[from the Turkish daily Hurriyet]
“If we had all been able to say, ‘We are all Jewish’, there would have been no Hitler”
Speaking at a conference about coming to term with the past, Aleida Assman of Konstanz University in Germany said that the lessons and spirit of Hrant Dink, the Turkish-Armenian journalist who was felled by a sniper’s bullet last month, lived on.
“We still hear his voice, and aim for his beliefs to continue to exist,” she told attendees at the “From the Burden of the Past to Societal Peace and Democracy” international conference at Bilgi University in Istanbul.
Drawing attention to the “We are all Armenian” slogan carried by those attending Hrant Dink’s funeral in Istanbul, Assman said that “synagogues, homes and goods belonging to the Jewish minority were ransacked in Germany in 1938. If we had been able to say, “We are all Jewish,” would Hitler have been able to do this?”
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Hrant Dink's dream
A commentary by Elif ŞAFAK, from Turkish Daily News, 2/10/07
Imagine a moment in time when there is no chauvinism, xenophobia or racism. We thousands of Istanbullular saw it happen. So did Hrant.
[ click headline to read more ... ]
Imagine a moment in time when there is no chauvinism, xenophobia or racism. We thousands of Istanbullular saw it happen. So did Hrant.
[ click headline to read more ... ]
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Feb. 9 reading of Elif Shafak's "Bastard of Istanbul"
After Hrant Dink's assassination, Elif Shafak cancelled most of her U.S. book tour, but in Seattle we will gather at Elliott Bay Books as originally scheduled to read from her new novel, as well as a commentary by Dink himself. [Click headline for details.]
Monday, February 05, 2007
How to smoke salmon
Brine them all day long, kings
pulled from the ocean in purse seines.
Replace some of the sea with garlic
and with ginger.
Pull filets from the icy tub.
Admire the crosscut bone,
charcoal flecks on silver skin,
patterns in the flesh like wooden grain.
Soon your fingers will feel frozen.
Notice your own bones within them.
Set the smoker steady on concrete,
hickory chips
underneath the element.
Arrange the racks with room for air,
for smoke to seep
into the fish. Trade stories
of new friends and lost loves.
Let smoke seep into your hair.
Have a seat.
Crack a beer, trade stories
of roadtrips, babies born
and interest rates.
Go for a walk. Let the rain
comb your eyelashes.
After a while, add wood and a sad story—
a wise man’s murder, perhaps.
Scatter ashes and embers—
fireflies in wet grass.
Take your rest.
Dream of Kodiak. Algae. Little fish.
And when you wake:
smoked salmon for breakfast.
pulled from the ocean in purse seines.
Replace some of the sea with garlic
and with ginger.
Pull filets from the icy tub.
Admire the crosscut bone,
charcoal flecks on silver skin,
patterns in the flesh like wooden grain.
Soon your fingers will feel frozen.
Notice your own bones within them.
Set the smoker steady on concrete,
hickory chips
underneath the element.
Arrange the racks with room for air,
for smoke to seep
into the fish. Trade stories
of new friends and lost loves.
Let smoke seep into your hair.
Have a seat.
Crack a beer, trade stories
of roadtrips, babies born
and interest rates.
Go for a walk. Let the rain
comb your eyelashes.
After a while, add wood and a sad story—
a wise man’s murder, perhaps.
Scatter ashes and embers—
fireflies in wet grass.
Take your rest.
Dream of Kodiak. Algae. Little fish.
And when you wake:
smoked salmon for breakfast.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
A tribute to Hrant Dink
Hrant Dink, an outspoken journalist and leader of the small Armenian community left in Turkey, was assassinated last week by an ultra-nationalist Turkish youth. Dink was outspoken about the taboo subject of the Armenian Genocide at the end of the Ottoman Empire, and was tried multiple times under Article 301, which has been used against many intellectuals, most famously Orhan Pamuk. The Turkish establishment's refusal to recognize the atrocities committed against Ottoman citizens of Armenian descent, and current laws that criminalize dissent, set the stage for this assassination; the ultra-nationalist movement put the characters into play. Both are responsible for creating a culture of intolerance that inevitably leads to violence.
