We are stunned and sickened by the horrific events in Japan. So many souls lost, so many more affected on the ground. And we thought we could control nature—ha. Two nuclear meltdowns to date.
The only bright spot: somehow the tragedy has served to bring together the global community. Aid is pouring in from many nations—70 nations, I heard. Predictable perhaps that the UK and US would help, but rescue teams were also sent by Taiwan, Korea and past and recent foe China. Blankets from India. More touching yet, Sri Lanka, itself devastated by tsunami, civil war and just this year by flooding; impoverished Bangladesh; explosive Pakistan. But Kandahar! The city of Kandahar, Afghanistan, witness to too much horror for too long itself, sent $50,000 to Japan for relief.
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K tutored a Japanese young man on the day of the quake/tsunami, just hours after, during the school day. He had heard of the event but did not know the location; she was at least able to reassure him that it was not in the area where his relatives live. Hard to concentrate on vocab and grammr with images of 10 meter waves in mind.
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K was invited to an event at the Sudanese Cultural Club, which has somehow been in operation for 30 years and occupies an impressive bit of real estate in Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood. The invite came purely as a result of having smiled and said hello to a friendly Sudanese shopkeeper over the past couple of years. J It was a singing contest, American Idol style, with several male Sudanese workers showing their talents, backed by a three piece band. They had invited several assorted western foreigners to enjoy the festivities. I had told the man who invited me that there was a new effort in place to offer English instruction to migrant workers, for free, and that there was hope of getting computer literacy classes up and running as well. Subsequently, he introduced me to the wife of the Sudanese ambassador, resplendent in swathes of diaphanous fabric and assorted jewels. She said I must come to her house one day and we could talk about the classes. She said some of the ladies have nothing to do during the day and it would be good for them, then floated away. Um, er—I didn’t get a chance to tell her that the classes were offered for migrant domestic workers—not for bored embassy staff wives! Interesting dynamics now that the country has split. The ambassador and most of those present at the Club are Moslems from the north, whereas most of the migrant workers are Christians from the south, less entitled, poorer.
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