Contempt of court???

Today, I got back an assignment I did last week - covering a court case. And looking over it, I remembered some of the details of the case, and one very dicey situation that I could have found myself in.

I arrived at the Queens County Criminal Court at about 8:40 (early again, what's happening to me?!?!?), only to find out that the court clerk's office, where I had to go to choose a case to report on, only opened at 9. I bumped into a couple of other girls from my class, and we tried to see if we could find any other way to locate an interesting case. We finally found the Supreme Court clerk's office, which was open and one of the girls asked them what the most interesting case was. (Now me, I wouldn't have asked them to recommend a case. I would have asked to look at the cases on trial and decided myself, because they could have sent us to the least controversial one, or the one where they didn't want any outsiders to be - good journalistic thinking, eh? I'm getting good at not being so gullible.) But anyway, they directed us to one of the court rooms, and we went in. Time passed, and no judge, no jury, nobody, though we did see the defendants in the case outside the courtroom, probably waiting as impatiently as us.

There was one Guyanese woman (of Indian origin) sitting in the viewing area, on the bench in front of us. She turned around at one point, and seeing me, I think felt some affinity towards me, since I looked to be of similar background. I was encouraged by this, and, being the enterprising journalist that I am (heh heh!), decided to approach her and talk to her. She told me she was the ex-girlfriend of the alleged victim, and that she was testifying about what happened (the case was that the defendants had beated up her ex-boyfriend outside a bar in Jamaica). We didn't talk about any other particulars of the case other than that. She said she was sick of the case, and having to go to court, when she wasn't even with the guy anymore. I moved back into my seat and waited for the trial to begin, which it did, about 70 minutes late.

The witness was continuing her testimony, so she went up and took the stand. As soon as did so, the defense attorney fired the first question at her, which sent my heart rocketing into my mouth. "Have you spoken with anyone about this trial between yesterday and today?" he asked her.

OHMIGOSH!! What have I done???? Have I just broken the law? Am I going to be in contempt of court? And how did the defense attorney find out that I had spoken to her? And why didn't any of the court staff say anything when they saw me talking to her??? Is this the end of my career as a journalist, over before it even really began? I turned in panic to one of my classmates, only to be greeted with a blank stare.

I turned back to the witness. She maintained a stony silence, which had guilt written all over it. I'm finished, I thought.

Then, the attorney rephrased the question. "Did you call the owner of the bar to tell her what happened in court yesterday?" he asked her.

PHEW!! My heart settled back down into its normal place. So he wasn't talking about me after all! It took a few minutes for my nerves to settle down, though, and to get back to following the case.

Needless to say, I stayed far away from her, and the other two witnesses, for the remainder of the day! Darned Columbia professors - why don't they tell you that you can't talk to witnesses before sending you out to cover a trial??

Turned away :-(

Today was not a very good day. I spent over two hours on the subway to my beat -- well, an hour and a half on the subway, then another half hour waiting for a bus, getting on the bus, getting lost, getting unlost, and finally reaching my destination, all a total of over two hours -- only to be sent back.

I am working on a story about the controversy surrounding rent increases in one of the largest housing co-operatives in the US, which happens to be in my beat. So I decided to take advantage of the fact that the board's meeting was timed perfectly to meet my Wednesday deadline and attend.

I walked confidently into the meeting room at the Rochdale Village Community Centre, sending up a silent thank you that the meeting hadn't started yet, even though I was, as usual, late. I settled into a seat close to the back of the room, from where I could observe the proceedings without drawing too much attention to myself. I had just settled down, and gone up to say hello to one of the board members whom I've spoken with earlier when the head security guard approached me. "Will you please step outside, miss?" he asked me, politely, but so firmly that I dismissed the inclination to respond "No, thank you. I'm fine where I am."

Rolling my eyes at the inconvenience, I followed him outside. He informed me that the meeting was only for residents of the co-op, and as I wasn't one, I had to leave. "What?" I said. "I've travelled two hours to come here, and I'm not going back. I wasn't told that I couldn't come."

"It's a private meeting, only for co-op residents, miss," he insisted.

"I called so many people and none of them told me that I had to be a resident to attend," I told him.

He wouldn't budge. I tried the anger tactic, closely followed by the "it's-all-your-fault" tactic, but nothing worked.

"I'm not just sitting around, doing nothing, you know. You people need to do a better job of letting people know if you're not going to let us in," I told him in the most righteously indignant tone I could muster. It didn't work, although he became a bit more sympathetic.