From this tragedy springs some hope. Two days ago tens of thousands -- by some accounts, 100,000 -- marched in Istanbul, mostly in silence. Many carried signs and banners reading "We Are All Armenians," in the first large-scale demonstration by mainstream Turks for truth and reconciliation. It is my great hope that this movement will grow and mature, and that the far right will eventually be silenced by its own irrelevance.
[ click on headline for a tribute by Open Democracy, and links to more information ]
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Fauntleroy
rain
turns to sleet
waves crackle down the beach
firecracker strings as the lunar year wanes
and the ferry in retreat
a great oil drum rumbling
its pistons humming angrily a dissonant song
sleet
turns to hail
tapping cracked clam shells
and palm-size stones.
hail like icy gnats nipping my cheek
but when I face the wind and waves,
lean in a little, the nip feels fine.
hail
turns to snow
snow kisses my eyes blind
quenches my brazen tongue
and a solemn quiet unfolds
like water the moment it boils
quiet
as when the act of love is done
quiet
as when my chattering mind
slouches into sleep.
turns to sleet
waves crackle down the beach
firecracker strings as the lunar year wanes
and the ferry in retreat
a great oil drum rumbling
its pistons humming angrily a dissonant song
sleet
turns to hail
tapping cracked clam shells
and palm-size stones.
hail like icy gnats nipping my cheek
but when I face the wind and waves,
lean in a little, the nip feels fine.
hail
turns to snow
snow kisses my eyes blind
quenches my brazen tongue
and a solemn quiet unfolds
like water the moment it boils
quiet
as when the act of love is done
quiet
as when my chattering mind
slouches into sleep.
Skagit River rising
Swollen waters
silence rapids hidden underneath.
The river spreads beyond its banks,
turning grassy paths into marsh, indistinct,
erasing boundary between the river and the land.
Eddies churn in circles
and crows watch the eagles skeptically.
Warnings buzz around our heads—
the list of tasks, reminders shouted from room to room,
radio waves and newsprint chattering predictions:
The river will overspill. We scurry.
The woodpile by the barn, we tie it down
to stop the river lifting it, piece by piece,
to carry out to sea.
We move furniture, handtools and potted plants
to higher ground, beyond floodwaters’ reach,
and stop to make a pact
with neighbors: our hands are theirs.
Putting spark to fuel,
Richard raises a wand, throwing flame
across the kindling pile.
From beneath the burning wood, mice
abandon burrows, squealing
into a black-charred patch of ashes,
into open jaws of field and sky.
Mount Sauk, whose snowfall feeds the river,
lurks invisible behind the house,
behind the clouds we breathe.
Sadie barks. The air is cold and still.
Then the first fat drops
start a clatter on the metal roof,
falling heavy on our heads,
and the sky
has begun to sing
its ancient lovesong to the river.
silence rapids hidden underneath.
The river spreads beyond its banks,
turning grassy paths into marsh, indistinct,
erasing boundary between the river and the land.
Eddies churn in circles
and crows watch the eagles skeptically.
Warnings buzz around our heads—
the list of tasks, reminders shouted from room to room,
radio waves and newsprint chattering predictions:
The river will overspill. We scurry.
The woodpile by the barn, we tie it down
to stop the river lifting it, piece by piece,
to carry out to sea.
We move furniture, handtools and potted plants
to higher ground, beyond floodwaters’ reach,
and stop to make a pact
with neighbors: our hands are theirs.
Putting spark to fuel,
Richard raises a wand, throwing flame
across the kindling pile.
From beneath the burning wood, mice
abandon burrows, squealing
into a black-charred patch of ashes,
into open jaws of field and sky.
Mount Sauk, whose snowfall feeds the river,
lurks invisible behind the house,
behind the clouds we breathe.
Sadie barks. The air is cold and still.
