Passport Magazine Spring 2016

HOME OF THE DODO BIRD

MAURITIUS CAPTURING VENICE

THE HIDDEN GEM

OF MALDIVES MADAM PRESIDENT

LEADING LIKE A LADY Volume 23 Spring 2016

EDITOR’S NOTE I’m so excited to have become the Editor-in-Chief of Passport International Magazine! I joined Passport during my first semester as a first-year student. Even before that I was heavily involved with publications, especially with ones that feature international themes.

I’m very happy to have witnessed and continue to participate in the transformation of Passport , from a magazine that focuses mostly on travel stories to a publication that honors an even more number of genres, novelty of materials and diversity of writers.

In the Spring 2016 issue, our 23rd issue, you will find not only essays, photo essays, memoirs, but also poems, both original and translated international poems with their original texts. Besides our dedicated staff writers, we would like to give special thanks to Professor Deondra Rose, professor in the Sanford School of Public Policy, for her elegant writing, Waiting for Madam President.

Additionally, in this issue you will find an article from a Ukrainian student from Columbia University. These efforts to broaden the base of our writer team begin Passport ’s initiative to include even more diversity by publishing pieces from both our own talented writers and from professors and students from other universities in the future.

More importantly, I can’t thank enough the Passport staff for having produced the meat of this publication and having worked so hard to refine it. I am also tremendously grateful for the hard work of the rest of the very strong Passport executive team, which includes our Chief Graphics Editors, Jenny Shang ’18, and Wendy Lu ’17, as well as our Marketing Executive, Marisa Witayananun ’18. I would like to invite you to join me in extending a warm welcome to Marisa in particular, since she joined our exec board this semester and has already amazed us with her dedication and talent. Last but not least, I would like to formally recognize Roshni Prakash ’16, the former Editor-in-Chief, who passed Passport to us in such good standing.

Truthfully, none of these beautiful pieces of writing and graphics presented here would have happened without all of you!

Keeping all of this in mind, I invite all of you to consider joining us at Passport , a publication that welcomes all and serves all. You can start your own story with us by requesting to become a writer, editor, or graphics editor (even without prior experience!) now at passportmag@gmail.com .

Regardless of whether you are international or domestic, I know you have got stories. This is your chance to tell 'em.

editor-in-chief Liane Yanglian chief graphics Wendy Lu editor Jenny Shang Marketing Marisa Witayananun executive editors Amanda Sear Zhengtao Qu Maegan Stanley Marisa Witayananun Heather Zhou graphics Ukyoung Chang editors Sherry Huang Rhona Ke Roshni Prakash Marisa Witayananun Liane Yanglian Elaine Zhong Sarah Zhou writers

Shanen Ganapathee Ge Jin Mashaim Khalid Judith Leng Sienna Liu Deeksha Malhotra Margaryta Malyukova Altamash Rafiq Dr. Deondra Rose Jackie Xiao

Liane Yanglian 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.

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photo by Gary Denness via Flickr

cover photo by Rachel via Flickr back cover photo by Zoey Zou (class of 2017)

CONTENTS The Emerald Dream

by Almatash Rafiq Perks of Being a Vagabond

by Deeksha Malhotra Where Are You From?

by Shanen Ganapathee Understanding Istanbul

by Mashaim Khalid “The Truth. It Frees Me.”

by Sienna Liu Waiting for Madam President:

The 2016 U.S. Presidential Election In An International Context

3 5 7 9 11 14

by Dr. Deondra Rose

In Praise of Uncertainty

by Margaryta Malyukova Take Time

by Judith Leng The Hidden Gem of Maldives

by Jackie Xiao Capturing Venice

by Ge Jin Impersonal Poetry

by Almatash Rafiq GEO Reflect Contest Poems Around the World Staff Corner

17 19 21 23 25 27 29

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Memoir

Global

The Emerald Dream

by Altamash

I

have feared for far too long that my dreams have been slipping through my fingers to be lost and destroyed. Before you misconstrue, dear reader, I must make it clear to you that I do not mean dreams in the sense of aspirations but rather the colorful stories that blaze through our minds every night. It is these very stories we wish we could recall more of, let continue for just a bit longer and occasionally forget forever.

In the hope of preserving one such dream, I present it to you exactly as I saw it and exactly as I felt it. I wish I could relive it. I wish I would have never lived it.

“So what if I can’t speak to you? Can’t you see that’s fine, my love? I can speak to your silence.”

The night was dark. I’m sure I looked up and saw no stars and below, where the earth should have been, was a void that looked back into me. It wasn’t angry; I could tell that it was kind.

I was flying. Flying through the air with what I could only describe as a layer of mist enveloping my body, one that was tracing the path of my flight behind me. Hikokigumo. Its touch was gentle; the graze of a loving mother, the peace of a warm bed, the lap of a lover. The mist had me in its complete control and refused to let me feel the air brushing my face as I propelled forward.

It was taking me somewhere but I had no knowledge as to where, nor did I care in the least. My body was more relaxed than it had ever been and I found that in perfect contentment, the mind cares not for the worries of the world.

that seemed to run forever and above hung clouds mightier than had ever been. Suddenly, through the night, emerged the turret of a gigantic castle that in the silver moonlight would have left any onlooker with a thousand memories of stern beauty that could not be expressed in words.

I did not flinch as the mist carried me through a window in the turret to a large room, lit by the glow of myriad burning torches making the full extent of the chamber visible to me. There was no furniture, no tapestries graced the walls and the boundaries of the chamber were no more than cold gray stone.

"And then there was light.

The moon stole through the heavens and the world around me was painted anew. " But the room was home to a sea of precious jewels. I looked about the room to find sparkling dunes of riches boasting large gems of all sorts and color. If I were in my senses, I would have stared openmouthed at this spectacle but as it was, I had no interest in these gems. They were there, so what?

Such a display of apathy is unheard of and yet, there I stood with eyes that betrayed no degree of fascination and heart unmoved by everything.

And then there was light. The moon stole through the heavens and the world around me was painted anew. Below me were fields

This situation did not alarm me; all of this seemed quite normal and I suppose that in a dream such things are indeed but normal. Had I been there before? Who knows.

What I do know is that my attention had been captured by a door on the far side of

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the room. I could see light shining through its crevices and could discern that this was not the light of a burning torch. It was daylight, warm and pure.

I was entranced by this light, it drew me towards the door, compelling me to open it.

My actions were so mechanical and yet felt so perfect for the situation that my mind and body made no effort against them. I turned the doorknob and immediately shaded my eyes as my face and the room behind me were flooded with the beams of a smiling sun. Beyond the door, it was the pleasant morn. Behind me, it was chilling midnight.

What lay before me was a gray stone road that extended until the natural curvature of the land cut it off from my view. I stepped to the edges of the road and found them lined with white marble on which blue floral mosaics had been etched forever. My eyes felt cool as I examined them, marveling at their intricacy and awing at their perfect harmony with the world around them. On either side of me was a forest with a canopy that must have been about three times my height, and in the blue sky, there was nothing more than a few stray clouds and a sun.

What does one do when one sees a strange road appear out of nowhere? Traverse it of course and so with the mindset of someone having nothing better to do, I set off on this road without a clue as to where I was going and with no concern for the length of the trail. I walked on for God knows how long and mused all the while about the foliage around me. The lush green that the trees boasted filled me with happiness and I enjoyed every minute of my stroll through this magical place until a strange feeling suddenly seized me and consumed my mind. Something was taking its course.

