/files/sites/all/files/ TouristLeaflet.pdf>.
dreaming of oxford
12
Opinion
Seoul, South Korea
A Letter from
North Korea
by Elaine Pak
W
ith North Korea, one of the five remaining Communist countries in the world, at its border, South Koreans have developed a particularly sensitive attitude towards anything that evokes the idea of Communism. I grew up in a typically conservative South Korean household in which family dinners oftentimes ended with “so-no-Communist-activities” preaches by my grandfather. Ever since their separation in 1948, South Korea and North Korea have walked very different paths under the supervision of the U.S. and the Soviet Union, respectively. When the Korean War broke out in 1950, my grandfather, who was a teenager at the time, joined the South Korean army as a student soldier. Two of his three older brothers decided to stay with their parents in their hometown of Gaesung. When the two Koreas finally reached a
long-term truce, my grandfather realized that Gaesung, previously part of South Korea, had become part of North Korea. Because South Korea and North Korea were technically still in war, nobody was allowed to visit or even communicate with people on the other side of the border. There was no way my grandfather could see his family in Gaesung again.
Forty years later, after becoming a successful businessman and a grandfather to five grandchildren, he finally found a way to contact his family in North Korea. His Canadian friend, while visiting Gaesung, searched for my grandfather’s family’s whereabouts and found out that both of my grandfather’s parents had passed away years ago, but his second older brother was alive, still living in Gaesung. So my grandfather
A North Korean soldier at DMZ (Demlitarized Zone)
13
passport
wrote a long letter with his favorite fountain pen on a crisp paper and sent it to his friend in Canada who handed the letter to a broker, who in turn sent it to another broker in China, who knew how to sneak letters into North Korea. A hundred-dollar bill, hidden inside a film canister, was sent alongside to aid the desperate livelihood of my grandfather’s relatives in Gaesung. Six months later, a letter from Gaesung arrived at my grandfather’s home. The letter seemed to have traveled time instead of distance. The paper was old, yellow and worn on the edges, like the kind that gets displayed in a museum. Some of the words that my great-uncle used were the kind that I only saw on old books. When my grandfather showed the letter to me, I made sure the grease from that day’s dinner was
A South Korean soldier at DMZ
fall 2014
left and middle photo by Roman Harak via Flickr right photo by Chris Marchant via Flickr background photo by Thomas Bresson via Flickr
off of my fingers, as to not smudge any of the letters, which were handwritten in pencil. Reading the letter from a family member who I have never seen, and would likely never see, made North Korea seem even more distant. The letter’s contents were plain and ordinary: greetings, news, and farewell. But the context of the letter was beyond bizarre. Gaesung was a two-hour drive away from Seoul, where all of my family, including my grandfather, lived. Why did it have to take so long to get a letter from someone living two-hour drive away? In the letter, my great-uncle calmly grieved over their parents’ death and explained that he was taking good care of their graves. Did he know that my grandfather would never be able to visit in his lifetime? He also thanked my grandfather for the money that he sent, explaining how helpful it was for the family. But who knows how much of it actually helped the family instead of being stolen by officials? These questions shouted that there were so many fundamental differences between South Korea and North Korea. Perhaps that is why my grandfather gave up all hope about reunification and stopped relating himself to North Korea any further. He often reminded us that no one in the family besides him should communicate with the family in North Korea because he firmly believed that ties with North Korea would become a burden. He said because that North Koreans were brainwashed by
top photo by Craig Nagy via Flickr bottom photo by Republic of Korea via Flickr background photo by Nara Simhan via Flickr
the Communist regime, they only knew the concept of receiving instead of working hard on their own. His belief aligned with a common stigmatization of North Korean defectors. Many South Koreans believed that North Korean defectors were ignorant and lazy.
I, too, gradually stopped thinking about my North Korean and South Korean heritage. But living abroad in the U.S. for the first time made me reconsider my family history and my roots. The U.S., unlike Korea, is an incredibly diverse place where my identity is sometimes solely represented by my cultural background. It became almost essential to understand what kinds of cultural influence shaped me in becoming who I am today. Being away from my family for the first time also prompted me to develop my own perspective apart from my family’s. Given my grandfather’s painful family history, it made sense that he would develop such attitude towards North Koreans. But it
didn’t mean that his thoughts about North Koreans were necessarily “right.” Feeling the need to know more about the issue, I started to get more involved with North Korean human rights issues. I joined Vision for North Korea, a student organization at Duke that promotes North Korean human rights issues, participated in a conference on North Korean human rights that was held in Princeton, and researched on various topics related to North Korea, such as how the North Korean regime used propaganda art to brainwash its people. The last time my grandfather received a letter from North Korea, he received not just a letter but a picture as well. It was a picture of my grandfather’s niece, her husband, and her two daughters, all smiling in a sunlit background. The older daughter looked about my age. The thought that it could have been me standing in her place gave me chills. If I were her, would I have wanted my family in South Korea to ignore my family and my situation in North Korea? The separation of South Korea and North Korea is not an issue that ends with my generation, but one that will continue to affect generations to come. That is why I think it is important for our generation to stay aware of North Korean issues. Editing by Laura Brody, graphics by Elaine Pak.