Then the first fat drops
start a clatter on the metal roof,
falling heavy on our heads,
and the sky
has begun to sing
its ancient lovesong to the river.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Clash of Translations
by Elif Şafak
from the Turkish Daily News, Dec. 10, 2006
The other day I was watching a U.S. TV series with Turkish subtitles when I heard the leading female character exclaim, “Oh, just ignore him, he is so philistine…” All at once, there appeared the Turkish subtitle on the screen and to my astonishment, I noticed the word “philistine” being translated as “Filistinli.” Thus distorted, the whole sentence had become “Oh, just ignore him, he is so Palestinian…” I stared at the screen, flabbergasted.
[ click headline for rest of commentary ]
[ Elif Şafak will read at Elliot Bay Books Feb. 9 ]
from the Turkish Daily News, Dec. 10, 2006
The other day I was watching a U.S. TV series with Turkish subtitles when I heard the leading female character exclaim, “Oh, just ignore him, he is so philistine…” All at once, there appeared the Turkish subtitle on the screen and to my astonishment, I noticed the word “philistine” being translated as “Filistinli.” Thus distorted, the whole sentence had become “Oh, just ignore him, he is so Palestinian…” I stared at the screen, flabbergasted.
[ click headline for rest of commentary ]
[ Elif Şafak will read at Elliot Bay Books Feb. 9 ]
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Memorial
Driving a white county car
to weigh a baby,
to lend an ear to a mother three days old,
the nurse is stopped by a motorcade—
engines rumbling, lights sparkling
to the horizon of Pac Highway
like an angry Christmas tree.
Near the cemetery, men and women
in stiff jackets, green and gold,
line the sidewalk,
faces tightened, hiding tears.
White gloves rise up in the air.
The coffin comes draped in a flag.
The young mother’s aunties and her own mother
live across four countries’ borders.
Her neighbors come and go, 747’s
leaping from the tarmac.
Her husband is her only one
and he is always working.
But the baby’s fine. Eyes are white,
diapers wet, her lungs are strong.
The nurse tells secrets of the first milk,
checks her watch
and promises to return.
In the breakroom, she reads headlines
skipped since Sunday
about the lawyer who came home to White Center
to become a cop,
beloved by all accounts.
Even addicts and delinquents
who sat handcuffed in his backseat
cry outside the precinct. She reads headlines
about the man who shot him.
They say in the afternoon
he made another man lie down naked in the street
and shot him too.
Before dawn, he aimed a bullet at himself.
She shakes her head and wonders.
What makes a man thirst for blood,
for others’ and his own?
What happened to his mother?
And to her mother?
And to hers?
to weigh a baby,
to lend an ear to a mother three days old,
the nurse is stopped by a motorcade—
engines rumbling, lights sparkling
to the horizon of Pac Highway
like an angry Christmas tree.
Near the cemetery, men and women
in stiff jackets, green and gold,
line the sidewalk,
faces tightened, hiding tears.
White gloves rise up in the air.
The coffin comes draped in a flag.
The young mother’s aunties and her own mother
live across four countries’ borders.
Her neighbors come and go, 747’s
leaping from the tarmac.
Her husband is her only one
and he is always working.
But the baby’s fine. Eyes are white,
diapers wet, her lungs are strong.
The nurse tells secrets of the first milk,
checks her watch
and promises to return.
In the breakroom, she reads headlines
skipped since Sunday
about the lawyer who came home to White Center
to become a cop,
beloved by all accounts.
Even addicts and delinquents
who sat handcuffed in his backseat
cry outside the precinct. She reads headlines
about the man who shot him.
They say in the afternoon
he made another man lie down naked in the street
and shot him too.
Before dawn, he aimed a bullet at himself.
She shakes her head and wonders.
What makes a man thirst for blood,
for others’ and his own?
What happened to his mother?
And to her mother?
And to hers?
Ode to Walnuts
Nestled in the pantry corner
among shadows and canned tomatoes,
a paper sack of walnuts
are keeping to themselves.
