Thursday, May 29, 2008

Update on the Dutch Army Ad

Turns out that the Dutch I couldn't read is two check boxes:

and they check him off as unsuitable.

Here's a link to more commentary on the ad.


When knowing Dutch would come in handy

In general, I've gotten along pretty well in Holland without speaking Dutch. I can now read "menu Dutch" and understand a few words in conversation. I miss reading a daily newspaper and I often feel left out in the daily news because I can't understand the local news (with the very attractive young male newscasters with flowing curly hair and open shirts!!). But its when I'm watching tv (mostly US tv shows with Dutch subtitles) that I really wish I knew Dutch.

I was just watching a commercial where a young guy at a breakfast table takes a banana and pretends to shoot all his family members. He starts going crazy and machine gunning all of them. His family sit there kind of awkwardly and then the screen dissolves to.... a warning about the dangers of video games? an ad for an insane asylum? no. An ad for the Dutch Army. I am dying to know what the commercial says! "Can't wait to kill people? Join the Dutch Army!" "Afraid your son will turn into a homicidal maniac? Enlist him now in the Dutch Army!" It makes me nervous because of media portrayals in the US of Columbine massacres and other schoolboy shootings.

I guess the Dutch Army are in Afghanistan now so there's a good chance that you can join up and shoot people but when I think of the Dutch army, I think of an anecdote my mother told me. In the 70s, we were stationed in Belgium at NATO. My mom told me you could always tell the Dutch army men because they were allowed to have long hair and beards and pierced ears - they just had to pull their hair up in a hairnet. One of my friends from way back was in the Dutch military when they still had mandatory service and he told me funny stories of cycling drunk and drilling with WWII guns - leaving a kind of quaint nostalgic feeling about European military culture. Now that I've been here a year, I have met a few former Dutch military guys at MSF (the non-violent way to go to remote locations and live in violent areas) so I know they aren't all peace and love but its still hard to shake that image of a peace loving Dutch man dressed up to play military in my head. The Dutch Army even has a big float in the Gay Pride parade.

But the 70s Hippie ethos of peace and love and tolerance is not completely accurate for the Netherlands anymore. I've heard rumblings that the city has become increasingly intolerant of squats and junkies and open drug abuse. They've closed down a number of coffeeshops or restricted licenses for new ones. There is talk of closing at least 1/2 of the windows in the famed red light district.

On Saturday, I ran down the street to my grocery store to pick up some stuff for the weekend and as I rode my bike down the street, I noticed that the street was closed off at the end. There were riot police out and the police dogs were barking and snarling at people. The water cannons were on the street along with three or four buses. For more info on this, go here. Sitting all over the street at the end were a bunch of young punk kids. The kids were wearing the traditional uniform of Black Flag patches, Doc Martens, hoodies, ripped jeans, bandanas, that weird ear piercing where you have a giant hole in the middle of your lobe, and tattoos. But most of them looked rather clean and wholesome (that Dutch rosy cheeked complexion and the blonde hair) and very very young. 18 or so. I asked what was going on and one of the kids told me that they had a birthday party at their squat the night before and the police came to close it down because it was too loud. He said when they came out to "negotiate" with the police, the police swarmed in and evicted all of them. He said "Everyone thinks that the Netherlands is cool because you can smoke weed but its not true. The police don't care and they'll come out and kick your ass because they can." And in the Saturday afternoon sunlight, it did seem a bit extreme to use riot police to evict young anarchists.

Its interesting. I'm reminded constantly how much more violent the day to day life in the USA is. I feel much more comfortable walking down the streets late at night here than I have in any place I've lived in the US. The number of deaths due to guns is much much lower here. There is purse snatching in the tourist areas but many of the neighborhoods safe completely safe to walk about in late at night. I don't get nervous when the cops go by me like I do when a typical bullying South Carolina highway patrol man does(mostly because they are so cute on their matching bicycles and the female cops often wear braids - plus its hard to speed on a bike so I'm not nervous that I've done anything wrong). Yet the Dutch have a long military history - from their battles against the Spanish and the English to their colonization of Indonesia to participating in the Korean war and the current Iraqi invasion. Their battles to maintain control of their colony in Indonesia were particularly brutal with mass graves and allegations of torture in the post WWII years of the late 40s.