"I know, I'm sorry, I have a son in college in Connecticut," he said, though how he thought that would be of any help to me, I'm not sure.

He asked me if I knew how to get out, and I shook my head, stubbornly refusing to talk to him, now that all else had failed. He called another guard, and asked him to escort me to the bus stand. "I'm sorry," he said, in parting.

I glared at him, and walked away in stubborn silence with the other guard. It was drizzling, and the guard, trying to be kind, asked me if I had an umbrella. "Yes, but I don't want to use it," I retorted, and continued walking, though I did thaw a bit and tell him what had happened. He was duly sympathetic, but it was clearly not in his hands.

The bus came, predictably late; I missed the train as I was walking down the steps, and again predictably, had to wait for the next one. I did try to salvage my evening by calling a woman whom I met while waiting for the bus on Saturday, when I went to speak with the residents of the co-op. We had started chatting, and she mentioned that she was a friend of the chairman of the board. She had offered to get me in touch with him, so, on my way back, I called her and whinged about how they wouldn't let me into the meeting, and asked her if she had his contact details. She gave me his email address.

So, if he gets back to me, it might not, after all have been a complete waste. Though, I could have called her from home, and had that game of squash that I said no to because of the meeting. Such is the life of a journalism student whom no one takes seriously . . .sigh!!

Kitty corner. . .

After spending the entire afternoon on my beat, trying to talk to people who love to gripe, but not to let their gripes be attributed to them; three hours on the subway; an hour at the gym; a couple of hours rewatching My Big Fat Greek Wedding; and about an hour on my post on Talabani's speech, which took an inordinate amount of time for a blog post; I'm ready to go to bed.

But guess who has - after darting about the apartment the entire afternoon and evening with more energy than I can muster even after three double espressos - decided to clamber into my lap and go to sleep. What to do? Wait till the little guy wakes up, or unceremoniously deposit him outside my room, shut the door and go to sleep? I'm actually feeling quite charitable towards him, despite the fact that he's been chewing on my toes, and digging his claws into me every opportunity he gets. Maybe I'll just twiddle my thumbs till he decides to wake up, and then kick him out. . . then again, maybe not. . .

All's as it should be in Iraq. . .

Last week, I attended a talk by Jalal Talabani, Iraq's new president. It was, on the whole, a winning talk, aimed at convincing the audience that the US did the right thing by going to Iraq. He is quite a personable man, and I could tell that the (somewhat undiscerning) audience took to him immediately. Which, for my journalistic - in other words, excitement-craving - instincts, proved a little disappointing.

"You are our partners in our liberation from tyranny," he told the audience. "Now, we struggle side by side to fight facism and terrorism in Iraq." He highlighted the mass graves of women and children that were discovered in Iraq, one of the products of Saddam Hussein's regime, as one of the many reasons for the US and Iraq to continue to fight the "war on terror" together.

To those who opposed the US' involvement in Iraq, he said: "Please come to Iraq and see the mass graves with hundreds of thousands of Iraqi people."

"The forces of darkness want to take us back to our terrible past," he said. "They showed no remorse to any human suffering." An example, he said, was the exchange of congratulations between members of Al Qaeda after Hurricane Katrina.

Responding to calls by several Americans to the US government to withdraw from Iraq,or at least to set a timetable for withdrawal, Talabani said that doing so would prove to be a set back for the war effort. The presence of the UN and multinational forces is vital for democracy in Iraq and the Middle East, he said, until Iraq can stand on its own feet.

To those calling for a timetable for a pull-out, he said: "The US should set no timetable for withdrawal. It will encourage the terrorists, [lead them to conclude] that they can defeat a superpower. Withdrawal now or in the near future could lead to victory of tyranny in Iraq."

Speaking about the new Iraqi Constitution, Talabani addressed the conflict and troubles that Iraq has had in its drafting. The outcome of the drafting process is that nobody is entirely happy with the new Constitution, he said, but insisted that this is a good thing. "If anyone was completely happy, there would have been others who were completely unhappy, and it would have been a failure," he argued.

Talabani also said that it has taken longer to build a government in the new Iraq than it would have in the old Iraq. This is because the new Iraq is "a state based on the principle of inclusion, not exclusion," he said. "There must be no victors and no vanquished."

And in conclusion: "To the terrorists, I say, 'You will never win. Freedom will win in Iraq'."

His talk was a veritable journalist's dream, at least as far as succulent quotes and sound bites go. But it was obvious that it was a carefully crafted speech, designed to win over an American audience with mixed feelings about the US' role in Iraq.

