Refugee Camps and the World Outside

We were in a rural area. It was a refugee camp in Kenya and I was there with a delegation of the United Nation High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). We were looking at issues related to persons with disability in the refugee camps and before that visit, I had already been to some other refugee camps in Africa.

The road leading to the refugee camp, left the city to meander through fields dotted with small huts. Thin and dirty children in tattered clothes occasionally stood by the roadside to look at our big UN vehicles passing.

If outside was poverty, inside the refugee camp seemed like the land of plenty. There were a lot of international non-governmental organisations (NGOs) with a lot of expatriate staff. In the health centre, their was plenty of staff and no medicines seemed to be lacking. I had a long conversation with an Australian speech therapist working with children who had speaking difficulties, asking her about the general conditions inside the camp and the different services available there.

"What about the local people living outside the camp?" I had asked. Persons outside the refugee camp had looked malnourished and without any services, left to fend for themself in an isolated remote area. "No, we can't provide any services to the locals", I was told. It was because of policy decision by government here. UNHCR staff and international staff were responsible only for the refugee camp and they were prohibited from having any kind of interaction with the local population.

But international NGOs could have started separate projects for the surrounding countryside, I had insisted.Isn't it terrible to pass in front of those huts everyday and see them so poor and so vulnerable? There are only funds for emergency, no one gives money for ordinary poverty, they said.

The person showing us around took us to the high school in the refugee camp. It was a wonderful place with nice uniforms, a large field where children were playing, and some committed expatriate teachers, who explained their work including the use of internet to bring the world to the refugee camp.

I was a little upset. I thought it was discriminatory with all these resources that they had in the UN, giving the world to the refugees inside the camp walls, while just outside those walls, people of the same skin colour, same language, and similar facial traits could die of hunger, their children faced malnutrition, and died of usual simple illnesses like diarrhoea and measles. So perhaps, I was condescending in my interaction with the students of 12th standard. I don't remember the exact words of my question. Perhaps it was something to do with their future.

A young man sitting at the back stood up to answer me. I think that he said some thing like, "We are prisoners in this cage. This wonderful school, these wonderful teachers, our learning internet, our learning French and English, what use is it? It only serves to make us feel worse. We have no future. UNHCR can provide only school education. There is no university here and I can not go outside the walls of this camp. And, after passing 12th, all these wonderful programmes finish. Then we go back to our families in this camp, to work in the fields. For working in the field, I don't need any of this knowledge that I have got, it will only serve to remind me about the wretchedness of my life, to know how much we are missing. It is terrible to know what we could be and be forced to be nothing."

I was suddenly reminded of this episode while reading the story "Sudama's children" about poor kids in rich private schools in Delhi in the latest issue of Outlook. "There are two kinds of pain—the pain of growing up in a jhuggi with little hope of change, and the pain of adjustment in studying with well-off kids in a private school. How do we know which is worse?"

I think of that young man's heartbreaking answer in the refugee camp and the choices he had. Yet, compared to the life of living in poverty, outside the refugee camp, where hunger and disease are likely to kill you young and at the best, you will grow up to eke out a miserable and difficult life from the fields!

 

What would you choose if you had this choice?

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Da Vinci Code and the Talibans

The headlines, "De Vinci code banned" in an Indian newspaper depressed me.

 

Even though there were some protests when "Sins" was released, in the end, the film was released without people burning down the theatres or cars.

 

While the headline was alarming, reading the news about Da Vinci Code was slightly better. It explained that the film is not yet banned, that a group of persons will watch the film and decide. I hope that they will decide to show it. We do not need the Indian Christians to learn from Islamists and Hindu radicals about getting offended about everything and start asking for bans.

We need some sane persons in India. Very badly. Unfortunately, it seems we are running out of them.

Every group of religious louts is just waiting to pounce on the slightest provocation. They come out on the streets, burn a few cars, pelt stones and threaten burning down the books or the theatres or whatever.

Now Aamir Khan is warned, how dare he speak about Narmada Bachao or against Narendra Modi? They will not let his Fanaa to be released in Gujarat, they say. Show him the Hindu might?

