Faith, Lies, and the War on Terror

July 29, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

This blog began as a vehicle to “make” me write more and share my writings, e.g. poetry, flash memoir, essays, with others and to learn from reader responses. Along the way, it morphed into my recipes—starting with friends requesting them, my travels and adventures, inspirations, and thoughts. This post will morph me into something I fear may be far more controversial, but also feel I must explore. Several years ago, a couple of friends and I enrolled as continuing education students in a course about Islamic thought and literature. Our hope was to learn more about exactly what the title indicated. Although I had already read quite a lot of Middle Eastern literature, especially Iranian, and also some Turkish novels as well as memoirs and nonfiction books, I had no one with whom to discuss my readings and thoughts. This presented an ideal opportunity. After a couple of weeks, it became quite clear that the teacher had a definite agenda. Although she never overtly discussed her own religious beliefs, she generally chose parts of readings to discuss to promote a certain, anti-Islamic bias. We read the Quran (in translation because none of us spoke or read Arabic—mine was a Pakistani translation), Ayaan Hirsi Ali—various works including Infidel, Benazir Bhutto’s autobiography, and short stories by Iranian, Palestinian, and other Middle Eastern authors. None were from Southeast Asia where the majority of the world’s Muslims live. None were from India. When we discussed the Quran, she chose very specific passages that zeroed in on what she perceived to be Islam’s oppression of women and promotion of violence and war. When the rest of us tried to also discuss passages about ones duty to the oppressed, the orphans, the poor, she would channel the discussion back to her chosen agenda. Some dropped out. The rest of us decided to stay because we wanted to read and discuss the writings in spite of the situation. Over time, our insistence on a broader based view seemed to affect her strong bias slightly. In the end, she even showed the Iranian movie, “Children of Heaven”, which presents the plight of a poor Iranian family in a very sympathetic light. The father overtly loves his wife and struggles valiantly to help her and his family in any way he can. This class has led me to further pursue my readings of literature from Iran, Egypt, Turkey, Pakistan, India, etc., both fiction and non-fiction and to learn as much as I can about the past and present as it relates to issues in these parts of the world. Since then, I have also experienced the privilege of hosting exchange students from Thailand, Brazil, and Argentina. One of my closest friends grew up Muslim in Indonesia. I also have Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Pagan and atheist friends from many parts of the world, and some who have little interest in religion. Recently, the librarian where I teach asked me to read Wanted Women, Faith, Lies, and the War on Terror: The Lives of Ayaan Hirsi Ali and Aafia Siddiqui. I finished it recently and highly recommend reading this book. The author, Deborah Scroggins, spent six years following the lives of these two women, including interviewing their colleagues, family members, self proclaimed jihadists, and government officials from several countries. She delineates an incredible amount of information and data. If you care about the political and spiritual future of this planet and the ongoing controversies surrounding Islam, Christianity, and Judaism, this book provides an excellent opportunity to explore history and the events of the last 20-30 years, and then to develop your own insights. My hope is that this post will encourage others to explore new avenues of knowledge and open wider venues of thought that encourage a better, kinder world in which we respect and value each others’ differences.

Recommended additional readings: This is one of my favorite magazines. It is free and covers art, cuisine, nature, history, literature, geography, just about everything imaginable. For teachers, they have suggested uses and additional materials at the back. It comes out six times per year.

If you are unfamiliar with literature from the Arab world, this is a good place to start. Mahfouz won the Nobel prize for literature. Although his novels take place in Egypt, the themes are universal.

In spite of the word jihad in the title, this is more of a “fun” read. The Iranian American author, a journalist, decided to go to the Iran of her roots and work and live there for a while. This book describes her adventures as a journalist in Iran.

Other books I recommend are Moonlight on the Avenue of Faith by Gina B. Nahai (this is one of my all time favorite books), No God but God by Reza Aslan, another Iranian journalist, The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak (this book is a novel about Rumi, whose beliefs Islamists do not find acceptable), and Shattering the Stereotypes: Muslim Women Speak Out edited by Afzal-Khan.

Another source of information about events, literature, art, etc. in the Middle East is a blog entitled “Sugar Street Review”. One of their latest blog posts, Top Five Female Arab Writers provides a list of these women with photos, brief bios, and some critique.

