Sex and the Tsunami

The last few days I have read a string of articles that reiterate in my mind the close connection between sex and disaster. I remember reading a book once in my 20th Century American Wars class in college, which talked about the relationship between sex and the brutal savagery of war. For some reason in the midst of an inhuman situation, a significant portion of the population becomes aroused and often times crosses the line into sexual deviancy. If anyone can point me to a specific study I’d appreciate it but in my view there is already anecdotal evidence in the wake of the Tsunami disaster. From the AP (thanks for the tip Julie T):

A teenager who escaped death but was left orphaned and homeless by the Asian tsunami met yet one more agony: gang rape, one of several cases of child abuse being investigated in the disaster zone, an official said.

Of all the human tragedies emerging from the worst natural disaster in decades, sexual abuse of vulnerable children in refugee camps must be among the most shocking.

… But psychological and behavioral problems are certain to become more important as the authorities gain control over the life-threatening issues.

De Silva said his governmental agency already is investigating several complaints of sexual abuse in centers housing tens of thousands of survivors.

So far, the cases of suspected abuse have been isolated. But officials are concerned that the trauma of the catastrophe, coupled with the close quarters in the refugee centers, could spawn many more cases.

“In the aftermath of displacement and shock you do see an increase of abuse and violence against women and children,” said Ted Chaiban, head of the U.N. children’s agency in Colombo.

With the huge number of orphans, the worst elements of society are out and practicing their trade:

Text messages offering to sell hundreds of Indonesian orphans into sexual slavery are fueling fears that pedophile rings are prowling the tsunami-ravaged region.

“Three hundred orphans aged 3-10 years from Aceh for adoption,” read the message that appeared yesterday on the cell phone of a UNICEF worker in nearby Malaysia.

“All paperwork will be taken care of. No fee. Please state age and sex of child required.”

Continue reading

How do you bury a news story?

bg-map.gifAn OpEd in the Boston Globe tackles an issue which is part of the reason we put so much energy into Sepia Mutiny – Boston.com / News / Boston Globe / Living / Arts / Deliver us from faraway evil

Human apathy toward mass deprivation is legendary. Aid organizations know this. For decades, the relief organization Save the Children has urged first-world donors to underwrite the well-being of a specific child somewhere in the Third World. Why? Because no one cares about saving children in the abstract. But people do care about saving Marzina, an 8-year-old from Bangladesh, who is currently seeking a sponsor. The media likewise know that gargantuan disaster stories have to be correctly packaged to capture readers’ attention. There is an old, politically incorrect saying in newsrooms: How do you change a front-page story about massive flood devastation into a 50-word news brief buried inside the paper? Just add two words: ”In India.”

Sad but True.

Back in the early 90s, a round of cyclones / floods in Bangladesh killed almost 140k folks — a comparable number to the Tsunami’s toll (for now). This situation was possibly more acute because all the carnage was concentrated in a single, dirt-poor nation with 140M people and few resort beaches. Needless to say, that story appeared & disappeared from our headlines pretty darn quickly.

Still, I don’t fault the newspaper editors of the world too much – it’s human nature for Americans to care more about Americans & Swedes about Swedes (be they on Phuket resorts or down a well in Midland, Texas). My takeaway is that it’s an important reaffirmation of the importance of micro-media outfits like Sepia Mutiny, desi blogs, and vast collaboration media like the Internet.

Will the U.S. participate in an Indian Moon mission?

The 92nd session of the Indian Science Congress is taking place right now in Ahmedabad and the U.S. is hinting at closer cooperation with India in space exploration as reported by IndiaExpress.com:

“India is working on a mission to moon. We are looking at collaborations with India in this,” Dr Lee Morin, Deputy Assistant Secretary for Science at the US Department of State, Bureau of Oceans and International Environment and Scientific Affairs and a NASA astronaut, told reporters in Ahmedabad at the 92nd session of the Indian Science Congress.

“US is also looking at collaboration in the area of telemedicine,” he said.