a letter from north korea
14
Memoir
Reykjavík, Iceland
notes f r o m R e y k j a v ’i k by Anh Pham
the honeycomb
Harpa
T
he geometrical pattern within Harpa, both a concert hall and conference center, reminded me of a bees’ nest, if such a thing could be constructed with glass and steel. I’d heard that a Danish architecture firm and a Danish-Icelandic architect had cooperated to design this building. That was not surprising. The style reminded me of what I had learned in my Danish design class back in Copenhagen. These northern regions tend to be very dark in the winter, so designers love to bring light into the building when they can, typically by creating enormous windows. In this case, the Harpa’s glass exterior maximized the amount of sunlight entering, and the interior distributed it throughout the building. Another popular trend in Danish urban design is creating public space to encourage people to spend more time outside. Here, every corner reserved a spot, such as couches along the walkways, for visitors to sit down and talk. This kind of public space and atmosphere reflected my impression of the city: contained but inviting, natural, and inclined toward promoting a strong sense of community. Resting on a giant window pane, I imagined myself studying for a midterm on one of those couches and then meeting friends in the cafe downstairs. I had only just arrived, but I could see myself becoming a part of this world.
all photos by author unless otherwise specified background photo by Messicanbeer via Flickr
ad ganga med bok I maganum “everyone has a b o ok in their stomach” 1 in 10 Icelanders will publish a book
My host told me that literature is very popular here in Iceland. Sure enough, I found a BBC article from October 2013 on how much Icelanders love to read and write.1 While some cited the wild landscape for inspiring one’s imagination, others believed that the cold weather encouraged people to stay in and pen a story. As someone who shares this mutual interest with the locals, I immediately felt very much at home knowing that so many people here also enjoy the hobby. I had hoped that someday, I, too, could write a cool story about this place.
The “red hills”
Rauðhólar
I had arrived at Rauðhólar, a pseudocrater in the Elliðaárhraun lava fields. Prior to this, I had never stepped on soft, red earth or a vast field of moss. I did not see a tree for miles. The tallest vegetation was dried shrubs.
As I hiked, I witnessed a group of tourists on horseback and then more construction. There, in the trough of a valley lied a depression, shaped like a rectangular prism. It appeared as though someone had begun constructing a building but then had decided to abandon the project. Now the concrete lining of this box in the ground was cracked with moldy overgrowth. I wanted to ignore this detail and only capture the seemingly untouched scenery. Nevertheless, I could not forget the obvious remnants of human presence. I wanted to believe that unlike those before me, I was not intruding upon nature. Then again, not all of those footprints belonged to horses. Furthermore, if there were a hundred more people walking this trail with me, everything would look a little different. For this reason, as much as I like to recommend Reykjavík, I also feel guilty for possibly hurting the land with tourism. My fear is that Rauðhólar might not be as clean or natural the next time I return. Editing by Becky Chao, graphics by Anh Pham. 1. Goldsmith, Rosie. “Iceland: Where One in 10 People Will Publish a Book.” News Magazine 13 Oct. 2013. BBC. Web. 7 Nov. 2014. <http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-24399599>.
