Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts
Friday, September 19, 2008
Something I think You Should Read
Every now and then, I'll read a book that really influences the way I think, sparks new interests, opens my eyes, or just really has such a tremendous impact on me that I just have to share it with everyone.
This can be said of Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner.
(Do not click on the above link if you don't want to know all the details. This link contains a plot summary and will spoil the ending if you haven't read the novel yet)
The Kite Runner tells the tale of a wealthy Kabul merchant's son, Amir. Amir comes from a world where the divide between social castes is very apparent. Amir's father is a member of the ruling caste of Pashtuns. Amir's childhood friend (and only true friend) belongs to a caste that is considered the lowliest and most despised one. Hassan is a Hazara and friendship or any kind of connection between the castes is frowned upon. Not only is Hassan a Hazara, but he is also Amir's servant.
Amir struggles with his decisions regarding his friendship with Hassan. In a country that is in the midst of rising religious, ethnic, and political tensions, Amir lets his friendship with his only true friend fade away as he alienates himself from Hassan.
As the Afghan monarchy begins to fall and with the Soviet Invasion and the rise of the Taliban regime, Amir and his father (like many other refugees) decide to flee. Some refugees went to Pakistan, and others to the United States. Amir and his father flee to California. Left behind are his old life, the memories of his childhood, and the friend who was almost like a brother to him. Amir severs the ties he has with his friend and leaves Hassan to suffer a terrible fate.
Many years later, when Amir is an adult, he receives a phone call from Rahim Khan, an old family friend who is now in Pakistan. Rahim Khan asks that Amir return to his home country as a favor to the dying man. Amir has to right what has been wronged.
Amir learns some overwhelming news that forces him to realize who he really is.Throughout the remainder of the novel, the phrase "There is a way to be good again" is repeated several times. It is a reminder to Amir that he must make things right for his only true friend and be courageous for the first time in his life.
This is a novel of overwhelming sadness, yet in the end we see that there is a glimmer of hope. I found myself crying at several points in the story. I could not believe how angry and disgusted some parts made me. Though this is a work of fiction, it really stirs up and provokes deep emotions regarding humankind, human suffering, the injustices suffered by people who are not in the ruling caste, and the terrible results that can come out of the abuse of power.
Though some parts were so vividly descriptive and graphic, it is a wonderful read. I read it in 9 hours! Remember I have been suffering from insomnia this trimester? Perhaps Baby is preparing me for the the potential lack of sleep I may be getting in a few months? Hubby jokingly says, "No! Our baby is going to sleep through every night!" Let's see about that! :)
I read 5 hours on Monday (went to bed at 2AM) and 4 hours on Tuesday (went to bed at 1 AM). Ha! I don't know how I was still able to function and do any work! Crazy!
The Kite Runner is such a gripping tale. I just could not put the book down and was so sad when I realized I had finished reading all 391 pages.
Have you ever read a book that was so good that you just never wanted it to end? What is one book that has left an imprint in your mind and in your heart?
This can be said of Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner.
(Do not click on the above link if you don't want to know all the details. This link contains a plot summary and will spoil the ending if you haven't read the novel yet) The Kite Runner tells the tale of a wealthy Kabul merchant's son, Amir. Amir comes from a world where the divide between social castes is very apparent. Amir's father is a member of the ruling caste of Pashtuns. Amir's childhood friend (and only true friend) belongs to a caste that is considered the lowliest and most despised one. Hassan is a Hazara and friendship or any kind of connection between the castes is frowned upon. Not only is Hassan a Hazara, but he is also Amir's servant.
Amir struggles with his decisions regarding his friendship with Hassan. In a country that is in the midst of rising religious, ethnic, and political tensions, Amir lets his friendship with his only true friend fade away as he alienates himself from Hassan.
As the Afghan monarchy begins to fall and with the Soviet Invasion and the rise of the Taliban regime, Amir and his father (like many other refugees) decide to flee. Some refugees went to Pakistan, and others to the United States. Amir and his father flee to California. Left behind are his old life, the memories of his childhood, and the friend who was almost like a brother to him. Amir severs the ties he has with his friend and leaves Hassan to suffer a terrible fate.
