One of many. Reading the history of Spain one can’t but deplore the shortsightedness of the rulers, particularly that of the most influential.
Just trying to understand today’s minor issues, for instance: the classical rivalry between Barcelona and Madrid soccer teams, I went back over some history books for enlightenment.
They have recently found some new remains of the original Iberian wall of the city of Barcino in the old part of town, “el Barrio Gótico”. Indeed, Barcelona was an original Iberian settlement, back in the 3rd century B.C., later colonized by the Carthaginians. The story goes that Barcelona got its name from Amilcar Barca, head of the Barca family and father of Hannibal. So Barcelona has been in existence for some 2200 years.
Madrid was just a Moorish castle erected sometime in the 11th century (“Madrid, castillo famoso/arde en fiestas su coso/ por ser el natal dichoso/de Alimenón de Toledo….”). It was just that until the XVI century, when Philip the Second of Spain decided to make it the capital of his realm. Tired of freezing his butt in the inhospitable winters of his native Valladolid, he moved south to the gentle hills of the Southern “meseta” past the Central Mountains of Guadarrama, following the advice of some geographical experts that told him that it was the “center” of his world.
That was the vision of a Castilian land-lubber, keener to “physical geography” than to political o social conditions.
By that time he was already the king of Portugal as well, right after the death of King Sebastian in Morocco. He had been married to a Portuguese princess and then became widower as she died of childbirth. (She had mothered the Crown Prince Carlos, the Don Carlos who was going to give so much trouble to his father later on). And he was the rightful heir to the Portuguese throne.
In a historical moment when the ruling of the seas was going to be the mainstay of power, he could have made Lisbon the capital of his vast empire. Lisbon was the “geographical” center of the world, the real new world; the hinge of the Old and the New worlds. That would have been a real “imperial” view, of a global empire.
Instead he got himself (and the country) into trouble for the sake of a religion I am sure he did not believe in, using the Inquisition as a controlling sectarian force and accusing the Catalans of heresy just because they did not want to pay so many taxes to cover the expenses of the war in Flanders.
… and then comes the FIFA and gives the 2006 Golden ball to a Real Madrid defense back Italian bastard instead of our fantastic Ronaldinho...!!! Damn!!!
Friday, December 22, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Un cuento de Navidad
Embarazada de 31 semanas de gestación y con gemelos que se pone de parto en Ibiza y, como allí no pueden hacerse cargo de una situación potencialmente complicada, se procede a trasladarla. Pero no se encuentra un hospital disponible para acogerla ni en Mallorca, ni en Barcelona ni en Valencia, por lo que acaba siendo trasladada al aeropuerto de Reus-Tarragona y de allí al Hospital Universitario de Tarragona Juan XXIII, donde da a luz al cabo de una hora escasa (madrugada del 1 de diciembre). Tanto la madre como los recién nacidos, niño y niña, se encuentran bien. La madre ingresada en la planta de maternidad y los bebés ingresados en la Unidad de Cuidados Intensivos Neonatales del hospital, donde tendrán que permanecer varias semanas.
Buscar acogida para una mujer de parto recuerda la aventura de José de Nazaret y su señora, ahora hace 2006 años. Que el peregrinaje en búsqueda de acogida se haga en avión y que acabe en una UCI neonatal y no en un pesebre no es más que un signo de los tiempos.
Buscar acogida para una mujer de parto recuerda la aventura de José de Nazaret y su señora, ahora hace 2006 años. Que el peregrinaje en búsqueda de acogida se haga en avión y que acabe en una UCI neonatal y no en un pesebre no es más que un signo de los tiempos.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE HEAT
I am just surprised no one, thus far, has used this headline to refer to the Litvinenko affair. The poor guy has been buried in a special coffin to prevent radiation leakage. His is a very hot body.
This strange story takes you easily back to the Cold War years and all the cloak-and-dagger affairs the two superpowers carried on all over the world. With a little help from their friends, indeed, being those the Mossad, the Bulgarian secret services, the French Deuxieme Bureau, the Stasi, and a whole bunch of others more or less recognized shady operators.
The poisoning of Litvinenko has all the trappings of a KGB operation, now taken over by the FSB, as the intelligence services of the Russian Federation are now known. Old habits die hard.
Somehow, however, the British have decided this is just a crime, not a crime of state. Readier to admit the affair more as an embarrassment for the Putin government than his doing, they have obtained full cooperation from the Russian authorities.
The use of such a sophisticated killing method, poisoning with a rare radioactive isotope such as polonium-210 is, at least, convoluted in its development. Looks like the killers wanted a gradual progression towards death for some unknown reason. Killing anyone is a relatively easy matter: gunshot, knife, cyanide poisoning or just a gentle shove in a tube station platform just before the train enters the station… Quick and neat. Now is a mess and the polonium has left a trail all the way from the London hospital where Litvinenko died to several toilets in London restaiurants and hotels, at least 14 British Airlines planes, a Schleswig-Holstein home in Germany, and even Moscow.