Throughout Talabani's talk, it was clear that he was trying to soothe troubled waters, to convince the audience that things in Iraq are going well, despite all the problems and conflict still rife in the country. I think that, for the most part, his talk succeeded in at least moving the audience a little closer to acceptance of the view he presented. But whether they remain convinced as events continue to unfold in Iraq remains to be seen.

Talabani's ascendancy to the presidency of Iraq is clearly a victory for Iraq's Kurds, long marginalised under Saddam Hussein. The fact that he has been voted into such a position of power in Iraq also signifies a mandate for change in Iraq. And thus, when the US does get out of Iraq, it will, I imagine, leave with at least some of the credit for uniting a nation that has had several internal divisions, both in the north, with the Kurds, and in the south, with the Shiites.

But precisely because of this acceptance of Kurds in Iraq, relations between Iraq and Turkey, which still refuses to recognise Kurdistan, have soured considerably after Talabani came into power. That this hostility is present on both sides was very clear from a comment that Talabani made in response to a Turkish student's question. The student showed his own bias when, referring to a comment Talabani made about Kurdistan, he asked Talabani what he exactly he had meant.

Talabani's sharp retort: "I didn't create Kurdistan. God created Kurdistan. Just because you don't accept Kurdistan doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

It was amusing to see his diplomatic veneer slip ever so slightly, and that little bit of tension somewhat appeased my aforementioned need for excitement in an otherwise tame presentation.

Baby bloopers

Something pretty darned disgusting happened to me today. And I've been feeling completely grossed out all day.

My roommate got a little kitten two weeks ago. Well, he's technically hers, but he's kind of adopted us. He's absolutely adorable, with a tiny pink nose and a little pink mouth. He has soft black fur, a strip of white down his chest and little white gloves and socks, that makes him look like a butler in a tailcoat. .

But the most adorable part is the way he falls asleep. One minute, he's completely hyper, running around, and the next thing you know, he's fallen over, asleep. Once he started walking somewhere, and fell asleep mid-stride! I suspect we've got a narcoleptic cat on our hands. And the way he sleeps. Sometimes, he sleeps on his stomach, absolutely flat, with his four paws spreadeagled in four different directions. Other times, he sleeps on his back, with his chest and belly up, looking remarkably like a human baby.

He loves being around people, and is constantly jumping onto our shoulders and laps, climbing up our legs, looking into our eyes and mewing softly. And biting everything, from fingers and toes, to earrings to watches.

He is absolutely irresistible, so, even though he had an "accident" - the big kind - on my roommate's rug, and a little one on my other roommate's bed, I haven't had the heart to shut him out of my room when he comes bounding up to me on his tiny legs every time I open the door.

This morning, I saw something dark-coloured in a corner of my room where the light didn't fall very well. I thought it was a piece of dark paper. I went to pick it up, and as my finger made contact with it, something unexpected happened. My fingers went right through it. Realising too late what it was, I withdrew my hand in horror, and rushed to the bathroom to scrub my hands clean over and over. Little Wednesday had done it again - the big job, in my room! I learned my lesson.

Cursing him, I cleaned up his mess, trying not to get sick and make a bigger mess of my own. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was not very pleased with him, shut my door loudly when he tried to get in, and left the apartment.

The feeling on my fingers stayed with me, and everytime I ate, I was aware that the same fingers I was eating with had touched something else. But, when I came back home, he came running up to me again, and dashed into my room, as soon as I opened my door. What could I do? He's such a baby, and it breaks my heart to be mean to him. I let him in, promising myself that he could only be in the room when I was there with him. And my method of keeping him out of my room? Staying out of it myself! So, here I am, in the living room, with the door to my room shut tight. And the little guy's climbed onto my lap as I'm writing this, and squeezed himself into the tiny bit of space left by my laptop, and is chewing on my thumb - but only after I checked to make sure that he was clean, and that there were no unwanted substances on any part of his anatomy. I'm just hoping that there are no accidents now!

One thing I know - I'm going to adopt a child when he or she is at least three years old - so that these kind of mishaps don't happen. I can't deal with a kitten. A real baby that I have to clean up after is out of the question!

Choice of words

Yesterday, we had an interesting discussion in one of my classes about the use of the word "refugees" in describing people displaced by Hurricane Katrina. The professor asked if the news media should be using that word to describe them, as the word has two definitions. According to the dictionary definition, it applies to anyone seeking refuge from anything. But according to the general UN definition, and the way it is used in the media worldwide, it means someone who has come to one country for fear of persecution in his or her own country.