Essay
Northern Ireland
Historical Amnesia:
Landscapes of Memory in Northern Ireland by Laura Brody
G
rowing up, my sister and I developed our impression of Ireland from fairy tales and Disney movies. To us, it was a magical land full of leprechauns and fairies, joy and simplicity. Most importantly, it was the most peaceful place on earth. As I never studied Irish history in school, I had no idea that this land of my ancestors had been plagued by centuries of inter-communal violence. In 1921, the island was split between Northern Ireland, which remains a part of the United Kingdom to this day, and the Irish Free State, now the Republic of Ireland. The most recent era of violence known as the ‘Troubles’ began in the late 1960s and ended in official discourse with the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, but still haunts the island today. Upon learning of conflict in my childhood dreamland, I was simultaneously shocked and intrigued. How could something so beautiful exist amidst such strife? After spending the summer in Belfast, the capital of Northern Ireland, I’ve learned to see how these two things in fact complement each other. Upon my arrival in Belfast, I was incredibly overwhelmed by the typical hustle and bustle of a large city. Despite the misconception that traveling to the United Kingdom as an American involves no culture shock at all, as if language were the only cultural difference in the world, Northern Ireland is culturally unique and posed quite a challenge to my American idiosyncrasies. The understanding that people were asking me if I had fun and not if I had been doing drugs when they asked if I had any good ‘craic’ (pronounced ‘crack’), for example, was far from automatic. But in all photos by author
a matter of time, Belfast became home; the city became smaller, the faces more familiar, and the language and other small quirks more natural. However, I was walking in the midst of a wounded society desperately trying to bury century deep divisions for the sake of a peaceful future. That being said, the conflict in and about Northern Ireland is much deeper and much more complex than meets the eye. Although the ‘Troubles’ are often portrayed as a conflict between two opposing communities—Protestants and
So I will say once again that the
conflict
in
and
about
Northern Ireland is anything but simple, anything but black and white, and certainly cannot be reduced to a conflict between Protestants and Catholics. Catholics—this simplification engenders the false impression that the conflict is about religion as well as keeps hidden the divisions that exist within these two wider communities. The focus of the conflict in Northern Ireland is not religion, but territory. Broadly speaking, Nationalists and Republicans, the majority of whom happen to be Catholic, desire to reunite Northern Ireland with the Republic of Ireland. Unionists and Loyalists, the majority of whom happen to
be Protestant, desire for Northern Ireland to remain a part of the United Kingdom under British rule. Despite the use of religion as a political indicator in Northern Ireland, however, it does not produce a perfect equation. There are indeed Protestant Nationalists, Protestant Republicans, Catholic Unionists, and Catholic Loyalists. There are also those individuals who identify politically and not religiously, or vice versa, and those who don’t identify with religion or politics at all. Furthermore, the wider political communities mentioned above are not without their own internal divisions; to explain further, I will use Republicanism as an example. Irish playwright Brendan Behan famously stated that the first item on any Republican agenda is ‘the split.’1 After a largely inactive period from the 1920s throughout the 1960s, the paramilitary organization known as the Irish Republican Army (IRA) split in 1969 between the Official IRA (OIRA) and the Provisional IRA (PIRA).2 Violent feuding ensued between the two factions and as the ‘Troubles’ progressed, several more groups including, but not limited to, the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA), Continuity IRA (CIRA), Real IRA (RIRA), and Oglaigh na hEireann (ONH)—Irish for ‘Soldiers of Ireland’—emerged from OIRA and PIRA as a result of ideological disagreements.3 While in Belfast, I held interviews with several members of both the Republican and Nationalist communities, and in each asked about the relationship between Nationalism and Republicanism. Despite
historical amnesia
18
Nevertheless, the warmth and welcoming I felt from the people who opened their hearts to me throughout the summer was oftentimes enough to drown out for a moment this hostility between communities. Nationalism and Republicanism being very different from one another, most individuals expressed that the two could not be easily separated. Some argued that Republicanism is a more extreme form of Nationalism, others that Nationalism is a prerequisite for Republicanism, and others still that regardless of undeniably shared values, it is possible for Republicanism to exist without any form of Nationalism at all. I have indeed personally met Republicans in Northern Ireland who for economic or other reasons don’t believe in the reunion of Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland so often associated with Nationalism on the island. So I will say once again that the conflict in and about Northern Ireland is anything but simple, anything but black and white, and certainly cannot be reduced to a conflict between Protestants and Catholics. I have been personally advised by both those who experienced the official time of the conflict and those who have come face to face with its aftermath that the less you understand the more you know. Nevertheless, the misconceptions described above do exist, and are perpetuated by historical representations of the Troubles that paint pictures of Northern Irish society devoid of reality. The Irish Republican History Museum 19
passport
