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More random ramblings
Sep. 11th, 2003 10:17 amWriting an outline for the $§&%?§ statement I'll have to give today, I was struck--not for the first time--by the sheer hypocrisy of so-called Development Aid policy/politics.
I mean, we all use the word 'developing country', it's an everyday word, and we don't (and can't) constantly question/analyze the meaning of everyday words. But if you give the whole concept a closer look, it's pretty disgusting. Developing--into what? Towards which superior level? The answer is, of course, simple: we, i.e. the so-called 'civilized western world' are the paragon of perfection, the one and only standard the rest of the world should be happy to achieve.
The sad truth is that things haven't changed by one iota since the colonial era. They're just being wrapped up more nicely and deceptively. Are we really that blind? Do we really think we're so much better because, in the western hemisphere, people die from being overweight instead of AIDS? Is it really preferable to store away our old people in homes where they die miserable but perfectly clean and sanitized? Just think of France, where thousands died during the heat wave, many of them old people whom *nobody missed*!
And what *do* we do to help them? We give them a bit of money and send some volunteers, but if they dare knock on our door to demand asylum, we say No, sorry, we can't take you, and transport them back to the country they came from, and if they dare scream and defend themselves we seal their mouth with duct tape, and if they die from suffocation (in an airplane full of passengers) we say, Sorry, but you can't blame the policemen in charge, they're just so stressed. Makes you want to puke, doesn't it? (And BTW, the duct tape 'incident' really happened. The policemen were tried and found innocent)
On a more cheerful note, I've decided I'm going to try an experiment: I'll post the first chapters of Orpheus here, friends-only. So the people I like and trust can have a look at them and tell me what they think of them, without causing unnecessary discussions, wars etc.
Even more cheerful: I finally, finally made it to the dermatologist. My skin is riddled with birthmarks, very small but you never know, and it really was time to have them examined. Nothing wrong with them, there's just one the doctor said ought to be either observed regularly or removed. Knowing myself--there's no way I'd go to see the doctor every four months--I opted for the thing being removed next Wednesday. The really good news: it's on my bum, so I won't be able to sit and can't go to work! Wohooooooo!!!! (Of course I'll find a way to sit without too much discomfort, but at home, not at the office) This means--*fanfares*--three (yes, 3!!!!) days of sick leave plus the weekend. Am I lucky or am I lucky?
I mean, we all use the word 'developing country', it's an everyday word, and we don't (and can't) constantly question/analyze the meaning of everyday words. But if you give the whole concept a closer look, it's pretty disgusting. Developing--into what? Towards which superior level? The answer is, of course, simple: we, i.e. the so-called 'civilized western world' are the paragon of perfection, the one and only standard the rest of the world should be happy to achieve.
The sad truth is that things haven't changed by one iota since the colonial era. They're just being wrapped up more nicely and deceptively. Are we really that blind? Do we really think we're so much better because, in the western hemisphere, people die from being overweight instead of AIDS? Is it really preferable to store away our old people in homes where they die miserable but perfectly clean and sanitized? Just think of France, where thousands died during the heat wave, many of them old people whom *nobody missed*!
And what *do* we do to help them? We give them a bit of money and send some volunteers, but if they dare knock on our door to demand asylum, we say No, sorry, we can't take you, and transport them back to the country they came from, and if they dare scream and defend themselves we seal their mouth with duct tape, and if they die from suffocation (in an airplane full of passengers) we say, Sorry, but you can't blame the policemen in charge, they're just so stressed. Makes you want to puke, doesn't it? (And BTW, the duct tape 'incident' really happened. The policemen were tried and found innocent)
On a more cheerful note, I've decided I'm going to try an experiment: I'll post the first chapters of Orpheus here, friends-only. So the people I like and trust can have a look at them and tell me what they think of them, without causing unnecessary discussions, wars etc.
Even more cheerful: I finally, finally made it to the dermatologist. My skin is riddled with birthmarks, very small but you never know, and it really was time to have them examined. Nothing wrong with them, there's just one the doctor said ought to be either observed regularly or removed. Knowing myself--there's no way I'd go to see the doctor every four months--I opted for the thing being removed next Wednesday. The really good news: it's on my bum, so I won't be able to sit and can't go to work! Wohooooooo!!!! (Of course I'll find a way to sit without too much discomfort, but at home, not at the office) This means--*fanfares*--three (yes, 3!!!!) days of sick leave plus the weekend. Am I lucky or am I lucky?
