I recently wrote an article on honor killings in Europe for the San Francisco Chronicle-- about Muslims who follow a strict form of Islam, and will kill family members for violating the family "honor."
The headline put on it was, I think, somewhat inappropriate and misleading. What do you think? Follow the link to read it:
Link
I know a Bosnian guy who couldn't find work after the war, so ended up taking a job as a bus driver in neighboring Macedonia. He didn't speak much of the language, but there were enough similarities for him to eek by.
He's driving his big bus through some small villages, and one passenger gets on and asks him if he can bring on "kale". The driver thinks for a second and then okays it, assuming the word means what it does in Bosnian: cable.
It doesn't. It means cow.
Today I'm working on an article about the breakaway "republic" of Transnistria--a Russian-controlled region of Moldova, famous for trafficking weapons, drugs, and women. I happened upon a Q&A of a spokeswoman named Megan Stephenson, who apparently works for an (alleged) NGO called ICDISS. It all seemed fishy to me, her sympathy toward the region, her claims of its legitimacy and her veiled comments. I did a search on her and, lo and behold, others were also suspicious. Economist reporter Ed Lucas did a story on this front organization last week. His blog is in my links on the right.
My friend Gloria mentioned her pet sheep again, who are enjoying the summer at a farm along the Danube. By September, it may be time for Sir George (my London Black Cab) to transport them again.
Getting fat, irritable sheep into a taxi is not as easy as one would hope.
Admirably, my sister Judi can build furniture, rewire houses, even chop down trees when she needs to. She's 100 percent girl, but just has a built-in self-sufficiency that I've always envied.
I thought of her today when I climbed up onto my roof--a bowsaw in one hand, pruner in the other--to clear branches that were dangerously overhanging the chimney. And more importantly, interrupting my satellite tv.
I mightily cut all the branches down. Was damn proud of myself and my little act of self-sufficience.
Judi can stop reading now while I let the rest of you in on a little secret. When I was ready to make my way back down the ladder, I had to call a friend on my cell phone (of COURSE I took it onto the roof with me!) to come rescue me--I'm terrified of heights and the wet, moss-covered roof was certainly uncooperative, at best.
This is my brother-in-law when he was a little kid. Love the high waters, and especially love the rifle poking out the front driver's seat. Having your family fully armed is really the best way to go.
There's a lady here who is partial to her daily intake of slivovitz---she lives in the Old Folk's Home in town, wherein alcohol is strictly forbidden. Verboten.
No problem. She has hired the local taxi driver to smuggle it on for her. Armed with four empty, 2 liter Coke bottles, he goes to the local grocery store and buys 2 liters of Coke, a couple of bottles of slivovitz, mixes them up pretty good, and carts them back to the altheimer home.
I spent five months in Moldova, a tiny nation wedged between Ukraine and Romania. As a Knight International Press Fellow, I was helping a local journalism center launch a master's journalism program. The school starts this Fall.
Here are a few images of the country.
Link
This is a funeral procession in a small village about 60 miles from the capital. The grieving widow is atop the the truck with the casket.
Babushka shucking corn
Farmer leaving his fields for the evening
No posts for a couple of days--I'm in England to see my niece and nephew in a semi-professional production of "Annie." But the family dog, who plays "Sandy", appears to be the star. Last night she walked on stage--prompted by a shove from my sister--clickety-clicked her toenails out to center stage, stopped to gaze non-plussed at the audience (sold out), then trotted over to Annie. She scratched a bit and wolfed down a fistful of treats while Annie belted out "Tomorrow," then both scampered off stage.
She did pretty well. The previous night she was reluctant to come out in the final act. Pulled on the leash by a character who played a butler, she slid across stage on her belly, presumably believing that passive resistance was the way to go.
Of course, rehearsals all went off without a hitch.