in West Belfast is an example of this, as it refers to Catholics rather than Republicans in parts of its narrative of Republican history. Additionally, the inseparability of Nationalism from Republicanism, and the relationship of both to Catholicism, results in both Nationalist and Republican communities placing emphasis on events such as the Easter Rising in 1916, a sixday armed rebellion executed by the Irish Volunteers, a pre-cursor to the IRA, during Easter week in Dublin that aimed to end British rule on the island and establish an independent Irish Republic. The museum’s emphasis on this and similar events thus perpetuates confusion even further about whether the museum is supposed to represent Nationalists, Republicans, or both. Furthermore, the museum displays no allusions in its narrative to the divisions within Republicanism discussed earlier. As historian Anthony Buckley argues, historical representation is a means of declaring one’s own “status, allegiances and identity” within present day politics.4 Despite popular belief that museums are manifestations of historical accuracy, they are no exception to this bias and can oftentimes be equivocated to propaganda in societies such as Northern Ireland that fall 2014
remain divided. National struggle museums such as the Irish Republican History Museum reflect narratives driven by selfvictimization and the vilification of an opposing community, evoking sympathy for the community they represent through emphasis on atrocities committed against that community, the omission of any history revealing aggression from within that same community, as well the omission of any history with the potential to evoke sympathy for an opposing community. In Northern Ireland, historical representation is not as much about the politics of remembering as it is about the politics of forgetting. It is important to note that the Irish Republican History Museum, among others, is only selective and not untruthful in its narrative of the past. To add further complication, individuals have the right to remember the past in their own way. But whereas historical acknowledgment and commemoration are imperative to addressing the legacy of a violent past, what is right for individuals in this regard is not always identical to what is right for society. So at what point should the right to the expression of personal memory be limited by the need to construct and move forward through collective memory? It is
precisely this question that makes memory so politically charged not only in Northern Ireland, but in all societies. For outsiders with no personal connection to the ‘Troubles’, the complexity of this history and the difficulties regarding the way it is represented can be quite complicated to understand. But for those who were personally traumatized, lost family and friends, or both, the inconsistency between personal memory and historical representation in official mediums is a weight they must carry on their shoulders each and every day. Closure has yet to be attained for many of these people; it is believed that sixteen individuals collectively known as the ‘Disappeared,’ for example, were abducted, murdered and buried by Republicans throughout the ‘Troubles’, and both the bodies and stories behind many of these disappearances, including that of Columba McVeigh, the uncle of a personal friend of mine, have yet to be uncovered.5 In the midst of so many similar stories, the ideal of ‘getting over’ the past and moving forward for the good of society that is so often impressed upon Northern Ireland by outsiders is easier said than done. In spite of this, I couldn’t help but wonder as I wandered the streets of Belfast whether I would notice such divisions at all I hadn’t been there to study them. It was incredibly easy to become distracted by the majestic landscapes, the temptations of tourism and the warmth of the people. As an outsider, the omens of the past were only present when I sought them out or when they were visually
present in museums, peace walls, political murals, and the heavy eyes of survivors, all of which were infinitely more visible outside of Belfast’s City Centre. It was in these marked territories that the hostility in the air thickened and the awareness of being an outsider intensified. In Derry, for example, one always knows whether they are in Protestant or Catholic territory by the color of the sidewalks and the presence of flags; in Protestant areas, the sidewalks are painted blue and red and lined with Union Jacks; while in Catholic areas, sidewalks are painted green and orange and lined with Irish Tricolours. It is rare to come across the flag of Northern Ireland as most individuals see themselves as being either British or Irish. Certain events such as the Twelfth of July celebrations, a commemoration of the defeat of Catholic King James II by King William of Orange at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690 (thus ensuring Protestant ascendancy in Ireland), also make sectarianism across the province difficult to ignore. On the Eleventh Night directly before the Twelfth of July parades, highly contentious and massive bonfires during which members of the Unionist/Loyalist communities burn Irish flags, effigies, Sinn Féin posters and other symbols of the Republican/Nationalist communities take place. These ‘festivities’ are collectively disguised to unsuspecting tourists as ‘Orangefest’, a prideful celebration of British culture in Ireland. But this display demonstrates that the concept of British Nationalism in Northern Ireland is largely defined by its attack on Irish
Nationalism, starkly separating it from British Nationalism in the rest of the United Kingdom. Nevertheless, the warmth and welcoming I felt from the people who opened their hearts to me throughout the summer was oftentimes enough to drown out for a moment this hostility between communities. I met a woman in Donegal who, after traveling extensively around the world, informed me of her plans to finally settle down on the island. I asked her why she had chosen to do so, and she described the experience of my summer in one short phrase: “The Irish just take you in.” Despite the pain and heaviness in their hearts, despite drowning in the omens of the past, each individual I met served as an inspiration by fighting daily to appreciate the good around them. This is something I don’t do often enough in my own life, likely a result of my sometimes taking for granted the lack of trauma in my past. Northern Ireland thus taught me not only that beauty can thrive in the presence of pain, but also that it is through such contrasts that positive qualities such as hope and perseverance oftentimes emerge. Editing by Becky Chao, graphics by Roshni Prakash. 1. Adams, Gerry. A Farther Shore: Ireland’s Long Road to Peace. New York: Random House, 2003. 2. Moloney, Ed. A Secret History of the IRA. London: Penguin Books, 2007. 3. Ibid. 4. Buckley, Anthony. “Conflicting Histories: Approaching the Ethnic History of Ireland.” Oral History 2 (2002): 85-92. 5. Alan McBride, Ann Morgan and Eimear McVeigh. The Disappeared of Northern Ireland’s ‘Troubles’. Belfast: WAVE Trauma Centre, 2012.
