This is a feature I wrote in early 2009 as my final paper for a Global Health Reporting class. It was published in the newsletter of an NGO in Asia. I decided to re-post this as a reflection on World Aids Day. The way we've dealt with HIV/AIDS since the 80s is a reflection of how far we have come as a collective human race, from fear and prejudice to understanding, action, compassion and inclusion.
Pukaar January 2010 Issue 68
Waking up to AIDS in Asia...
Facing the fact that men are having sex with men
By Rebecca Lim
Shivananda Khan wakes up every morning in Lucknow, India, and goes to work angry. He is mad that in some Asian countries, only one in 10 MSM (men-who-have-sex-with-men) have access to HIV/AIDS services.
“It is a sense of righteous anger, like when you see someone beaten up for trying to speak the truth,” said the founder and chief executive of Naz Foundation International (NFI), a non-profit organization helping MSM groups in South and Southeast Asia develop sexual health and HIV prevention, support and care services.
Over in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Andrew Tan goes to work behind a mask. Being a HIV positive MSM and Chinese in a predominantly Malay and Muslim country, he keeps his status and other life as an advocate and volunteer counselor for HIV/AIDS a secret from his co-workers, friends and even some of his family.
“You’ll get double discrimination,” he said. “Even within the gay community, you’ll be considered an outcast...a pariah of a pariah group!”
He sits on the board of advocacy group, the Asia Pacific Coalition On Male Sexual Health (APCOM), which Mr. Khan chairs and also founded.
Both men share a common concern about the gravity of the HIV/AIDS epidemic for MSM in Asia. Here, barriers to prevention, education and treatment are deeply rooted in cultural norms, religious beliefs and social stigma.
Dr Massimo Ghidinelli, the World Health Organization (WHO) Regional Adviser in HIV/AIDS and Sexually Transmitted Infections, said at a conference last year, that in many Asian countries, national strategic plans for HIV/AIDS do not include interventions for MSM and transgender persons.
He added that targeted preventive measures are reaching only 1% of the MSM population in Asia of an estimated 10 million men.
“Action needs to be taken now if a major increase in HIV/AIDS cases is to be averted,” he warned.
According to UNAIDS, an estimated 4.9 million people were living with HIV in Asia in 2007, and 300,000 died from AIDS related illnesses, making this the region with the second highest numbers next to Sub-Saharan Africa.
In an independent study published by TREAT (Therapeutics Research, Education, AIDS Training) Asia in 2006, HIV rates among MSM in Phnom Penh, Cambodia was reported to be at 14.4%, 16.8% in the state of Maharashtra in India, and 28.3% in Bangkok, Thailand. The report also predicted that MSM in Asia will “face a crisis more devastating than that experienced by gay men in the West during the epidemic’s earliest years” if the trend of infections is not stemmed.
Facing stigma and discrimination
One of the key reasons underpinning the lack of HIV/AIDS prevention and services for MSM is social prejudice and discrimination, said Mr Khan.
This deep-seated stigma stems from the social dynamics of sex between men in Asia, and the cultural pressure on males to marry and build a family, he added.
“We have a double jeopardy situation,” he explained.
Many MSM in Asia do not view themselves as homosexual as long as they are playing the dominant or penetrative role. A large number also have sex with women and end up getting married. They continue to have casual (and potentially unsafe) sex with men, putting the spouse and children at risk of HIV infection.
A study in Mumbai, India revealed that 25% of HIV positive men are married MSM. In Beijing, China, 29% of MSM respondents in a survey said they also had sex with women. “ There is a whole spectrum of MSM and this is almost invisible for many people in Asia who think that being gay means dressing up like a woman,” said Mr Tan.
While the “masculine and publicly married” men fall on the left of the spectrum, he added, the transgender fall on the right. In between, there are different groups, including those who are comfortably gay, and do not necessarily identify with gender roles.
For the men playing the receptive or feminine role, the stigmatization is even greater. Many are transgender sex workers or young men turning to sex work to fund drug addiction. While some intervention programs, such as the condom use campaign in Bangkok, have been successful, there is still exploitation and unsafe practices.
“It’s no secret,” he added. “Some men are willing to pay extra not to use condoms.”
More than half of MSM surveyed in the major cities of Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou in China admitted to unprotected sex with multiple partners. This is the same in Vietnam, where 69% of MSM surveyed in Hanoi and 63% in Ho Chi Minh City engage in unprotected sex. In Jakarta, Indonesia, 65% of male sex workers and 53% of other MSM do not use condoms regularly.
The situation is compounded by the fact that sex between men is illegal in 11 out of 23 Asian countries surveyed in the TREAT study. In countries such as Malaysia, Pakistan and Bangladesh, religious groups and authorities condemn homosexual activities. The fear of social persecution and legal prosecution make many unwilling to get tested or treated for HIV.
“I have come across cases where a doctor slapped someone because he was a homosexual,” said Mr. Khan. “Some doctors report people who go to them for treatment to the police.”
Mr. Tan is also seeing a trend of more men being infected at a younger age in Malaysia. “The youngest man I’ve counseled is 19,” he said. “He had all these high hopes of becoming a pilot but all of a sudden, his world crumbled.”
In the 80s, when AIDS meant death, he added, people took protection seriously. Now, some, especially the younger generation, may think that “it’s a matter of popping a few pills” if they should be infected.
“It’s not like taking vitamins!” he stressed. “You have to take responsibility, adhere to the treatment for the rest of your life, and prevent other people from being infected by you.”
Facing the need for intervention
It is estimated that without further intervention, HIV infection rates among MSM in Asia could double year-on-year in the next 20 years, said Mr. Khan.
Funding is also a major issue, added Mr. Khan. Even the most developed economies in Asia, such as Singapore and Japan, have made little investment in HIV services. International aid is not likely to increase, given current economic sentiments. He noted that last year, the Gates Foundation donated US$ 200 million to India and US$ 50 million to China in HIV funds.
“We will need another US$ 3 billion,” he added.
The impact on economic growth is perhaps a way to engage Asian countries in facing up to the HIV/AIDS crisis. The World Bank estimates that when the prevalence of HIV/AIDS reaches 8% (as is the case with 13 African countries), the cost to economic growth is about 1% a year.
Thankfully, there are success stories such as Cambodia’s. The country has seen a steady drop in HIV prevalence rate from 2.8% in 1998 to 0.9% in 2006 and 0.7% last year and aims to further decrease the rate to 0.6% by next year. The government has allocated US$45 to 50 million in annual funds to achieve this. It is estimated that more than 90% of the country’s at risk populations, including MSM, are aware of HIV/AIDS and 90% of sex workers use protection. Some 93% of the country’s HIV positive people have access to treatment and support services.