This feeling commanded every fiber of my

In the higher branches of the tree, camouflaged by its color, was lodged a massive emerald unlike any that I had ever seen before. being to look left.

Lo and behold, to my left was a tree like all the others. I wondered what was so special about it and approached it with a hundred unanswered questions. Much remains hidden below the surface in this world and as I peeled away the layers of the superfluous, all became clear. In the higher branches of the tree, camouflaged by its color, was lodged a massive emerald unlike any that I had ever seen before. Over twice the size of a soccer ball, this emerald would have enchanted many but my interest in it was much more than mere fascination.

I yearned for the emerald with the fervor of a passionate lover who had lost the one woman he dearly adores. Just touching the emerald would satisfy my thirst, holding it in my arms would content me forever.

Why I loved this emerald, I did not know.

Why I preferred it over the jewels that I had left behind, I had not skill to show. All that made sense to me then was that I wanted it.

I was ready to do anything for it.

If one were to question me at this point in the dream, I would have said that what unfolded thereafter was a tragedy more powerful than any Shakespeare had ever penned.

Perhaps those who failed to reach the Holy Grail in bygone days shared my feelings, for just like them, I too had to turn away fruitless. I tried all I could to clutch the emerald, but the tree was too smooth to climb, the emerald too high to reach and the branches too resistant to any shaking. My distressed mind did not even consider the prospect of using the sticks and stones that probably lay in the vicinity. All I did was test the full extent of my physical capabilities and as I lay breathless on the ground with tears burning my face, I bemoaned my utter uselessness in the face of circumstance. Broken background by StockSnap via Pixabay

hearts do sing. With a beaten face, red with disappointment and anguish, I left the emerald behind with feeble steps and wistful fleeting looks.

Walking on down the road, I eventually overcame the disappointment and shame of the failed attempt at the emerald. It was as if each step I took away from the gem chipped away at my want for it. Perhaps it was the serenity of the walk or the lyric of the breeze rustling the leaves above that calmed my nerves and soothed my soul.

Again, I was walking only for the sake of walking, going on without a goal.

"Grail in bygone days shared my feelings, for just like them, I too had to turn away fruitless."

The last element of my dream came when from the horizon rose a stone wall that extended endlessly in both directions. As I drew close to this wall, I could hear strange sounds from beyond it and was overtaken by an urge to learn more about its source.

With each step, the clarity of the sounds increased and I could discern the distinctive notes of gleeful chattering, games and fun.

As the wheels and cogs of cognition turned it became clear to me that just beyond the wall were children enjoying another day of rambunctious ventures, relishing the full bloom of their years. When I finally reached the wall, I discovered that it was only slightly taller than me, which would put its height at approximately six feet.

With a little jump, I grabbed securely onto the flat top of the wall and looked yonder.

What lay before me was a hamlet of just a few cottages that attested to the humble livings of their inhabitants. The land was completely barren and the perfect opposite of the land immediately behind me; as far as I could see, I only beheld red dirt and no green. Strange though this sight was, I was much more concerned with seeing the children and I found them playing their host of games almost exactly adjacent to the wall. There, a child ran after another, there some gathered around marbles and there some made swords out of sticks. So petty did those games seem yet I knew that in my childhood I too had been jubilated by similar amusements and my heart warmed at their sight. For a long time, I remained in that hanging position, just looking at the children. They looked up at me and smiled and I smiled back. Their happiness was my happiness and just seeing them have fun filled me with joy.

Six feet of wall was very manageable for me and, with little effort, I climbed up, sat on top of it and just stared. Stared at the barren yet somehow unperturbing country before me and found solace in its sight. Such a peculiar place existed and yet everything was perfect.

Editing by Liane Yanglian, graphics by Elaine Zhong.

the emerald dream

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Memoir

Global

PERKS

OF BEING A

VAGABOND by

I

have travelled for the majority of my life. No – "travelled" makes my journey sound just a little too glamorous. I have hopped. Singapore, hop! Adelaide, hop! Keith, hop!

Mount Barker, hop, Missouri, hop, Georgia, hop, Duke, STOP. Hopping is a lot of fun. The soles of my feet absorb shocks of differing origins, my heels dig into surfaces smooth and rough, soothing and tough. Sometimes my toes, they get wounded from the exertion, so I’ve collected the varied Band-Aids to match. Sometimes I close my eyes while I hop and I collide with people and they open my eyes for me. Sometimes I hop because I’ve forgotten how to stand.

The hopping paused very recently.

I sat criss-cross applesauce on the ground and scrutinized all that had penetrated my thickest layer of skin.

Here are the more humorous artifacts I discovered: 1) If you mispronounce a word – any word, any way, blame it on the hopping. Scoff at the onlookers for not having the cultural awareness to identify the source of your pronunciation and walk away with 5

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an air of confidence.

2) If you receive the opportunity to interact with someone you fancy, dig through your diary of dialects, saunter up to the individual and speak endlessly until the roll of your R’s or the omission of your T’s melts their heart.

3) You are blessed with "one interesting fact about yourself " at icebreakers. No-one wants to follow, “I was born in Dubai, raised in Bali and completed high school in Vienna.”

Sometimes I hop

because

I ’ v e forgotten how to stand.

4) You have high standards because you’ve seen different bests. The highest minimum wages, most scrumptious cuisines, strongest healthcare systems, finest education, broadest diversity.

5) You’re thankful because you’ve seen different worsts. The most awful local fruits (try sniffing a durian), emptiest lifestyles, -isms of every denomination, loudest ignorance, most cacophonous accents (these you keep in your diary as deterrents).

6) You can fake your way out of the lack of all kinds of pop culture knowledge. “Sorry I don’t

spring 2016

left photo by David DeHetre via flickr

know about basketball because I only followed cricket in Australia.” “Sorry I never watched Wizards of Waverly Place because they didn’t play that on our Disney Channel.” “Sorry I don’t know that song because rocks are the primary mode of residence in insert location and I lived under one.”

7) When one day you become rich and famous, your fan base will be inherently international and your memoir can be organized geographically. The title page of every section can be of that cool plastic material and feature an artsy snap of indigenous apparel or streetfood.

These are just the pebbles large enough to be detected by my visible eye. Much more has pierced and disappeared, radiating now only through the eclectic array of friendships, ideas, and appreciation I have since amassed.

Growing up, I channeled large amounts of frustration toward my parents for eradicating my chances at signing up for that dance class that required a 6-month commitment or searching top photo by Tom Hall via flickr right photo by fdecomite via flickr

for a dress for an event that was going to happen next year. I wanted to grow up with one set of friends, to be able to gossip about the one crazy kid from middle school way back when, to fall comfortably into the traditions of one land.

thank you for the hops. You’ve kept me fit.

Editing by Sarah Zhou, graphics by Liane Yanglian and Sarah Zhou.

Only now, with distance and with hindsight that is clear as crystal, do I find myself doubling over in guilt for that frustration.

Thank you, mom and dad, for trekking the world to unearth paradise for us, thank you for the wounds on my toes, thank you for bubbling my melting pot, Perks of being a vagabond

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Memoir

Mauritius

W h e r e A re

by Shanen Ganapathee

I

was born and raised in Mauritius, a small island off the coast of Madagascar, once home to the now-extinct Dodo bird.