historical amnesia
20
Opinion
A Threat to National Security and the Frenzy it Evokes
Middle East
by Francis Curiel
G“In
eorge Orwell once said that, our time, political speech and writing are largely the defense of the indefensible. Political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging, and sheer cloudy vagueness. It is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.” During times of American national security threats, politicians and officials use very vague language in public addresses, essentially walking on eggshells to avoid public panic. In response, journalism challenges such a language, seeks to reveal hidden truths, and attempts to make sense of the obscure. In crises, however, it becomes a race—news outlets everywhere try to get their facts out to the public as quickly as possible. In their haste, public official responses can be misunderstood or misrepresentative of the facts at hand.
questionable. Is the threat as imminent as President Obama deems it to be? Or is it convenient to instill rapid fear in a public now more inclined to favor acts of war? Muhsin al-Fadhli, a Kuwaiti man who has been hiding from the American government for the past ten years, is a new name in American headlines. According to recent reports, Ayman al-Zawahri, Al Qaeda’s leader, sent Fadhli to assume control over a Syrian terrorist cell that could be used as a base for external attacks against Europe and the United States. This cell, now known as Khorasan, has ties with Nusra Front, a Syrian rebel organization set on overthrowing the Assad regime. With veteran militants sent in from Afghanistan, Pakistan, and North Africa, Khorasan’s goal is to construct concealable explosives and recruit Westerners to conduct 9/11-like operations.
“A NEW FACE OF ISLAMIC EXTREMISM” “AL-QAEDA’S ‘DECIMATED’ Recently, intelligence on a LEADERSHIP APPARATUS“ new terrorist organization named Khorasan has caused commotion among media organizations that days ago focused only on the Islamic State of Iraq and Greater Syria (ISIS). Within a short timeframe, a new face of Islamic extremism has sidelined ISIS. I argue, however, that the timing of American intelligence on Khorasan is
Though the group has flown under the radar whilst ISIS makes headlines, U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder disclosed that the government has known about the group for the past two years. As a democratic nation that enjoys freedom of the press, we often expect to be updated on news as it arrives to the White House. The American public, understandably
21
fall 2014
passport
so, was surprised to hear of Khorasan considering President Obama’s previous statements assuring Al Qaeda’s “decimated” leadership apparatus in Pakistan.1 One day, we need not worry of any threat beyond ISIS. The next, we are targeting airstrikes on a terrorist group previously unheard of. Only recently, on September 23, did we first hear mention of said terrorist group when Obama announced the Aleppo airstrike to disrupt a potential terrorist attack. Other U.S. officials indicate that there was no proof of Khorasan’s “selected targets or deployed operatives.” 2 For weeks we have been told that American homeland security faces no immediate threat, thus the confusion and skepticism met with Khorasan’s sudden rise to infamy is understandable.
“CAUSING COMMOTION AT THE RIGHT TIME”
It is interesting to see the various stories that quickly flooded both our computers and televisions regarding Khorasan’s “imminent threat.” BBC News Middle East proposes the question—“What is the Khorasan Group?” The article touches on the roots of this veteran militant group, expressing doubts about Muhsin al-Fadhli’s leadership (a point confidently asserted by the articles published by The New York Times and Washington Post). According to Mustafa Alani of the Dubai-based Gulf Research Centre, Fadhli is “more a preacher than a commander.”3 If we look at Fox News “All-Star Panel” of the same day, Jonah Goldberg, a writer for National Review, says that the rapid shift from “a possible threat” to an “imminent” one in a matter of days is a “target of opportunity.”4 background photo via Wikimedia Commons
“THE TIMING OF AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE ON KHORASAN IS QUESTIONABLE. IS THE THREAT AS IMMINENT AS PRESIDENT OBAMA DEEMS IT TO BE? OR IS IT CONVENIENT TO INSTILL RAPID FEAR IN A PUBLIC NOW MORE INCLINED TO FAVOR ACTS OF WAR?” Meaning, it’s a chance for the government to cause commotion at the right time. From these bits of information, one has reason to question whether Fadhli truly is the group’s leader, or the first person the U.S. could think of to slap on Khorasan’s story headline in this frenzied announcement. Furthermore, the news panel, titled “Politics of airstrikes in Syria,” acknowledges the diplomatic importance of the strikes though they lacked military impact. ISIS knew these missiles were heading their way, so the targeted areas “were empty of any serious leadership.” Our airstrike on the Khorasan group, however, was not announced ahead of time. Perhaps this element of surprise was reason enough to keep the American public in the dark about Khorasan’s presence. Or perhaps the government is now trying to exaggerate the group’s strength in order to explain its reasoning behind launching more missiles. I, as a reader, lean more towards the latter considering the articles, including the Washington Post’s “U.S. strikes in Syria
strike? Were they the right targets? How many innocent lives were lost? It is a sad reality that has become normalized as viewers at home can watch live footage of drones floating above cities.