The Land in Love with Guns

July 22, 2012December 22, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 4 Comments

In the United States firearms kill approximately 15,000 individuals per year. In Britain, Australia, and Canada, the average is 350 per year. Spain’s rate is even lower. In Germany, it is less than 800. A young person here dies about every 4 ½ hours, shot dead. The US murder rate is 19.5, nearly 20 times higher that the next 22 richest countries. In the 23 richest countries combined, 80 percent of all gun related deaths are in the US; 87 percent of children killed are shot by guns here. In the last 45 years, bullets killed more than one million people in the US.

Gun sales are big money. More than a dozen hand guns are sold per minute. One survey indicates that one out of every four US homes possess a gun; another survey says 39 percent. However, most guns are owned by only a small proportion of the population, gun “collectors” who own an average of seven weapons per person. Guns are cheap here and bullets even cheaper, about 50 cents each. The Mexican government contends that our cheap guns help fuel the dreadful violence there which then overflows to here.

In spite of all this, the US murder rate is the lowest in more than 45 years. The NRA claims more guns equal less violent crime. The NRA contends that the lower crime rate is the result of less strict gun laws and more people owning guns. Nevertheless, mass murder occurs on a regular basis. We mourn, we lament, but nothing changes.

Eventually, another mass murder occurs and the cycle repeats itself. Why? Who or what is responsible? What can be done? Will more restrictive gun laws help or hinder? Debates continue; opposing views and answers abound, but the cycle continues. Will it ever change?

I wrote the above after the last mass murder event. Nothing changed. Now the conversation appears more strident, more active. Apparently, the mass killing of children is more heinous, more scary than the mass murder of adults even if the adults are young. The NRA advocates armed guards at schools. How will that prevent mass killings at movie theaters, at malls, at churches, on the street, e.g. the three murders this week in Pennsylvania?

Australia was another country in love with guns, but after a mass killing there, they changed their collective mind. They enacted strict gun control laws for assault weapons and ammunition. Could that work here? I think not. This is a country in love with guns because the right to own a gun symbolizes what is perceived as individual rights. This is a country where personal liberty remains far more important than community safety and social justice. Until that changes, mass murders will continue.

Costa Rica 6: Adventures and Views

July 15, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Without a doubt Costa Rica holds my vote for most photogenic and greenest country. From the Caribbean and Pacific rain forests to the high mountain town of Monteverde, the words lush, exotic, verdant do not even begin to describe how incredibly rich the landscape is. One of the first spectacular views lay before me across the parking lot from a combination restaurant and souvenir shop where we stopped for snacks.

I did not expect to see multiple mountain streams like in the Rockies, but it seemed we were crossing one nearly constantly. This abundance of water explains their nearly total dependence on hydroelectric power with a little help from wind and thermal energy.

Several of my traveling companions decided to raft this river with class 4 rapids. Something told me I should not do this. After flipping over several times, banged up and bruised, they decided to hike out. In the meantime, I experienced my own adventure, eating a raw turtle egg in salsa at a family restaurant on the top of a nearby mountain.

Beautiful mountain scenery seems endless. I kept 00hing and awing.

This view shows the Bay of Nicoya in the distance from my hotel room in Monteverde. The following photos all show views in the mountains near this little remote town. There is only one road in and out and it is not paved and it is narrow. The town was originally settled by Quakers from Canada who still believe a paved road will ruin the peaceful lifestyle. Both the Quakers and the town are famous for their cheese which was served both plain and fried for breakfast.

This area provides both zip lining and horseback riding for tourists. I elected to ride. However, these horses did not seem well fed and certainly did not want to go very fast. Although I saw a lot of horses in Costa Rica, these were by far the thinest.

The guy who lead us did not ride one of these. He was riding a fancy, prancing, grey Paso Fino.

Look closely and you can see someone zip lining across the forested canyon hundreds of feet below.

When I asked about this tree, I was told it is related to cacao, but not eaten, not by humans anyway.

We traveled down the mountain on another dirt road to visit this elementary school. It housed grades 1-6 with one teacher who is also the principal. The literacy rate in Costa Rica is 98.5.

Playing soccer with the students.

A port on the Pacific on the way to the surfing town of Jaco. Costa Rica exports many agricultural products from both its Pacific and Caribbean ports. This includes bananas, pineapples, hearts of palms, and many tropical flowers.

While many beaches remain unsafe for swimming due to a strong undertow, the beaches at Manuel Antonio National Park are perfect.