That was the exact description I used all the way through O-week when I was asked where I came from. My friends learned it by heart and would mouth it at the same time I would blurt it out. Some variations described Mauritius as a “tiny, tiny” country; others would describe the population as made up of roughly 1.4 million people.

That’s probably when “tiny, tiny” stopped.

1.4 million was a pretty big population, relatively speaking, for an island.

“We are a populace lost in translation.

The senese of a coherent national identity struggles to emerge.”

As my sophomore and junior year unfolded, I saw the way my Mauritian identity morphed and took on more meaning. It was not only about the food, festivals and other visible aspects of culture that came to mind when I was told to talk about my country. I get asked about what the biggest issues are. I pause, reflect and immediately think education. I get asked where my roots lie. And I say that Mauritius was a virgin island. We are all immigrants and the sole reason why the place and its people even stands as it does now is colonization.

Massive uprooting of people from their homes. So in essence, we are a populace lost in translation. The sense of a coherent national identity struggles to emerge, in the midst of ethnic and religious diversity that tends to lend itself to political games of divide and rule. I keep reflecting and I get asked – are you religious? I say that I am a hybrid of sorts. Virgin Mary sits atop my desk next to Ganesha. It doesn’t bother me. I grew up going to the temple, celebrating Hindu festivals but I also went to church regularly. I loved the music and color of the former, the quiet and peace of the latter.

That surely did teach me tolerance.

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I am asked where I learned to speak English so well. I explain that we are trilingual but that English is mostly taught through writing; that we speak French to our teachers and Kreol to our friends; that yes, it is amazing that Kreol developed independently in so many parts of the world. My Haitian friend understands when I’m talking to my parents on the phone. She gets the French cultural references. She listened to Charles Aznavour too. I look Indian.

I learned Tamil in school. Did you know that in primary school they asked you what all photos by author unless otherwise cited background picture by Samuel John via Flickr

Y o u F ro m ?

Passport is co-featuring this article with Duke Mindmap. Duke Mindmap is a space to think critically and express new perspectives on issues pertinent to one’s home countries and to learn more about unique perspectives that Duke international community has to offer. Visit our website at www.dukemindmap.com. We welcome written articles, works-in-progress, outlines and ideas on a rolling basis. Reach out to us at dukemindmap@gmail.com.

your faith was and then placed you accordingly into a language class? There were Hindi, Arabic, Tamil, Telegu, Marathi.

Catholic and Christian kids would take a class centered on religious practices. There was a lingual identity of sorts that was messily meshed with religion and loosely so with ethnicity.

am doing Neuroscience. To Dukies, I say I am interested in creative behavior and prehistoric art. Folks back home are statusdriven. Aren’t they, here too? Thirsty for prestige. What I have is passion, and thirst for knowledge. Do I want to go back home after graduation? The answer remains yes.

My only hope is that I don’t get tonguetied, held down by hierarchy, pressured by status-driven strangers, made into a brick in the wall. I hope that I can urge the youth who are abroad to believe that they can go back and not feel that way, that they can quit keeping up with the Joneses if they so wish.

“Do I want to go back home after graduation? The answer remains yes.

My only hope is that I don’t get tonguetied, held down by hierarchy, pressured by status-driven strangers, made into a brick in the wall.”

I am asked where I am from. I come from a young nation that is ambitious and sometimes maybe too much so. We think about manufacturing workers for our industries.

The sciences are elevated. The arts less so. I major in Human Cognitive Evolution and I explore behavioral phenotype through cognitive genomics. At home, I say that I thumbprint with colors and design of the Marutian flag via Pixabay

My name is Shanen and I was born and raised in Mauritius, a small island off the coast of Madagascar, once home to the now-extinct Dodo bird. That’s where I am from and I love my country.

Editing by Liane Yanglian, graphics by Sherry Huang.

where are you from?

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Essay

U

Istanbul, Turkey

“T

here is no city in the world that can compare to Istanbul.”

This was the reaction, or some variation of it, that I got from most people when I said I was going to be spending my spring semester in Turkey. The food, the culture, the people, I was constantly told how amazing all of it was, that Istanbul was a city that fully dominated all your senses and left you anxiously planning your next visit before you even left. To be honest, before I got to Istanbul I was quite scared. Scared that there was no way that the city could meet all of the expectations that I had created in my head, scared that I would be completely alone in a new country where I did not know the language for the next six months, and scared that I had made a mistake. I kept thinking that I should have played it safer, gone somewhere where it would’ve been easier to adjust.

As it turns out, most of my fears, as

you’ve probably figured out, were completely unfounded. Istanbul is without a doubt a city that overwhelms you, but overwhelms you in a way that forces you to move out of your comfort zone to fully experience all that the city has to offer and trust me it’s hard work not to be completely enchanted with what Istanbul provides. A simple walk down the street can take you back hundred of years as you see ancient ruins casually placed in-between highways. A visit to a local restaurant can provide an interesting look at how the years of the Ottoman Empire have facilitated a blending of traditions from all around the world that can so clearly be seen in the food that you eat. A trip to the Grand Bazaar, surrounded by beautiful handmade rugs and beautifully handcrafted glass, can give you insight into the culture and traditions that are still important to people living inside Turkey today.

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Understanding Istanbul

by Mashaim Khalid

Nonetheless, I cannot say that Istanbul is an easy city to figure out, but I must admit that, to me, that’s part of its charm. It would be unforgiving to reduce a city like Istanbul, one with hundreds of years of history and achievement and mistakes to nothing more than a tourist site. Istanbul is a city that’s easy to fall in love with and difficult to truly understand. It takes time to unravel the city’s extensive history and to explore the unique mix of antiquity and modernity the city provides.

I’m still adjusting to living life in Istanbul and some days are easier than others. But as I sit here writing this inside of a café surrounded by new friends and complete strangers watching Istanbul’s top two soccer teams play (Besiktas vs Fenerbahçe), I can’t help but be glad that I traded in Duke’s crane dominated skyline for Istanbul’s beautiful minaret dominated one.

Editing by Maegan Stanley, graphics by Ukyoung Chang.

all photos by author

understanding istanbul

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Essay

Cape Town, South Africa

THE STORY UNTOLD

I

t was summer. The moist air in South Africa smelt like buttermilk, tainted. We were talking to Paul Verryn, the anti-Apartheid activist, during one of our DukeEngage excursions. Someone asked what motivated him to keep on fighting despite the bleak reality. His response was, “The truth. It frees me.”

But the question that has been troubling me is, what is the truth, anyway?

I found myself increasingly skeptical (and even cynical) during the past three days: the narratives of the Voortrekker Monument and the Freedom Park Museum were largely conf licting: we were told how close the people in the community of Alexandra are, but the women living in the hostel apparently had minimal interaction with each other. In fact, the more we see, the more people we talk to, the more I am uncertain about “the truth”. I have been wondering, how much of their life and thoughts are truthfully presented to us, and how much of that are truly 11

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representative.

Just like the way Paul Verryn described the Marikana massacre, “it was a complexity of all kinds of stuff, even though ostensibly it was about wages.”

In the Hector Pieterson museum that commemorates the 1976 Soweto uprising, on one of the panels, there was a quote by a student who emphasized his frustration over the Afrikaans becoming the language of instruction.