On a personal level, Mr Tan’s story illustrates that while it may be tough to change old beliefs and cultural practices, there are ways to overcome stigma.
Since being diagnosed with HIV in 1994, his constant support had been his boyfriend of 25 years (who is not HIV positive).
When he first told his family that he was seeing a man, they thought it was a passing phase. He continued to do his part as “a good son” by making an effort to be home for family meals and events. Eventually, his parents invited his boyfriend to their home for dinner on the eve of Chinese New Year.
“Since then my parents have referred to my boyfriend as their godson and he is with us at all family events,” he added.
It is stories such as these that keep advocates such as Mr Khan going.
“I like what Barrack Obama said about hope,” he said. “We live in hope. If we lose hope, we will drown.”
Rebecca Lim, a journalist from Singapore, is currently pursuing a masters degree at Georgetown University in Washington D.C. This article was produced last year as part of her coursework in global health reporting.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Sniper or Prankster? Bringing Up Kids In A World of Terror
We had our first lockdown experience today. For an hour, I was kept inside the school auditorium with about 200 other parents -- familiar faces I see everyday, coming to pick our kids up from school, just past 3 in the afternoon. The children were kept in their classrooms with their teachers.
I say "first" because I will not be surprised if there are similar experiences in the future, even as I hope not to have to go through another one.
I thought it was strangely quiet when I was walking down Whitehaven from Wisconsin Avenue towards the school. It was 3.20 pm. Normally, there would be groups of parents, mostly mums, gathered around exchanging parenting war stories or just pleasantries. It was even stranger, since it was a beautiful day in the leafy neighborhood in Georgetown. My instincts told me something was up but it didn't feel like anything could go wrong under that bright sunshine. In the next five minutes, the kids, in their red and navy uniforms, should be spilling out the door to their respective pickup spots. The younger children should have been in the little playground out front by now.
Something was not right. I checked my Blackberry again (it's my watch these days). Just then, one of Amon's classmates' mum came up to me. She too had just arrived and was puzzled. Then, we saw the principal and vice-principal standing at the door, waving to us and a few other parents to go inside.
"Are we in a lockdown?"
"Yes, we are. We received a phone call threatening to harm the children. We think it is likely a prank, but the police are investigating."
The whole situation was handled very well and with composure. Inside, parents gathered around in groups, chatting. But nobody was panicking or worried. The biggest concern everyone had was that they would get a parking ticket. Just write to parking enforcement and quote the police activity, I said. But yes, it would be a pain to have to go through the process.
Half an hour into the lockdown, some parents were starting to get annoyed, some worried. The first question - "Is it a bomb?" - was diffused very quickly. No, of course not, otherwise we would all be evacuated instead of locked down. Some people had seen the police vehicles outside. Everyone was still very patient and calm. The kids, we were told, weren't told of the situation. They were being kept blissfully engaged in activities in their classes. Throughout, we were told repeatedly it was likely a prank, but not what the threat (or prank) was about.
Finally, one hour later, we were told the children could be dismissed. They came to the auditorium in the most orderly manner, like it was just another assembly. Parents were called to pick up their kids by class, starting with the young ones in Nursery and Reception (3 to 5 year-olds).
We left by another exit, under police supervision. Once outside, I saw the number of police vehicles lining Wisconsin and the surrounding streets. It didn't feel right. Ariel was of course her usual happy, chirpy self. Amon, older and more sensitive, had picked up on the vibes.
"Just what exactly is going on, Mum?"
That was what I wanted to know too. I had tweeted, checked Twitter for various possible hashtags, but the information wasn't out there yet (which may have been a good thing if there was a sniper waiting...yes I found out much later in the evening that it was a sniper threat, but not from the school...from Twitter and TBD).
"We will talk about that in the car. Right now, I need both of you to be alert, hold my hand and walk as quickly as possible straight to the car. NO running, no playing, just pay attention and walk."
In the car on 35th, I saw more police vehicles and an ABC 7 news van and camera on sticks. The drive home was uneventful except for a little more traffic than usual, and this conversation that I decided I needed to have with the kids. I explained to them that someone had called the school threatening to harm them.
"Are you both scared?"
"No," they chorused. But they wanted to know why someone would do something like that.
"Some people are not right in the head, and they hurt other people because they're angry, or they want media attention. Some people are terrorists. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes. Terror means fear."(Amon)
"Right, so fear is their weapon. They threaten people to make us afraid of them, so they can be powerful."
"So if we're not afraid, then they would be vulnerable." (Amon)
"That's right! So the most important thing is not to be scared. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful and alert too."
"If he tried to hurt me I will ROAR at him."
OK, that's not really going to work. But Ariel got the spirit right. I was pleased with the kids, and myself, feeling like I had created a positive learning experience out of the situation.
At 6 pm, I emailed the principal, thanking him for a great job getting everyone out safe, and asking for more information. He emailed back saying he is working on the information for parents. Just after 6, the ABC 7 report was updated on TBD.com. I didn't see it, only because I left for dance class. I saw it at 10 pm, the minute I got home and sat down to trawl Twitter for updates. I still hadn't heard from the school. I sent the principal another email with the link.
I wasn't comfortable with the conclusion that it was purely a prank, unless the police had established that beyond doubt. Under most circumstances, I would be the last person to make a mountain out of a molehill. But we live in a post 9/11, post Columbine world now. I don't think I need to remind anyone about the DC area sniper. In my childhood, the probability of this being a prank would have been far greater than not. The reverse is now true for my kids.
Kids today can't grow up blissfully unaware the way we did. They should still be able to feel safe in school. But they also need to know that sometimes, bad things can happen even in safe places, and there are people out there who are "sick in the head" as Amon calls them.
"I feel really sick now," S, a friend and one of the locked down parents, said to me as we were leaving with the kids earlier.
It is indeed very ill -- all of it. A person really has to be sick in the head (and heart) to hurt children. It is really sick that such sick people has easy access to deadly weapons and common knowledge on how to create deadly weapons. It is even more sick that each and every sick act of this nature seem to encourage and perpetuate more copycat sick acts. And unfortunately, there is no cure for this disease. Despite all our technical advances, medical know-how and intellectual discourse, the human race has not discovered how to cure hatred and the need for bloodshed.