To get into Manuel Antonio you have to walk and no parking exists really close. Hiking out we crossed an area where the water rushed around our knees and the sign said, “No Swimming, Crocodiles”.

As a farmer, I like to look at and photograph crops. With all the rain and heat, Costa Rica is the perfect climate for many tropical fruits and rice. On the way back from Manuel Antonio we passed miles of rice fields and Aftican palms which produce palm oil.

Rice.

Coffee, the main export of Costa Rica. In the highlands, coffee grows everywhere even along the berms in places so steep I wondered how the person picking the beans did not fall over. Of course, I wondered the same thing about the dairy cattle grazing on the mountain slopes.

We did stop in Sarchi, the town famous for its furniture and oxcart industry. Oxcarts remain the national symbol of Costa Rica. Because of the mountainous terrain, when Costa Rican coffee initially became famous and its most successful crop, the only way to get the coffee to the coasts for export was to use oxcarts.

We spent very little time in cities. However, as we left San Jose near the end of the trip and headed for the Caribbean side, I took some hurried photographs out the window.

My first and last hotel window view in San Jose included these stately coconut palms.

PURA VIDA

Migraine

July 13, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Since I was a child, my only health issue has been headaches. When younger, sometimes they were little ones and sometimes nearly incapacitating. As an adult I could count on having at least one a month, sometimes more. Weather seems to be the main culprit now. If certain weather patterns occur, a series may hit me for several days in a row and then blissfully nothing for a couple of months. My daughter has migraines also; she must have inherited this from me, sadly. Tuesday this week, I awakened with a doozy and suddenly recalled that I had to attend this class for work. I took my medication and hoped. While waiting for the class to start, I decided to write down exactly how these migraines make me feel.

Poised above my head,

the hammer ball strikes the ten inch nail.

It drives through my right frontal lobe,

the nail point jutting out just below my right cheek, shiny, bloodless.

The hammer flips, the nail pulled out.

Pain pulses, excruciating.

Poised above my head, the hammer strikes again and again.

Endless hours the hammer strikes and pulls.

I hold my head in my hands, rocking back and forth.

Endlessly.

Costa Rica 5, Fauna

July 3, 2012July 3, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 8 Comments

Costa Rica continued to surprise me. I did expect some of the animals, photos of which are posted below, but did not expect so many cattle, especially the dairy cattle, including Jerseys, Guernseys, and Holsteins, that populated the steep mountain slopes. They grazed everywhere up to their tummies in grass on even the steepest mountainsides. I kept wondering how they learned to balance themselves and why they did not fall over, catapulting down the mountain. Everyone in the group commented on the fat, happy cows. Such abundance resulted in fabulous steaming milk for morning coffee, rich cheeses, and the creamiest ice cream imaginable.

A cow pen near the top of a mountain on the Caribbean side next to the restaurant that sold cheese and where I ate the raw turtle egg. Most of the cows roamed free up and down the mountainsides.

In the lowlands on both the Pacific and Caribbean sides of the country, Brahma cattle relaxed or grazed in the lush grass. It reminded me of the landscape near Veracruz, Mexico, where I lived many years ago.

The most common meat besides fish, most of which is talapia, is chicken. Near the mountain top where the Jersey cow above was photographed, I saw a huge shed and when I asked about it, was told it was a chicken farm. However, pork is frequently served as well and occasionally beef. I took the following photograph at a small place on a dirt road. We stopped there to drink coconut water. The spotted, pregnant pig was due soon. However, the fate of the black pig remained less lovely–food. Their girth resulted from eating coconuts; they constantly gorged themselves.

Birds abound, from the protected scarlet macaws on the Pacific Coast to tiny hummingbirds. Hundreds of species I had never seen before and many I had seen rather often like various egrets and herons. And then there were the monkeys which I did expect to see but found difficult to photograph with my ordinary camera.

These white faced monkeys roamed everywhere near the beaches at Manual Antonio National Park, begging for food and if that did not work, actually stealing it.

While the white face monkeys remained highly visible, the howler monkeys could be heard easily but were much harder to locate because they tend to stay high in the tallest trees. Without a good telescoping lens, this was the best I could do.

Look for the dark blob in the middle of the photo. They also move fast so hard to locate and follow and even harder to photograph under those conditions.