Hard-shelled weevils
turning their backs to the world;
a colony of knowing spheres,
recalling life among the branches,
singing secret songs
of rain and leaves, wind and blossom,
the mythic fall to earth,
the fall to disparate fates:
to be hoarded by squirrel,
trampled underfoot,
or lifted between thumb and forefinger,
and dropped gingerly into burlap sack.
A paper sack of walnuts,
cool, dry and fissured as a grandmother’s cheek.
Tricksters, making fools of hungry eaters
holding slippery nutrcrackers in unsteady hands,
they leap away and fall again,
uncrackable, to the floor.
Forgive me, my little ones,
my walnut darlings,
for the final vise grip,
the cruel hammer blow,
to expose your crunchy flesh,
scent of wood and earth.
(Why must we hurt the ones we love?)
I will honor you,
your flavor of autumn and smoke,
crowning hot cereal with your proud segments.,
layering you lovingly into baklava—
phyllo, walnut, butter, honey,
phyllo, walnut, butter, and honey—
and you will live on in the warm gazes
of brown-eyed children
whose palms cradle cookies
of chocolate
and spice
and walnuts.
[ inspired by Pablo Neruda's Ode To My Socks and an Anna Balint workshop at Richard Hugo House. ]
among shadows and canned tomatoes,
a paper sack of walnuts
are keeping to themselves.
Hard-shelled weevils
turning their backs to the world;
a colony of knowing spheres,
recalling life among the branches,
singing secret songs
of rain and leaves, wind and blossom,
the mythic fall to earth,
the fall to disparate fates:
to be hoarded by squirrel,
trampled underfoot,
or lifted between thumb and forefinger,
and dropped gingerly into burlap sack.
A paper sack of walnuts,
cool, dry and fissured as a grandmother’s cheek.
Tricksters, making fools of hungry eaters
holding slippery nutrcrackers in unsteady hands,
they leap away and fall again,
uncrackable, to the floor.
Forgive me, my little ones,
my walnut darlings,
for the final vise grip,
the cruel hammer blow,
to expose your crunchy flesh,
scent of wood and earth.
(Why must we hurt the ones we love?)
I will honor you,
your flavor of autumn and smoke,
crowning hot cereal with your proud segments.,
layering you lovingly into baklava—
phyllo, walnut, butter, honey,
phyllo, walnut, butter, and honey—
and you will live on in the warm gazes
of brown-eyed children
whose palms cradle cookies
of chocolate
and spice
and walnuts.
[ inspired by Pablo Neruda's Ode To My Socks and an Anna Balint workshop at Richard Hugo House. ]
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Notes on the School of the Americas protest & vigil
I am currently writing about my experience at the Nov. 17-19 protest and vigil against the School of the Americas and will post something here soon. In the meantime, I have posted some photos online at
http://flickr.com/photos/49944331@N00/sets/72157594391932782/.
Much information is available at the School of the Americas Watch www.soaw.org
and there's a good, short video at http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/112706Q.shtml.
http://flickr.com/photos/49944331@N00/sets/72157594391932782/.
Much information is available at the School of the Americas Watch www.soaw.org
and there's a good, short video at http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/112706Q.shtml.
Monday, November 20, 2006
PUBLIC HEALTH CLINICS FUNDED THROUGH 2007
County Council decides to fund more sergeants, keep clinics open
By Keith Ervin
Seattle Times, 11/18/06
Two King County public-health clinics threatened with closure are safe, at least until the end of 2007.
The Metropolitan King County Council, responding to what some members called a crisis in public-health funding, decided Friday to keep the Northgate and Bothell clinics open, but to fund only part of a proposal to help families obtain government-funded health insurance for their children...
By Keith Ervin
Seattle Times, 11/18/06
Two King County public-health clinics threatened with closure are safe, at least until the end of 2007.
The Metropolitan King County Council, responding to what some members called a crisis in public-health funding, decided Friday to keep the Northgate and Bothell clinics open, but to fund only part of a proposal to help families obtain government-funded health insurance for their children...
Monday, October 16, 2006
Health Care: Pieces of sky
[An Oct. 4 editorial from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer]
The state's perennial initiative pusher sneered back in 1999 at concerns over the effects of his "$30 tabs" proposal. Politicians, he said, were claiming that the "sky would fall" if everyone paid hundreds less in Motor Vehicle Excise Taxes...