The Sikhs have done it too. Jo Bole so Nihaal is a caricature, they say. The child in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai is a caricature. How dare they? Let's teach them a lesson they shout.

The Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, Christians - everyone is ready with the petrol cans. They define themselves as saviours of their religions. Dissent is equal to blasphemy they feel. Armed with hockey sticks or worse, they come out with their torches. And the sovereign Government representing the people bows its head and presents its butt so that it can be kicked by any thug, ready for banning any thing so that "it does not disturb public order" (except when you dare to protest against the Government, then the police is ready for the lathi-charge).

So we are going for a Taliban rule in India and only insecure louts will decide what we can read, see or think? I am not saying that we have to be agree with everyone but you can disagree on something and still be civil? Amartaya Sen talks about the ancient traditions of dissent and criticism inherent in Hinduism and in Indian culture in his book "The Argumentative Indian". Yet, those traditions are being corrupted everyday and we are prisoners of fire-wielding hardliners, who have decided that we Indians are not mature enough, we need censorship, and that they will decide for us.

If a country (Italy) that hosts the Vatican itself, can show the film, De Vinci code, it seems strange that India has to worry about the feelings of few sensitive Christians who do not like it and decide to get offended by it!

 

I get it that India is a mix of religions and beliefs and hurting the sentiments of any one group can easily lead to violence, mayhem and deaths, so the Government has to be cautious. However, I wish that there were religious leaders promoting tolerance and "let it be" kind of attitude, instead of fanning protests and hate marches.

 

*** 

 

 

Governments - Heaviest Element Known to Science

Got this from a colleague in an email (I don't know who originally wrote it but it is wonderful):

A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element has been named "Governmentium". Governmentium has one neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 75 deputy neutrons, and 224 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium causes one reaction to take over four days to complete, when it would normally take less than a second.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of 4 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration.

This hypothetical quantity is referred to as "Critical Morass." When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium - an element which radiates just as much energy as the Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

 

***

The Governmentium story reminds me of an Asterix and Obelix comic book about guy running between different Government departments in Rome, each of which wants a stamp or a seal or photocopy or three signed copies. However, to be honest, this disease is not limited to ancient Rome, it afflicts most of our countries.

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Dangers of Extremism in Nepal

Yes, I know it is long time since I wrote anything on this blog. Over past few weeks, I have been thinking about the situation in Nepal. Finally, it seems the King of Nepal has decided to give in to the people's movement asking for an end to the monarchy and now, hopefully the peace may return to this beautiful land.

At the same time, I am thinking about Nepalese Maoists and if they pose a threat to the country.

I have always felt that dialogue and democracy are the best way to deal with extremists - by extremists, I mean, those who believe in extreme changes, and not necessarily violent. In that sense, I don't agree with state repression, banning, jails and fighting to overcome or to contain those we consider "extreme". I believe that if extremists can be made to participate in the democratic dialogue and if they find public support, to become a part of the government, then with a little time, their extremism will be tempered and they will need to become less extreme to fit in with the system.

The increasing forces of globalisation, means that the increasing inter-links between people and countries, should be a safeguard since extremist governments, even if elected, can not break those links and live in isolation.

Another aspect of globalisation is the increasing presence of media, so that when "news worthy events" happens like dead bodies floating in Victoria falls in Rwanda, the world will see it. Thus, violent aberrations, sooner or later must go away other wise you become an international pariah.

Unfortunately, it seems that both these aspects of globalisation can be easily manipulated. When economic interests are there, other countries can become tolerant of dictators and murderers, and close one or both eyes. And, the international media is fickle, it comes to catch the goriest pictures but since here the supply is greater than demand, so it soon loses interest and leaves to catch other gorier pastures.

So I think that Maoists in Nepal should get a chance to participate in the elections and if they win the elections, they can get a go at the system. Yet, I am also worried if the democracy rules are considered valid for everyone? What if once in the Government, they decide that autocracy is the best way to govern the country.

So what do we do with people or groups, who do not believe in democracy and liberty, but they play along only to win elections and get into power and then start their dictatorship and repression?