The professor asked various students to comment on whether it was appropriate to use the term refugees for people displaced by the hurricane. Several people stuck to the basic dictionary definition, and said that, yes, technically, they are refugees, so it is ok to use that word. Others said it was not ok to use it, as the people it refers to are American citizens, and as such, they are not refugees.

When I was talking to a couple of others in a small group later on, one of them said that the word refugees has been used in the American media to describe people fleeing natural disasters in other countries, e.g. after the Dec. 26 tsunami. One of the others in the group, a lawyer in a former life, who has done several fascinating things, including serving on a few election monitoring missions in the Middle East, pointed out that the media in other countries hadn't been calling those affected by the tsunami refugees.

My question is. . .why the need for this debate at all? The appropriate term for those who have been displaced by Hurricane Katrina is "evacuees". Not refugees, not internally displaced, as someone else suggested. While people can't be faulted for choosing to use the word refugees according to its dictionary definition, journalistically, it is inappropriate. The media does anything but operate in a vaccum, even a vaccum called the United States. While local media who don't know better might get away with using the word "refugees", national publications, such as the New York Times, cannot afford to stick to dictionary definitions. Because the New York Times is, in many ways, an international paper too, and if it veers away from the internationally accepted definitions of words and chooses to endow on certain words meanings that are not recognised internationally, it could lead to a great deal of confusion. And the whole point of the news media is to clearly and accurately inform people of the truth.

Predictable politicians

On Wednesday, I went to listen to yet another speaker: this one, the president of my own country, Chandrika Kumaratunga. She had come to New York for the UN summit, and was gracing the Asia Society with her presence, so I decided to shell out 15 big ones to go listen to her!

It was a pretty mediocre performance. I think her objective with the session was to leave her presidency (which is coming to an end soon, as we are going to have elections within the next few months) with a bang. She went on about how hard her government had worked to achieve peace in Sri Lanka, and to keep peace talks with the LTTE going, even though the LTTE petulanty keeps reneging on its cease-fire agreement.

Not quite true, because, although there have been isolated incidents and internal conflicts among the LTTE itself, it has, for the most part, adhered to its promise of not returning to full-fledged war.

She claimed to have tried hard to redevelop conflict-affected areas in the north and eest of the country, sending ministers there to lead redevelopment efforts, whom the LTTE have promptly killed. This might well be true, but she made no mention of the several Tamil areas still occupied by the Sri Lankan army, which refuses to let Tamils back into their land and their homes, saying they are high-security zones.

She also called for transforming the LTTE from a "dictatorial, brutal force to a political one that doesn't use violence to make its voice heard." Which might be a noble goal, but the last time I checked, it wasn't only the LTTE that was a "dictatorial, brutal force".

I am, by no means, under the illusion that the LTTE is some sort of saintly force that is trying to fairly and accurately represent all Tamils. The internal struggles that it has been dealing with over the past year itself are evidence that this is not the case. Yet, Kumaratunga's claims that she has done nothing but good for the country, while the evil LTTE does everthing possible to foil her saintly efforts, made me feel slighty sick.

Overall, it was a disappointing and somewhat predictable evening. But, as my International Reporting professor commented when I told him so afterwards, "What did you expect? Politicians are always predictable."

"I shook hands with Mary Robinson!!"

On Tuesday, after my long day on my beat, I decided I still have a teeny weeny bit of energy left to go to a forum on the UN on the eve of the UN Summit. My tentative plan for my master's project is that it will be on the UN (it's a VERY tentative plan!), so I thought going to this forum would help me crystallise that plan into something more specific.

It was a very different experience from any I've had so far in New York, just in terms of the dialogue and discussion. It comes as no surprise to most of the world that the US is a pretty insular place, for all the pies it has its fingers in (apologies for the cliche!).

So, the forum was a very refreshing experience. Featuring such well-known names as Shashi Tharoor (UN Undersecretary general for public affairs and author), William Pace of the World Federalist Movement, Luis Inacio de Silva, president of Brazil (on tape, presented by a member of his staff), Jose Antonio Ocampo, UN undersecretary general for economic and social affairs (ECOSOC) and Erkki Tuomioja, foreign minister of Finland.

The last session, on the Millenium Development Goals and UN Reform, was the only one I was able to attend, and the discussion proved very educational, if somewhat predictable (with the US- and Bush administration-bashing that seems to characterise any dialogue on anything these days).