Thanks to the loss of the MVET and rising health care costs, the curtain was about to fall on patients at three north King County health clinics that had been recommended for closure.
County Executive Ron Sims' budget gives the clinics a budget reprieve -- but only until June.
"Patients are very scared. Half have no health insurance," says Dr. Michael Lippman at North Clinic. "They're a sick population and there's nowhere else to go. They're going to be staying home and getting sicker or flooding the ERs."
The state's perennial initiative pusher sneered back in 1999 at concerns over the effects of his "$30 tabs" proposal. Politicians, he said, were claiming that the "sky would fall" if everyone paid hundreds less in Motor Vehicle Excise Taxes...
Thanks to the loss of the MVET and rising health care costs, the curtain was about to fall on patients at three north King County health clinics that had been recommended for closure.
County Executive Ron Sims' budget gives the clinics a budget reprieve -- but only until June.
"Patients are very scared. Half have no health insurance," says Dr. Michael Lippman at North Clinic. "They're a sick population and there's nowhere else to go. They're going to be staying home and getting sicker or flooding the ERs."
October Sun
Before these leaves trickle
down the air they pause
among the alders and the fir,
the evergreens. Holding their breath
and their goldenness they catch
slanted rays of autumn sun
which add a rusty, burning sheen.
Unhurried, it slopes a patient arc,
slipping heavily behind the distant ridge
and into the burnished Sound.
down the air they pause
among the alders and the fir,
the evergreens. Holding their breath
and their goldenness they catch
slanted rays of autumn sun
which add a rusty, burning sheen.
Unhurried, it slopes a patient arc,
slipping heavily behind the distant ridge
and into the burnished Sound.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Once facing closure, two public health clinics get a booster shot
Click the headline above for the Sep. 29 article in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, or to watch a video on the Physicians for a National Health Program, see http://www.pnhpwesternwashington.org/PAGES/North%20Clinic%20Rally%20.html.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Seattle Post-Intelligencer: "Rushing to try to save 2 county health clinics"
By Susan Phinney
Photo by Gilbert W. Arias
The proposed closure of two county health clinics in Northgate and Bothell has doctors, nurses and patients organizing and agonizing over the possible loss of health care for people who have few other options.
Jill Hoffman, a public health nurse who said she was speaking as a citizen, not a representative of Public Health -- Seattle & King County, said the sites targeted for closure accounted for 80,000 visits in 2005, and other clinics that handle underinsured and uninsured clients couldn't handle the overflow if they closed.
"People will be taking themselves and their children to emergency rooms for treatment. That will cost everyone money," Hoffman said ... [click headline for link to full article]
Monday, September 25, 2006
Blackberries
Blackberries grow sweet from the sadness
of cloudy days at summer’s end.
Go to them. Step into the prickly thicket.
Take care of thorns—
they may claim drops of your blood,
exchanged for purple juice.
Cup the bunches
with a gentle hand.
Let the ripe fruit fall
like the breasts of a young lover undressing.
Take care of spider webs,
silent strings quivering
when you brush against the branches.
These are friends. Take care
when shadows drop lower every evening.
Remember that the blackberries
need picking.
of cloudy days at summer’s end.
Go to them. Step into the prickly thicket.
Take care of thorns—
they may claim drops of your blood,
exchanged for purple juice.
Cup the bunches
with a gentle hand.
Let the ripe fruit fall
like the breasts of a young lover undressing.
Take care of spider webs,
silent strings quivering
when you brush against the branches.
These are friends. Take care
when shadows drop lower every evening.
Remember that the blackberries
need picking.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Keep our Public Health clinics OPEN.
Public Health of Seattle and King County provides affordable health care across the county—even when people don’t have health insurance. Public Health provides immunizations for children, care for pregnant mothers, family planning, general family medicine, nutrition counseling, mental health services, disaster preparedness and many other critical services.