One of Bush’s main legacy projects will be an ambitious space agenda, including the first steps in a return to the Moon and preparations for a manned mission to Mars (although both will occur long after he has left office and would be subject to the whims of future administrations). The International Space Station was created with the help of 16 countries, of which India was not one. Baby steps like this could pave the way for India to be an active partner in such ambitious undertakings allowing Indian nationalism to be inspired by something other than nuclear weapons. Let us hope though that scientists such as this guy at the SAROUL (Scientific Advance Research of Universe and Life) conference in New Delhi don’t get to participate in space exploration:

When water was there in Mars, there was a definite life; small insects, reptiles and fishes were the natural life, fishes used to live in small, medium and big lakes.

There were no seas or oceans on Mars, only lakes were available, where the river used to end their journey by dropping water, particularly in the big lakes.” Dr. Baldev said.

Ummm. No. That statement is absurdly false on so many levels, and the worst part is that some of the press won’t know any better.

Good thing India has a caste system.

When I was a wee girl, my parents brought home one of what would be a scant handful of Malayalam phil-ims; the plot involved an extremely loved child who drowns and the inevitable emotional Sturm und Drang that accompanies such tragedies.

I almost don’t remember anything about the movie: not the actors, not the words, not the setting…I blank when I try and reach back for those details. I only remember one thing, and that thing is so big, it seemingly takes up all of the space my mind has allotted for this memory; I remember the recoil, the vomit in my throat and the gasp I made when they retrieved the boy’s “corpse”, tattered and grotesque, from his watery grave.

:+:

They are the “untouchables”; the lowest of the low in India’s ancient caste system. No job is too dirty or too nasty, and they are the ones cleaning up the rotting corpses from last week’s killer tsunami.

Apparently, the vast majority of men who are working 24 hours a day to clean the “poor south Indian fishing town of Nagapattinam” are Dalits (untouchables); members of this caste comprise about 16 percent of India’s population.

These “lowest of the low” are municipal sanitation workers who have migrated to the chaotic aftermath of the tsunami– 40 percent of India’s total fatalities occcurred in Nagapattinam–from nearby areas, drawn by the promise of “an extra 50 cents a day and a meal.” Continue reading

Papa pressure

A Silicon Valley company with a Hyderabad office has started bringing in the parents of their new hires for a schmooze session. Impressed with the respect accorded them, the parents tell their kids to stay with the company rather than quitting and joining Microsoft.

In a culture where parents yield enormous influence over their adult children’s decisions, pitching the parents is a novel way to retain talent in a brutally competitive environment… “The managing director of the company himself welcomed our parents,” says Beeraka. “Once [my father] heard from the company, he insisted that I stay…” Sixty percent of the 35 new recruits brought at least one parent to the orientation in August, and, for the first time in several years, Sierra has experienced no turnover.

You’ve found our hidden exhaust port, Luke. In desi culture, there’s no end to this. At a recent wedding, I just heard a 90-year-old man refer to his 65-year-old son as ‘the boy.’ Next thing you know, realtors, car companies and wireless carriers will be asking mom and dad to pick your goodies 🙂

Heck, if they already pick your mate…

Happy Diwahanukwanzidmas

Virgin Mobile’s latest promotion is a fine example of South Asian-inspired surrealist kitsch. Not to mention the visions you had the morning after the New Year’s party. No, Virginia, those weren’t sugarplums dancing through your head.

For art that so prominently features a Hindu motif, it sure is strange to extirpate Diwali from the name (Chrismahanukwanzakah). So, I’ve re-christened it, so to speak.

Happy Diwahanukwanzidmas, and watch the animation!

Related posts: A very Om-ly Christmas, Krishna for Christmas, The peacock, The tao of Manschot, Blood brother, Kitsch Idol, Blog bidness, Kitsch-mish, Camping while brown, Wild Bollywood art project, Indian kitsch: Artist does Indian theme for Diesel, TV ad satires on India, Hinduism as kitsch, Warmth and Diesel: The selling of Indian kitsch

Continue reading

Ladies Night

Georgia’s Khabar Magazine features what I found to be a humorous little account by KALPITA C. SARKAR, of what happened when a group of South Asian women (some visiting from India), who are perhaps a little too old to be going to da clubs, let their hair down in an American one:

As someone visiting from India, I had done all the routine stuff. Gorged myself at exotic restaurants, danced all night at private parties, even splurged on some expensive clothes and accessories at the Mall of Georgia. It should have made anyone deliriously happy. But I felt like doing something different. Something bold?something I had never done before?