Litvinenko had ample time to talk to the authorities and the press, getting all the publicity he could ever wanted. Is it a matter of clumsiness in the part of the killers or is just the intended effect? Indeed, a good script for a spy movie.
Reality often outsmarts fiction: John Le Carre, eat your heart out.
What calls my attention in this story is the radioactive part. Living within a 45 minutes car ride from three nuclear power plants (the fourth, “Vandellos I”, a Chernobyl era old chugging contraption that almost blew up some 15 years ago, is in a never-ending process of being dismantled) keeps me very sensible to nuclear energy and its effects on the human body.
It also seems almost forgotten the ominous fact that the nuclear arsenals of the superpowers (and Russia is still one) hold enough megatons to blow up the entire planet 100 times over. We seem to only shiver a little when somebody announces that so-called rogue states such us North Korea o Iran are about to build atomic bombs, as if the thousands of warheads already existing were not likely to blow up at the whim of one government or another.
Some time ago I was about to join the “Doctors Against Nuclear War” association, just when they got the Nobel Peace price. In an “ex post facto” sensation I felt it was not worth to join anymore. A sort of a “mission accomplished” feeling. Perhaps we need an association of “Doctors against Nuclear Peace”, or “Against Nuclear Energy Of Any Type”
Not that I do not recognized the many good uses of radioactivity, particularly the uses in Nuclear Medicine and radiotherapy, but I keep wondering if the world would not be a better place had the Curie espouses decided to get into cheese making or founded a winery in Alsace, instead of messing around with nuclear isotopes. And if Albert Einstein had used his marvelous relativistic mind to write poetry instead.
May be the next time around. If there is one.
This strange story takes you easily back to the Cold War years and all the cloak-and-dagger affairs the two superpowers carried on all over the world. With a little help from their friends, indeed, being those the Mossad, the Bulgarian secret services, the French Deuxieme Bureau, the Stasi, and a whole bunch of others more or less recognized shady operators.
The poisoning of Litvinenko has all the trappings of a KGB operation, now taken over by the FSB, as the intelligence services of the Russian Federation are now known. Old habits die hard.
Somehow, however, the British have decided this is just a crime, not a crime of state. Readier to admit the affair more as an embarrassment for the Putin government than his doing, they have obtained full cooperation from the Russian authorities.
The use of such a sophisticated killing method, poisoning with a rare radioactive isotope such as polonium-210 is, at least, convoluted in its development. Looks like the killers wanted a gradual progression towards death for some unknown reason. Killing anyone is a relatively easy matter: gunshot, knife, cyanide poisoning or just a gentle shove in a tube station platform just before the train enters the station… Quick and neat. Now is a mess and the polonium has left a trail all the way from the London hospital where Litvinenko died to several toilets in London restaiurants and hotels, at least 14 British Airlines planes, a Schleswig-Holstein home in Germany, and even Moscow.
Litvinenko had ample time to talk to the authorities and the press, getting all the publicity he could ever wanted. Is it a matter of clumsiness in the part of the killers or is just the intended effect? Indeed, a good script for a spy movie.
Reality often outsmarts fiction: John Le Carre, eat your heart out.
What calls my attention in this story is the radioactive part. Living within a 45 minutes car ride from three nuclear power plants (the fourth, “Vandellos I”, a Chernobyl era old chugging contraption that almost blew up some 15 years ago, is in a never-ending process of being dismantled) keeps me very sensible to nuclear energy and its effects on the human body.
It also seems almost forgotten the ominous fact that the nuclear arsenals of the superpowers (and Russia is still one) hold enough megatons to blow up the entire planet 100 times over. We seem to only shiver a little when somebody announces that so-called rogue states such us North Korea o Iran are about to build atomic bombs, as if the thousands of warheads already existing were not likely to blow up at the whim of one government or another.
Some time ago I was about to join the “Doctors Against Nuclear War” association, just when they got the Nobel Peace price. In an “ex post facto” sensation I felt it was not worth to join anymore. A sort of a “mission accomplished” feeling. Perhaps we need an association of “Doctors against Nuclear Peace”, or “Against Nuclear Energy Of Any Type”
Not that I do not recognized the many good uses of radioactivity, particularly the uses in Nuclear Medicine and radiotherapy, but I keep wondering if the world would not be a better place had the Curie espouses decided to get into cheese making or founded a winery in Alsace, instead of messing around with nuclear isotopes. And if Albert Einstein had used his marvelous relativistic mind to write poetry instead.
May be the next time around. If there is one.
The very best
- An Italian wife… and a French mistress
- A British home… and a
- A German car… and a Russian driver (body guard)
- A Swiss accountant… and a Swedish doctor
- A Catalan (perhaps a Chinese) cook, and a Spanish winery
- A Dutch secretary… and a Thai masseuse
- An Hindu servant… and an Argentinean stable boy
- A Japanese laptop… and a Finish cell phone
And the worst is just the opposite...?