As of now, I still do not have any information from the school with regards to any conclusions from the police investigation and whether it would be safe to send my kids back to school in the morning. But then, what answers am I waiting for? I already know it. There are no answers. It almost doesn't matter if it was a sniper or prankster. We can't keep our children at home every day, living in fear. The deadliest weapon, more so than guns and bombs and crazies, is fear.
So I have to set aside my own fear, and simply trust that the kids will be fine when I drop them off at school tomorrow, and the day after, and the next. There is no instruction manual on bringing up kids in a world of terror. We're all learning as we go along.
I say "first" because I will not be surprised if there are similar experiences in the future, even as I hope not to have to go through another one.
I thought it was strangely quiet when I was walking down Whitehaven from Wisconsin Avenue towards the school. It was 3.20 pm. Normally, there would be groups of parents, mostly mums, gathered around exchanging parenting war stories or just pleasantries. It was even stranger, since it was a beautiful day in the leafy neighborhood in Georgetown. My instincts told me something was up but it didn't feel like anything could go wrong under that bright sunshine. In the next five minutes, the kids, in their red and navy uniforms, should be spilling out the door to their respective pickup spots. The younger children should have been in the little playground out front by now.
Something was not right. I checked my Blackberry again (it's my watch these days). Just then, one of Amon's classmates' mum came up to me. She too had just arrived and was puzzled. Then, we saw the principal and vice-principal standing at the door, waving to us and a few other parents to go inside.
"Are we in a lockdown?"
"Yes, we are. We received a phone call threatening to harm the children. We think it is likely a prank, but the police are investigating."
The whole situation was handled very well and with composure. Inside, parents gathered around in groups, chatting. But nobody was panicking or worried. The biggest concern everyone had was that they would get a parking ticket. Just write to parking enforcement and quote the police activity, I said. But yes, it would be a pain to have to go through the process.
Half an hour into the lockdown, some parents were starting to get annoyed, some worried. The first question - "Is it a bomb?" - was diffused very quickly. No, of course not, otherwise we would all be evacuated instead of locked down. Some people had seen the police vehicles outside. Everyone was still very patient and calm. The kids, we were told, weren't told of the situation. They were being kept blissfully engaged in activities in their classes. Throughout, we were told repeatedly it was likely a prank, but not what the threat (or prank) was about.
Finally, one hour later, we were told the children could be dismissed. They came to the auditorium in the most orderly manner, like it was just another assembly. Parents were called to pick up their kids by class, starting with the young ones in Nursery and Reception (3 to 5 year-olds).
We left by another exit, under police supervision. Once outside, I saw the number of police vehicles lining Wisconsin and the surrounding streets. It didn't feel right. Ariel was of course her usual happy, chirpy self. Amon, older and more sensitive, had picked up on the vibes.
"Just what exactly is going on, Mum?"
That was what I wanted to know too. I had tweeted, checked Twitter for various possible hashtags, but the information wasn't out there yet (which may have been a good thing if there was a sniper waiting...yes I found out much later in the evening that it was a sniper threat, but not from the school...from Twitter and TBD).
"We will talk about that in the car. Right now, I need both of you to be alert, hold my hand and walk as quickly as possible straight to the car. NO running, no playing, just pay attention and walk."
In the car on 35th, I saw more police vehicles and an ABC 7 news van and camera on sticks. The drive home was uneventful except for a little more traffic than usual, and this conversation that I decided I needed to have with the kids. I explained to them that someone had called the school threatening to harm them.
"Are you both scared?"
"No," they chorused. But they wanted to know why someone would do something like that.
"Some people are not right in the head, and they hurt other people because they're angry, or they want media attention. Some people are terrorists. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes. Terror means fear."(Amon)
"Right, so fear is their weapon. They threaten people to make us afraid of them, so they can be powerful."
"So if we're not afraid, then they would be vulnerable." (Amon)
"That's right! So the most important thing is not to be scared. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful and alert too."
"If he tried to hurt me I will ROAR at him."
OK, that's not really going to work. But Ariel got the spirit right. I was pleased with the kids, and myself, feeling like I had created a positive learning experience out of the situation.
At 6 pm, I emailed the principal, thanking him for a great job getting everyone out safe, and asking for more information. He emailed back saying he is working on the information for parents. Just after 6, the ABC 7 report was updated on TBD.com. I didn't see it, only because I left for dance class. I saw it at 10 pm, the minute I got home and sat down to trawl Twitter for updates. I still hadn't heard from the school. I sent the principal another email with the link.
I wasn't comfortable with the conclusion that it was purely a prank, unless the police had established that beyond doubt. Under most circumstances, I would be the last person to make a mountain out of a molehill. But we live in a post 9/11, post Columbine world now. I don't think I need to remind anyone about the DC area sniper. In my childhood, the probability of this being a prank would have been far greater than not. The reverse is now true for my kids.
Kids today can't grow up blissfully unaware the way we did. They should still be able to feel safe in school. But they also need to know that sometimes, bad things can happen even in safe places, and there are people out there who are "sick in the head" as Amon calls them.
"I feel really sick now," S, a friend and one of the locked down parents, said to me as we were leaving with the kids earlier.
It is indeed very ill -- all of it. A person really has to be sick in the head (and heart) to hurt children. It is really sick that such sick people has easy access to deadly weapons and common knowledge on how to create deadly weapons. It is even more sick that each and every sick act of this nature seem to encourage and perpetuate more copycat sick acts. And unfortunately, there is no cure for this disease. Despite all our technical advances, medical know-how and intellectual discourse, the human race has not discovered how to cure hatred and the need for bloodshed.
As of now, I still do not have any information from the school with regards to any conclusions from the police investigation and whether it would be safe to send my kids back to school in the morning. But then, what answers am I waiting for? I already know it. There are no answers. It almost doesn't matter if it was a sniper or prankster. We can't keep our children at home every day, living in fear. The deadliest weapon, more so than guns and bombs and crazies, is fear.
So I have to set aside my own fear, and simply trust that the kids will be fine when I drop them off at school tomorrow, and the day after, and the next. There is no instruction manual on bringing up kids in a world of terror. We're all learning as we go along.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
...and all ye need to know
"A cake! Look, mama!"
I looked in the direction Ariel was pointing at. It was a cake alright -- a huge, round chocolate cake, unassuming in its basic chocolate-ness. A middle-aged woman was hunched over the cake, arranging candles in a circle around it, and in the middle, she planted an '8' candle and a '0' one.
