Asante sana

Imagine this;

Early morning. The temperature is cool, yet warm enough for a thin sweater. You know the sun will overcome the thin morning mist any time now as you’re driving, along a dirt road, with all the windows open and no roof. Suddenly you notice the tall grass move on your left side and you stop the car. A small yet lumpy face takes a curious look at you from in between the grass, before it decides to get scared and take off. The face and its adjoining compact body makes a quick turn and runs into the bushes with a thin tail pointing straight up like a radio antenna on an automobile. You’ve just seen your first wild warthog…the laugh is spontaneous, and you cannot help grinning from ear to ear as you watch the thin erect tail disappear in the grass.

Let’s stick to this image a little longer…

You start the engine again and continue down the road until you reach a narrow path just wide enough to fit the car. The sun is out now and it is warm enough for you to take your sweater off. As you are struggling to get the jersey over your head you sense the car stopping again. The driver turns off the engine and everything gets quiet. Then suddenly you hear a roar followed by a light growl. The roar makes you a little uneasy so you hurry with the clothing, almost desperately tearing it off. What you see once you get the sweater off your head is something you’ve never seen before.

The car has stopped in the middle of a lion pride. The roar came from the dominant male who is sitting by a pond trying to drink. A young cub is climbing on him and was just told by daddy to “get the fuck off” (human translation). Everywhere around the car are lions. You count 11, one male, 7 females and 3 cubs. One of the females is only 3 feet away…and you sit there in your car feeling very small as you have eye contact with her…the window is open and all she has to do is sit up and lash out. But she doesn’t. She just looks at you. You can almost read her mind by looking into her beautiful yellow eyes.

“What are you? Why are you sitting in this metal thing? You bore me”.

You expect “daddy” to get uneasy about your presence. You expect him to stop drinking and move towards your car, letting you know your presence is unwanted. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t care that you are there. He is not afraid of you and it seems almost like he is completely unaware of your existence. The driver tells you how most animals view the car. Apparently the car is just another large animal…beings inside the car is just a part of the car. Simple as that. You drive away with a desire to leave these beautiful creatures alone…feeling smaller than you ever have in your entire life.

This image…or fantasy or whatever you wish to call it, is not a dream. Not anymore. This has been my reality the past week. I have had the incredible fortune of spending a week in what I now regard as one of the most beautiful countries in the world; Tanzania.

I knew little about the country before our arrival. I knew it was a poor country in Africa with an average income of $250 a year, making it one of the 25 poorest countries in the world. I knew there would be spectacular wildlife. I did not know how spectacular. I did not know how amazing the people would be. How generous and giving they would be despite of abject poverty.

The week went by so very fast…a week filled with smells, visions, sounds and tastes so very different from the usual ones.

It is hard to describe the feeling you are left with. Perhaps the biologist in me was hit way harder than the average non-biologist…but I have never felt more insignificant and unimportant than I have these past 7 days, and I have never felt better. It is a bit of a contradiction, isn’t it? Feeling insignificant yet happy and satisfied. It is a sense of happiness that comes from acknowledging your own bliss and fortune in life. As well as the feeling of joy that comes from witnessing some of the world’s true wonders.

(pictures: http://pixelsandstuff.blogspot.com/2008/08/tanzania.html)

Fighting Prejudice

For roughly 7 years now (I cannot believe its been that long…) Ive been working in a grocery store. As Ive also been a student all these years, the job has only been part time, allowing me just enough cash to have a more varied diet than noodles. No offence to noodles… its just not my favorite dinner.

Ive always thought about my job as a fairly easy way of making money. A way which requires minor levels of brain activity and little responsibility compared to a pretty decent income (about 25 bucks an hour). Add that up with a boss who understands that Uni comes first, and you get a good reason to stay. However, my views of this being a simple job which requires little effort and concentration, seems to, unfortunately so perhaps, also be the general view reflected by the public.

I recently read an article in a news paper which placed cashier at supermarket/grocery store as the lowest status job you could have. –Somewhat similar to the dung-handlers of the low castes in India. I have to admit I was not very surprised by this article, as Ive seen signs of this view for quite some time.

For some reason people automatically assume that the person behind the register is lazy, unmotivated and/or extremely dumb.

Ive personally been subjected to this kind of attitude on many occasions by several customers; You have the family fathers who look at you as if you have an IQ of 30 when you ask if they would like a plastic bag. –“Does it look like I can fit all this into my pockets?” (usually accompanied by a sinister laugh). As smartass attitude from a cashier is highly unappreciated you are forced to swallow your pride and do nothing but smile and hand the customer his plastic bags. Obviously while doing this you imagine the reply you would give if you weren’t dependent on the job: -“No sir, I can see your beer gut is preventing you from putting anything at all into your pockets, but you wouldn’t want me to charge you for plastic bags if you brought your own, would you? You’d be surprised to know how many actually do bring their own…especially those who worry about the environment.”

