I am not ashamed to be an American. I will not apologize to anyone for the election of Donald Trump. I believe in the United States and believe that the country will continue to move forward and prosper in the years to come.
American Flag, St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands
When I joined the Federal Government in 2010, I swore an oath to the Constitution of the United States of America, and I still believe in that oath today. I swore to uphold the rights of all Americans, to serve the interests and needs of all Americans, and to be an ambassador for the American people abroad. That's why I'm disgusted by people who are threatening to move to Canada over Trump's election (and yes, I was just as mad in 2008 when people threatened to leave over Obama's election). Leaving the United States because of an election is a cowardly move that indicates the person doesn't believe in all the things that makes the United States great. That the person has no faith in their family, friends, acquaintances, or the almost 320 million fellow Americans to be good, upstanding people. There are about 2.8 million federal employees, and I can guarantee you that almost all of us will continue to faithfully serve our country--not just the individual leading the country--because we believe in what we do and the people we serve. The election of Donald Trump does not change who Americans are; we are still the fundamentally the same people we were yesterday.
I'm neither happy nor sad about the electino results. Truly. As happened back in June, though, with the negative things said about those in the "Leave" campaign for Brexit, I'm thoroughly disappointed in the casting of all 59 million Donald Trump voters as racist, xenophobic, homophobic, white supremacists. Because that's not who they are. Many Trump supporters are people who felt like they were being left behind. If you felt that way, wouldn't you also seek to change your condition by voting for the candidate that you thought heard you and your concerns? I didn't see it often, but every now and then this sentiment popped up on my Facebook feed, and it helped me understand the anger emanating from so many parts of the country. People didn't vote for Trump because they agreed with his extremely inappropriate comments, they voted for Trump because he made people feel heard, wanted, and included in a United States they thought they no longer recognized.
The problem, as I'm sure the after-action reports will eventually say, is that Trump's election went against "conventional wisdom." Well, so did Brexit. And the Colombian Peace Referendum. Perhaps "conventional wisdom" only works among political wonks and pundits who have lost touch with who the people actually casting ballots are. Rather than dismissing these people's concerns, it would help if we all tried to listen to one another more to understand other perspectives.
And that is why I am not ashamed to be an American tonight and will not apologize for Donald Trump's election. Because I don't have to conform to "conventional wisdom." And because it is not my right to be ashamed of the feelings of more than 59 million Donald Trump supporters, many of whom have legitimate issues with their conditions and the prospects for improvement. These Americans' voices deserve to be heard just as much as any other person's. But most importantly, I continue to believe in this country that has given me so much and for which I see my service as repaying. As Hillary Clinton said in her concession speech, we need to give Donald Trump a chance. And his supporters a chance, too. I know I will, because my oath to the American constitution applies to all those living under it, including Trump's 59 million voters and Clinton's 59 million voters.
The United States is a great country, and while things may seem rocky to so many people right now, we are a country that always pulls through. I look forward to serving the American people and the American constitution under a President Trump and however many other presidents will follow him in the years to come.
It's a phrase I use a lot, and I think it's because it gives me some certainty in this increasingly uncertain world. Saying I will never do something comes with a full stop. Period. No negotiations. The problem with it, though, is that I oftentimes find myself doing what I said I would never do. I'm proud of myself for that, because it means I'm open to new ideas and am willing to change. Two weeks ago I broke my latest "I will never" when I found myself unable to say no to this little face.
Xeno, 3 November 2016
Meet Xeno, my new puppy. Xeno was probably born in late August and is a Sudanese street puppy, although I'm happy that he doesn't have the typical "desert dog" look common among street dogs. He and another dog we are assuming/calling his brother were wandering around a trash heap here in Khartoum and were found by two international teachers. They rescued him and knew that I had a soft spot for "the right dog" (my way of saying "I will never get a dog") and reached out to me. Well, they found the right dog. And now he is mine.
Xeno, 24 October 2016
As the pictures show, he's mostly black with tan legs, a tan face, and white paws and tail tip. He has a long tail that he's very good at catching and eating. His paws are pretty big and he has long legs that just keep getting longer. The vet is pretty sure he's going to be a big dog, so I'm in for a wild ride!
Xeno's been in my house for about two weeks now and is slowly getting adjusted to my rhythm, getting regular meals, having other dogs to play with (not just fight with for things), and the like. His personality is starting to show. He's a relatively mellow dog for being only a few weeks old, but loves to chew on power cords and step on anything that resembles a button. On the plus side with that, he's not a fan of eating shoes? Xeno is terrible at stairs (he's fallen down stairs three times already, each time hurting one of his paws and limping around my house for a few hours), clearly understands the word "no" but then does it anyway when he thinks I'm not looking, and thoroughly enjoys playing with his two chew ties, which are a rope giraffe and a felt zebra.