Just as we arrived, walking, at the entrance to Manuel Antonio, a downpour began. Not fond of drenchings, I stayed back, hoping it would stop, and suddenly saw a small sloth, the grey spot in the nearly leafless tree in the middle of this photo.

Lizards of many varieties abound. The tree near my hotel room in Jaco contained four iguanas that appeared nearly lifeless since they never seemed to move. Again, without a better lens I could not really photograph them. However, at Manuel Antonio many other kinds of lizards ran here and there only slightly afraid and relatively easy to photograph.

When I think back as to what I expected, it never occurred to me that huge, brackish (salt) water crocodiles existed in such abundance or even existed there at all. Near Jaco, on the Rio Grande Tarcoles the Costa Ricans created a preserve to protect the endangered scarlet macaws and crocodiles. We arrived early in the morning and floated around the river, into a mangrove swamp, watching birds and crocodiles. The list of common birds included 58 species and we saw others that the guide referred to as “bonus birds”. The following photos come from this lovely, relaxing river ride. Truly, I loved this part of the trip.

Entering the mangrove swamp.

Two months old.

Where the Rio Grande Tarcoles enters the Pacific Ocean.

The boat captain feeding the crocodile in the mud barefoot. I thought about touching this one he was so close until I was told they could swim as fast as 55 miles per hour. It occurred to me that he could turn around really quickly and snap off my hand so…

DEATH

June 8, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 2 Comments

I was afraid of revealing me, the essence of me. Who even, indeed, was I? My mother told me, when I started dating, to hide the essence of me, boys wouldn’t like it. Too smart; too aggressive; too full of myself; too intense; too serious; too burning inside strong; too adventuresome; too nasty a temper; too full of desire to feel, taste, see, learn; too much in love with a world of possibility. I took her advice, married a genius scientist, safe, timid, disadventurous. He liked me because I could shoot a bird off a wire hundreds of feet away. I time, we all died, him, me, the bird.

This piece was a finalist in a flash memoir contest.

Marriage

May 25, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

The following poem was chosen to be published in the Story Circle Network’s annual Anthology this past autumn. I submitted two flash memoir pieces, including the Spiders story on a previous post, as well as this poem. I was very surprised that this was the one chosen.

Marriage

I remember the time he touched my face, melting me.

I married him; my face slowly, inexorably froze.

Horses in Heaven

May 12, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

Heaven for horses seems a bit far fetched, especially for someone who lacks certainty about heaven even for people. Nevertheless, it remains a comforting concept. Yesterday, I buried Starry Miracle, less than two, an orphan I bottle fed every 3-4 hours day and night when his mother, Miracle, died. He not only survived, he thrived.

Around 4:30 Wednesday, friends went to my place to ride Rosie, a chunky, red roan mare. They found Star dead. It appeared he had been playing, jumping, and rearing, and freakily caught his ankle in a space between the pipe gate and fence, broke it and ruptured his femoral artery, then bled to death. When they called to tell me, disbelief set in. As a horse owner for many years, I know the common causes of horse deaths, colic mainly, from which Miracle died three days after his birth. I have inspected fences and corrals for safety many times. The possibility of such an accident never even entered my mind.

His body stiff, distorted, his coat, lusterless, bore no resemblance to his burnished copper body, glinting in the sun, following me, nipping if I ignored him. Often, I thought he thought I was a horse or he a human.

The two surviving horses spent hours standing in the spot where he died, licking the pipe fence from which I had hosed off his blood, smelling the ground, neighing. They even failed to rush to their hay when I fed them. Eventually, I opened their gates. They ran across the rugged canyon land constantly for fifteen minutes, dream horses running in the wind.

Miracle, Star’s mother, deceased, July 2010. Rosie who “adopted” Star after Miracle died, and Cool, the other orphaned horse I raised.

Pie: A Story of Mothers and Daughters

April 22, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

My mother usually viewed the world from a black and white perspective. She had a lot of guidelines for how to live a productive and “good” life. Neighbors and friends saw her as a “good” woman who cared for and did “good” in the rural community in which we lived. Above all she was a good cook!!

I rarely think about her “rules” for life. Suddenly I realize I actually “follow” a substantial number of these rules and have passed many on to my own daughter:

This is how you make butter with an electric mixer.

This is how you make a cake:

-grease and flour the cake pan(s)

-cut our circles of waxed paper to put on top of the greased and floured surface–you

do not want the cake to stick

-sift the flour

-soften the butter

-mix the ingredients in exactly this order.