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Elections in Catalonia
The Catalans are back to the polls, almost one whole year before the end of the mandate period, as a consequence of the approval of the new Catalan constitution “L’estatut”. That, and the fact that the governing coalition of three parties , the “Tripartit”, was broken on differences over “L’estatut” and a few other major troubles that untied the flimsily woven accord of governance.
Granted that the three parties, identified as “leftists” had major differences to start with, being the Catalan Socialists Party (PSC) a rather benign social-democrat much in the line of British Labour Party, the Esquerra Republicana de Catalunya (ERC) a more radical Catalan nationalist republicans and the third member, Iniciativa per Catalunya-Verds (ICV), a melange of Euro-greens and what is left of the old Catalan Communist Party. Together they overcame the 23 year old governing coalition of rightist nationalists (CiU) while the representatives of the conservative party of Spain in Catalonia, the Partido Popular (PP) was just and excluded minority.
Now these five parties are again in the race and the perspectives are way up in the air.
The candidates are not precisely glamorous, rather lacklustre apparatchiks with long stories of wheelings and dealings in the convoluted Spanish political scene, but not very enticing for the common citizen elector.
The programs offer also very little. Catalonia is still very dependent of the Central Spanish Government. Although the new constitution, “L’estatut”, was meant to grant more autonomy, the final accord fell quite short of many Catalans expectations. The promise of getting more autonomy –and more money—from Madrid in developing the new “estatut” will not get much credibility, no matter who is promising. The socialists (PSC) because their Spanish counterparts, the PSOE, now in power in Madrid already cut the “Estatut” short, and the rest because they will have difficulties pulling off concessions from what are their political adversaries.
The Catalans are, however, a rather accommodating bunch. Prompted to compromises and used to find middle grounds in their way to conduct business, they come from a two millennium history of merchants and traders that once ruled the Mediterranean when outsmarted Venetians and Genovese and even the Popes during the Renaissance.
Today Catalonia is one of the leading countries (as a country it is, though not a state) in the economic development of Europe. What is being called “The Mediterranean Arch”, the coastland from the Italian Liguria all the way to Valencia, accepts Barcelona as its capital, over Marseille or Genoa. The commercial corridors from Milano to Toulouse are extended to Catalonia as the fastest developing region in Europe. Tourism is booming with almost ten million visitors this past year.
Catalans will not put any of this at risk by giving the majority to one single party. They had enough of that after 23 years with CiU, and the PSC, tto dependent of Madrid cannot pull out a majority either. My bet is that the share of the electoral pie will be pretty much the same it was in the last elections, with some minor changes that will be modulated in the post electoral accords between the parties, as the inevitable coalition government is constituted.
Long life to compromise.
Granted that the three parties, identified as “leftists” had major differences to start with, being the Catalan Socialists Party (PSC) a rather benign social-democrat much in the line of British Labour Party, the Esquerra Republicana de Catalunya (ERC) a more radical Catalan nationalist republicans and the third member, Iniciativa per Catalunya-Verds (ICV), a melange of Euro-greens and what is left of the old Catalan Communist Party. Together they overcame the 23 year old governing coalition of rightist nationalists (CiU) while the representatives of the conservative party of Spain in Catalonia, the Partido Popular (PP) was just and excluded minority.
Now these five parties are again in the race and the perspectives are way up in the air.
The candidates are not precisely glamorous, rather lacklustre apparatchiks with long stories of wheelings and dealings in the convoluted Spanish political scene, but not very enticing for the common citizen elector.
The programs offer also very little. Catalonia is still very dependent of the Central Spanish Government. Although the new constitution, “L’estatut”, was meant to grant more autonomy, the final accord fell quite short of many Catalans expectations. The promise of getting more autonomy –and more money—from Madrid in developing the new “estatut” will not get much credibility, no matter who is promising. The socialists (PSC) because their Spanish counterparts, the PSOE, now in power in Madrid already cut the “Estatut” short, and the rest because they will have difficulties pulling off concessions from what are their political adversaries.
The Catalans are, however, a rather accommodating bunch. Prompted to compromises and used to find middle grounds in their way to conduct business, they come from a two millennium history of merchants and traders that once ruled the Mediterranean when outsmarted Venetians and Genovese and even the Popes during the Renaissance.
Today Catalonia is one of the leading countries (as a country it is, though not a state) in the economic development of Europe. What is being called “The Mediterranean Arch”, the coastland from the Italian Liguria all the way to Valencia, accepts Barcelona as its capital, over Marseille or Genoa. The commercial corridors from Milano to Toulouse are extended to Catalonia as the fastest developing region in Europe. Tourism is booming with almost ten million visitors this past year.