 

And if through democracy, we end up with a Pol Pot and millions of dead, whose fault was it?

 

Or with Islamists and Talibans? 

***

Falling sick in UK?

I was in London last week.

I went to see Pam at her home. Pam had been in the hospital for back pain. Pam told me about her experience in the hospital. She saw the doctors only on the day of her admission. After that for the next two and half weeks, she never saw her house officer.

The British NHS, national health services had such a reputation with people coming from all over the world to benefit from the British standard of medical care. I was wondering what has happened to it?

In the night, the news on BBC mentioned a Mr. Gonsalez, who had killed many persons and the court has sentenced him to a mandatory prison for life. There was also an interview with the grandmother of Mr. Gonsalez, who explained that if her grandson was guilty, the state was guilty as well. It seems that she had been complaining about the deterioration in the psychological condition of her grandson for months without any response from social services or the psychiatric services. In one of the letters, she even wrote, "Would you do something only when he kills someone?".

In the morning, flying back to Bologna, I saw the headlines in the newspaper, a private hospital in London is "forced to cut 1000 jobs because of lack of funds".

But UK has the most booming economy in Europe, how can this happen there? While rest of Europe is fighting recession, only UK seems to be going strong, then why did they cut their health service so drastically? It sounds more like a government hospital in India.

I am also afraid for our health care services in Italy. With all these magic words of greater efficiency, reducing wastage of resources, more autonomy and privatization, the future does not seem very bright for the right to health. Actually, the quality of health services in Italy seems to be really good, perhaps one of the best in the world.

***
I have a new Hindi-English-Italian photo-blog, Chayachitrakar. There are mornings, when I don't feel like writing much. It would be simpler to stick in a nice picture and it will be done. That is the logic behind it. I have just one camera, a digital kodak, and I don't know about apertures and time of exposure, etc. I can't even take very sophisticated pictures and I don't like special effects, most of the time. But I think that my pictures have good human angle. May be that is not very modest, but I like the pictures I take!

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Obsession and Fear of Police

I can't resist taking pictures of people in uniforms - especially policemen and police-women. It is a kind of obsession. If I am visiting a place and I see police personnel, I always try to take their pictures. Some times, I am a little afraid that they will get annoyed but that hasn't happened so far.

It is a kind of love-hate relationship or rather fear-fascination relationship. Instinctively, I am afraid of people in police dress, if I can avoid, I never speak to them. In my mind they are representing cruel and brute force, which I suspect is because of my growing up in India, where the police is often cruel and corrupt. It is for this reason perhaps, that I like taking pictures of them with small children, so that the antagonism between this mental image and their actual gentleness creates a contrast in the picture.

In 1960 my father was jailed because of some anti-government protest. From his notes, I know that I and my younger sister, together with my mother, we had gone to see him. I was six years old at that time, yet I can't remember any thing about that visit, nothing absolutely. I don't have any childhood memory of such a visit while I think normally, a visit to a jail would be a very strong memory for a child. 

 

I remember the bus-stop near the Tihar jail in West Delhi but of the actual visit inside the jail, I have a big hole in my memory. It must have been very traumatic for me. Perhaps, that visit is also behind my fear-fascination of uniforms?

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Christmas in Piazza Navona, Rome

I was in Rome yesterday. By the time, I finished my work, it was already dark and I still had about an hour for my train. I decided to use that hour by going to Piazza Navona, the Navona square.

Rome is full of beautiful squares but this is perhaps the most beautiful of them all. Shaped like a big boat (Navona literally means a big boat), the square has beautiful fountains, and during the day, artists, musicians and tourists throng it, so it is difficult to walk around.

Last night was different, because of the Christmas shops. There were rows of cheerful, brightly lit, colourful shops.

I was so busy going around and looking at the shops that I almost missed my train. While rushing back towards the metro station, I saw the Bartolucci workshop in a small street near Piazza Navona, with the craftsman working on wooden handicrafts while the wooden Pinocchios with their long noses kept him company.

 

The owner-craftsman, he seemed as if he had just stepped out of a fable, into the dark, narrow, cobbled street.

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