Emboldened by the seemingly outgoing gang of friends including my host and sister-in-law Maya, I voiced my adventurous ambitions. I soon discovered that such aspirations were on the minds of the others too ? though no one had voiced it. But it was there ? a nagging, taunting inner voice that said, “You are another year older. You are over the hill, past its fascinating peak. The view from now on is only downhill ? a devastating, frictionless slide that will gather momentum as you hit the bottom?”

We were eight women; all over thirty, some over forty. Married, with kids, and coming from fairly conservative, middle class backgrounds. Each working, with decent jobs. University lecturers, software engineers, legal secretaries and a physiotherapist. And we were all Indians. The only difference was that the others lived in Atlanta while I was visiting.

So what happens once they finally get to the club?

Five dollars per head ? no tickets ? just a stamp; we coyly put our wrists forward. You can get it stamped anywhere on your bare skin, I hear. IÂ’m reminded of the Kaanta laga video where the girl gets it on her breast. A big guy asks for our licenses. I cringe. Do we look like we are below eighteen? Take it as a compliment, winks Prema.

Inside, at least fifty people are dancing shoulder to shoulder in an elevated, lighted dance floor that is barricaded by a sort of railing. All around folks are standing and watching. A bar on the right is doing brisk business. Skimpily clad waitresses are doing the rounds with drink trays balanced in their hands. The roof is high with funny cages hanging from above. I even see a few people dancing in the cages. The place instantly gives me the creeps.

All of us stand for a moment wondering what to do. Heads were turning and we begin to see why. We look like a group out on a school picnic rather than one at a nightclub. Naiveté and curiosity are writ large on our faces. It is warm inside and we have all these bulky jackets and big purses with us. We realize suddenly that we couldn’t dance carrying them. We keep the jackets in a chair. “What if someone pinches them?” I ask suspiciously. “Don’t be a FOB. No one pinches clothes here!” I get rebuked.

We hold on to our purses though. “Girls, let’s not waste time twiddling our thumbs, come on,” Shelley leads us to the dance floor. The rest of us squeeze in gingerly. The whole crowd is doing a synchronized number ? two to the right, two to the left, shake it all about ? something to that effect.

Continue reading

Wes hearts Waris

Director Wes Anderson did right by Sikhs in his latest film:

I saw The Life Aquatic last night, a hilarious, laid-back Jacques Cousteau parody… The director was very respectful of the handsome, turbaned actor / fashionista Waris Singh Ahluwalia: it was not a token role, the Sikh was a bona fide character. He had an American accent. He had a real name, Vikram Ray (though Ray is a Bengali name, perhaps a play on Satyajit). He was addressed by name several times, he had plenty of lines, he was an integral part of the crew. He even had three glamor shots in the submarine scene at the end, close-ups with light reflecting off his eyes. There was an Asian-American on the crew as well, and assorted Europeans; the casting was like the Star Trek bridge minus the aliens…

On the flip side, the marketing campaign cropped Ahluwalia out. It’s a shot of the submarine scene, where Ahluwalia was seated at far left. On the U.S. poster, the guy in the turban and the black guy are missing.

In this particular case, it’s probably because Ahluwalia… isn’t a recognizable star. However, in many movies (e.g. Sandra Oh in Sideways), minorities don’t figure in the marketing campaigns, even if they have substantial roles… The kinds of people you’ll see [featuring minorities] are producers at the top and the bottom: those who are either already successful enough to take the risk, such as Wes Anderson and his cult of fans, or so indie that they don’t care.

Read the full piece.

Bombay Dreams Epilogue

04dream4.jpgAs Sepia Mutiny mentioned, the NYC run of the London hit musical Bombay Dreams closed this past weekend. Rediff reports, however, on an interesting, far more long-term development within the cast –

As Manu Narayan, Tamyra Gray, Sriram Ganesan and Anjali Bhimani joined 34 of their peers in Bombay Dreams to take the final Broadway bow on New Year’s Day, at least one actor was taking home more than memories and an impressive resume. Aalok Mehta, part of the ensemble cast, is now engaged to Anisha Nagarajan who played Priya, the idealistic movie director, in the musical for about six months.

Some interesting financial info & hope for a Bombay Dreams road tour –

Most among the cast of Bombay Dreams are hoping to join the road tour that could start this summer, provided the producers, who have lost about half of their $14 million investment in the Broadway production, are able to raise fresh investment and get good backing from regional promoters.