Catalans will not put any of this at risk by giving the majority to one single party. They had enough of that after 23 years with CiU, and the PSC, tto dependent of Madrid cannot pull out a majority either. My bet is that the share of the electoral pie will be pretty much the same it was in the last elections, with some minor changes that will be modulated in the post electoral accords between the parties, as the inevitable coalition government is constituted.
Long life to compromise.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
El mal i el dolor
Fa dies que volia escriure a tall de les manifestacions d'autoritats religioses i civils sobre l’existència del mal i les dificultats dels homes per a entendre la seva existència en contraposició al be de Deu i la seva absència en moltes circumstancies terribles de l’actualitat.
Potser que arrenca de les manifestacions del Papa Ratzinger a la seva visita als restes dels camps de concentració nazis d’Alemanya. "On estava Deu?", es preguntava, igual que altres s’ho han fet en relació a la recent guerra del Líban.
Mirant la història, el passat sense massa ira, hi ha innumerables tragèdies, naturals o causades pels homes, que semblen reafirmar la presència del Mal i de rebot podrien negar la d’un Deu misericordiós de les víctimes: tempestes, erupcions volcàniques, inundacions, guerres, pestes, fams... els quatre o potser cinc genets de la Revelació galopant per tota la terra sense descans i sense pietat...
No tinc formació teològica (ni tampoc massa interès) per a argumentar sobre la presència de Deu i la del Mal, personificada aquesta com a diable o rei de l’infern. Les simplificacions maniqueistes no em semblen prou raonables. Ni tampoc tinc humor per a considerar les figures literàries del Mal, des de Mefistófeles fins als dimonis dels “Pastorets”. Ni m’agrada gens la tan estesa moda cinematogràfica nord-americana de les pel·lícules de terror demoníac.
Però per la meva dedicació professional, m’hi trobo sovint en situacions on el patiment, el dolor, l’angoixa pel sofriment ocupen un ample espai i temps. I, habitualment les víctimes son de les que, comunament, es reconeixen com a innocents, si és que totes les víctimes, pel sol fet de ser víctimes no son ja innocents; em refereixo als nens.
Quan aquestes víctimes o els que les acompanyen demanen explicacions: el com ha estat, com a pogut ser, que ho ha causat, el perquè, el perquè ell, el perquè ara... no resulta fàcil donar explicacions. El recurs més comú es la referència inconcreta a “La Biologia”, “la feblesa del cos humà”, la sort o la dissort, o el destí.
Hi ha un punt però que vull comentar. La proximitat sinònima que al català te el “mal” amb el “dolor” i la consideració que el dolor es pot evitar i que és innecessari, especialment el dolor inferit em porta a pensar en la necessitat de l’existència del “mal”.
El dolor, el dolor físic, concretament, hom entén que ha d’ésser evitat. S’ha de combatre. S’ha de alleujar i, en la mesura del possible, anul·lar-lo amb els recursos de que hi disposem: analgèsics i anestèsics. I essent doncs indesitjable, el dolor, no fora millor que no existís? No hauríem de trobar una “vacuna” contra tot dolor?.
Be, doncs no. Ja sabem que els individus que pateixen anestesia neurògena, absència de dolor, tenen una vida curta: com que res els hi fa mal, no saben defensar-se de cops, caigudes i accidents.
El dolor, que hi ha coses que fan “mal”, ajuda a aprendre a protegir-se un mateix. I des de ben petits. Quan un infant toca un objecte calent o punxant adquireix l’experiència del perill de l’indesitjable. El dolor d’una part del cos, d’un òrgan, una articulació o un queixal, et posar sobre avís d’un possible malfuncionament o patiment. Del dolor n’aprenem.
El dolor, el mal, existeix. Es indesitjable però no inútil.
El “Mal”, probablement també.
dissabte, 26 / agost / 2006
Sunday, August 20, 2006
La piel de cabra
Los blogs deberían tener la disciplina de "Mi querido diario". El mío no. ¿Será "querido hebdomadario"? Me acusan, en privado, de escribir sólo los domingos y ni siquiera todos. Como los columnistas de los suplementos dominicales de los periódicos.
Aprovechando este agostado domingo miro hacia atrás y a mi, lo que me llama la atención de este blog es que casi me he olvidado de la idea del trilingüismo que anunciaba al principio y que hablo más de muerte que de vida...
A saber. Un crítico literario me decía hace tiempo que un libro de éxito, me imagino que una novela, debe contener una muerte en la primera página. Como un aviso. Así se atrae la atención del lector que seguirá leyendo a ver que fue lo que condujo a esa muerte. Y, en cambio, no hace falta que las novelas acaben con un muerto al final.
Me imagino que ese es el atractivo de las novelas de crímenes. Y quizá lo que llevó a Gabo García Márquez a mejorarlo anunciando la muerte en el mismísimo título cuando lo que en realidad se anunciaba era su imparable éxito literario.