(I am paraphrasing here) “Mathematics and arithmetics are alright, but think about history and biology, ALL THOSE

“The medium of instruction is a professional matter.”

WORDS!” Another quote is from a teacher who opposed the Afrikaans Medium Decree, “The medium of instruction is a professional matter.”

Either account is utterly different from what the uprising is “ostensibly” about.

It stunned me that the complexity of a historical event is beyond anyone’s grip, spring 2016

that even though people may fight for the same cause, they do so for distinct, and often not so heroic, reasons. Yet even though every individual’s motive can be so simple and pure, when added together, layers by layers, they obscure the core of the issue. The struggle of men for power is essentially the continuous struggle to tell their own version of the story, and to convince the others that theirs is the truth. In this process, some people (usually the young) are pushed to the forefront. They became the face, the voice, and arguably, the target.

And Hector Pieterson’s sister said, “but this does not justify the heroism around him as a martyr.”

“Why the glamour around his death?”

Yes, why the glamour? Of all the sites we’ve been to, I appreciate Hector Pieterson Museum the most because these words are juxtaposed with the famous picture of Mbuyisa Makhubo carrying Hector’s body, because the accounts of eyewitnesses, the police , the students and the parents are all there, and because the wording of the panels are as neutral as I could possibly imagine for a museum commemorating the Soweto uprising.

top photo by Pieterjan Grobler via Flickr

“The Truth.

It Frees Me.”

by Sienna Liu

THE LANGUAGE OF POWER “To think a person who hates you can love your language is stupid.”

- W. B. Ngakane I remembered clearly what Calvin said as we were walking down the streets in Soweto, that for the black South African community, Afrikaans is a symbol for tyranny and subjugation, whereas English is a relatively harmless and neutral language (but isn’t it also the language of the colonizer?). These connotations came from the unpleasant history of encounter between different peoples, who connect their identity and history so closely to their mother tongue.

The language itself is innocent. But it is seen as a form of hegemony because it was developed during colonization and for colonization, the groups of people who spoke it were the colonizers.

Language and power reinforces each other, as Foucault would argue. But it never occurred to me so strikingly how language, the way people communicate right photo by author

with and understand each other, can at the same time be the site of conf lict, hierarchy, and stereotypes. The truth is layered with different language, which is, in turn, layered with conf licts of power.

which repeated itself continuously in history, “What language do you speak?” makes me wonder if embracing all these languages also creates a barrier, because when a certain language defines a group of insiders, it also rejects all others as outsiders.

To stand against oppression, you have to fight for the rights of speaking your own language.

In Shanghai, the local dialect was banned in educational institutions until very recently, while Mandarin was forcefully promoted. You could argue that the town lost some of its cultural integrity and heritage, but it was also true that new migrants into the city felt more welcome when they could speak the same tongue.

Since language is an intrinsic part of a person’s self-identity and sense of belonging, the Afrikaans Medium Decree outraged the Soweto community because it aimed to reinforce the unequal power structure by forcing another language upon the youth, the language of the oppressor.

Dilemma.

To stand against oppression, you have to fight for the rights of speaking your own language.

But later, the story Paul Verryn told us during the talk, about the tribalism, about xenophobia, about that question

"the truth? it frees me."

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truth and reconciliation The Truth and Reconciliation Committee was a court-like restorative justice body assembled in South Africa after the abolition of apartheid in the 1990s. Witnesses who were identified as victims of gross human rights violations were invited to give statements about their experiences, and some were selected for public hearings.

Perpetrators of violence could also give testimony and request amnesty. From the perspective of the leader of a nation that has been through years of tumults and violence, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission might be the best (or most effective) way to restore peace. In one of my courses at Duke we talked about the concept of restorative justice, an approach to justice that focuses on the needs of the victims and the offenders, as well as the involved community, instead of satisfying abstract legal principles or punishing the offender.

The professor used TRC as a real world example at the time. But I always have doubts: is it ethically sound? Is the truth good enough for the victims?

Park, I was convinced of the significance of “the truth”, the collective memory, for the nation-building process. But it still puzzled me how this could be seen as a form of “reconciliation” when justice has not been done for the atrocities.

If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg.

My question has evolved from “what is the truth” to “what are we going to do about it”.

I believe in Paul Verryn’s statement that there is no single path directed to the

perfection of human happiness. I believe so. But I want to share the following paragraph, delivered by my favorite human being on this planet, with you all: “If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg. Why? Because each of us is an egg, a unique soul enclosed in a fragile egg. Each of us is confronting a high wall. The high wall is the system which forces us to do the things we would not ordinarily see fit to do as individuals . . . We are all human beings, individuals, fragile eggs.

We have no hope against the wall: it’s too high, too dark, too cold. To fight the wall, we must join our souls together for warmth, strength. We must not let the system control us - create who we are. It is we who created the system.”

Editing by Heather Zhou, graphics by Wendy Lu.

By the Wall of Names in the Freedom 13

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top photo by Marco Zanferrari via Flickr all other photos by author

Opinion

United States

Waiting for Madam President: THE 2016 U.S. PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION IN AN INTERNATIONAL CONTEXT Dr. Deondra Rose Professor at Sanford School of Public Policy

by

T

here is little question that the 2016 U.S. presidential election represents a historic event. Aside from the fact that the winner will provide leadership as the nation deals with important domestic issues like the future of the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”), the possibility of filling vacancies on the Supreme Court, and addressing inequality and declining socioeconomic mobility in the United States, he or she will also deal with crucial global issues like climate change, immigration, and combating terrorist threats. The new president will set the agenda for U.S. foreign policy and shape our posture toward the international community when it comes

to diplomacy, the provision of foreign aid, and the pursuit of military solutions for international challenges.

But more than this, the 2016 election represents a milestone because the nation could very well elect its first woman president. While it is not the first time that a woman has run for President of the United States, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton is, without question, the most viable female presidential candidate that the nation has seen. Clinton, an attorney who has served as a former U.S. Senator and as the nation’s First Lady, is a prominent front-runner for the Democratic Party’s

nomination for president. According to a recent Reuters Poll, registered voters expressed greater support for Hillary Clinton when compared to her primary opponent, Sen. Bernie Sanders (D-VT), as well as prospective Republican general election opponents Donald Trump and Sen. Ted Cruz.1 Should Secretary Clinton succeed in her bid to become the next President of the United States, the U.S. would join many in the international community who have elected a woman as head of government. There are currently 19 women heads of state or government around the world, including Argentina, Brazil, Central African Republic, Chile,

photo by JeepersMedia via Flickr

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minister of Bangladesh.5 Other high-profile female heads of state have included German Chancellor Angela Merkel (2005-present), British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (1979-1990), Pakistan’s Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto (1988-1990), and Chile’s President Michelle Bachelet (2006-2010; 2014-present).

Denmark, Germany, Jamaica, Norway, and the Republic of Korea. In what follows, I will consider the significance of the 2016 U.S. Presidential election in terms of women’s political representation, paying particular attention to the history of women’s exclusion from the highest echelons of political power in the United States and how it compares to women’s representation in executive leadership positions around the world.