"Someone's having a birthday!" I watched as she lit the candles and carried the cake towards the table of 10 to 12 people in the other side of the cafe.
"An 80th birthday!" Trust Amon to be the one who always picks up and emphasizes the detail. (Aside: He would make a really good journalist, with his ability to hit on the key point and express it in short, succinct sentences all the time. And he always has a kicker.)
"Yes...wow...isn't that something? To celebrate your 80th birthday here at Fallingwater!"
It was a rhetorical question. But both kids nodded their heads as we watched the party sing the birthday song. They sang rather quietly. The clapping at the end of the song was as genteel and softly resounding as it would be in a private recital. It was a small group of mostly seniors, but their joy was filling up the room in a big way, that could easily drown out any rowdy bar bash.
Wow...80. I had never contemplated that number until then. I was almost halfway there, I found myself thinking. Wouldn't it be nice if I could have my 80th here too, I continued to muse. And that's the way it goes once one starts getting wistful thoughts. Wow...Amon would be...50! He'll probably be a paleontologist...or architect (those being his two big loves now).
"Mummy why aren't you eating your pickle?" Nothing like an Ariel rebuke to snap me out of my daydreams.
But dreams are good..."we are such stuff as dreams are made on" right? I have another whole lifetime to live before I get to 80. And yes, I think I would make it a point to try and celebrate that 2nd round of 40 back here, at one of the most beautiful houses and remarkable architectural landmark in the world, by a man whom I deeply admire for his genius in blending art and nature, the organic and the technical.
I can't remember exactly how and when the love affair with Frank Lloyd Wright started. But it definitely had something to do with a missed calling. Before I took the road most traveled, collecting 'A's on my way to a typical college education, I had wanted to run off and pursue a passion for design. I had spent hours among the design, art, interiors and architecture shelves of libraries and one day, I saw a brochure for a design school in the UK.
But when I was in school, nobody ever told me that I could do anything I wanted to do, and be whatever I wanted to. I was told to shut up, listen, raise my hand when I wanted to answer (not ask) the question, study, get 'A's and collect all the certificates that come with the major examinations. So, no, I didn't explore that route and didn't think that it was in my power to do so.
So, as I took the well trodden path, I had paused at various points to ponder what I would have become if I had the courage to veer 'off-course' way back when. I think I would have been an interior designer, with a mission of helping people create aesthetically pleasing spaces to live and be happy in. There is much to be said about beauty in life, and a life of beauty. It's not about makeup and clothes (although I love those, too) but about that little piece of your soul that feels free and uplifted. Some find it in art, some in music, some in nature, some in a 20-foot putt, etc. But everyone has that capacity to find it.
At 80, what more could I really ask for, then, than to be surrounded by so much love, joy and beauty? And to be in a healthy state of mind, body and soul to appreciate all that.
"Beauty is truth, and truth beauty." - that is all
Ye on earth know, and all ye need to know
I looked in the direction Ariel was pointing at. It was a cake alright -- a huge, round chocolate cake, unassuming in its basic chocolate-ness. A middle-aged woman was hunched over the cake, arranging candles in a circle around it, and in the middle, she planted an '8' candle and a '0' one.
"Someone's having a birthday!" I watched as she lit the candles and carried the cake towards the table of 10 to 12 people in the other side of the cafe.
"An 80th birthday!" Trust Amon to be the one who always picks up and emphasizes the detail. (Aside: He would make a really good journalist, with his ability to hit on the key point and express it in short, succinct sentences all the time. And he always has a kicker.)
"Yes...wow...isn't that something? To celebrate your 80th birthday here at Fallingwater!"
It was a rhetorical question. But both kids nodded their heads as we watched the party sing the birthday song. They sang rather quietly. The clapping at the end of the song was as genteel and softly resounding as it would be in a private recital. It was a small group of mostly seniors, but their joy was filling up the room in a big way, that could easily drown out any rowdy bar bash.
Wow...80. I had never contemplated that number until then. I was almost halfway there, I found myself thinking. Wouldn't it be nice if I could have my 80th here too, I continued to muse. And that's the way it goes once one starts getting wistful thoughts. Wow...Amon would be...50! He'll probably be a paleontologist...or architect (those being his two big loves now).
"Mummy why aren't you eating your pickle?" Nothing like an Ariel rebuke to snap me out of my daydreams.
But dreams are good..."we are such stuff as dreams are made on" right? I have another whole lifetime to live before I get to 80. And yes, I think I would make it a point to try and celebrate that 2nd round of 40 back here, at one of the most beautiful houses and remarkable architectural landmark in the world, by a man whom I deeply admire for his genius in blending art and nature, the organic and the technical.
I can't remember exactly how and when the love affair with Frank Lloyd Wright started. But it definitely had something to do with a missed calling. Before I took the road most traveled, collecting 'A's on my way to a typical college education, I had wanted to run off and pursue a passion for design. I had spent hours among the design, art, interiors and architecture shelves of libraries and one day, I saw a brochure for a design school in the UK.
But when I was in school, nobody ever told me that I could do anything I wanted to do, and be whatever I wanted to. I was told to shut up, listen, raise my hand when I wanted to answer (not ask) the question, study, get 'A's and collect all the certificates that come with the major examinations. So, no, I didn't explore that route and didn't think that it was in my power to do so.
So, as I took the well trodden path, I had paused at various points to ponder what I would have become if I had the courage to veer 'off-course' way back when. I think I would have been an interior designer, with a mission of helping people create aesthetically pleasing spaces to live and be happy in. There is much to be said about beauty in life, and a life of beauty. It's not about makeup and clothes (although I love those, too) but about that little piece of your soul that feels free and uplifted. Some find it in art, some in music, some in nature, some in a 20-foot putt, etc. But everyone has that capacity to find it.
At 80, what more could I really ask for, then, than to be surrounded by so much love, joy and beauty? And to be in a healthy state of mind, body and soul to appreciate all that.
"Beauty is truth, and truth beauty." - that is all
Ye on earth know, and all ye need to know
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Don't Grow Up So Fast....
Amon just turned eight. And he figures he's old enough to have his own Facebook page. I said 'no' not because I felt like I needed to assert my fast diminishing parental control, but because 1. kids could do with more real socializing before social networking and 2. the digital space is not where kids should be allowed to roam free without strong parental guidance.