All called for putting civil society (NGOs), rather than governments, at the centre of the UN agenda for change. Most called for ECOSOC to have a larger role in the UN, with financial institutions such as the World Bank and IMF reporting to this agency.

Gina Vargas, of the Global Call to Action Against Poverty Feminist Task Force, pointed to the reason for her organisation's demand for UN reform. The five permanent members on the UN Security Council have 80 percent of armament trade in the world, she said. "They are not capable of defining what are situations of imminent/latent threat or danger," she said. The Millenium Development Goals are insufficient, and they cannot be reached without far-reaching UN reform, she said.

At the end of the session, my friend Anits and I debated whether to stay for the "political and cultural event" that was to follow. With speakers including Mary Robinson, Jesse Jackson and Nobel Laureate Wangari Maathai, it was very tempting. Anits was eager to hear Mary Robinson, among whose claims to fame are her presidency of the Republic of Ireland and her role as Human Rights High Commissioner of the UN for five years.

We decided to stay for Mary Robinson's talk. And we were glad we did. She reminded the audience that, at the turn of the century, the UN's goal had been to ensure that globalisation would work for all the world's peoples. However, with the emphasis on fighting terrorism following Sept. 11, globalisation and the role of human rights in globalisation got shoved to the back burner. She pointed to the fact that human rights issues have been removed from the UN summit's agenda this year, and called for change.

She also cautioned against settling for a weak UN reform plan. "It's important that we don't get into the kind of mood where we think that something's not so bad, because it used to be so much worse," she said.

After her talk, Anits and I slipped out of the church where the forum was being held. As we exited the building, we spotted Robinson standing by herself on the sidewalk. Anits studied human rights in undergrad, and to her Robinson was an idol, one of the leading figures in the field. So, we had to go speak with her. We approached her, introduced ourselves, and thanked her for her talk. Anits, who's a lot more informed about human rights issues than I am, then chatted with her about the need to bring human rights back into the UN agenda, while I gawked.

As we walked away from Robinson, Anits was in heaven. "I shook hands with Mary Robinson!!" she exclaimed jubilantly. "I feel like a child who's seen Madonna or someone for the first time! No one's going to touch this hand!!"

Anyway, as we walked away, what struck me the most was my own ignorance about the UN, and all the roles it plays. Listening to the talks, I realised how little I knew about the Millenium Development Goals, the UN reform agenda, the agencies that make up the UN, everything. My knowledge about the UN barely skims the surface.

So, I've decided. . . I'm going to read up on as much as I can about the UN over the next few weeks. So ask me in a few weeks!!

Mayoral troubles. . .part II

In relation to the earlier post titled Mayoral Troubles, Gifford Miller got 10 per cent of the votes in the mayoral primary and came last. I guess that explains the response he got from New Yorkers. . .

Primary story

Here is the fruit of today's toils:

Getachew Kinfe went to PS 55, his polling station today, determined to do his part to ensure that Albert Baldeo, a candidate for the District 28 City Council seat, did not get elected.
“I am not interested in voting for anyone,” Kinfe, a native Ethiopian in his mid-50s, who lives in Richmond Hill, said. “I have no confidence in politicians. But I came here to vote against Baldeo. He’s one of the crude third world politicians that I wanted to leave back home.”
“You need a real interest in serving people,” Kinfe explained. “Baldeo makes his money in private business, and then he wants to fold in more power, more money, more everything through this.”
Kinfe, who was turned away without voting, because he had not declared a party affiliation while registering to vote, had settled on voting for Baldeo’s arch rival, pediatrician Robert Mahadeo.
Kinfe’s lack of confidence is mirrored this year by several voters in City Council District 28. Despite having one of the more colorful council races this year, many who bothered to turn up to vote in the primary lamented the lack of choice – between Baldeo and Mahadeo, who have both been to jail for threatening each other; the incumbent, Allan Jennings, who has been accused of sexual harassment, fined and stripped of committee responsibilities; Thomas White, Jr., a former District 28 Councilman who allegedly used taxpayers’ money meant for drug treatment programs for personal expenses, and who earned himself the title of the “Invisible Man” for not showing up at meetings; and Dhanpaul Narine, a little-known school teacher.
Gloria Ruiz, in her mid-40s, chose to go with Narine. “He said he’d be there for seniors,” she said. “I like that.” Ruiz, who, like Narine, Baldeo and Mahadeo, is from Guyana, said she was also more inclined towards Narine because he is from her neighborhood, and he is Guyanese.
“I’ve seen the news about Baldeo and Mahadeo,” she said. “I don’t think I trust them.” Jennings hasn’t fulfilled the promises he made during the last election, Ruiz said, and, not having lived in Queens during White’s term, didn’t know enough about him.
A voter at PS 55, who gave his name as John Smith, said he had cast his vote for Jennings. His reason? “You’ve got to vote for somebody. And I spoke to him when he came to Allan church. I haven’t spoken to any of the others.”
The result of this lack of confidence in the candidates is the low turnout at the polls this year, according to Sheryl Bishop and Joe Vidal, election coordinators at PS 50 and PS 55 respectively.
Voters trickled in to both polling stations, about two every 10 minutes, vastly outnumbered by bored poll workers, who numbered over 20 at each station.
“Turnout so far has been pretty close to mediocre,” Vidal pronounced about half way through the voting day. Having worked at various polls for 20 years, Vidal pointed out that people of Indian origin generally come out early in the morning, usually before 9 a.m. to cast their votes. He expressed surprise that the Guyanese, many of whom are of Indian origin, have not done so in District 28.
Bishop’s explanation: the turnout depends on who is running. “If it’s someone everyone likes, they’ll come out. Otherwise, they don’t show.”