This is what you wear. You want to look presentable!!

-clean underwear in case you are in a car wreck

-matched clothes

-polished shoes

-purse and shoes that match

-no white anything before May 1 or after September 1.

This is how you present yourself to the world:

-well groomed

-clean fingernails

-self assured

-nice, but not too nice

-polite

-brushed teeth

-lotioned body

-clean hair.

This is how you wash your clothes:

-separate whites and colored items–you want the whites to stay white.

This is how you ride your pony:

-keep your heels down

-don’t lean too far back.

This is how you neck rein.

This is how you hold the reins.

This is how you get your pony to trot.

This is how you get your pony to canter.

This is how you get your pony to stop.

This is how you clean the house:

-vacuum first, dust second

-if you don’t do it right the first time, you will have to do it over.

This is how you work:

-hard

-persistent–never ever give up

-smart.

This is how you breathe to sing

This is how you practice well.

My mom could barely sew and only could play the piano by ear–two lifelong regrets. I had to learn these things no matter what. I do not like to sew much, but still play the piano and I love, love, love to sing!

She could cook, especially pie. Her crusts were tasty works of art. At potlucks people would get her pie first to make sure they got some. At potlucks now, people get my pie first to make sure they get some. My daughter does not even eat pie, but people love her pie and get a piece to make sure they get some.

Raisin Walnut Pie

This is not my mother’s recipe. She mostly made black raspberry and other fruit pies and coconut chiffon pies. This is the pie I make every time there is a potluck. If I do not make it, people ask me about it so I gave up and just usually bring this pie.

3 eggs

3/4 cup corn syrup

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted

1 tsp. vanilla

3/4 cup raisins, golden or dark

3/4 cup walnuts, broken

1 unbaked pie shell

Stir corn syrup and brown sugar into melted butter. Beat eggs slightly and stir into the butter/sugar mixture. Add vanilla. Mix raisins and walnuts and sprinkle into the pie shell. Pour the butter/sugar mixture over the walnuts and raisins. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until pie crust is golden and mixture is set. Cool.

If you goof and do not have vanilla, stir in 1 tsp. of cinnamon instead.

Enjoy!!

The Journey versus the Destination

April 18, 2012July 8, 2012 / Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Until yesterday, I always thought I was a destination person. Set goals, act, get it all done quickly and efficiently, achieve!! Suddenly, while driving home from Austin, realization struck in the form of wild flowers. Traveling to Austin, I oohed and awed so much over the blue bonnets, daisies, gaillardia, and others I did not recognize that my daughter finally exclaimed, “Mom, you have said that over and over, really!” I asked, “Don’t you think they are beautiful?!” I could hardly believe her response, “Yes, but they’re just flowers,” Just flowers!!!! I wanted to stop and look closely at them, to take photos, to touch them. Instead I said to myself, “You can do that on then way home.” But I didn’t. From Austin to Marble Falls, the road was too winding with no adequate place to stop. Besides my daughter slept blissfully beside me on the passenger side; I didn’t want to awaken her. Furthermore, she had previously emphasized the point that we needed to get home buy a certain tine. Tomorrow, my grandson had school and I had to go to work. It was a nine hour drive. For hours from just east of Llano past San Angelo, I kept thinking I’d stop. The flower species and colors changed. I saw other people stopped, taking photos and touching the flowers. As I drove it hit me: my personally preferred form of travel involves wandering. Yes, I know the destination, but I want to see the places, the people along the way, to stop, to explore what holds my interests. It is the journey, the process, that truly enthralls me. This is the reason, too, why without a lot of thought, I chose one route to Austin and another back. Curiosity, a love of differences, of change, of variety. I never stopped. I kept driving until my daughter awakened just before Sterling City and we switched drivers. By then the flowers were fewer and farther between. And it hit me that this too was my father’s preferred form of travel. He lived on the same farm for 90 years and in the same house for 80, but he loved trips. Every year we took at least one. We always had a destination, well, sort of, but we stopped whenever and wherever we found something fascinating and wonderful. As he would have put it, “You never know. You might find something in an expected place and want to stay there longer.” Since I took no photos on this trip, I decided to share photos of the flowers I found blooming in my xeroscape garden at home when I arrived. Yes, they are lovely and I love them, but I will wonder for weeks what I missed along the road.