Dumbass…

Then you have the middle aged women who feel the need to tell you why they are giving you 305 NOK (Norwegian Krone) instead of the 255 NOK the items cost. –“That way you can give me a 50-bill instead of all the change”. Again you just sit there and smile…pretending you had absolutely no math at the high school you went to, nor the university you are currently attending.

But I have to admit, it is somewhat a relief to have people assuming you are dumb. No one expects anything from you. If you make a mistake (which of course happens from time to time) people are very understanding as they expect nothing else from you. –Very different from the academic environment at the university.

The condescending attitude is easy to deal with, especially once you get used to it. It is a little bit worse dealing with the nut jobs.

Every store has a customer which is referred to as “the weirdo” or “the stinker” or “that guy with the awful finger nails”. You know the type…usually male, although occasionally you will find a woman in the same category…Often this woman turns out to be a man on closer inspection though...This is the type who has poor personal hygiene and for some reason this person is always interested in body contact. He is not happy with giving you the money quickly and efficiently…No, he wants to give it to you one penny at the time…and usually by pressing it deep into the palm of your hand… To the point where you can feel the fingernails digging into your skin…and although you cannot directly see it, you feel yesterdays dinner (digested) being scraped off the nails and onto your skin. I say this as a microbiologist who is used to dealing with E. coli and other microorganisms…I am not a germ-freak (unless you count 'above average' interest as freaky)…Microorganisms don’t scare me…but these people (and their flora) do.

Fortunately the freaks are few and far between. And although unnerving, it is perhaps the angry customer which is the scariest one.

The angry customer is unpredictable. He or she can be of all age and social groups and it (I will call the angry customer for “it” from now on…as they sometimes scare me like the movie did) is easily recognizable by the lack of friendliness in the facial area. Usually it has seen something or experienced something in the store which was of unsatisfactory nature and therefore it feels it is its obligation to report this to the person behind the register.-Often this is conducted with a high pitch voice and severe redness to the facial skin.

Obviously it doesnt matter that you as a cashier have no control over how the meat section pack the meat or how other customers react when they tear something down and break it (for some reason they always leave it there on the floor without reporting to anyone who can clean it up). All that matters is that you are present. So you'll have to deal with it.

So as you can see; being a cashier requires far more than being able to scan various food items and accept money.

I guess what I am trying to get across here, is the hidden aspects of what seems to be a fairly easy-going, simple job. It is not as easy as you may think. And I feel cashiers deserve a little bit more respect than we usually get. Even though you may go grocery shopping after work when you are tired...remember; We get tired too. We work hard as well, and believe it or not, but most of us have already spent 8-9 hours at school/uni before we go to work...so our workdays may be 13 or 14 hours.

Just think about that the next time you go shopping

A Series of Unfortunate Events?

I believe that at some point towards the end of last week, I came in contact with a portal in the space continuum. I cannot tell you exactly when nor where this happened, but I am pretty convinced that it did. I believe that the said portal brought me to the year 2008 on an alternate time-line.

No, I am not insane…

I started last week with the ironic event that I mentioned in my previous post, but somehow I managed to land on my feet. I worked well in the lab and was even rendered eligible for a job in October (when Im supposed to finish my thesis). Everything went according to plan. That is, until Thursday. Thursday afternoon I was going to sign my name on the list for use of the electron microscope on Friday,-only to find that the microscope was shut down for the rest of the week. Obviously this fucked up my plans for the following week, as I now had to use the microscope on Monday…Not a big problem, just unfortunate. I am not sure if this is when I entered the portal, but it may have been.

The weekend went by without any significant issues, -it was actually a pretty nice weekend.

Then come Monday.

Monday started with an empty tank of Carbon Dioxide gas in the lab, and certain death for my algae. Then followed a talk with my supervisor telling me we would have to apply for a deadline extension for my thesis. Hence, Monday brought longer period of lab work, longer student existence for yours truly, higher student loan and the loss of a possible job in October.

I took the rest of the day off.

Tuesday. –The plan was to ignore the dismays of the previous day and treat myself to a membership card at the gym. –Work off the anger and all that…So I skipped Uni, packed my sweats and showed up at the gym. –Only to find that I couldnt buy a semester card until July 1st, unless I was willing to pay half the price of 6 months for 1 month of work out…a month of which I will spend at least one week on holidays. Obviously I couldnt afford this and would have to wait a month. No exercise and more anger. –I went home and did some sit-ups…but it just wasnt the same.