I know two 11-year-old girls with Facebook profiles, under the guidance of their mums, of course. And they are just a handful of many kids out there below 13 (the minimum age as stipulated) that have Facebook profiles. They're both great kids - smart, sweet girls. And they know how to be sensible on the net. One of them doesn't even put her photo on her page. And I told her: "That's great. Keep it that way. Do you know what happened to this 11-year-old girl who got trolled?" She didn't. And I'm not surprised.
I posted this on my FB page some time ago, but here it is again for those who missed it. It's about how an 11-year-old got her life turned upside down on the net. (http://gawker.com/5589103/how-the-internet-beat-up-an-11+year+old-girl) Last thing I read about her, she was under police protection for death threats.
It's not funny. My kids...and yours...are growing up in a very different era, when connectivity is the norm and apart from grappling with the usual socialization of adolescence and teenage angst, they also have to deal with a whole different realm of existence we never had to - their cyber life. I consider myself pretty much an early adopter of technology and all things digital. I'm a gadget geek at heart -- from the Palm (remember that?) to the first iPod and every other new cell phone fad. I was one of those who embraced the dot.com wave (remember that?) but luckily had a regular job with a bricks-and-mortar (remember that term?) institution to go back to. But with my kids...I'm somewhat at a loss.
I believe in balance in my approach to everything in life. That's one of the fundamental bec2basics beliefs in my philosophical makeup. But it's tough walking the fine line between embracing the openness of this cyber world, and letting my kids do their growing up by trial and error, versus enforcing the filters and boundaries to ensure their safety. There is no right answer. I'm certainly not alone in this struggle.
I believe in being at the cutting edge of change and technology. But I also embrace 'old world' values. As much as I recognize that my kids belong to their generation, I would also like them to have a solid understanding and appreciation of mine, and those that came before me. I tried to hold off wii as long as I could. I caved last winter when we got snowed in for weeks. This summer, my kids were away from me for two weeks. When I saw them again, they had picked up the iPhone and iPad. On the 20+ hour flight back from Singapore, I caved and handed over my iPod touch with all the apps they like (yes, Cooking Mama is one of them) loaded via the wifi at the airport.
I don't believe in mollycoddling kids. But I believe in limits and boundaries. Otherwise I'm not doing them a favor in learning how to live as responsible adults. So 30 mins of wii each time; no wii on school days; 15 to 20 mins on the net for leisure (homework is online now, for parents whose kids are not in school yet); and 15 to 20 mins each time on the iPod/iPhone apps. Amon has an email add (on yahoo! not google) and a blog, but uses both under supervision of an adult (mostly me).
So far it's working out well. The kids understand the limits and they have a wide range of interests that aren't digital -- good ol' stuff like Legos and Trivial Pursuit, soccer and ballet. But I shouldn't count my chickens. In two years' time, the boundaries will shift. Maybe, even in a year's time.
It may sound like a cliche but the kids are really growing up much faster these days. I believe exposure to media and the cyber world has a lot to do with it. Does anyone remember having a concept of future time when they were four? Well, this is a conversation between my 4 and 8-year-olds.
Ariel: "I like makeup. But I think I'm a little young to use it."
Amon: "Right! You're too young. Maybe when you're 13."
Ariel: "I think when I'm 10."
I will always remember what my domestic helper said to me when that 4-year-old was born. She was holding the little raisin in her arms. She said: "She's beautiful, m'am. But you know, very soon she'll grow up. You'll look at them sleeping one day and wonder how come they're so long."
How right she was. And it didn't take long for that to happen. Dear kids, don't grow up so fast, will you?
I know two 11-year-old girls with Facebook profiles, under the guidance of their mums, of course. And they are just a handful of many kids out there below 13 (the minimum age as stipulated) that have Facebook profiles. They're both great kids - smart, sweet girls. And they know how to be sensible on the net. One of them doesn't even put her photo on her page. And I told her: "That's great. Keep it that way. Do you know what happened to this 11-year-old girl who got trolled?" She didn't. And I'm not surprised.
I posted this on my FB page some time ago, but here it is again for those who missed it. It's about how an 11-year-old got her life turned upside down on the net. (http://gawker.com/5589103/how-the-internet-beat-up-an-11+year+old-girl) Last thing I read about her, she was under police protection for death threats.
It's not funny. My kids...and yours...are growing up in a very different era, when connectivity is the norm and apart from grappling with the usual socialization of adolescence and teenage angst, they also have to deal with a whole different realm of existence we never had to - their cyber life. I consider myself pretty much an early adopter of technology and all things digital. I'm a gadget geek at heart -- from the Palm (remember that?) to the first iPod and every other new cell phone fad. I was one of those who embraced the dot.com wave (remember that?) but luckily had a regular job with a bricks-and-mortar (remember that term?) institution to go back to. But with my kids...I'm somewhat at a loss.
I believe in balance in my approach to everything in life. That's one of the fundamental bec2basics beliefs in my philosophical makeup. But it's tough walking the fine line between embracing the openness of this cyber world, and letting my kids do their growing up by trial and error, versus enforcing the filters and boundaries to ensure their safety. There is no right answer. I'm certainly not alone in this struggle.
I believe in being at the cutting edge of change and technology. But I also embrace 'old world' values. As much as I recognize that my kids belong to their generation, I would also like them to have a solid understanding and appreciation of mine, and those that came before me. I tried to hold off wii as long as I could. I caved last winter when we got snowed in for weeks. This summer, my kids were away from me for two weeks. When I saw them again, they had picked up the iPhone and iPad. On the 20+ hour flight back from Singapore, I caved and handed over my iPod touch with all the apps they like (yes, Cooking Mama is one of them) loaded via the wifi at the airport.
I don't believe in mollycoddling kids. But I believe in limits and boundaries. Otherwise I'm not doing them a favor in learning how to live as responsible adults. So 30 mins of wii each time; no wii on school days; 15 to 20 mins on the net for leisure (homework is online now, for parents whose kids are not in school yet); and 15 to 20 mins each time on the iPod/iPhone apps. Amon has an email add (on yahoo! not google) and a blog, but uses both under supervision of an adult (mostly me).
So far it's working out well. The kids understand the limits and they have a wide range of interests that aren't digital -- good ol' stuff like Legos and Trivial Pursuit, soccer and ballet. But I shouldn't count my chickens. In two years' time, the boundaries will shift. Maybe, even in a year's time.
It may sound like a cliche but the kids are really growing up much faster these days. I believe exposure to media and the cyber world has a lot to do with it. Does anyone remember having a concept of future time when they were four? Well, this is a conversation between my 4 and 8-year-olds.
Ariel: "I like makeup. But I think I'm a little young to use it."