Los domingos son para el ocio y el descanso, pero a mi frecuentemente me pillan trabajando. Aunque como mi tarea tiene una cierta intermitencia, igual hoy me permito aprovechar para ver una corrida de toros y un partido de fútbol en la televisión, epitome del ocio hispano.
Por ejemplo la última de la feria de San Sebastián: Victorinos para Juan José Padilla, Luis Miguel Encabo, dos veteranos consagrados y para Ivan Fendiño, un novel que es de Orduña, o sea de la tierra. Los "vitorinos" aparentemente siguen siendo lo que eran, ahora que casi nada es así. Enormes, bravos y con unos pitones monumentales.
Si alguien se cree que esto del toro va a menos que se lo pregunte a la familia Chopera que, junto con el ayuntamiento de Donosti han construido una plaza que parece un estadio deportivo americano. Ahí van todas las contradicciones e incongruencias de esta sociedad contenida en la piel de toro que y por ahora, se conoce como España, especialmente desde fuera de ella. A ver si se puede mezclar bien industria de transformación con gastronomía de postín, con nacionalismos leninistas violentos, festivales internacionales de cine, el suelo urbanizable más caro del sur de Europa, el "Eusko Gudari", los hierros de Chillida, las cooperativas de Mondragón y esa plaza de toros de Chopera en Irumbe. Y eso es en esa esquina. En el otro extremo están los cayucos abarrotados de guineanos desembarcando en la playa de Maspalomas en Gran Canaria para deleite de los turistas alemanes.
Como no hay quien lo entienda, me abstengo de interpretarlo. Me limito a constatarlo.
Por cierto, que creo que eso de que el mapa de la península es una piel de toro no es más que una figura literaria nacionalista rancia. En realidad es una piel de cabra. O ¿acaso alguien duda que la cabra, la puta de la cabra, la Capra hispánica, sea el animal español emblemático?
De toda la vida. El toro de lidia es una subespecie criada para la fiesta y con unas dimensiones manejables para los españolitos.
Los polacos se comieron el último uro, el Bos primigenius, el padre de todos los toros, en 1627. Y eso era una bestia de casi dos metros en la cruz y que pesaba dos toneladas. O sea, no apto para corridas.
Así que la piel de cabra. Un poco reducida a dimensiones cotidianas, quizá sea posible entender esto de la España. Lo que no va a haber quien entienda es a los españoles...
Aprovechando este agostado domingo miro hacia atrás y a mi, lo que me llama la atención de este blog es que casi me he olvidado de la idea del trilingüismo que anunciaba al principio y que hablo más de muerte que de vida...
A saber. Un crítico literario me decía hace tiempo que un libro de éxito, me imagino que una novela, debe contener una muerte en la primera página. Como un aviso. Así se atrae la atención del lector que seguirá leyendo a ver que fue lo que condujo a esa muerte. Y, en cambio, no hace falta que las novelas acaben con un muerto al final.
Me imagino que ese es el atractivo de las novelas de crímenes. Y quizá lo que llevó a Gabo García Márquez a mejorarlo anunciando la muerte en el mismísimo título cuando lo que en realidad se anunciaba era su imparable éxito literario.
Los domingos son para el ocio y el descanso, pero a mi frecuentemente me pillan trabajando. Aunque como mi tarea tiene una cierta intermitencia, igual hoy me permito aprovechar para ver una corrida de toros y un partido de fútbol en la televisión, epitome del ocio hispano.
Por ejemplo la última de la feria de San Sebastián: Victorinos para Juan José Padilla, Luis Miguel Encabo, dos veteranos consagrados y para Ivan Fendiño, un novel que es de Orduña, o sea de la tierra. Los "vitorinos" aparentemente siguen siendo lo que eran, ahora que casi nada es así. Enormes, bravos y con unos pitones monumentales.
Si alguien se cree que esto del toro va a menos que se lo pregunte a la familia Chopera que, junto con el ayuntamiento de Donosti han construido una plaza que parece un estadio deportivo americano. Ahí van todas las contradicciones e incongruencias de esta sociedad contenida en la piel de toro que y por ahora, se conoce como España, especialmente desde fuera de ella. A ver si se puede mezclar bien industria de transformación con gastronomía de postín, con nacionalismos leninistas violentos, festivales internacionales de cine, el suelo urbanizable más caro del sur de Europa, el "Eusko Gudari", los hierros de Chillida, las cooperativas de Mondragón y esa plaza de toros de Chopera en Irumbe. Y eso es en esa esquina. En el otro extremo están los cayucos abarrotados de guineanos desembarcando en la playa de Maspalomas en Gran Canaria para deleite de los turistas alemanes.
Como no hay quien lo entienda, me abstengo de interpretarlo. Me limito a constatarlo.
Por cierto, que creo que eso de que el mapa de la península es una piel de toro no es más que una figura literaria nacionalista rancia. En realidad es una piel de cabra. O ¿acaso alguien duda que la cabra, la puta de la cabra, la Capra hispánica, sea el animal español emblemático?