Many years later, when Amir is an adult, he receives a phone call from Rahim Khan, an old family friend who is now in Pakistan. Rahim Khan asks that Amir return to his home country as a favor to the dying man. Amir has to right what has been wronged.
Amir learns some overwhelming news that forces him to realize who he really is.Throughout the remainder of the novel, the phrase "There is a way to be good again" is repeated several times. It is a reminder to Amir that he must make things right for his only true friend and be courageous for the first time in his life.
This is a novel of overwhelming sadness, yet in the end we see that there is a glimmer of hope. I found myself crying at several points in the story. I could not believe how angry and disgusted some parts made me. Though this is a work of fiction, it really stirs up and provokes deep emotions regarding humankind, human suffering, the injustices suffered by people who are not in the ruling caste, and the terrible results that can come out of the abuse of power.
Though some parts were so vividly descriptive and graphic, it is a wonderful read. I read it in 9 hours! Remember I have been suffering from insomnia this trimester? Perhaps Baby is preparing me for the the potential lack of sleep I may be getting in a few months? Hubby jokingly says, "No! Our baby is going to sleep through every night!" Let's see about that! :)
I read 5 hours on Monday (went to bed at 2AM) and 4 hours on Tuesday (went to bed at 1 AM). Ha! I don't know how I was still able to function and do any work! Crazy!
The Kite Runner is such a gripping tale. I just could not put the book down and was so sad when I realized I had finished reading all 391 pages.
Have you ever read a book that was so good that you just never wanted it to end? What is one book that has left an imprint in your mind and in your heart?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
The Ghosts of our Pasts
"Have you ever heard of the Rape of Nanking?" I asked my husband this morning. He had never heard of it before and neither had I. I was reading about it the other week on my gal pal, Curiosity Killer's blog. I wondered why no one had ever told me about it before. I am part Chinese, but no one on my dad's side had ever told me the story of Nanking and the brutal atrocities that the Japanese army committed during their occupation of Nanjing in the late 1930's . (Thanks, CK- for the informative post)
I remember when I announced to my family after graduating from university, that I was going off to teach English in Japan, the reaction from my grandparents on my mother's side was slightly mixed. They were pleased that I had made a decision to flee the nest and spread my wings. They were excited about me teaching and making use of the diplomas and certificates that I worked years on obtaining. They were excited that I followed my grandmother's footsteps and decided to become a teacher. The one thing I remember the most though, was the saddened and worried look on my grandmother's face. She didn't want me to think that the Japanese were awful people, because she said that what happened was part of her history and did not affect me in the present. My grandparents on my mom's side are both from the Philippines and the filipinos were treated brutally by the Japanese back then. The Hidalgos and the Vergaras were very prosperous in their time, but when the war hit, a different story would be told. They would go on to live a prosperous life again after the war ended though.
My grandmother told me of how the people in their village would hide and run for safety. They'd build fires in the daytime so the flames wouldn't be seen at night. My grandmother told of how she wrapped up my uncle (the eldest child of seven children) in blankets and carried him in a sling...and prayed he wouldn't cry and arouse the attention of the Japanese army. I could not imagine such a harrowing experience and cried when my grandmother recounted her story. She said that she hid in a house, pressing herself and my uncle (who was a baby then) against the wall, closing her eyes and waiting for the army to pass them by. She said that the Japanese army took babies and threw them up in the air and bayonnetted them.
My grandmother told me how my grandfather and a few other men in the village were gathered up and lined up against the wall in the plaza in the middle of town...and were to be executed for helping the Americans. My grandfather and the other men were saved when one of the men in the village cleverly (or in desperation) set the roof of his house on fire! The Japanese army's attention was diverted to the burning house, and my grandfather was able to flee.