(Still) Waiting for Madam President The 2016 primary election has been noteworthy in that both major parties have included high-profile women candidates in Democrat Hillary Clinton and Republican Carly Fiorina.2 Although Hillary Clinton’s status as the front-runner for her Party’s presidential nomination is unprecedented in terms of U.S. gender politics, she is not the first woman to throw her hat into the ring of presidential politics. The first woman to run for President of the United States was Victoria Claflin Woodhull, who ran as a third party candidate on a platform of equal rights for women in 1872. Since then, a total of 14 women have run for president—including figures like Senator Margaret Chase Smith (R-ME) in 1964, Rep. Patsy Takemoto Mink (D-HI) and Rep. Shirley Chisholm (D-NY) in 1972, and Sen. Elizabeth Dole (R-NC) in 2000. Although a woman has yet to secure a major party’s presidential nomination, two women— Democratic congresswoman Geraldine Ferraro and Republican governor Sarah 15

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Palin—secured their nominations for Vice President in 1984 and 2008, respectively.

But, their tickets lost in the general election.

According to a June 2015 Pew Research Center poll, 38 percent of U.S. adults hope that the nation will elect a female president during their lifetime.3 All things considered, the 2016 election could represent a critical juncture in the history women’s political representation and elite-level participation in the United States.

International Trends in Women’s Leadership When it comes to women’s political leadership most countries have yet to elect a woman as the head of government or state. Although other nations have also grappled with the challenge of gender inequality, a number have eclipsed the United States in their inclusion of women in positions of political power. The number of female leaders on the international stage has doubled in the last decade; Nordic countries, nations in South and Southeast Asia, and South American countries have led the world in electing women leaders.4 India represents what is perhaps the most impressive example of women’s leadership in positions of extraordinary political power. Since the mid-twentieth century, two women—former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi (1966-1977; 1980-1984) and former President Pratibha Patil (2007-2012)—led the country for a combined 20 years. In recent decades, multiple women have also served as the president of Ireland and prime spring 2016

The United States also trails many in the international community when it comes to the representation of women in the legislative institutions that often represent crucial stepping-stones to the most powerful political offices. According to the Iner-Parliamentary Union’s ranking of 191 countries on the basis of women’s representation in parliamentary bodies, Rwanda leads the world with women comprising 64 percent of the members in its lower parliamentary house, followed by Bolivia (53 percent), Cuba (49 percent), and Seychelles (44 percent). The United States ranks 95th.6 Thus, the 2016 election provides a major opportunity for the United States to join many of our neighbors in the international community by engaging women in the highest levels of political power.

The Imperative of Gender Equality in Elite Political Representation Why should we care that women have yet to ascend to the rarified heights of elite political office in the United States and other nations? When compared to men, U.S. public opinion polls reveal that women get high marks on qualities like working out compromises, being honest and ethical, working to improve quality of life, and standing up for their beliefs. They are also seen as more capable advocates on behalf of women.7 When it comes to public policy, political scientists have argued that women policymakers often hold positions on key issues that diverge from those held by their male counterparts. For example, women have been important voices for women’s and children’s issues, as well as photo by Vesna Middelkoop via Flickr

the measured use of military force. Studies have shown that women’s representation in parliamentary bodies tends to be inversely associated with levels of interstate armed conflict.8 Furthermore, low levels of political representation among women are correlated with a number of challenges, including low levels of development and suppressed educational attainment and labor force participation among women.9 We must also recognize the symbolic value of women’s representation in positions of power. Highprofile women leaders provide important examples of what women can achieve and what they can endeavor to do within a society. Such leaders could potentially inspire women’s inclusion in all walks of political, social, and economic life.

Leveling the Playing Field What will it take to achieve gender parity in elite political representation? For starters, a level playing field. A full 38 percent of Americans believe that women are held to higher standards than men when it comes to their perceived eligibility for high political office.10 Studies have also found that women candidates tend to fare better in countries characterized by greater egalitarianism and more progressive attitudes regarding gender roles.

Conversely, women candidates face greater difficulty in countries where dominant religious doctrines prescribe traditional roles for women.11 Another approach to increasing women’s political representation could center on increasing women’s presence in roles that provide the pipeline of candidates for higher office, such as membership in the national legislature and election to statewide political offices. According to the Center for American Women and Politics, women currently hold 19.4 percent of seats in Congress—20 of the 100 U.S. Senate seats and 84 of the 435 seats in the House of Representatives.

Women also hold approximately 25 percent of statewide elective offices, including 76 of the 312 governor, lieutenant governor, and

Countries like the United States, which struggles to achieve gender parity in political representation, could look to other nations for strategies to help increase women’s representation high political offices. other statewide offices across the nation.

Countries like the United States, which struggles to achieve gender parity in political representation, could look to other nations for strategies to help increase women’s representation high political offices. Consider, for example, countries like Rwanda, Bolivia, Sweden, Senegal, and Mexico, which have invoked gender quotas to recruit women into political positions.

By reserving seats in governing institutions, designating candidate slots, or establishing political party targets, half of the world’s countries have taken decisive steps to promote gender equality in their governing institutions.12 Aside from gender quotas, there are additional steps that we can take to promote women’s inclusion in positions of political power. In recent years, the media has promoted images of women in elite political positions, such as fictional television presidents President McKenzie S. Allen on the show “Commander in Chief ” and President Laura Roslin on the sci-fi hit, “Battlestar Galactica.” Such images challenge powerful gendered stereotypes that have excluded women from executive power. Interest groups and activists have established initiatives like the White House Project to encourage young women to run for office, and a number of organizations have sponsored training programs that help women learn campaign strategies that will strengthen their effectiveness as political candidates.

Given the lengthy history of gender inequality in political leadership that has challenged the United States, the 2016 election represents an exciting moment in the trajectory of U.S. gender politics. In addition to the fact that Hillary Clinton’s candidacy represents arguably the best

chance that an American woman has had to enter the White House, it also presents an opportunity for the United States to join countries like India, Ireland, Bangladesh, the United Kingdom, Germany, Pakistan, Mozambique, Jamaica, and others in admitting women to the highest echelons of political power.

Editing by Liane Yanglian, graphics by Roshni Prakash.

1. “Core Political Approval.” Poll. Ipsos/Reuters.

March 5-9, 2016. Available at: http://big.assets. huffingtonpost.com/2016ReutersTrackingCorePoliti calpdf.pdf 2. Former Hewlett-Packard CEO Carly Fiorina ended her bid for the Republican nomination for president in February of 2016, after a seventh place finish in the New Hampshire primary.

3. “Women and Leadership: Public Says Women are Equally Qualified, but Barriers Persist.” 2015.

Pew Research Center. Available at: http://www. pewsocialtrends.org/2015/01/14/women-andleadership/ 4. Lauren Kent. 2015. “Number of Women Leaders around the world has grown, but they’re still al small group.” Pew Research Center. Available at: http:// www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/07/30/aboutone-in-ten-of-todays-world-leaders-are-women/ 5. Ibid.

6. “Women in National Parliaments.” 2016. InterParliamentary Union. Available at: http://www.ipu. org/wmn-e/classif.htm 7. “Women and Leadership.” 2015.

8. Eric Melander. 2005. “Gender Equality and Interstate Armed Conflict.” International Studies Quarterly 49:695-714, 695.