Wednesday. I decided to get over myself and swallow my anger. Went back to Uni with a slight feeling of optimism. After all, three’s a charm right? The third day would be good.

I am standing in front of the main door, Wednesday morning, ready to swipe my keycard so that I can enter my office and get to work. I swipe. Nothing. Swipe again. Nothing. Nothing but a red, no-access sign staring me in the face. Mocking me. My card is blocked. I no longer have access to my office. I walk down to the main building to see if I am blocked from the lab as well. I am not, but while entering I meet one of the people in charge of the algal cultivation lab who tells me no tank with gas will arrive until Friday. Goodbye algae. I will have to start my experiments from scratch…Wonderful.

In an attempt to fix my keycard I arrived at the main science building to find that the one single person who could help me had the day off.

Fuck it. I took the day off too.

Today is Thursday. I tried to get my card fixed but nothing will happen until tomorrow at the earliest. Tomorrow will be Friday. I am right now outside with a notebook and a pen, writing this while looking for a portal to take me back to the time-line I was born on. The time-line that holds my friends, my family. A place for reason and positive predictability. The time-line where even the crappiest of events make somewhat sense.

I am not confident that I will find this portal, and if I dont, this post will be my letter of warning.

A warning that portals exist. That is it possible to transfer from one time-line in the space continuum to another. And a warning to let you know that the two worlds can be so alike you wont know the difference before the shit hits the fan…

If you never hear from me again I might have found a different portal for a different time-line. That…or a flying De Lorean.

In the meantime; Consider yourself warned.

A religious argument, -Free of charge.

There is one specific thing in this world that opens me to the possibility of God.

I am a scientist, if not yet professional (still working on that master thesis), I am in heart...so I do truly believe in evolution and the laws of nature. I, for instance believe that we fall in love for the purpose of procreation. As humans invest so much time in their offspring, -a method that has shown to pay off for our species, we need to be picky as to whom we decide to breed with. -As the person you rub units with may be in your life for a while. Obviously when it comes to fish or rats this isnt as important as they invest none to very little time in their offspring. They can play with the first chap that comes along and have babies which are, after just a few weeks, left to themselves in the big world.

Now, even if I have this very scientific view on the concept of love or falling in love and having a crush, I still get just as carried away with it as anyone else. I am human after all. I just cant get myself to believe that we fall in love because a higher being or spirit or whatever one wish to call it has taught us to...or given us the ability to. At least if God made us able to fall in love, He or She must have done so to make sure we have enough sex to maintain the human species....which I admit could be a possibility.

However, there is one thing I cannot find a scientific explanation for;

Irony.

I was faced with this concept no later than yesterday. Picture this:
-Stressed student in the lab. 4 tubes with algal culture. A desperate need to have at least one tube with a synchronous culture.

That was me yesterday. I examined my tubes to find out that ONE of the 4 tubes might become synchronous within the day...something that was absolutely one hundred percent necessary if I was going to be able to do any work at all this week in the lab...and with an approaching deadline... Safe to say I was desperate.

I put the tubes in a rack and placed the rack in the window post, carefully making sure they were stable. I turned around to have another look in the microscope, just to hear a crashing sound of the rack tipping over. One of the tubes fell out of the rack and onto the floor, spilling all the algal culture across the floor. Now, you have probably already guessed which tube it was that fell down...

Of course out of all the 4 tubes, the single one I might be able to use had to drop.

I cussed. Then I had to laugh. It was just too ironic.

Its the same thing that happens every year in May. I cannot tell you how many times Ive spent weeks and weeks indoors in beautiful weather, preparing for an exam, just to walk out the door after my very last exam of the season, getting drenched in rain...And people wonder why Im pale...

Irony could very well be the proof of the existence of God. I am actually a little surprised that hasnt been used as an argument before. Ive heard all kinds of strange arguments to why evolution is crap...and they all show evidence of lack of knowledge... but irony... -How the hell do you explain that scientifically? It cannot be coincidence. It is too predictable for that. It cannot be entropy. The pattern is too obvious.

-Its the result of someone's, or something's, bad sense of humor. Thats what it is.

I guess the next time someone tries to preach to me, I will see if they can give me an explanation for irony, and if they can...then who knows. Perhaps you'll see me in church every Sunday some time in the future.

Romance

”I love you” she said, gazing into his deep blue eyes.
“I love you too” he said, running his hand through her blond hair…pulling out big chunks of it as his hand moved down towards her back.
“I think perhaps you should lay off the hair bleach for a while, baby” he said, removing the locks of hair from his fingernails.