From what I've read on the web, the Dutch haven't really come to terms with the way they subjugated Indonesians (despite their love for Indonesian food). It reminds me that for all its faults, the US at least has an open culture where one can freely criticize our government and discuss our outrage about Guantanomo Bay and the outrageously wasteful and destructive war in Iraq in the media, in the streets, in our schools. I can't imagine a Moroccon, Indonesian or Surinamese descended Dutch person as the leader here. It was considered news worthy that Nicholas Sarkozy, the president of France was of Hungarian descent. The US is no more violent, really, than any other country. The European nations have a bloodier history because they've been around longer. And the Dutch still need to appeal to violence obsessed video gamers to join the military, I guess. Because they still have wars to fight.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Sexism in the US Media

Although I support Barack Obama for president, I was still excited that Hillary Clinton was running. I've been out of the US for most of the primary season so missed a lot of this. I don't like Hillary for a number of reasons (her sucking up to Scaife in PA, her pandering to racists, her husbands administration and my belief things won't be that different under her) but after watching this, I wonder if she doesn't have a point that there's been a lot of sexism in this campaign.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Memories of Northern Uganda

I found this video I took in November 2006 in Kitgum, Northern Uganda that I thought you all might like.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Publishing the Archive

From 2005 to 2006, I kept my blog on Friendster but I never go there anymore so I thought I would put it back here. It's all labeled "Archive"... sorry for the multi posts.

Map of where I've been

Monday, May 05, 2008

Photos from Home

George Iowa Veenker Martin, monitoring the house from the window.

Warren Street Side of the House

Front Yard

Back Yard

Farewell Sumter

I'm back from Sumter, South Carolina, my home town where I was taking care of my father as he recovered from a broken arm and a nasty infection from the hospital. He and Alyson will be moving into a new house in Columbia in the middle of June... So I said goodbye yesterday to Sumter, not quite for good as I have to return over Xmas and figure out what to do with everything that they left behind and whether or not to sell the house in this market. But goodbye to my childhood home. It's a bit sad but I am happy that I was able to return to South Carolina during spring time and catch Sumter at its best.

I moved to Sumter in 1975 and went to Washington Elementary School, Crosswell Elementary School, Bates Middle School, Council Street campus of Sumter High School, and finally the "new campus" of Sumter High School out at McCray's Mill Road. I left in August 1985 to move to Columbia but still spent every Christmas in Sumter since 1975.

Gradually, all my high school friends left - not really surprising since Sumter is a military town. My neighbors, the little old spinster and widow ladies on Warren Court who kept an eye on me and taught me how to eat divinity, Mary Jane candies, and narced on me to my mother when I kicked a kickball into their azalea beds, have all died off or gone off to nursing homes. New people moved in and I got to know them as adults but my job kept me traveling and I never got home as often as I should. I also liked to keep to myself when I was home - recovering from Washington DC. My friend Mike and I used to try to meet for a Christmas Eve drink to try to rock some fun out of the town and relive our crazy summer whee he was constantly grounded and I was the good girl who drove all those crazy boys around while listening to Dire Straits singing "Money for Nothing".

The town has not done well in the 30 plus years that I've lived there - the businesses have all been hollowed out of the downtown area where we live and new "Generica" restaurants line the highway to the military base interspersed with "pre fabricated housing" and car dealerships. The downtown attempts to revitalize itself but the only decent lunch counter closed down while I was home. The library is lovely - a new beautiful building with plenty of internet terminals for the youth and adults of Sumter. The beautiful old houses are stil there - some lovingly cared for, others falling apart genteely. The crime is still there. Prostitutes walk down the street in front of my father's house and con artists have no problems walking up to our open window and asking for money.

Still, its sad to go. I know all the back roads and all the places where I ripped around town - first on my bicycle and then in my little Ford Escort. My father has good friends in Sumter that he will miss. We will try to bring him back as often as possible to stay in touch with them. And my childhood home is being dismantled. But the memories are all there and my father and sister will be safe and happy in their new home. And that's what a home is really about - not the physical building, after all.