9. Lane Kenworthy and Melissa Malami. 1999.

“Gender Inequality in Political Representation: A Worldwide Comparative Analysis.” Social Forces 78(1): 235-268, 240; Richard E. Matland. 1998.

“Women’s Representation in National Legislatures: Developed and Developing Countries.” Legislative Studies Quarterly 23(1): 109-125.

10. “Women and Leadership.” 2015.

11.Kenworthy and Malami 1999, 242; Matland 1998; Pamela Paxton. 1997. “Women in National Legislatures: A Cross-National Analysis.” Social Science Research 26: 442-464.

12. Drude Dahlerup. 2009. Quota Project: Global Database of Quotas for Women. International IDEA and Stockholm University.

waiting for madam president

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Memoir

Kharkov, Ukraine

In Praise of Uncertainty “I

by Margaryta Malyukova Columbia University

wish I had taken that class!”

“I would have chosen that major in a heartbeat!”

As these snippets of dining hall conversations suggest, navigating Columbia’s resources can be overwhelming. There is always a different class, a different life direction we could have taken. This array of opportunities often leaves us with lingering doubts and regrets. But as a student from Ukraine, a country with comparatively fewer academic opportunities, I have come to understand and even embrace this uncertainty as a positive phenomenon, as a unique chance to become independent and self-aware.

My peers back home do not face the same uncertainty about the future that I do. Most of my friends from high school know what they will be doing after they graduate col17

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lege. In fact, they knew from the moment they entered college, since that is the time when they declare their majors (in Ukraine, majors largely define your career).

In many Ukrainian colleges, schedules are arranged by academic departments, so there are no electives. Additionally, students generally have little time for extracurriculars or jobs. My friend, who is majoring in German, had around six hours of lectures per day during her first year in college. Because of the commute—in Ukraine, there are no campus-style universities—she left home every day around 7 a.m. and came back at 5 p.m.

Having fewer opportunities, my friends are not faced with the anxieties caused by choice. With their career options narrowly defined by their majors, they have their lives mostly figured out. And they embrace this. There is a certain joy in a life that is free from uncertainty. It is even said that

one of the reasons people supported Soviet rule in the mid-20th century was the perceived order it gave to life. Sovietism, as a secular religion, created an illusion of certainty in a time of international chaos.

Life here at Columbia is harder in certain respects. The more choices we have—the more variables that come into play—the more choices we have to carefully consider.

The process of self-discovery can be both a luxury and a burden.

Of course, many of us at Columbia are still limited by various financial, academic, and personal circumstances. But most of us are still able to choose among certain electives, find some extracurriculars, search for internships in different fields, and have one major (or more). These are opportunities I often take for granted.

make more informed decisions about my future. Yet they also force me to think more deeply about my decisions than I would have before coming to college. Am I certain I am making the right choice? What is the “right” choice, anyway?

At Columbia, we have the Core, an entire curriculum designed to allow us to grapple with the notions of “right” and “wrong.” But the Core adds to the dilemma of choice by giving us multiple frames of reference to analyze our own decisions. What would Plato or Kant say about the dilemma I am facing? Perhaps this is not the question one asks when choosing what to eat for

am reminded of the Good Brahmin, a sage from one of Voltaire’s philosophical tales, who had to choose between a life of blissful ignorance and one of woeful awareness of his ignorance. The Brahmin selects the latter because he values knowledge, even at the price of discomfort.

And so do I. Confronted with an array of opportunities, I have gained insight into my own reasoning and values. My experiences at Columbia have pushed me to analyze my choices, become aware of my own strengths and weaknesses, and correct my own mistakes.

This act of self-analysis in itself is valuable because it gives me insight into my own reasoning and creates selfknowledge.

Many of my friends at home, on the other hand, do not have the privilege of exploring different interests and realizing their ambitions.

Even if I am not certain I have made the right decision about my major—or anything else—I value my ability to make that choice, knowing that there are people who do not.

Tr a p p e d between two very different worlds, I am reminded of the Good Brahmin, a sage from one of Voltaire’s philosophical tales, who had to choose between a life of blissful Columbia’s liberal arts tradition brings us close ignorance and one of woeful awareness of to adulthood, if adulthood is defined by personal responhis ignorance. sibility. We have greater control over our lives than we would in more structured educational systems. In addition, living away from home—whether a block or an ocean away—adds its own array of decisions. And with this freedom comes (you guessed it) responsibility.

In my two years here, I have been exposed to many different life paths and gained new experiences, all of which have helped me

photo by centralniak via flickr

breakfast, or even what major to declare. Yet when challenged to think critically, we become sensitive to the influences and concepts that characterize our education and thus guide our decision-making. We begin to confront uncertainty.

Trapped between two very different worlds, I

As the authors of our own collegiate odysseys, we feel due discomfort. Yet the reward of our uncertainty is the Brahmin’s knowledge: awareness of our own motivations and desires. In the end, our reward is adulthood.

Editing by Zhengtao Qu, graphics by Liane Yanglian.

in pride of uncertainty

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Memoir

Dresden, Germany

TAKE

TIME H

aving submitted my last essay for graduate schools, I departed for a music tour to Germany with Duke Chapel Choir in December. We started in Munich and visited a couple of cities as we kept driving north toward Berlin.

Having an application due when New Year’s Eve celebration was happening downtown might be unfortunate, but I was lucky enough to watch the fireworks from our room at the hotel. The clock in the city center must have struck for the countdown but it was too far away, and everything I heard was rockets launching and whispering. Some ten minutes after midnight, the number of fireworks in the sky dropped quickly, and as I watched the last one disappearing with a red shimmer, I came to realize that a new year had arrived – a time when resolutions are made, later accomplished, revised or abandoned.

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On the next day we stopped in Dresden.

If I were to make a list of my favorite German cities, it would come second, right after Berlin. I knew Dresden for only one day from an excursion during my Duke in Berlin summer program, yet I have since been seriously in love with it, with the range of castle-like Baroque architecture flowing through the city on the paved roads. Though it was cloudy during both of my visits, the liveliness radiating from the red and green colors were especially eye-catching.

The reasons why Dresden is among my favorites lie beyond its stunning beauty and rich history, and more in how it recovered from the traumatic wounds and how much vibrancy it now has to offer.

spring 2016

L dith

by Ju

eng

We learned that Dresden was severely bombed during WWII, and that eighty percent of the inner city was in debris.

Yet the people of Dresden did not give up on hope: after the war, they spent 25 years rebuilding everything, starting almost from scratch – it is even more impressive, considering how much effort and determination this would have meant.

Frauenskirche (the Church of our Lady), a major landmark, was blown to pieces by the bombs; as time wore on, a dark coat grew around the bricks. In the reconstruction, the city government incorporated the pieces from the original church and today they look like the flecks mounted within a carefully carved ivory. One especially large piece of remain is now placed by the back of the church, reminding people of what the city has undergone.

I wrapped my arms around my body for the whole time against the harsh temperature (comparatively, for someone who has spent almost four years in Durham).

As we were gathering on the square in front of the church, a brass band started playing adapted versions of classical music. A young father was holding the hands of his child, dancing to the melody of the songs together; in a distance the new city hall was under construction and will make its debut in half a year.

On the street I saw people armed with scarves and gloves greeting each other with a genuine “Happy New Year”. I looked up and saw the red and gold Christmas stars hanging in the windows of the stores.

Time is indeed a

magical four-letter

word.