My grandfather (who passed away in 1999), remained silent about the entire experience. He then said that what happened then was in the past and that things have changed. That's what I love the most about my grandparents. They have experienced so many things in their lives that would make one become bitter and hateful, but they came out with a different understanding and wanted their grandchildren to know that all Japanese people aren't 'bad' and that was an experience they had. My grandfather once told me that any act of violence, degradation or injustice is inexcusable. It's just wrong. He did go on to say that we cannot change what happened in the past and that we can only control of what is happening now and make a difference in the future. One would think that after going through something as horrific as this, they would be hateful. It was quite the opposite. Sure, they had hard feelings towards the Japanese, but my grandparents told us that there is no use in holding onto the hate forever. I love my grandparents for being such good people :)
To this day, the story still makes me cry...especially on days when I miss my grandfather.
The photos are of 1) my cousin's tribute to our late grandfather and 2) our family's coat of arms
**I did end up still going to Japan and lived there for two years. I had an amazing experience and loved learning about the culture, the art and the history.**
Friday, March 30, 2007
I'm Back!!!
Being away the past few days made me realize a few things:
1) I love my little nephew to bits. He is the cutest, sweetest little boy ever. Just being home a few hours, I already miss those sweet, chubby cherub cheeks, and that baby soft smell!
2) I hate, hate, hate being away from my husband (this was our first time apart in the past two years together).
3) The trip from the Island to Kingston by bus is something I never ever want to do again! I should have driven, but didn't want to drive by myself. I thought taking the bus would be the best idea, but it was horrible!!! I will explain further in #4.
4) I think as I am getting older, my tolerance level for certain things has really decreased. I realized that on the bus, I just got so annoyed with people who:
A) Wouldn't shut up the entire 12 hours!! I was seriously annoyed and wanted to tell those people to just shut up! There was a really inebriated man who was so drunk that he was rowdy and rude. He told this one guy (who happened to be black) that the Ku Klux Klan ought to go after him. Like who says those kinds of things?? What an idiot!
B) I can't stand it when people use foul language when there are children present. I understand that a person ought to be free to say whatever he/she feels, but when there are children present, I think it is distasteful and inconsiderate to swear like a sailor and use the F-word every chance you get. I'm definitely not a saint and I won't pretend I am. I do utter some unpleasant words once in a while, but it's usually if I'm really upset or if I accidentally injure myself. I really to make a conscious effort not to, especially when children or people older than me are present.
C) I think it's really, REALLY annoying when people talk down to other people or disrespect others and think it's cool. There were these two military boys from the States who were on the bus and they were talking very loudly. It was impossible for people on the bus to not hear them, and they were including other people in their conversation. They seemed to think they were cool in talking about prostitutes and the way they treat women...and that they aren't as 'responsible' as they ought to be (in reference to not using condoms during intercourse). Like why on earth would one admit to such things and boast about it? It's certainly nothing to be proud of! One guy was telling me how he treats his girlfriend like dirt and she still begs to be with him. He told me that the other day, he stopped the car and told her to get out and walk home...it was night time and it was in the middle of nowhere. I asked why he did that and he said because he could.
I am seriously starting to think that I'm not as nice a person as I would like to think I am. I just can't cope with stupid people. Does that make me a horrible person?
Oh, and lastly...
5) I must have a big sign painted on my forehead that reads : PLEASE COME UP AND TALK TO ME or something. I seem to be a magnet for all crazy people. I just seem to attract all the crazies out there. Why, oh why do strangers always come up to me and talk to me??? I was trying to peacefully and quietly enjoy the trip back to the Island, when some lady who looks a lot like Goldie Hawn sat down next to me. She saw that I was crocheting a baby blanket and asked me about it. That began a 6 hr talking fest of how she was remarried and her new husband cheated on her with some young, sexy thing, but she still loves him and is taking him back. She went on and on about her life. I suppose it's normal to strike up a conversation with people on the bus, but there are some strange people out there. After popping some pill, she gave me her address and phone number and asked me to keep in touch. I genuinely liked her. She seemed nice enough and she had an interesting life. I don't think I'll be keeping in touch though. This sort of thing just seems to happen to me all too often. Once when Hubby and I went down South, we stopped off in some town to get a coffee, stretch our legs, and use the facilities, and some lady started talking to me in the bathroom. When I got out and sat for a coffee with Hubby, she sat next to us and continued talking. I think Hubby was amused that this stranger would be so intent on talking...and that she gave me her phone number, e-mail address and mailing address and invited us to her housewarming party. Who invites total strangers to their housewarming party? Especially if you met that person in the washroom at a coffee shop?? I'm just an open receptacle for weird energy out there.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Harmony in a Multicultural city???