Xeno, 23 October 2016
So where does the name Xeno come from? Well, there are two parts. The first is from Harry Potter. Xenophilius Lovegood is a believer of wild conspiracy theories and seemingly nonexistent creatures. However, while many consider him crazy, he is a true believer and is willing to help anyone in their quest to find the answers and proof of the things he knows exist but maybe can't prove. In Harry's case, those are the Deathly Hallows. So Xeno is named after Xenophilius Lovegood because I admire his dedication to the causes and things he believes in, even when others tell him he's crazy.
The other part of his name is that "xeno-" is a prefix meaning "foreign." While most associate the prefix with the negative (xenophobia), I'm thinking of it as part of a positive (xenophilia). Thus, Xeno is also short for xenophilia, a love of foreign things. Seemed fitting given that he's a dog I adopted while living and serving overseas.
So there it is, I adopted a Sudanese street dog and named him Xeno. He's been a lot of work, but I'm excited to have a very energetic and happy dog to come home to every night after work. He seems to be adjusting well to life in a house, and I'm looking forward to many years with him!
Every now and then I find a YouTube channel to obsess over (you can wipe that shocked look off your face!), and one of my favorites is Kevin, Karla, y La Banda, a brother-sister duo from Chile. They take songs originally in English and translate/interpret them into Spanish, and they're amazing. Here's one of my favorites to end this happy post with a happy video:
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the lights.
--Albus Dumbledore
Likewise, you can find signs of magic in the most muggle of places, if only you remember to look. Traveling across the Iberian Peninsula these past few weeks, I kept seeing signs of the magical universe that captivated my--and tens of millions of others'--attention for so many years. Maybe my mind was looking for these symbols because it's been over nine years since I sat, captivated, reading about the Battle of Hogwarts. Or five years since David Yates brought that to life in the eighth film. Yes, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them are keeping the universe alive, but Scorpius's and Albus's adventures, and Eddie Redmayne as Newt Scamander, will never compete with Harry, Ron, and Hermione (and Neville, Ginny, and Luna too, let's be honest, because they're the awesome part of the crew too).
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.
--Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Every time I take a train I like to imagine I'm on the Hogwarts Express. Nerdy, I know, but it is something I do and think that most other Harry Potter fans do too. On this trip, I took the train from Madrid to Malaga. Every person with a luggage cart, every person pulling a suitcase, was a potential person searching for the scarlet steam engine, coyly looking around to make sure no one was watching as he slipped through the barrier and onto the right platform. I was very tempted to lean against a few barriers in the waiting area to see if I could trigger my push through, but given that it was early October and not September 1, which, everyone knows, is the day the train to Hogwarts (and other wizard schools) leaves.
They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze.
--Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
We did a day trip to Granada to see the Alhambra. While there were a lot of different parts of it that were interesting from an historical perspective, I was enamored by the plant life. This shouldn't be a huge shock to anyone who's seen the myriad of pictures I have taken and have hanging in my house. After all, half of them are of pretty flowers I've seen over time. What struck me about this part of the Alhambra--walking between the gardens and the palaces--were these tall hedges lining the path. It felt like there could be anything around the curve at the end of the path, like I was walking into my own Third Task maze.
An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling was too out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake.
--Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
We also did a day trip to Gibraltar, one of my favorite historical quirks. Micronations and microterritories are always very odd because they seem to withstand the test of time better than a place that seemingly has just a great strategic location but no other obvious source of wealth should. So there Gibraltar stands, a rock as a peninsula, a British territory on the edge of Spain. And high on that rock is St. Michael's Cave, a vast cave that is now used for concerts. Even though there wasn't a lake in the middle like in Harry Potter, the different color lights that kept changing added a fantastic aura to the place that made you feel like you could find something special, something very unique, in any of the cave's many crevices.
Whatever Mrs. Figg said to the contrary, it sounded to him as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground, or the rotting smell of them, or that terrible, rattling noise they make as they sucked on the surrounding air...
--Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
In Barcelona along the beach there was a kite-flying demonstration and at first I thought one of the kites, which I assume was supposed to be an octopus, looked exactly like the dementors (except in red and black) as portrayed in the films. It also didn't hurt that there was a wispy white kite ahead of it that looked like a baby dementor (if dementors can have babies?). I obviously realized what they were, but walking along the coastline, it was a bit unnerving to see that up ahead!
Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it.
--Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
In Andorra la Vella, I saw this statue and, to be honest, I still don't know what it's about. However, it really looks like a wizard, on the left, shooting a spell at a wizard. And the water to me were reminiscent of sparks. So I like to believe that Andorra erected a statue of the Battle of the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore vs. Voldemort, at the entrance to one of its main highways. I really don't know what other interpretation there could be for this statue!
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.
--Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases.
--Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
That was me on my first day in Andorra la Vella. In some ways, the city--and it's suburb, Escaldes-Engordany--are like one big airport terminal/duty-free shop. Andorra is, after all, a tax haven and so it does have that reputation. But unlike airports, many of the buildings were made out of stone and looked like they were still from an older era. It was actually really charming. I spent a good 3 hours wandering the back alleyways of Andorra la Vella (and Escaldes-Engordany, since the only thing really separating them is a sign telling you you're entering from one into the other), looking at the little shops, seeing the restaurants setting up their outdoor seating, and people-watching. I definitely felt like I was in Diagon Alley.
They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were sill spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.
--Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
They walked on for what seemed a long time, until they were once again so deep into the forest that the dense tree canopy blocked out all the light. Harry had the feeling he had had before in the forest, one of being watched by unseen eyes.
--Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Andorra's most amazing feature is its topography. In the winter, it is a skiing haven, and in the summer, it is known for its hiking. Thankfully the snows hadn't yet come and the weather was still warm enough to make hiking across Andorra possible. Along the way, I found some of the most serene locations I have ever seen. Quiet, peaceful, with lots of green and echoes of the Riu Valira permeating the trees. I hiked up, down, and sideways across the country, and each time I could imagine I was in the Forbidden Forest (just not with the evil creatures that wanted to kill me).
And so those were just some of the times on my journey across Spain and its neighbors where I felt like I might have slipped into the wizarding world. Sadly, all good things have to come to an end, so I'm back to my muggle life in Khartoum. I'm sure there are signs of magic here too, if I just wanted to dig a bit and find them!
As for being happy, here's one of my favorite songs from the movies.
A few years ago, I was hanging out with some fellow post-colonial Africa historians (yes, we exist*), and one told a joke she had once heard:
As African countries began gaining their independence with uncertain futures ahead, Liberia looked at the group and said, "We've been at this for a century and are doing pretty OK. Plus, if anything were ever to go seriously wrong, we know the US will be there for us." Mali, Cote d'Ivoire, Chad, and the other former French colonies said, "France hasn't always been the greatest to us, but we know they'll look out for our physical and economic security in the future." Ghana, Kenya, Botswana, and the other former British colonies said, "We're doing well and don't need the UK, but it's nice to know she'll be there when we need her."
By the time Portugal finally relinquished control of its "overseas provinces" in 1974/75, Angola, Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau, Cabo Verde, and São Tomé and Príncipe looked at each other and said, "That's not fair! You guys have prosperous benefactors, and we have Portugal!"
Portugal may not be the sick man of Western Europe anymore (Greece probably takes that prize), but in my few days in Lisbon I noticed that there was a rawness--a grittiness, a power-through mentality--that I didn't necessarily feel in any other European country I've been to. I'll admit, my knowledge of Portugal was pretty limited before this trip, mostly based on (1) my research of Mozambique and Angola in college, (2) my fascination that Portugal is one of only two (maybe three, depending on how you look at it) countries in the world which has a former capital no longer in its territory**, and (3) perhaps the best storyline from Love Actually (see happy video below). This is not to say that my three days in Lisbon makes me an expert on Portugal, rather that my knowledge and appreciation for Portugal is now expanded and, by extension, I now better understand my fellow historian's joke.
So back to Portugal. In my days walking around the streets and neighborhoods of Lisbon, I discovered that remnants of a once-great empire are still visible. Some of the buildings have breathtaking facades with exquisite detail carved into them. Proud statues showcase each of Portugal's great kings, the ones that led Portugal to explore and conquer so much of the world. (Note: Yes, I recognize the many problems of Europeans conquering foreign lands, but you can hate colonialism and the "Age of Exploration" while still acknowledging the impressive feats of that era.) And the sidewalks have intricate designs befitting a country sparing no expense in showcasing its best side. But as nice as these features are, they are also dated, stuck in an era where tiled displays on the sides of building are a status symbol.
