Signs of Globalization

Signs of globalization are countless in our lives.  My cousin's girlfriend who went to college with your husband's ex husband, H&M opening in Shanghai, Nutella sold in Tanzania, and many more that you can think of.  In fact, the very computer screen that you're looking at is probably a product planned, sold, marketed, manufactured, verbed all in different countries.

I've encountered the most uncanny sign of globalization.  I was proctoring an exam, and I couldn't help but notice the eight familiar symbols of the Millennium Development Goals. I thought huh, maybe a donation or a branding initiative from UNDP.  But then I saw the words and it was in Portuguese.  I looked for clues of its origin and found a website address ending in .br.  DOT.BR!  

I'm really curious but not curious enough to break the silence of exams to ask her how she got the ruler, and now that I forgot her face so maybe I'll never find out.

UPDATE: SHE BOUGHT IT!!!!

Model United Nations

I fondly remember the days of high school Model United Nations.  I have made many friends and memories over the short year and a half, and it has influenced me to involve myself in the world of global politics and development more than anything else.  We were such energetic youths, trying to understand global problems, and more importantly creating solutions. 

After a couple of months of MUNing, a recognizable pattern appeared.  Education seemed to be THE answer to every problem.  In eradiacting AIDS, educate awareness.  In the topic of genetically modified crops, educate the risks.  Poverty, educate.  Somehow.  In our minds, education was the golden key.  We would imagine women in colorful saris, kangas, and sombreros convening under a large mango tree, to listen to a man wearing a short-sleeved light blue shirt, the UN man about how to better live their lives.  School children too will come together under a large mango tree, to listen to a professional lady talk about the risks of AIDS.  On one of our MUN excursions, I overheard my friend remark that education is the solution to all problems.  He said it tackles over population, as educated people breed less.  It tackles poverty, as higher education leads to higher income.  As naive as he may sound now, he was the smartest member, and to this day I think of him with respect.

The past year I have seen the above-mentioned education fest happen in reality.  I have lost count on all the half-days and cancelled classes because of some teachers wanting to counsel students, or someone from the health department wanted to talk about AIDS.  My MUN fantasies are happening, right in my school.  Unfortunately, I do not like what I see.  As my school and my children become a number of bureaucrats’ petri dish, academics is being pushed away.  Even the lowly motivated teachers of Sabasaba are complaining the loss of lessons.  How ironic.

The Big Scratch

I had a bit itch of a curiosity when I came here.  Less economic power implies that many in the developing world live in small houses.  A family of 3,4,5,6,7,8,9 can live in a single room house, or yes, even a double.  But the double doesn't provide much privacy when it's shared by your uncle, brothers, and cousins, and especially when it has a roof but no ceililng.  Throwing trash over the walls could be something fun to do.

So the itch was: how do people have sex?

I am truly grateful of kabcity for providing the Big Scratch: sex triumphs, parents have sex in front of the children.

The conversation then turned interesting, with each of us remarking the different roles sex has in poor communities.  For example, k mentioned that this makes the children have sex at an early age without protection.  In my case, I often hear many Tanzanians from other regions claim that the sexual promiscuity of the Makonde (main tribe of Mtwara) is pretty much the root of all evil in Sabasaba Secondary.

Also, the student FEMA club, which is something like a 50% functional women's rights club, has a garden near our main gate with a sign that says "sex can wait," something that my College friends would have a mild heart attack over.

p.s. another seizure incident.  This time another girl cried and began banging her head on the table.  I was asked, "is there a medicine for this in Korea?"  I am really really confused.