I don't know why this memory just resurfaced. It was a crisp winter night (years ago, when I still lived in Toronto) and beautiful, delicate white snowflakes swirled about in the evening air. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and the city was lit up with holiday decor and people on their way home from their office Christmas parties. I always thought it was funny that we celebrated "Office Christmas Parties", since many companies had employees that did not celebrate Christmas. Anyway, it was just an appreciation night for employees and everyone was able to enjoy a nice dinner and the company of workmates. Toronto was always a gorgeous city at night.
I said goodnight to my co-workers, and hailed a cab. It was late and I didn't want to take the night bus or the subway. I just longed to be in the comfort of my bed and wait for slumber to take me. It wasn't long before a taxi stopped at the curb. Thank goodness I didn't have to wait long. I had on my thick winter coat and my scarf and mitts, but I still wouldn't have wanted to wait long for a taxi.
"Where to?" asked the cabby, and I told him the address.
Generally, I'm a very friendly person and I love engaging in convesation with strangers. I love getting to know about people's lives and their backgrounds. This cabby was friendly and talkative. He was wearing a turban and I forget where he said he was from. I remember him saying he was Sikh though. Very friendly guy. That's what I liked about Toronto- you could meet people from all over the globe in one city. Imagine all the interesting stories and funny ways how people are connected somehow.
"Where are you from?" asked the middle-aged man, as he looked at me from his rearview mirror.
"I'm from here." I replied.
"No, where are you from?" he insisted.
Getting annoyed now, I said, "I'm from Toronto. I was born here. I'm Canadian."
He seemed to be getting edgy now and his pleasant demeanor started turning into something aggressive. "What country are your parents from?" he demanded.
I happily told him, "My dad's Caribbean/Chinese and my mom's Filipina".
"AHA! I thought so! You're Philippine!"
"My mom's filipina."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Okay, now this is where things were getting uncomfortable.
"Yes, I do." Even if I didn't, I'd have said that I did, because I was getting creeped out.
"Is he black? White?"
OMG, was this guy serious??? "He's actually French-Canadian" I said.
"I thought so. Philippine women are loose. They go with anyone." I was shocked! Excuse me??? He kept going on about filipina women but the words kind of got lost in a muffled sound. I guess I was tuning him out. I told him, "Stop the car. Let me out here." I gave him my money for the fare and ended up taking the night bus to my apartment.
In a city as multicultural as Toronto, I'd have thought that people co-existed and respected each other. Was I being naive? I was so infuriated! Stepping into the cab, I just thought he was a nice man. I had no pre-conceived notions about him. The guy didn't even know me- he didn't know that I have a university education and that I am a teacher...and just classified all filipina women with 'going with anyone', being either a nurse, domestic, nanny, or prostitute! That just pissed me off! To me, people are people. Everyone deserves to be treated well and with respect. You can't just say all people of a certain culture are one type of people.
Perhaps the memory of this incident has resurfaced because it's a reminder of how jaded and disillusioned that incident made me. I can see how I started off the taxi ride with excitement and enthusiasm, being in the company of a friendly, talkative man who reminded me of a type of father figure. Gradually, I felt the arrogance and the aggression and my idea of living in a city where everyone treated each other with kindness and respect seemed like a childish idea. When I got off the bus, I thought I should have taken his employee number and complained to the taxi company. That wouldn't have done anything though. Not only do you not insult the person who's giving you money to earn a living, but you also don't insult strangers like that. I tried to think up excuses for his behaviour. He's from a country where women are subservient to their men. He's from a patriarchal society. Nah...there is just no excuse for saying things like that. My parents taught us that all cultures and nationalities ought to be respected. It scares me to think what some people may teach their children if they grow up saying things like that cabby did. I'm not angry about it anymore...just sad for him.