While traversing Lisbon, I had a weird series of interactions with guys trying to sell me all sorts of drugs, including marijuana and cocaine. One guy came near me while I was at an ATM and asked me why I would be taking out cash if I didn't intend to use it to buy drugs. Not only did I find the question odd, I found his hawking of drugs so near police and others a gutsy move, and it contributed to this grittiness I felt Portugal exude. It was as if the underground economy was coming above ground. In addition to those experiences, I was shocked by the lack of smiles I saw on people walking down the street (I'm currently reading Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss, so this caught my eye). I know smiling is not necessarily an adequate representation of a country's mood, but there was a stoic-ness in people's faces, postures, and auras.
All together, it felt like Portugal was just biding its time, obviously no longer what it used to be (both the positives and the negatives), but slowly working its way back to a position of prominence. Portugal didn't seem to be hiding its flaws, and as long as things didn't decline, they were improving. In some ways, it was a refreshing feeling. I enjoyed sensing reality on my walks and journeys, and I'd be really interested in returning some day to see how, if at all, Lisbon and Portugal have changed!
As alluded to earlier, Love Actually's storyline featuring Jamie (Colin Firth) and Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz) is my favorite. And while I recognize that this scene takes place in a Portuguese-dominated neighborhood near Marseilles and not in Lisbon, it's still a great scene and is relevant to this post about Portugal. I am also posting it here just in cases you have never seen it. :-)
*My credentials for this category is my degree in International History with a focus on Poverty and Development, specifically in post-colonial sub-Saharan Africa. I also did intensive research and wrote an undergraduate thesis on the use of food as a tool of war in Mozambique.
**Portugal joins Oman with this distinction, and maybe Taiwan, although Taiwan is a weird case. For Portugal, in 1808, Dona Maria I of Portugal moved the royal court from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro, where it remained until 1822. For Oman, in 1840, Said bin Sultan moved his capital from Muscat to Stone Town, Zanzibar, where it remained until 1856 when his sons couldn't decide who would succeed him, so they ended up dividing the country into the Sultanate of Oman and the Sultanate of Zanzibar. And finally, for Taiwan, the capital was in Nanjing until the government fled the mainland in 1949 and set up shop in Taipei.
It wasn't even two weeks between returning from Cape Town and me jetting off again. In my defense, this trip was planned for the past year (and finalized two months ago). When planning the trip, I had two serious options for how to get to my first destination, Madrid. Option 1 was to go through Istanbul on Turkish Airlines, which I wanted to do but then there was the attack at the airport and the attempted coup and so Turkey didn't necessarily feel like a great place to travel through, too many unknowns for my liking. So I instead went with Option 2, flying EgyptAir through Cairo. Almost immediately after booking my tickets, people expressed concern. "Cairo International Airport isn't that nice, and you won't want to spend four hours there," they said. Or, "You don't trust Istanbul/Turkey, but you're willing to trust Cairo/Egypt?" I granted them the second point, but the first one got me concerned and I therefore read online reviews of the airport, which panned it for a whole host of problems. Skytrax gives it a 3/10, and comments range from "chaotic and not clean" to "one of the worst travel experiences I've ever encountered" to "so much quality is missing." Seems like people's worry for me was well-founded.
Until I actually got to the airport. My first thought was, "Wow, this is a super nice airport!" I guess when Khartoum International Airport is the comparison (it has a 2/10 on Skytrax), anything looks good. But still. I was expecting a slightly nicer version of KRT, not the beauty that I saw. Not only were there lots of eating options (including a Burger King and a Haagen-Dazs), but the seats were very comfortable and numerous, and I was able to take quick cat naps on them during my four-hour layover. The gates were logically arranged (Side Note: can't say the same for Madrid, which looks like someone said "OK, where's Gate 30?" and then a guy closed his eyes and randomly pointed at a map, and that became Gate 30. And then they repeated the process for Gate 31, and so on.) and the announcements were clear, if a little numerous. I don't speak Arabic, but even I could understand many of the words in the Arabic one, and the English announcements sounded like English. This was completely different from Khartoum, or even Addis Ababa, where the English announcements oftentimes sound like someone who doesn't speak the language is trying his or her best to sound out the words over the PA system.
I'm sure Cairo International Airport has its downsides, and if I flew through it regularly, I wouldn't be so enamored by it. But Khartoum sets the bar low, and I was impressed by how over and above Cairo was of it.
Given that I'm on an Iberian Peninsula adventure, I share the below clip that I am absolutely obsessed with by Fernando Daniel, a contestant on the current season of The Voice Portugal. This was his Blind Audition, or Provas Cegas.