Amon: "Right! You're too young. Maybe when you're 13."
Ariel: "I think when I'm 10."
I will always remember what my domestic helper said to me when that 4-year-old was born. She was holding the little raisin in her arms. She said: "She's beautiful, m'am. But you know, very soon she'll grow up. You'll look at them sleeping one day and wonder how come they're so long."
How right she was. And it didn't take long for that to happen. Dear kids, don't grow up so fast, will you?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Heart of Darkness
The horror, the horror, the horror.
That's three times of "horror" for three nights of sitting and half sleeping in a black box of ennui, i.e. the house of darkness... with no kids, no light, no music, no TV, no NOTHING... except the security system beeping every 10 minutes.
The freak storm that happened last Sunday blew the kids' Little Tykes slide across the yard and knocked out the power. I was one of those lucky last 40,000 among the 300,000 who lost power to get it back last.
So what's the big deal with power outage? At least the kids weren't around. True. It wouldn't have been that bad. I could camp out in school or Starbucks for wifi and AC. I didn't usually watch that much TV anyway. It was just the darkness... the Waiting-for-Godot nothingness that got to me. I can't explain it. I could easily have just breathed, meditate and go to sleep. Instead, I crashed on the couch with 88.5 playing NPR, BBC, Deutsche Radio, Canadian Radio etc. half enraptured by the great programming (yes, public radio is even better in the wee hours), half stirring up a soup of too-many-things out of nothing in my head.
My 19-year-old neighbor explained it better. He was actually alone too, on one of those nights, and found it much easier to fall asleep in the pitch darkness. It was that first night when my alarm system freaked out on me and keep going off. That's the way the human mind works. All it takes is for it to freak out once. He was, of course, right. So much more wisdom from someone so much younger.
I'm not about to get all Foucaultian but there really is just a very thin line between sanity and madness. And I had allowed myself to stray across the line somewhat in the last three nights. I excused myself by pointing out that I was tired and stressed, trying to get a million and one things done. But really, there was no logical reason. It was like a walk in the park I wanted to take.
So now that the ordeal is over, and there is light again, I need to go back to being my usual soak-up-the-sun self. It wasn't all darkness and horror. There were all the great friends who sent messages of empathy and offers of food, shelter and company. It made me wonder. If it takes so little to reach out and connect with someone, why are so many people afraid to do so. Isn't the darkness more scary? It definitely was, for me. I always thought of myself as someone who would one day go out into the woods to live deliberately. I guess not, after all. I'm grateful for the guys at CVS who said I was welcome to hang out there the whole night if I couldn't bear the dark, stuffy house. I'm also grateful for the BBC, which is comfort food for the mind to me. Most of all, I'm grateful for this scene, and several others, that I captured (in the great company of a fellow novice photo-enthusiast). That evening after the storm had one of the most gorgeous sunsets I had ever seen (and I've seen quite a few...including one over Tanah Lot).
That's three times of "horror" for three nights of sitting and half sleeping in a black box of ennui, i.e. the house of darkness... with no kids, no light, no music, no TV, no NOTHING... except the security system beeping every 10 minutes.
The freak storm that happened last Sunday blew the kids' Little Tykes slide across the yard and knocked out the power. I was one of those lucky last 40,000 among the 300,000 who lost power to get it back last.
So what's the big deal with power outage? At least the kids weren't around. True. It wouldn't have been that bad. I could camp out in school or Starbucks for wifi and AC. I didn't usually watch that much TV anyway. It was just the darkness... the Waiting-for-Godot nothingness that got to me. I can't explain it. I could easily have just breathed, meditate and go to sleep. Instead, I crashed on the couch with 88.5 playing NPR, BBC, Deutsche Radio, Canadian Radio etc. half enraptured by the great programming (yes, public radio is even better in the wee hours), half stirring up a soup of too-many-things out of nothing in my head.
My 19-year-old neighbor explained it better. He was actually alone too, on one of those nights, and found it much easier to fall asleep in the pitch darkness. It was that first night when my alarm system freaked out on me and keep going off. That's the way the human mind works. All it takes is for it to freak out once. He was, of course, right. So much more wisdom from someone so much younger.
I'm not about to get all Foucaultian but there really is just a very thin line between sanity and madness. And I had allowed myself to stray across the line somewhat in the last three nights. I excused myself by pointing out that I was tired and stressed, trying to get a million and one things done. But really, there was no logical reason. It was like a walk in the park I wanted to take.
So now that the ordeal is over, and there is light again, I need to go back to being my usual soak-up-the-sun self. It wasn't all darkness and horror. There were all the great friends who sent messages of empathy and offers of food, shelter and company. It made me wonder. If it takes so little to reach out and connect with someone, why are so many people afraid to do so. Isn't the darkness more scary? It definitely was, for me. I always thought of myself as someone who would one day go out into the woods to live deliberately. I guess not, after all. I'm grateful for the guys at CVS who said I was welcome to hang out there the whole night if I couldn't bear the dark, stuffy house. I'm also grateful for the BBC, which is comfort food for the mind to me. Most of all, I'm grateful for this scene, and several others, that I captured (in the great company of a fellow novice photo-enthusiast). That evening after the storm had one of the most gorgeous sunsets I had ever seen (and I've seen quite a few...including one over Tanah Lot).
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Connectivity Killed the Romance Star.
So my social network knows I'm crazy about the World Cup. That's because it's all over my Facebook updates and postings. I've kept my Tweets restrained and restricted to 'professional' re-tweeting of serious news...such as Australia's first woman prime minister. If that's the side of me you prefer, find me on Twitter!
With social media and connectivity, the World Cup has become so much more fun. I can now watch it "with" my friends who are 10,000 miles away on FB or Gchat or Skype. In college we used to watch football in someone's dorm room. Later, it was in someone's home or at a bar. Now, we don't have to leave our child-rearing, home-sitting responsibilities behind. We can still share the experience of a match with our friends in "real time" without stepping out the door. That made it so much fun. Or, did it?
This was me a couple of days ago. The USA-Algeria match was on TV; the England-Slovenia match was streaming on the Mac Book; the iPod Touch was in one hand for FB and chats; the Blackberry was in the other for phone calls and emails. With so much connectivity around me, I actually could share the experience with many more people. See if I was watching with a bunch of people somewhere, it would just be with that bunch of people. But there, in my connectivity hub, I was sharing the experience with people around the US, in England, and in Asia.