De toda la vida. El toro de lidia es una subespecie criada para la fiesta y con unas dimensiones manejables para los españolitos.
Los polacos se comieron el último uro, el Bos primigenius, el padre de todos los toros, en 1627. Y eso era una bestia de casi dos metros en la cruz y que pesaba dos toneladas. O sea, no apto para corridas.
Así que la piel de cabra. Un poco reducida a dimensiones cotidianas, quizá sea posible entender esto de la España. Lo que no va a haber quien entienda es a los españoles...
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Counting the dead
These days I am getting quite a few e-mails on the Israeli-Hizbulah conflict. Or shall I say the new Lebanon war?.
One in particular, from a Canadian, called "coffin" something, counts the dead. In his page shows the numbers as little coffins. The current tally is of some 30 Israelis, 4 UN force men, and some 500 Lebanese. He gets the figures from the BBC reports.
It's a bad thing to count the dead. In Spain, 70 years after our Civil War we are still counting the dead from both sides. 500.000 is a commonly cited figure. Jose Gironella, a writer, entitled one of his novels about the Civil War "One million dead", pointing out in the prologue that there were 1/2 a million but another half million died in their souls.
Do not count the dead. One is just one too many.
One in particular, from a Canadian, called "coffin" something, counts the dead. In his page shows the numbers as little coffins. The current tally is of some 30 Israelis, 4 UN force men, and some 500 Lebanese. He gets the figures from the BBC reports.
It's a bad thing to count the dead. In Spain, 70 years after our Civil War we are still counting the dead from both sides. 500.000 is a commonly cited figure. Jose Gironella, a writer, entitled one of his novels about the Civil War "One million dead", pointing out in the prologue that there were 1/2 a million but another half million died in their souls.
Do not count the dead. One is just one too many.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
ENRON, KEN LAY AND CAPITALISM
No doubt that the Enron scandal is the typical affair that gives capitalism its bad name. Just as I was browsing through the first pages of “Conspiracy of fools”, a book by Kurt Eichenwald, another NYTimes writer, on the Enron scandal my daughter Barbra gave me recently (and that I am saving for after I finish “Flu”), the news came about Ken Lay’s death, apparently from a heart attack.
I’ve read Ken Lay’s biography in the newspapers: the modest family young boy that made good. First in the Administration and later in Corporate America to lead one of the largest companies in the world of the energy business, to end up, through lies, financial engineering and utter mismanagement, starring a tremendous downfall that ruined hundreds of investors and brought down with it the Arthur Andersen accounting behemoth.
Now he is escaping justice by just dying off and it won’t be of any use for his creditors to dance a fandango over his gravestone.
Back some years ago while the whole scandal was breaking up someone (Was it one of “The Economist” headings?) asked “who is auditing the auditors?”. For audits and regulations are the tools of capitalism control… except when something gets to be big enough to scare everybody, including auditors and government regulators.
In Spain we have our share of high flying crooks as recently was discovered around the “Forum Filatelico” investments scam that just evaporated the savings of some three hundred thousand small investors, manly retired and modest And misters De La Rosa and Mario Conde are currently enjoying the hospitality of the Spanish jail system after their ambitious crookery back in the late nineties proved to be too much for our always inefficient judicial system.
Still all of this together is not enough to invite anyone to change the system. Capitalism is here to stay and one just has to be more keen in controlling thieves and robber barons dressed in Armani. Not that there is anything new under the sun. I have some idea that it was Croesus, in the old Roman times, that staged one of the first recorded delinquent bankruptcies under whatever name they gave it those days. The only difference could be that the Romans were a bit more expedient and simply beheaded the wrongdoers instead of wasting millions in lawyers and legal fees.
Indeed capitalism will survive. As for capitalists, who ever wanted to be the richest tenant in the graveyard?
Sic transit.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
GENERAL TRAVEL RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ADOPTING PARENTS
With a wide range of differences depending of the country where the adoptee is coming from and even the time of the year, there is a set of recommendations for travelling parents common to most of all.
ATTITUDE. No matter how exciting the adventure of adopting a child from a foreign and usually exotic country is, the focus should be place in the fact that we are going to travel with a small child, an infant in most cases.
Babies like it simple. So do wise parents. The less contraptions and accessories, the better. Just watch what local mothers do in Third World countries.
Do not overload yourself with luggage. Think ahead when you travel in, because on the way back you’ll have to carry an extra 10 kilo piece of luggage: Your baby!!!
On the other hand, try to stave off long waiting periods in uncomfortable airport lounges. If there are lines to keep, have just one of the members of the travelling party stand the line (that usually means the daddy) while mother and child sit around in a quiet corner.