On the beat. . .

Today was an extremely exhausting day. It started off with Breakfast with the Deans, which is supposed to be an informal Q&A with the deans at the J-school. I didn't really have any questions, but I'm running for treasurer of our student government, so was trying to impress anyone else who would be there.

Anyway, after the breakfast, where I ended up speaking only with people I know anyway (SIGH!! There's such comfort in familiarity, isn't there?), I took off to cover one of the primary election races in Jamaica, Queens, my beat. I got out of the subway and started walking, and, (surprise, surprise), I got myself lost. Now, my deadline for the story was 5:00 p.m. today and by the time I got to Jamaica (after a 1.5 subway ride), it was already about 12:00. After walking in the hot sun for about 25 minutes (I'm convinced that by the time I finish with this programme, I'm going to look like charcoal), I managed to catch a bus that took me quite close to the first polling station on my long list of two that I managed to come up with by typing in random addresses into the poll station locator. No sophisticated journalistic techniques there!

At the polling station, I had to wait a long time to speak with about four people, but to my shock, all of them actually told me, with no hesitation, whom they had voted for.

After I finished talking to the first two voters who came out, a young (cute!!) police officer who was on duty at the polling station came out to ask me what I was doing.

I launched into my spiel. "I'm a student at Columbia University, and am working on a story on the primary."

"Oh, so you're just interviewing people as they come out?"

"Yes."

"That's cool," was the answer. Pause. Then, "So are you a freshman, sophomore. . . ?"

How flattered was I!??! "I'm a grad student," I said. And then, incredulously, "Do I really look like a freshman??!?!?"

That caught him off guard, for some reason. "Well. . . if I said yes, it would be a compliment right?"

"Yeah, of course!"

Awkward pause. Then, "Ok. Good luck!" and he went back inside :-(

Anyway, at the next polling station, I spoke to a few more people, including a 50-something year old election co-ordinator, who was way too energetic for his own good. After I spoke with him, he gave me some great advice about being a journalist: "Don't try to change the world. Be a great observer, so that you can help someone else change the world." (thoughts on that for another entry :-))

From that polling station, another half hour's walk brought me back to the subway station, and I caught up a little on my sleep on the hour and a half journey back. Came back to the apartment, quickly wrote my story and emailed it to the professori!

Men are motormouths!!

After the Gifford Miller incident, FMP and I proceeded to a very artsy, very cool cafe called Cafe des Artistes (I know it had a Cafe and an Artistes, just not sure about the des or pour or whatever in between)! Anyway, as we were chatting about various things, we got to talking about volunteering information.

"You don't tell people things unless you are asked, do you?" I asked her. "I've noticed."

"I know. I don't. I'm really closed," she admitted.

We started talking about how we don't volunteer information about ourselves unless we are asked, and how Caveboy, Rohinton, Nev and Oiram (all boys) talk about what's happening in their lives without being asked, and don't always realise that we expect them to ask us about ourselves, thus leaving us with the impression that they don't care.

"Caveboy is really good about intuiting what I need and asking me," Ficali said. "That makes a big difference."

But, like Nev and Oiram with me, Rohinton expects her to volunteer information, because that's the way he functions. Nothing wrong with that, of course, except that we see them asking as a sign of them caring. Ergo, them not asking is a sign of them not caring.