I said goodnight to my co-workers, and hailed a cab. It was late and I didn't want to take the night bus or the subway. I just longed to be in the comfort of my bed and wait for slumber to take me. It wasn't long before a taxi stopped at the curb. Thank goodness I didn't have to wait long. I had on my thick winter coat and my scarf and mitts, but I still wouldn't have wanted to wait long for a taxi.
"Where to?" asked the cabby, and I told him the address.
Generally, I'm a very friendly person and I love engaging in convesation with strangers. I love getting to know about people's lives and their backgrounds. This cabby was friendly and talkative. He was wearing a turban and I forget where he said he was from. I remember him saying he was Sikh though. Very friendly guy. That's what I liked about Toronto- you could meet people from all over the globe in one city. Imagine all the interesting stories and funny ways how people are connected somehow.
"Where are you from?" asked the middle-aged man, as he looked at me from his rearview mirror.
"I'm from here." I replied.
"No, where are you from?" he insisted.
Getting annoyed now, I said, "I'm from Toronto. I was born here. I'm Canadian."
He seemed to be getting edgy now and his pleasant demeanor started turning into something aggressive. "What country are your parents from?" he demanded.
I happily told him, "My dad's Caribbean/Chinese and my mom's Filipina".
"AHA! I thought so! You're Philippine!"
"My mom's filipina."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Okay, now this is where things were getting uncomfortable.
"Yes, I do." Even if I didn't, I'd have said that I did, because I was getting creeped out.
"Is he black? White?"
OMG, was this guy serious??? "He's actually French-Canadian" I said.
"I thought so. Philippine women are loose. They go with anyone." I was shocked! Excuse me??? He kept going on about filipina women but the words kind of got lost in a muffled sound. I guess I was tuning him out. I told him, "Stop the car. Let me out here." I gave him my money for the fare and ended up taking the night bus to my apartment.
In a city as multicultural as Toronto, I'd have thought that people co-existed and respected each other. Was I being naive? I was so infuriated! Stepping into the cab, I just thought he was a nice man. I had no pre-conceived notions about him. The guy didn't even know me- he didn't know that I have a university education and that I am a teacher...and just classified all filipina women with 'going with anyone', being either a nurse, domestic, nanny, or prostitute! That just pissed me off! To me, people are people. Everyone deserves to be treated well and with respect. You can't just say all people of a certain culture are one type of people.
Perhaps the memory of this incident has resurfaced because it's a reminder of how jaded and disillusioned that incident made me. I can see how I started off the taxi ride with excitement and enthusiasm, being in the company of a friendly, talkative man who reminded me of a type of father figure. Gradually, I felt the arrogance and the aggression and my idea of living in a city where everyone treated each other with kindness and respect seemed like a childish idea. When I got off the bus, I thought I should have taken his employee number and complained to the taxi company. That wouldn't have done anything though. Not only do you not insult the person who's giving you money to earn a living, but you also don't insult strangers like that. I tried to think up excuses for his behaviour. He's from a country where women are subservient to their men. He's from a patriarchal society. Nah...there is just no excuse for saying things like that. My parents taught us that all cultures and nationalities ought to be respected. It scares me to think what some people may teach their children if they grow up saying things like that cabby did. I'm not angry about it anymore...just sad for him.
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City girl moves to the country, falls in love, and marries a farmer. She tries to incorporate her city ways with her new country lifestyle and blogs to keep in touch with friends, family & students who live far, far away :) Can this city girl go country? Watch as she learns all sorts of exciting things about life on the farm and in a small rural community. *UPDATE* We are now parents! Our baby girl was born on Nov. 11, 2008 (at 28 weeks gestation- 12 weeks premature, but she's quite the trooper)!!!
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