“WE PANIC”
We now have James Clapper, the U.S. director of National Intelligence, telling Americans that Khorasan poses as much of a danger to the homeland as ISIS. Khorasan, which according to experts is not even the name the jihadists use themselves, is quickly becoming another excuse to keep our feet in the Middle East. They are being portrayed as the “convergence of terrorist elements” in charge of research and development outposts. American viewers are suddenly being bombarded with breaking news that this Qaeda-linked group is working with Yemen-based bomb makers to get explosives past airport security. Naturally, we panic. Our perception of reality is being significantly altered as we switch to defense mode. And in this mode, we are more likely to approve
“Who died in the strike? Were they the right targets? How many innocent lives were lost?” against al-Qaeda’s Khorasan group kill one of its leaders,” do not verify who was killed in the airstrike. We are told the strikes “may have” disrupted the plots, or they “may have” disrupted Khorasan communication. In modern warfare, what with our use of drones and missiles, the numbers are murky. Who died in the
air perhaps because of its recent media entrance. The disconnect between some of President Obama’s claims and those of other U.S. officials is thus cause for a plethora of unanswered questions. Why has this group been kept under wraps for so long? Is it because all of our attention has been focused on the Islamic State? Or because we are now taking advantage of its existence as yet another reason to drop missiles? Have we been lied to about just how “decimated” al-Qaeda was? Will as many of our resources go to “degrading” Khorasan as to ISIS? Though we always want to trust our government, we must also take its claims with a grain of salt. Maybe Khorasan is in fact as suddenly threatening as we have been informed. Or maybe, there’s more to the story. 1. Mazzetti, Mark. “A Terror Cell That Avoided the Spotlight.” The New York Times 24 Sept. 2014. Web. 2. Morris, Loveday. “U.S. Strikes in Syria against Al-Qaeda’s Khorasan Group Kill One of Its Leaders.” Washington Post 24 Sept. 2014. Web. 3. “What Is the Khorasan Group?” BBC News 24 Sept. 2014. Web. 4. “All-Star Panel: Politics of Airstrikes in Syria.” 23 Sept. 2014. Web. <FoxNews.com>.
Editing by Brendan Huang, graphics by Rhona Ke.
of violent acts of war for the sake of national security.
“UNANSWERED QUESTIONS”
As of now, all of the above information published on the Khorasan group, and our recent airstrike on its training camps and command control, is very up in the
a threat to national security
22
photo Memoir essay
North India Copenhagen, Denmark
buniyaad:
memories and modernities by Roma Sonik
I
had many ideas, hopes, and desires tied to this place. Fueled in part by Bollywood movies, supplemented by my grandparents’ stories, and filled in by India-going friends and family, how could I not? The streets and alleys of this country had been painted vaguely in my head like a watercolor painting dripping with excitement long before I set foot here. Exiting New Delhi’s international airport with jetlag blurring my conceptualization of the world, I was transported to a place where my second language was suddenly the first. Beyond the initial jolt “homeward,” I found
myself realizing that the reality was far beyond what I had expected.
strange amalgamation of whatever no one seems to want.
Here, harsh words are used as a form of endearment. A self-perpetuated hierarchy sustains development, and women in professional western attire share the same Metro carriage with women in burqas. The street is stranded with food vendors whose smells promise a delicious taste, but render the eater sick by the next morning. The road is littered with political party materials full of promise, manufacturers’ products’ exteriors lined with reality, and some
I spent six weeks in India, starting in Delhi and traveling all through the north until I reached the India-Pakistan border. By the end of my summer-long travels, my shoes were rugged, my skin was extremely tanned, and my taste palette had absurdly high standards. But I was finally able to understand the words that had been written into the stories of my life.