"Yeah, Nev tells me this is happening, that's happening, blah, blah, blah," I told her. "And I'm on the other end of the phone, seething 'coz he hasn't asked me what's going on with me!"

Ficali understood exactly what I was saying. "We're such losers!" was her pronouncement.

But it really got me thinking. Guys, who are normally supposed to be reticent, are the ones who find it easier to talk without being poked and prodded for information (of course, the four we talked about are BY NO MEANS a representative sample). But still, it seems it's us, the girls, who wait to be asked before we tell. Yet another example of turning stereotypes on their heads?!?!?

Mayoral troubles. . .

I went out yesterday evening to meet Ficali McPipe for a quick cup of coffee before she dashed off to pick up her parents from the airport.

While I was waiting for her at the 14th Street station (yes, believe it or not, I was actually early for once!), I saw Gifford Miller, current speaker of the NY City Council, and one of the candidates for mayor of NYC, standing by one of the station entrances with his campaign staff holding up "Vote for Gifford Miller" signs. Maybe because I read the papers obsessively, Miller is something of a celebrity to me, as he (along with all the other candidates) figures in them every day.

But as I stood watching him hold out his hand to everyone who walked by, the majority walked right past him, with no idea who he was, not even bothering to glance at him, let alone shake his hand. Out of about 40 to 50 people he approached, about seven or eight people actually stopped, and with big grins and looks of delight on their faces as they recognised him, chatted with him, and wished him success. That's a shameful 15% per cent of New Yorkers who recognised their potential next mayor!

Now, the mayor of New York City is no small position. Former mayors from Ed Koch to David Dinkins to Rudy Giuliani to the incumbent Michael Bloomberg have all been somewhat larger than life figures, not just to New Yorkers, but nationwide, and even worldwide. And while realistically, Miller will probably lose the election, he is still in the running to be the next mayor of the city. And yet, people walk right past him!

And they complain that the media doesn't provide them with enough information about the candidates. With the Democratic primary coming up less than five days away, the majority of NYC voters don't even seem to recognise the candidates, let alone know their issues. And yet, the newspapers have been filled with stories about them everyday, with the New York Times doing regular stories on various issues, including education and housing, and the candidates' stands on them, and covering their debates in great detail.

So, wwhere does the problem lie? The media or the attitude of the people? The latter, I say!

First writing sample!!

This is the first of my many writing assignments that you will have the privilege(???) of reading! I've often been told that I'm a better reporter than writer (that might just be a nice way of saying that I'm a worse writer than a reporter!). But either way, I think it's true.

For this assignment, we were told to go out to our beats (the areas we're covering) and talk to people on the streets about how they have been impacted by Sept. 11 and by the attacks in London, and write a story about it. This is mine. . .

As a flight attendant, Sandy Jack, is well aware of terrorism. She and other crew members she works with at an international charter airline are told to be extra vigilant when traveling in foreign countries.
Yet, Jack, an Ozone Park resident in her early 30s, insists she doesn’t let it affect her daily life or the way she brings up her son. “You can’t dwell on it,” she says, biting into a kebab she has purchased from a street vendor in Jamaica, Queens, while her son dozed in his stroller. “What is going to happen is going to happen.”
Jack is not the only one with this laissez-faire attitude. Shoppers stream into and out of shops on Jamaica Avenue, more intent on bargains than bombs, the thought of terrorism apparently far from their minds. The only reminder of the threat of terrorism on the busy street is a T-shirt that proclaims, “United we Stand,” worn by Samuel Wright, a bearded black man in his mid-50s, handing out fliers promoting a dental clinic.
Asked how he views the threat of terrorism, he proclaims, “They’re not going to terrorize me. The Man Above has your number. If it’s your time, it’s your time. Leave it up to the Lord.”
While his T-shirt might be seen as a sign of his patriotism, he says that his love for his country is by no means unequivocal. Both he and Jack say that the US invited trouble by going to war with Iraq in the first place. “I love this country, but not everything about it, and certainly not its president,” Wright says. “I did not vote for Bush, I knew he was lying the first time.”
For others, like Sadia Mohmamed, from Queens Village, Queens, the threat of terrorism has been an opportunity to see the good nature of New Yorkers. Mohammed, in her mid-20s, wears a hijab – as Islamic headscarf – wrapped around her head and shoulders. But, she says, she has not had a hard time either after Sept. 11, or after the more recent London bombings. “If anything, I’ve felt like people have tried harder to show their support,” she says. “They’ve tried to show women like me, who show that they are Muslim, that it’s ok to be yourself. They don’t want us to feel like we are part of (the terrorism that) has been going on.”
It is not just civilians who are relatively unaffected. Sgt. Everton L. Johnson, station commander at the US Army Recruiting Station on Jamaica Avenue, says not much has changed on the US Army’s recruitment front either. If anything, he has seen interest in the US Army increase in the past few months.
Despite negative coverage by the press, Johnson views the fact that the war has increased the public’s awareness of the army in a positive light.
And, while Jack and Wright see the United States’ involvement in Iraq as meddling, Johnson has a different view. “Everyone has an opinion and thinks their opinion is right,” he says. “I’m not here to say that anyone is wrong. But, I believe we have a duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