A quiet mom keeps a quiet baby. However, babies tend to cry for little or no reason, so do not get upset if your baby gives you a hard time during the trip and waiting periods. No matter how little, he or she will be just as excited as you are from the new experience. Try to soothe him naturally once you have assured yourself that he does not need feeding o changing nappies. Cooing and rocking have always been the normal human way to quiet down a wailing little brat.
THE OTHER’S ATTITUDE. Not everybody likes children. Many adults feel annoyed by the presence of children in the usually close quarters of a travelling vehicle, bus, plane or whatever. It is your worry trying to avoid being a nuisance to others.
Also, in cases of obvious adoption, that is when the ethnic features show clearly that the parents are not biological, some brows may be raised in surprise or contempt. Adopting children from a poor country is not always seen with sympathy. So do not force your happiness on anyone nor expect any special treatment for carrying a baby.
Due to gender differences and behaviours in most Third World countries, women, mothers, keep to themselves and hardly ever make eye contact with others. You’ll be better off melting in with the crowd and try to behave like a local mom. You do not have to wear a “burka”: just pretend you do. A head scarf might help.
But just the same do not put up with stupidity or rudeness. Your baby is the most important thing in the world. Think on his/her and his/her outmost benefit and act consequently. Just as lionesses do…
Table 1. Medicines and remedies for travelling parentsBabies like it simple. So do wise parents. The less contraptions and accessories, the better. Just watch what local mothers do in Third World countries.
Do not overload yourself with luggage. Think ahead when you travel in, because on the way back you’ll have to carry an extra 10 kilo piece of luggage: Your baby!!!
On the other hand, try to stave off long waiting periods in uncomfortable airport lounges. If there are lines to keep, have just one of the members of the travelling party stand the line (that usually means the daddy) while mother and child sit around in a quiet corner.
A quiet mom keeps a quiet baby. However, babies tend to cry for little or no reason, so do not get upset if your baby gives you a hard time during the trip and waiting periods. No matter how little, he or she will be just as excited as you are from the new experience. Try to soothe him naturally once you have assured yourself that he does not need feeding o changing nappies. Cooing and rocking have always been the normal human way to quiet down a wailing little brat.
THE OTHER’S ATTITUDE. Not everybody likes children. Many adults feel annoyed by the presence of children in the usually close quarters of a travelling vehicle, bus, plane or whatever. It is your worry trying to avoid being a nuisance to others.
Also, in cases of obvious adoption, that is when the ethnic features show clearly that the parents are not biological, some brows may be raised in surprise or contempt. Adopting children from a poor country is not always seen with sympathy. So do not force your happiness on anyone nor expect any special treatment for carrying a baby.
Due to gender differences and behaviours in most Third World countries, women, mothers, keep to themselves and hardly ever make eye contact with others. You’ll be better off melting in with the crowd and try to behave like a local mom. You do not have to wear a “burka”: just pretend you do. A head scarf might help.
But just the same do not put up with stupidity or rudeness. Your baby is the most important thing in the world. Think on his/her and his/her outmost benefit and act consequently. Just as lionesses do…
TRAVEL KIT.
CLOTHING. When you get your child you may well change him to new (your) clothing. The simplest garments the better: a two pieces, shirt and pants, preferably cotton, washable and of light colours. Better oversized, he’ll fill them in eventually. Depending of the climate and temperature some other pieces may be added. Better fewer pieces or swaddles. Avoid the “onion baby” with four or five shirts, pullovers and jerseys. Keep in mind the temperature changes during the day and night and the air-conditioning in planes, as well as the sudden changes on boarding and unboarding.
For babies, one piece suits, bottom and back opened feet included, usually come handy. Make provisions for at least one change of everything because soiling is unexpectedly common.
Your provision of diapers should consider up to some six to seven changes in a 24 hour period. All the same, a little urine in a diaper never harmed anyone, so do not be over-compulsive in diaper changes.
FOOD AND NURSING. It will, of course, depend on the child’s age. For small children, babies and toddlers a set of two bottles, plastic washable, one for water and one for formulae, and a provision of nipples. Use only bottled water from unopened containers both to drink and to prepare formulae. Milk and baby-food in general do not need to be heated and may be given at room temperature[2]. If is too cold, just warmed it with your own body heat, keeping the bottle close to your own body for a few minutes.
To wash and clean bottle and nipples soap should suffice, as most children taken into adoption are of an age when they have already acquired a normal intestinal flora for the region where they live. Other than that and since boiling may not be feasible while travelling, the best disinfectant is plain regular lye, apt for human consumption. One tablespoon per litre of washing water will clear most common contaminants. Remember that the proportion for drinkable water is just 20 drops of lye per litre.
You may use whatever formula you bring with you from scratch. Changing formulae may upset the babies digestions, but that may happen just as well for changes in the water the formulae are prepared with. You may as well accept or purchase the formula the baby has been taking until then, as long as you get unopened and sealed containers. Discard any opened or used can since no guaranties of preservation can be taken for granted in most institutions.