23
fall 2014
passport
Editing by Becky Chao, graphics by Roshni Prakash.
all photos by author
buniyaad: memories and modernities
24
25
passport
fall 2014
Memoir
Madrid, Spain
The Eyes of Madrid by David Ivey
he sound of wind whipping past the windows and the train’s screeching wheels can’t overpower the tiny clatter of change in his plastic cup that accompanies each step he takes nor his soft pleas for “some help, anything.” The man’s slow progress past the passengers leaves a trail of guilt in his wake. For the previous nine months I have averted my gaze to avoid seeing the shame and desperation in the eyes of the people who beg just like him. Today, though, I look into his eyes and give him the only money I can spare. I apologize, knowing he needs more so he can feed his son whose photograph he presents as a testament to the veracity of his need. Instead of accepting my apology, he thanks me as if I have paid his rent and cooked a lobster dinner for him and his son. I hold back my tears just long enough for him to walk away. I cry for his having to beg just to provide for his son. I cry for the other families living just as precariously. It is jarring to see the numerous people begging in the street next to the postcard highlights of Madrid. The landmarks are majestic as always—the angel of Alcala street remains perpetually suspended above the rest of the city, and the post office palace continues to shine in the night. It seems that the reason for their existence is no longer to impress the tourists but to distract them from the harsh realities that the people of the city and the
country face. Their efforts, though, are for naught—even if we don’t see the urine, the vomit, the feces and the puddles of blood in varying states of coagulation their presence can still be felt. For a few weeks the garbage collectors went on strike, which added yet another layer of filth to the city streets. The physical discomfort that I experienced from this, however, was minimal compared to what I felt seeing the numerous people whose situation had forced them to beg to survive.
I can see him from a block away where he strategically straddles the threshold
“
It is jarring to see the numerous people begging in the street next to the postcard highlights of Madrid.
“
T
The arc of Moncloa
the eyes of madrid
26
Clockwise from top: La Alhambra, a Muslim fortress, was the last place to be conquered by the Spanish Catholic Kings in 1492, ending Islamic rule in Spain; a stoop where someone had been begging for money in Toledo (the cardboard sign reads â&#x20AC;&#x153;I need your help, thank you.â&#x20AC;?); me doing a backflip in the mountains to the north of Madrid; my host parents and I visiting an abandoned mill in Galicia; picture of my host father at a light house that he likes in Galicia
27
passport
fall 2014
all photos by author unless otherwise specified top page, background photo by Pentocelo via Flickr
passersby on the sidewalk for their loose change. He wears multiple jackets, has thrust his hands into his armpits and shuffles about trying to stave off the late winter cold. Our previous conversations have been short; I only know that he emigrated from Nigeria to Spain years ago hoping to find a better future. As always, I stop to chat with him. Today, however he looks deep into my eyes, his brown just like mine but filled with hurt and frustration, and asks, “How do you stand it here? They hate all of us and blame us for their economic crisis.”
“
Racism and xenophobia are alive and well in Spain, just like it is everywhere else.
Racism and xenophobia are alive and well in Spain, just like it is everywhere else. The most visible people, the Asian and African immigrants, bear the brunt of that hatred. My being an American student prevented that hatred from being directed at me because of the assumptions of wealth that come with that identity. Nevertheless it took a toll on me, wearing me down one hateful off-handed comment at a time. It hurt looking into his eyes knowing that I have the privilege of not suffering direct racist, xenophobic, and classist assaults— it hurt because freedom from oppression should be a right, not a privilege. To this day I ask myself, remembering the emotions in his eyes, “how did I stand it there?” “How do I stand it here?” And I still can’t answer. Editing by Becky Chao, graphics by Faisal Alsaadi.
the eyes of madrid
28
“
staff corner
Global Street Artists A
s an international-themed magazine, Passport believes very strongly in the value of art, no matter which form it may take. Usually, when people go abroad, they look for art featured in conventional spaces like museums. For this issue’s staff corner piece, we would like to highlight artists whose work is more accessibly found all over the streets of the world.