The pursuit of greatness. . . or happiness?

I have been wondering. . . are the pursuit of greatness and true happiness mutually exclusive? At first glance, they would seem not. . . for why would anyone pursue greatness if it wouldn't lead to ultimate happiness? ,But, in life, it is often small pleasures, shared moments with loved ones, etc. that bring the most happiness, or at least the pleasantest feeling of contentedness. While pursuing greatness, there is often not much time to accomodate these little things . Of course, the ultimate achievement of greatness is supposed to bring happiness. . . but then again, when we reach what was initially our ultimate destination, we create for ourselves another rung, higher up, to aspire to.

The pursuit of greatness is, thus, a choice; sacrifices must be made, and the sacrifices we choose to make, which are often those little things that sustain us and nourish the soul, leave us sad and lonely. Some people change their choice along the way, choosing happiness over greatness, but others persevere, postponing their momentary happiness in the belief that better things await them at the end. But do they?


Does this make ANY sense whatsoever? In my defense, it is now 1:20 a.m., WAY WAY past my bed time, and this thought was floating around in my head, and I needed to get it out. No, I am not on crack, but my mind is a bit fuzzy now, and I should just save this entry as a draft and delete it tomorrow, but I WILL take a chance. I will post it!

A diplomatic event

Last week, I attended a reception hosted by the Sri Lankan ambassador to the UN, Prasad Kariawasam. The event was sponsored by the South Asian Journalists Association (yes, believe it or not, there are enough South Asian journalists around to form an association!!) and the Dean of Students at Columbia, who happens to be South Asian, allowed us aspiring journos to attend as well.

So, there we were, at the oppulent apartment of the Ambassador, complete with white gloved door-men, elevator-men, corridor-men, you name it. ("Note: this is how the other side lives," our Dean told us as we gazed around us with our jaws dropping. Well, I didn't go into journalism for the money, I have to keep reminding myself! I went into it for the love of ferreting out the TRUTH, the unadulterated facts. Even though that means I'll never get to have door-men, elevator-men and corridor-men!)

Anyway, the reception itself was very pleasant. Tasty finger foods, very pleasant company, and a very good conversation with Mr. Kariawasam, who was duly excited to discover that there was a Sri Lankan journalism student at Columbia. I asked him quite innocently, if he was Tamil or Singhalese - since he said he was from Galle (a Singhalese area), but his name sounded Tamil - a question that, in Sri Lanka, can be taken as an attempt to decide if the subject of the question is friend or foe. He looked taken aback, and then started laughing. He did answer my question, though - Singhalese, and we chatted about the difficulty these days of figuring out where a person is from based on their name alone!

He made a brief speech, thanking everyone for coming, etc. Although he was the true diplomat, careful not to ruffle any feathers, he did unwittingly ruffle a few of mine. One statement in particular. In talking about the conflict, he said that "we" are fighting the Tamil rebels. True, he is part of the Sri Lankan government, and as such, the statement is true, for it is the Government that is fighting them. But, it also made me realise anew the huge divide in Sri Lanka between the Government and the Tamil people. Because when the Government says "we", it means the Singhalese, those who are, at least theoretically, on the side of the Government in the civil war that has been tearing the country apart. His statement made me realise that the Government doesn't even want to make a show of representing the Tamil people, because the "we" in his statement certainly doesn't include the Tamils.

It made me angry, but the impromptu press conference didn't allow much time for probing questions. I expect to go back and talk to him at length about a lot of topics he talked about - the peace process, tsunami aid, the economy (the enormous growth in the stock market!) to name a few (I made friends with his first and second secretaries, so that should be easy!). I'll nail him then!!

Incidentally, the President of Sri Lanka is speaking at an event on Sept. 14, and I'm going!! That should definitely be a blogable event!