During the half time break, I actually managed to use the bathroom, fix lunch, make coffee, take a call, and tweet, all at the same time (well, not all) and in time to be right back in position for the second half. And that was when it hit me. I saw a tweet from someone I didn't know that said that making tapes for someone is still the most romantic gesture of all time.
Wow. How true. I thought of all the ex-es I made tapes (and then later CDs) for and who did the same for me. For a second there, just before the second half started, I got that warm, fuzzy buzz. After the games were over (and I was very happy with the results) I felt like I had to unplug -- log out of all my accounts, shut down and just be NOT connected.
I kept thinking of the tweet, though, and how much technology and connectivity, while purportedly bringing people closer together, have actually taken away good old intimacy and romance.Think about this, starting with...
Making tapes:
Music on the go became a lifestyle phenomenon when the Sony Walkman was invented. In those days, making a tape for someone was the most romantic thing you could do. Then came the CD players, and you could still burn music files on to a CD. I'm not even going to go into the MDs and other formats that didn't take off, but basically, you can put together music for another person in a way that said, this is how much I care about you. Now, with iPod and iTunes, who wants CDs, and you don't need to figure out playlists because the Genius does it for you. Very cool and chic. Nothing warm or fuzzy.
Writing letters:
Before the music tapes, there was the love letter and the pen pal letters. Does anyone remember when it was cool to write letters? When pen is put to paper, thought is needed to make the words flow just right. When we write, the act somehow also inspires us to reveal our most intimate thoughts and feelings. Now, we have email. Who writes pensive, pining or pretty emails? Get to the point, cut to the chase, I have another 5,000 un-read mails in my inbox. Let's think of all the guys who would fail miserably if they had to write an email to express themselves...Shakespeare, Neruda, Keats, etc.
Phone call:
Now that we have text messaging, instant chat, Skype, Gtalk, FB chat, who really takes the trouble to call? Why do you need to spend hours talking about nothing over the phone, when you can send a text message or chat msg and get it over with in 5 minutes? Instead of calling someone just to see if he or she is ok, you can send an email. Hi, just dropping a note to say hope you're ok. We should hang out some time. And when that time comes, the meeting can be set up via email too. This place-that place- this, this or this day/time, that day/time is better....etc. After about five or ten mails, we'll get it right. That, is still easier than picking up the phone, especially if it's the iPhone 4. And now that we have email on our mobile phones, that makes life even easier.
In the same way, social networking sites have made life so much easier. Now I can know all the things I want to know about a 'friend' through his or her profile. I don't have to invest time chatting on the phone, or hanging out over coffee. There's so much connectivity all around me I can plug into and play.
So, what exactly was I complaining about again?
With social media and connectivity, the World Cup has become so much more fun. I can now watch it "with" my friends who are 10,000 miles away on FB or Gchat or Skype. In college we used to watch football in someone's dorm room. Later, it was in someone's home or at a bar. Now, we don't have to leave our child-rearing, home-sitting responsibilities behind. We can still share the experience of a match with our friends in "real time" without stepping out the door. That made it so much fun. Or, did it?
This was me a couple of days ago. The USA-Algeria match was on TV; the England-Slovenia match was streaming on the Mac Book; the iPod Touch was in one hand for FB and chats; the Blackberry was in the other for phone calls and emails. With so much connectivity around me, I actually could share the experience with many more people. See if I was watching with a bunch of people somewhere, it would just be with that bunch of people. But there, in my connectivity hub, I was sharing the experience with people around the US, in England, and in Asia.
During the half time break, I actually managed to use the bathroom, fix lunch, make coffee, take a call, and tweet, all at the same time (well, not all) and in time to be right back in position for the second half. And that was when it hit me. I saw a tweet from someone I didn't know that said that making tapes for someone is still the most romantic gesture of all time.
Wow. How true. I thought of all the ex-es I made tapes (and then later CDs) for and who did the same for me. For a second there, just before the second half started, I got that warm, fuzzy buzz. After the games were over (and I was very happy with the results) I felt like I had to unplug -- log out of all my accounts, shut down and just be NOT connected.
I kept thinking of the tweet, though, and how much technology and connectivity, while purportedly bringing people closer together, have actually taken away good old intimacy and romance.Think about this, starting with...
Making tapes:
Music on the go became a lifestyle phenomenon when the Sony Walkman was invented. In those days, making a tape for someone was the most romantic thing you could do. Then came the CD players, and you could still burn music files on to a CD. I'm not even going to go into the MDs and other formats that didn't take off, but basically, you can put together music for another person in a way that said, this is how much I care about you. Now, with iPod and iTunes, who wants CDs, and you don't need to figure out playlists because the Genius does it for you. Very cool and chic. Nothing warm or fuzzy.
Writing letters:
Before the music tapes, there was the love letter and the pen pal letters. Does anyone remember when it was cool to write letters? When pen is put to paper, thought is needed to make the words flow just right. When we write, the act somehow also inspires us to reveal our most intimate thoughts and feelings. Now, we have email. Who writes pensive, pining or pretty emails? Get to the point, cut to the chase, I have another 5,000 un-read mails in my inbox. Let's think of all the guys who would fail miserably if they had to write an email to express themselves...Shakespeare, Neruda, Keats, etc.
Phone call:
Now that we have text messaging, instant chat, Skype, Gtalk, FB chat, who really takes the trouble to call? Why do you need to spend hours talking about nothing over the phone, when you can send a text message or chat msg and get it over with in 5 minutes? Instead of calling someone just to see if he or she is ok, you can send an email. Hi, just dropping a note to say hope you're ok. We should hang out some time. And when that time comes, the meeting can be set up via email too. This place-that place- this, this or this day/time, that day/time is better....etc. After about five or ten mails, we'll get it right. That, is still easier than picking up the phone, especially if it's the iPhone 4. And now that we have email on our mobile phones, that makes life even easier.
In the same way, social networking sites have made life so much easier. Now I can know all the things I want to know about a 'friend' through his or her profile. I don't have to invest time chatting on the phone, or hanging out over coffee. There's so much connectivity all around me I can plug into and play.
So, what exactly was I complaining about again?
Friday, June 18, 2010
Fever Pitch - Top Ten Reasons I ♥ the World Cup
Nobody really needs to justify loving the World Cup. I mean, it's only the most watched sports event in the world, with an estimated 715 million viewers tuned in to the final game in 2006 (and that was apparently only the 4th most watched World Cup ever). But then I can't watch this joke of a match going on between Germany and Serbia. Besides, I think many of my friends believe I love the World Cup because of the shirtless, hot footballers. So this is my stab at redeeming myself. (And yes, I will call it 'football' like we do in most parts of the world.)