Being in a less familiar environment allowed me to explore, and there have been many highlights along the trip. However, it could be a bit frustrating when one is to take in a huge amount of information in a very short period of time, because the understanding of issues such as social history and cultural phenomenon requires taking time to reflect and internalize. Shortly after nightfall hit the city, we hopped on our coach to head to our next stop, and I put down my very first New Year’s resolution: “In this coming new year, I hope to take more time to enjoy whatever life offers –to embrace the changes, to live in the moments and remember them.”

Time is indeed a magical four-letter word.

Editing by Amanda Sear, graphics by Jenny Shang.

photo by author

take time

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Memoir

Hulhudhoo, Maldives

The Hidden Gem of

Maldives

by Jackie Xiao

M

aldives checked”, I murmured to myself. As the airplane hovered over the tiny airport island on the peripheral of Male, Maldives’ capital, a Maldivian looking lady who sat beside me whispered, “Sit tight, for big planes like this the runway runs out sometimes”.

After a heart-throbbing landing, thanks to the slightly-excessively-humorous lady, I jumped onto a speedboat to continue my journey to Holhudhoo, which is an island 100 miles south of Male. The overbearing heat from the sun and noise from the motor almost immediately began to make me feel uneasy. The lack of space in the boat, coupled with the irregular bumping on the waves topped it off for some people, vacuuming their stomachs, turning the boat deck into a canvas of puke art.

Around evening time, the engine stopped coughing as our boat highfived the jetty. Dozens of people awaited our arrival at the shore, wrapping flower hoops around our necks and handing fresh coconuts as we stepped off the boat. Not far away, a troop of young men in white skirt danced to a catchy drumbeat. After a round of warm greetings from the leader on the island, I was brought to my host, eight21

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year old Azoom and Azoom’s mother, who will offer me a place to sleep for the next ten days.

On the first morning, it was hard to shed the tourist in me, and I convinced Azoom to show me the most beautiful part of the island. After a two minute walk, we hit the sea, and saw a small stretch of beach. I later realized that the island only takes five minutes to walk from coast to coast. We sat on the hammocks hanging from the trees, and began talking. Azoom’s mother told me, that was the only shore on the island that people go to, because the other shores were undergoing construction or housed infrastructures like incineration and power facilities. Around 10AM, the peace was very quickly perturbed by mammoth cranes carrying boulders and sand, building a wall around the coast to shield the homes from the encroaching sea line...

On the second day, my buddies and I set out on a fishing boat and followed an old man into the sea. Netting was banned a few years ago because the government saw the commercial fishing industry deplete so much of Maldives’ fish stock. Hence,we could only fish using fishing lines. After an hour or so, most of us gave up trying to spring 2016

outsmart the fish, and just sat on the deck in awe, watching the old man do his thing. Every few minutes, he turns around and shows us his catch, with a toothless grin on his face. In no time, he filled his bucket and we were heading back for our barbecue feast...

In the next few days, we taught classes to the children in the local elementary and middle schools. Many of the children are lively and smart, just like children from any other parts of the world.

According to the teacher, many of them will grow up to take jobs in the neighboring resort islands, or find work in Male. Few of the brightest receive scholarships from the government to study in Malaysia or India, many of whom leave their island for good and get rooted outside of Maldives. We also joined the physical education classes, and played soccer and frisbee with the children. After many years of pretending to sound and act like an adult in the military and in front of my friends and family, I wore my 10-year-old hat again and lost hold of myself in the fun.

Everyone seems capable of going back in time and being childish again when surrounded by children. That was the period of our lives when time slipped by so quickly.

Soon it was almost time to go. The photo by Marco Lazzaroni via Flickr

day before we left, we had a special invitation. The local friends I made told me the story of an old man who built a house out of sea shells hoping to convince his runaway wife to come back home. Usually he does not open his house to any guest, making no exceptions to even the local people, but through the help of some local people who knew him, we were invited to set foot in this house that he spent years to build. Upon entering the house, the shine and craftsmanship of it was astounding. There was no place for bricks, metal or wood in this house. Every surface of the house was layered with sea shells and colorful rocks. There must be at least a thousand shells on each wall of the house. The sheer effort that must have been put into picking up the seashells and lining them up onto the walls of this house makes one wonder how much he must have loved his wife, who left him for another island, never to be found again. He hasn’t seen his wife in thirty years, unsure of her life or death. Perhaps it was better for him to not know, and so his wife can live in his memory. Love in his eyes, seems to be a matter of giving rather than receiving.

took our photos and had our teardrops.

The locals seem more skilled than me in handling these emotional occasions, since I was not the first group of volunteers who set foot on their island. Soon, I was buckling my seatbelt on the airplane again. I was reminded of the old lady I met a few days ago and prayed again for the runway to not run out.

As I took off, I just thought to myself that the Maldivians probably changed my perspective and my life more than I changed theirs. Maldives is known for its white beaches, the phytoplanktons and the resorts we see on a Google image search. But we rarely hear about Maldivian people. They never appear on the world stage like Americans do in winning Nobel Prizes or churning out billionaires. But in many ways, they are much more sophisticated than we are. As a nation they seem to know a lot more than us about caring for their homes and what it means to love someone.

Editing and graphics by Marisa Witayananun.

As we set foot on the boat back to Male on our last day, we bid our farewells, all photos by author unless otherwise cited background photo by Nattu via Flickr

the hidden gem of maldives

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Photo Essay

Venice, Italy

e c i n e V g n i r u t Cap

I

studied abroad in Venice, Ita As a photography lover, I w beauty, a unity of nature and architectur in the small alleys, immersing myself i Venice. Yet, I loved it better when surrounding islands and took a wider pers to life at Duke, studying and living in I hoped to show this eternal beauty

A City on th 23

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by Ge Jin

aly during my sophomore spring. was enthralled by Venice’s unique re. I sometimes enjoyed wandering in the hustle and bustle of touristic I escaped to either bell towers or spective of the whole city. Compared n Venice was so much serene and through this collection of photos.

he Water all photos by author

a city on the water

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Poetry

Global

Dolphins

-- Upon special request

Dolphins Doth live Only In the Oceans.

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Viewing the countryside Sometimes, I just vacantly gaze, With endless attentiveness, At the herds that merrily graze In serenity and happiness.

The wind hurries through the fields Exciting the grasses to exultation, Invites the farmer awaiting his yields To spells of pleasant rumination.

On such fine, sunny days, The trees are strangely alive; Birds produce enthralling lays Entreating the earth to thrive.

Then I think of those in the city.

Steel and glass makes their land!

Do they not yearn for this beauty; Dream of this wonderland?

I smile and wish them well.

Surely they’ll find this view swell If for once they leave their contraptions And behold nature’s bewitching constructions.