Swoon
New York, New York I stumbled upon Swoon’s artwork completely by accident—I’d gone to the Brooklyn Museum for Ai Weiwei’s According to What? exhibit, and found myself completely ove r w he l me d by her work:
Submerged Motherlands, a multimedia piece with sweeping detailed sketches of poignant humans—innocent children, breastfeeding mothers, and decaying elders all crying out for our attention— surrounded by intricate paper cutouts forming makeshift shelters and nature. Complete with overrun vines and lace all over the floor, trails led to the enormous tree that served as the centerpiece contained by the museum’s dome. Museum staff had to gently remind the curious to be careful of our steps. Swoon, whose real name is Caledonia Dance Curry, did not start doing large-scale installations until 2005. While as a student at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, she began doing street art around 1999 and specializes in life-size wheatpaste prints and paper cutouts of human figures.1 Her work explores difficult questions, as her installation at the Brooklyn Museum—an exploration of the relationship between humans and the environment—exemplifies. She began doing street art as a response to the questions she was asking herself as an art student, particularly
those about context and access to art. She sees her artist name, which stuck after a former boyfriend dreamt of her writing “swoon” on the walls of buildings, as more of an idea representing the “cracks in the facades of impossibility and inevitability” that results when creativity is combined with dedication.2 —Becky Chao
The Bogside Artists Northern Ireland
The Bogside Artists include Tom Kelly, his brother William Kelly, and Kevin Harrison. They are best known for the murals that can be found throughout the streets of the Bogside area of Derry, Northern Ireland. Their murals are collectively known as the People’s Gallery.3 The two most recognizable of these murals depict scenes from the Battle of the Bogside, a three-day riot in Derry that began on August 12, 1969. During the battle, the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), the then-majority Protestant police force of Northern top photo by Kainet via Flickr middle photo by Laura Brody bottom photo by Becky Chao
Ireland, fought residents of the Catholic Bogside neighborhood following an Apprentice Boys of Derry march through the area. The first of these murals shows a young boy wearing a gas mask to protect himself from the use of tear gas by the RUC as well as holding a petrol bomb, a common weapon used against the RUC during the period known as the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The second mural shows the wellknown civil rights activist Bernadette Devlin, now Bernadette McAliskey, as a young girl addressing the crowds on the streets of the Bogside for which she later received a prison sentence. Although the Bogside artists became famous for the murals they painted in Northern Ireland, their work can be found in several diverse locations such as Austria, Slovenia and the United States.4 —Laura Brody
Displaying works on blank building walls in countries such as Mexico, China, India, and Cambodia, the muralist more commonly goes by the name Seth Globepainter to reflect the international presence that his work has.5,6 Inspired by the principles of graffiti art, Malland paints with a purpose; his large, fantasy-based portraits of cartoon-like characters interact with their surroundings and reflect ideas that have roots in the particular community’s culture, traditions, and belief systems. The street artist uses his paintings to meet new people and understand the unfamiliar environments to which he travels. More prominently, Malland strives to capture the essence of imagination in his artwork and to constantly inspire those who walk by his art to dream.7 —Roshni Prakash
P183
from purely expressive to political. Many of P183’s are still in existence today and have not been painted over by the government.9 —Brendan Huang Hopefully this piece has inspired you to keep an eye out for street art both abroad and in your hometown! Graphics by Becky Chao and Matthew Riley. 1. “Swoon (artist).” Wikipedia. <http://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/Swoon_(artist)>. 2. Curry, Callie. TEDxBrooklyn. <https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=5298KZuW_JE>. 3. “The Bogside Artists.” <http://www.bogsideartists. com>. 4. “The Wall Murals ‘The People’s Gallery.’” <http:// cain.ulst.ac.uk/bogsideartists/murals.htm>. 5. “Street Art by Julien Malland a.k.a Seth Globepainter.” Amusing Planet. <http://www. amusingplanet.com/2013/05/street-art-by-julienmalland-aka-seth.html>. 6. Yoo, Alice. “Street Artist Paints Whimsical Murals Around the World.” My Modern Met. <http://www. mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/julien-sethmalland-global-street-painter>. 7. Anissa. “Street art and Graffiti: Interview with the artist Seth.” Fatcap. <http://www.fatcap.com/article/ seth-interview.html>. 8. Brooks, Katherine. “P183 Dead: Street Artist Known As ‘Russian Banksy’ Dies At 29 Years Old.” The Huffington Post. 9. “Moscow’s Banksy: The Street Art of P183 – in Pictures.” The Guardian.
Russia
Julien Malland Paris, France
Whimsical, colorful, impressive, global —these are just a few words that have been used to describe the globetrotter and Parisian artist Julien “Seth” Malland. top photo by Laura Brody background photo by Darren Hester via Flickr
At only 29 years old, Pavel Pukhov, more commonly known as P183, was a rising street artist in the eyes of the Russian Republic. With his distinctive black balaclava, he was able to complete massive canvases in a span of a night. Given his wide profile, his death on April 1, 2013 came as a shock to Russians.8 Even the Russian government, whose stance on street art has ranged from grudgingly tolerable to persecution focused, honored his memory by giving 100 public housing complexes to street artists to paint. His work ranged bottom left photo by Attraction Voyages Pérou & Bolivie via Flickr bottom right photo by Amarsano via Flickr
staff corner
30
TAKE A RISK Begin the journey by sending us an email at: passportmag@gmail.com read
|
write
|
edit
|
design