Remember to prepare the formulae following strictly the manufacturers instructions. And do it yourself. Do not let hotel personnel, stewardesses or anybody else to prepare your child’s formula. You may not have previous childrearing experience, but you cannot trust what they have either. You’ll learn in the doing and your child will get used to your mistakes. That’s what mothering is.
In any case you’ll be better off with the lowest concentrations, that is: keeping the milk a bit clearer, with more water content. Your main concern should be around thirst, not so much about hunger. Specially if the baby, because of the changes, has more loose stools or frank diarrhoea. If the baby acts hungry just give him some more quantity, or feed him/her more often. The purpose is to keep the child happy and hydrated. You’ll have plenty of time at home to nourish and fatten your child, and that just if he/she needs so, because nutrition is a matter of quality, not quantity.
MEDICINES. You just cannot take with you the whole pharmaceutical production of industrialised countries. You will not need it either. Provisions just have to be made for minor ailments as for anyone travelling. Should you or your child or anyone else in your party get really sick you’ll just use the local medical resources. That should be better than trying to play doctors in the jungle.
Therefore the remedies to use are mostly those considered symptomatic: pain relievers, soothing creams, antacids, antibugs lotions, nose and eye drops and perhaps laxatives, although Moctezuma may prove otherwise. Prescription drugs should be kept for doctors, even in the Third World. They ought to know better, at least locally. Just the same it might be a good idea to carry along an antibiotic for general use in case of an obvious infectious problem while we get to proper medical care.
A list of medicines and doses is provided below.
TOYS AND ENTERTAINING. Toys, pacifiers and child entertainment devices are Western cultural constructions. Save yourself troubles and weight and forfeit toys and other useless things. Children can be distracted, entertained and otherwise amused with simple things like a piece of paper, clothing or just their own hands and feet. Save the teddy bears and overhead hanging mobile contraptions for grandparents or old aunts on due time. Still, the best, more universal of toys, is a ball[3] appropriate for the child’s size… that you can always model with a newspaper sheet.
Pacifiers may start a war instead of make peace. Specially when a child used to suck that dreadful invention looses it and starts crying in desperation. And be worth a king’s ransom when you come to grips with fixing your child’s denture before adolescence. Orthodontics are close to highway robbery in costs of money and to jail terms on time consumption. A con’s world.
In case of an emergency you may resort to a bottle nipple, or momma’s own, to cork up a screaming little fellow.
BATHING AND HYGIENE. One bath a day should suffice, other than what may be needed around diaper changes. The water just above body temperature in submersion baths. But, while travelling, a sponge bath may make do. Make sure you revise crevices and skin folds to avoid accumulation of grime and wash the hair at least every second day.
For skin care oils are better, as ancient Egyptians and Romans knew. But carrying bottles of oil may be difficult and if opened within a suitcase generate quiet a mess. So you may stick to baby lotions but do not overdo yourself. A baby with a healthy skin needs little protection. Just cleaning.
Sun screens are for Westerners. The best protection from the sunrays is a shade. In Spanish, and they (we) do know about sun, “sombra”, “sombrilla”, “sombrero” and “sombrajo”[4] are key words to keep cool.
PRODUCT | USES | DOSAGE |
Acetaminophen | Fever, pain medicine | Children Drops: 10-15 mg /kg body weight Adults: 500 mg tablets |
Ibuprofen | Fever, pain medicine | Children Drops or liquid: 5 mg/kg of bw 3-4 times daily Adults: 400 mg tablets |
Saline solution: 0.9 % salt in water, sterile | Eye drops, cleansing | Ad lib |
Ampicillin (Antibiotic) | Infections. General, diagnosed (ear infection, pneumonia, severe skin infection) | Children: oral solution, 50-100 mg/kg/day in 3-4 divided doses. Adults 0.5 gr, 3 times daily |
Albuterol, Salbutamol, bronchodialator | Asthma, bronchitis and bronchiolitis | Inhaled. One “puff” as needed. Children use of a breathing chamber[5] |
Antiparasitic lotion, anti lice lotion | Lice | Apply after hair washing, twice daily |
Tiorfan. Anti-diarrhoea | Regular diarrhoea. Not for salmonella infections | Babies 10 mg/feeding Toddlers 20-30 mg/feeding Adults 60 mg 4-5 times daily |
Antibiotic eye drops | Conjunctivitis | One drop in each eye every 2-4 hours for one day |
Skin disinfectants: iodine, iodine derivates, | Erosions, little wounds | Apply as needed, generously |
WC Fields, a cynical an very funny North American clown and showman way back in the 1930’s used to say that “... a man who hates dogs and children can’t be all bad….”
[2] We drink the best of the wines “chambrèe”, don’t we?
[3] Think of the millions of people and dollars that go around a ball in football and basketball courts around the world.
[4] Shade, umbrella, hat, and thatch.
[5] You may make do with a water plastic bottle with the bottom cut off
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