Both poems by Altamash Rafiq, graphics by Jenny Shang.

background left by jeff~, right by just. my.photography2008 via Flickr

impersonal poetry

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article genre DUKE ABROAD

FIRST PLACE: IMMERSION “Pictured here is not a Moroccan woman but rather, one of the students from Duke in the Arab World. This was taken on our tour around the old city of Fes when we entered a shop that sold a diverse array of head scarves. This photo is one of my favorites that I have ever taken because it is simply beautiful. The colors are extremely vibrant and the overall depiction of details is stunning. However, I love that this photo is of a Duke student rather than a Moroccan native because it demonstrates the immersion aspect of studying abroad. One of the most rewarding and educational experience was living with a Moroccan host family and simply spending time with the locals. Though I believe that taking classes during study abroad programs are important, I also think that the most significant takeaways from being abroad come from deeply immersing yourself into the culture. Maintain an open mind and be curious so that studying abroad can become so much more than just another classroom experience” -- Brandon Choi, Morroco

SECOND PLACE: FLORA OF OXFORD “From indulging in rose tea biscuits from Piccadilly eateries to sipping chamomile and earl grey tea, I discovered that f lowers subtly contribute to the UK's culture: in not only Oxford, but England's unique high table and tea culture itself. Whether it be in front of Buckingham Palace, Magdalene College, or inside a teapot itself--these f lora from various gardens and grasses are all stringently maintained and groomed for both visual and tasteful delight. A self-pronounced epicurean, I had the joys of enjoying British cuisine, exploring Corpus Christi college, and sampling various gourmet delights. This photo aptly captures all of those elements--from rose biscuits, herbal and natural teas to the beauty of Oxford's individual colleges themselves.”

--Diana Ye, United Kingdom 27

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GEO Reflects

Photo and Video Contest Winners THIRD PLACE: TRANSITION (PEOPLE'S CHOICE AWARD) “Whenever I’m asked about my time on the Duke in LA program, the only thing I can think of is how life-changing it was. I took this picture in an attempt to come to terms with my new self, with my new look, for until this “private photoshoot”, I didn’t know what to think of the fact that just the day before, I had spontaneously cut my hair shorter than my lifelong standard of beauty permitted. Was I still beautiful? I was trying to answer that question to myself in this photoshoot. Duke in LA brought a lot of change into my life. Before then, I had been a “science person” and had found my intellectual confidence in that. Going to LA to explore my artistic tendencies led me to a place where I realized that I might end up doing more art than science. Coming from a place (Nigeria), where the only occupations that mattered are doctor, engineer and lawyer, I questioned if I was as intelligent as I had thought. Am I still intelligent if I am no longer pursuing the sciences? My time in LA provided me the space to grapple with the answer to that question.’

-- Nmeli Anene, Los Angeles

GEOReflects challenges students to examine their time away from Duke by bridging artistic expression and educational experience. Through photography, GEOReflects encourages students to use their study abroad/study away experience to develop a deeper understanding of other people and of themselves. The contest seeks work that challenges perceptions of life in a host community and creatively conveys the student’s experience.

all photos by authors

geo reflects photo contest

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Staff Corner

Лебеді Материнства Мріють крилами з туману лебеді рожеві, Сиплють ночі у лимани зорі сургучеві. Заглядає в шибу казка сивими очима, Материнська добра ласка в неї за плечима. Ой біжи, біжи, досадо, не вертай до хати, Не пущу тебе колиску синову гойдати. Припливайте до колиски, лебеді, як мрії, Опустіться, тихі зорі, синові під вії. Темряву тривожили криками півні, Танцювали лебеді в хаті на стіні. Лопотіли крилами і рожевим пір'ям, Лоскотали марево золотим сузір'ям.

Swans of Motherhood Translation by Margryta Malyukova Dreaming wings from a fog, fly the swans of rose.

Night is sowing crimson stars upon the shores.

The fairy-tale with eyes of grey peers in through the pane, Upon her shoulders mother’s love and care are lain.

Oh, run, run, dismay, from my hut away, Never my son’s cradle will I let you sway.

Fly into the cradle, swans, as dreams through sashes.

Descend, O quiet stars, under my son’s lashes.

Виростеш ти, сину, вирушиш в дорогу, Виростуть з тобою приспані тривоги.

Disturbing the dark came the rooster’s calls.

Swans were dancing upon the house walls.

Drumming their wings and plumage of pink, Tickling the dream with stars in gold ink.

У хмільні смеркання мавки чорноброві Ждатимуть твоєї ніжності й любові.

You’ll grow up my son, set off on your lane, And with you will grow many latent banes.

Будуть тебе кликать у сади зелені Хлопців чорночубих диво-наречені.

In the drunken darkness will be black-browed mermaids Waiting for your fondness and your feelings fervid.

Можеш вибирати друзів і дружину, Вибрати не можна тільки Батьківщину.

Calling you to gardens in green color clothed, Will be the wonder-brides of black-fringéd boys.

Можна вибрать друга і по духу брата, Та не можна рідну матір вибирати.

You can choose your friends and your future wife, Your Motherland, however, you cannot.

За тобою завше будуть мандрувати Очі материнські і білява хата.

You can choose a friend of a kindred mind, But your dear own mother is one of a kind.

І якщо впадеш ти на чужому полі, Прийдуть з України верби і тополі,

Following your footsteps there will ever stride Your mother’s loving eyes and your snow-white house.

Стануть над тобою, листям затріпочуть, Тугою прощання душу залоскочуть.

And if you fall upon the field of foe, Poplars and willows from Ukraine will flow,

Можна все на світі вибирати, сину, Вибрати не можна тільки Батьківщину.

They will stand around you, and in leafy throes Send a farewell shiver tickling up your soul.

All things in the world you can choose, my son, Your Motherland, however, is the only one.

29

passport

spring 2016

等你, 在雨中-余光中 等你, 在雨中, 在造虹的雨中 蝉声沉落, 蛙声升起 一池的红莲如红焰, 在雨中 你来不来都一样, 竟感觉 每朵莲都像你 尤其隔着黄昏, 隔着这样的细雨 永恒, 刹那, 刹那, 永恒 等你, 在时间之外在时间之内, 等你, 在刹那, 在永恒 如果你的手在我的手里, 此刻 如果你的清芬 在我的鼻孔, 我会说, 小情人

Waiting for you in the rain

By Yu Guangzhong Translation by Yan Linhai, modified by Liane Yanglian Waiting for you in the rain, -- the rain of the rainbow, during which the crickets get silent and the frogs cry with might and main.

A pond of lotus, red as the flame in the rain, even if you don't come, I shall not feel dispirited, because each lotus stands for you, my dear flame, at such a dusk, the rainy dusk.

I'm waiting for you, and I'll always wait for you.

I'll wait for you in the concept of time; I'll wait for you beyond any time.

If you are here with your hands in my hand,and If you are here with your fragrance, winding up in my nostril, I'll tell you, my lover, this hand should pick up, in Wu Palaces, the lotus flower, And the other hand should pull the laurel oar of lily boat in the river.

A star hangs above the rooftop of the science museum, like an earring, My Swiss watch shows seven o'clock when you befall my eyes, like the red lotus after rain. You come to me like one of the short lyric poetries

诺, 这只手应该采莲, 在吴宫 这只手应该 摇一柄桂浆, 在木兰舟中 一颗星悬在科学馆的飞檐 耳坠子一般的悬着 瑞士表说都七点了 忽然你走来 步雨后的红莲, 翩翩, 你走来 像一首小令 从一则爱情的典故里你走来 从姜白石的词里, 有韵地, 你走来

--- For this issue's staff corner, we showcase the beauty of poetry around the globe. Here, we provide two poems and their translations, one from Ukrania and the other from China...

And you come to me like a love story, And you come to me like a Jiang- Baishi's rhymed melody.

poems around the globe

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