He never saw her again.

Ive been thinking about romance lately…I find it odd what members of both sexes do to attract a significant other. I noticed getting off the bus the other day that 80% (give or take a few) of all the girls between 10 and 19 had long platinum blond hair, two sizes too small jeans (often with a nice accompanied fat-roll over the belt) and a low cut cleavage. I also noticed that the guys of the same age group all had short gel-styled hairdos with highlights and huge “diamond” ear-studs in both ears. I couldn’t have told them apart from each other if you held me at gunpoint in a snake pit.

What Im wondering about is who it was that inspired this look…Who decided that this is the ultimate sexy appearance? Who told these kids that this is the way to go if you want to be attractive? My initial thought was the media obviously. I find the media very easy to blame, as its always there and doesn’t target one specific person. All over the place you hear people talking about its influence on the young souls of today…and perhaps there is some truth in it. Perhaps the young boys have been watching P. Diddy and 80 cent or whatevertheFok that guy is calling himself with huge studs in their ears…and perhaps the girls have been watching the same music videos with half naked women dancing…or strutting around. And the kids copy it. But still…why is it sexy? Or is it sexy at all? -Cause I really cannot see it.

And another thing…why does the hair have to be blonde? And more so, why does it have to be white? They walk around with hair so white they look 90 years old from behind…you find yourself praying to the weather gods to keep the wind away…knowing that one small gust of air will blow locks of hair off the scalp on the girl in front of you. It scares the crap out of me…

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the need to look attractive. I, for instance, understand womens need of showing cleavage while enjoying a night out with friends. You try to show off just enough to draw attention from the opposite sex (or same sex if you’re into that). And we all know men love boobs. Just as women love a good man-ass.-Not to be mistaken for an ass-man (somehow I find boob-men easier to handle…at least you can see the hands coming)….or asshole for that matter…The clue is knowing exactly how much to show off, without showing off too much. Too much can send out the wrong signals.

I don’t think guys understand this issue…knowing when too much is too much. After all…as a man you don’t really have to worry about that, do you? Pants don’t show off much…you can accentuate a nicely shaped ass…but that’s about it. A shirt, if tight, can show off muscles…but no one will react if you wear a loosely fit one. We ladies have bigger issues; is the cleavage too big? Is the cleavage too small? Is this top too tight? Is it transparent? Are these pants too big? Are the pants too tight? Do I have a fat-roll? Sometimes I think being a man is way easier…

Personally I suspect men of not caring…I’ll bet they never even think about whether or not a cleavage is too small…they’re probably just happy its there. Is the top transparent? -Wooo-wee! Men are simple that way. They believe if the pants are expensive, they’re stylish. No questions asked.

I guess we’ll never fully understand why men do the things they do…and why we women do the things we do. Somehow it must work…’cause all over the place I see white-haired girls in yeast-inducing pants holding hands with diamond-studded, pimpled boys…And I see worried women in great clothes holding hands with men in over-prized, poorly designed jeans…

It’s a strange place this world we live in. -But intensely fascinating.

Hands Held High

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something
Lightweights steppin' aside when we come in
Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping
People on the street then panic and start running
Words on loose leaf sheet, complete coming
I jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme I'm dumping
Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in
Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming
Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping
Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping
List something, take back what's yours
Say something that you know they might attack you for
'Cause I'm sick of being treated like I had before
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for
Like this war's really just a different brand of war
Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor
Like they understand you, in the back of their jet
When you can't put gas in your tank, these fuckers
Are laughing their way to the bank, and cashing their check
Asking you to have the passion and have some respect
For a leader so nervous in an obvious way
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day
In the living room, laughing like, "What did he say?"

Amen

In my living room watching it, I am not laughing
'Cause when it gets tense, I know what might happen
The world is cold, the bold men take action
Have to react to get blown into fractions
At 10 years old, it's something to see
Another kid my age drugged under a Jeep
Taken and bound and found later under a tree
I wonder if he had thought 'the next one could be me'
Do you see the soldiers that are out today?
They brush the dust from bulletproof vests away
It's ironic, at times like this you'd pray
But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday
There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads
Inside your market, your shops, and your clothes
My dad, he's got a lot of fear, I know
But enough pride inside not to let that show
My brother had a book he would hold with pride
A little red cover with a broken spine on the back
He hand-wrote a quote inside,
"When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die"
Meanwhile, the leader just talks away
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
The rest of the world watching at the end of the day
Both scared and angry, like "What did he say?"

Amen

With hands held high into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you









Photo: Corbis


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