But in its latest budget proposal, Public Health proposed to close North and NorthShore Public Health Centers, and the North Seattle Dental Clinic, because of a lack of funds. If this happens:
• The entire North King County region will lose access to Public Health care
• Clients will have to travel farther for health care services; many will simply not be able to go
• Every Public Health clinic around the county will be under greater strain
• More than 150 employees will lose their jobs, hurting the local economy
If Public Health Centers close, everyone loses. You can help.
“Health Care Access for All” Rally
Saturday, September 30th
10AM to Noon, Rain or shine
North Seattle Public Health Clinic
10501 Meridian Ave N., north parking lot
(On bus route 16)
Sponsored by Communities for Public Health, endorsed by IFPTE Local 17, OPEIU Local 8, WA State Jobs with Justice, Coalition of Labor Union Women, WA Citizen Action & many others. For more information, contact: milibu@u.washington.edu
IN ADDITION, TAKE ACTION TODAY:
Call King County Executive Ron Sims and your County Council member, and say:
"Keep ALL our Public Health clinics open, running at 100%."
Ron Sims: 206-296-4040
King County Council: 206-296-1000 (Tell the receptionist your zip code and ask to speak to your council member.)
But in its latest budget proposal, Public Health proposed to close North and NorthShore Public Health Centers, and the North Seattle Dental Clinic, because of a lack of funds. If this happens:
• The entire North King County region will lose access to Public Health care
• Clients will have to travel farther for health care services; many will simply not be able to go
• Every Public Health clinic around the county will be under greater strain
• More than 150 employees will lose their jobs, hurting the local economy
If Public Health Centers close, everyone loses. You can help.
“Health Care Access for All” Rally
Saturday, September 30th
10AM to Noon, Rain or shine
North Seattle Public Health Clinic
10501 Meridian Ave N., north parking lot
(On bus route 16)
Sponsored by Communities for Public Health, endorsed by IFPTE Local 17, OPEIU Local 8, WA State Jobs with Justice, Coalition of Labor Union Women, WA Citizen Action & many others. For more information, contact: milibu@u.washington.edu
IN ADDITION, TAKE ACTION TODAY:
Call King County Executive Ron Sims and your County Council member, and say:
"Keep ALL our Public Health clinics open, running at 100%."
Ron Sims: 206-296-4040
King County Council: 206-296-1000 (Tell the receptionist your zip code and ask to speak to your council member.)
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Sep. 19 -- It's IMPORTANT to vote for judges this time!
This Sep. 19, in the Washington state primary elections, voters will have some drastically different judges to choose from, and the far right is already very organized in getting its base to support the bad guys. Click the headline above for a PDF version of the "Guide to Judicial Candidates for Progressive Voters and Democrats."
Monday, September 04, 2006
Where are you from?
In a Seattle neighborhood lined with shady trees and pampered bungalows, a campaign volunteer knocks on a heavy oak door. A woman with white hair and brilliant blue eyes answers. When she hears the unexpected visitor is there to talk about a candidate, she cuts him off with an apology.
“I’m terribly sorry, I should invite you in to sit down, but we’re just about to leave, and in any case, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m voting for the other guy.” She points over her shoulder at a man reading the newspaper. “You could talk to my husband, but it’s not worth your time. He doesn’t vote. He’s from Norway, and he’s still a Norwegian citizen. He’s only been living in this country for 46 years.”
“I’m terribly sorry, I should invite you in to sit down, but we’re just about to leave, and in any case, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m voting for the other guy.” She points over her shoulder at a man reading the newspaper. “You could talk to my husband, but it’s not worth your time. He doesn’t vote. He’s from Norway, and he’s still a Norwegian citizen. He’s only been living in this country for 46 years.”
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Rally & March: Stop the Korea-US "Free Trade" Agreement
Wednesday, September 6th
12:30pm Rally at Westlake Park
Then March to the WA State Convention Center
(Click the headline above for a flyer in PDF format.)
12:30pm Rally at Westlake Park
Then March to the WA State Convention Center
(Click the headline above for a flyer in PDF format.)
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