10. Shirtless, hot footballers (hey, they're hot, can't deny the facts)
9. Fan mania (this is one sport where it's perfectly legitimate for fans to be as rowdy, crazy, obsessed and over-the-top as we want to be...I mean most sports fanatics are obsessed, but in football, it's perfectly understandable and acceptable)
8. Teamwork (yeah, we have the stars, the superstars, in fact, but this sport is about teamwork and nowhere is it more apparent than in the World Cup when all these stars have to leave their club memberships, fat paychecks, and pride behind to play on par with the hardworking but less famous guys from back home)
7. Equalizer (football is the great equalizer all over the world, because you can be a homeless street kid and play/love this game...watch the documentary 'Kicking It' by one of my professors, Susan Koch, if you haven't already)
6. Strategy (to the naysayers who make jokes about men chasing a polka dotted ball around a field and 'just running' you have absolutely no clue how much brain work and play making goes into a solid team and match)
5. Controversy (the amazing rules...check out how many pages the official FIFA rules pdf has...make for great controversy stirring sh*t...especially in the day before 'live' digital video and offside calls tread a fine line between best intentions and error of human judgment...and let's not get started on the yellow and red cards, the penalty, free kicks, corners, etc. etc.)
4. Statistics (football is a mathematician's wet dream...there's player statistics, tries, goals, etc. and team statistics...and the World Cup, with its history and sheer number of teams probably needs its own dedicated server just to handle crunching all those NUMBERS)
3. Flags (look at all those gorgeous colors fluttering in the wind...it's better than the United Nations...tell me you're not swaying to 'Waving Flag' right now)
2. World Peace (seriously, the World Cup is the only time when nationalism and international relationships clash in healthy competition...bitter enemies, neighbors with love-hate affairs, a triangle or two, even...imagine if all strife in the world can be resolved on the pitch...you know, North & South Korea, USA-Iran, etc. The pen is mightier than the sword, but the ball is ROUND.
1. My Daddy.
When I was a little girl, my daddy introduced me to football...on TV. I remember many sultry Sunday afternoons spent watching EPL matches, AC Milan and Real Madrid. I think I learned how to spot an offside before I actually started playing any sports. I probably would have played football, if I didn't grow up in a part of the world where girls didn't get to play.
My daddy also introduced me to my first 'hero' - Pele. I would ditch the greatest footballer of all time later for my own role model - Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, who to me embodies feminine power, dedication to a cause and real courage as Hemingway described it. But deep in my heart, there will always be a deep respect for Pele, not just because he's who he is, but because my daddy respected him.
Then, when I was 14, I did what all girls do. I picked my own guy to have a crush on - Diego Maradona, the second greatest footballer ever. It was the year he led Argentina to a resounding World Cup victory. I made my mother buy tins and tins of a chocolate drink called "Milo" (or was it "Ovaltine") so I could collect all the team stickers and complete my World Cup handbook. I think that was also when I started to think of myself as a citizen of the world, and that must also have been what sparked my wanderlust and desire to visit as many different corners of the world as I can in my lifetime.
I live 10,000 miles away from my daddy now, but I'm pretty he's watching the World Cup and enjoying it as much as I am. Happy Father's Day, DAD.
10. Shirtless, hot footballers (hey, they're hot, can't deny the facts)
9. Fan mania (this is one sport where it's perfectly legitimate for fans to be as rowdy, crazy, obsessed and over-the-top as we want to be...I mean most sports fanatics are obsessed, but in football, it's perfectly understandable and acceptable)
8. Teamwork (yeah, we have the stars, the superstars, in fact, but this sport is about teamwork and nowhere is it more apparent than in the World Cup when all these stars have to leave their club memberships, fat paychecks, and pride behind to play on par with the hardworking but less famous guys from back home)
7. Equalizer (football is the great equalizer all over the world, because you can be a homeless street kid and play/love this game...watch the documentary 'Kicking It' by one of my professors, Susan Koch, if you haven't already)
6. Strategy (to the naysayers who make jokes about men chasing a polka dotted ball around a field and 'just running' you have absolutely no clue how much brain work and play making goes into a solid team and match)
5. Controversy (the amazing rules...check out how many pages the official FIFA rules pdf has...make for great controversy stirring sh*t...especially in the day before 'live' digital video and offside calls tread a fine line between best intentions and error of human judgment...and let's not get started on the yellow and red cards, the penalty, free kicks, corners, etc. etc.)
4. Statistics (football is a mathematician's wet dream...there's player statistics, tries, goals, etc. and team statistics...and the World Cup, with its history and sheer number of teams probably needs its own dedicated server just to handle crunching all those NUMBERS)
3. Flags (look at all those gorgeous colors fluttering in the wind...it's better than the United Nations...tell me you're not swaying to 'Waving Flag' right now)
2. World Peace (seriously, the World Cup is the only time when nationalism and international relationships clash in healthy competition...bitter enemies, neighbors with love-hate affairs, a triangle or two, even...imagine if all strife in the world can be resolved on the pitch...you know, North & South Korea, USA-Iran, etc. The pen is mightier than the sword, but the ball is ROUND.
1. My Daddy.
When I was a little girl, my daddy introduced me to football...on TV. I remember many sultry Sunday afternoons spent watching EPL matches, AC Milan and Real Madrid. I think I learned how to spot an offside before I actually started playing any sports. I probably would have played football, if I didn't grow up in a part of the world where girls didn't get to play.
My daddy also introduced me to my first 'hero' - Pele. I would ditch the greatest footballer of all time later for my own role model - Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, who to me embodies feminine power, dedication to a cause and real courage as Hemingway described it. But deep in my heart, there will always be a deep respect for Pele, not just because he's who he is, but because my daddy respected him.
Then, when I was 14, I did what all girls do. I picked my own guy to have a crush on - Diego Maradona, the second greatest footballer ever. It was the year he led Argentina to a resounding World Cup victory. I made my mother buy tins and tins of a chocolate drink called "Milo" (or was it "Ovaltine") so I could collect all the team stickers and complete my World Cup handbook. I think that was also when I started to think of myself as a citizen of the world, and that must also have been what sparked my wanderlust and desire to visit as many different corners of the world as I can in my lifetime.
I live 10,000 miles away from my daddy now, but I'm pretty he's watching the World Cup and enjoying it as much as I am. Happy Father's Day, DAD.
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