MARRIED OR NOT, YOU SHOULD READ THIS ...
“When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.
Suddenly it hit me… she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office…. jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind…I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed -dead. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce.— At least, in the eyes of our son—- I’m a loving husband….
The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. If you are not in a relationship now, remember this for the second (or third) time around. It's never too late.
If you don’t share this, nothing will happen to you.
If you do, you just might save a marriage. Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Religion. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Religion. Tampilkan semua postingan
Senin, 09 Desember 2013
Jumat, 06 Desember 2013
I Already Told Gold
I told GOD:
Let all my friends be healthy and happy forever...!
GOD said:
But for 4 days only....!
I said:
Yes, let them be a Spring Day, Summer Day, Autumn Day, and Winter Day.
GOD said:
3 days.
I said:
Yes, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.
GOD said:
No, 2 days!
I said:
Yes, a Bright Day (Daytime) and Dark Day (Night-time) .
GOD said:
No, just 1 day!
I said:
Yes!
GOD asked:
Which day?
I said:
Every Day in the living years of all my friends!
GOD laughed, and said:
All your friends will be healthy and happy Every Day!
Let all my friends be healthy and happy forever...!
GOD said:
But for 4 days only....!
I said:
Yes, let them be a Spring Day, Summer Day, Autumn Day, and Winter Day.
GOD said:
3 days.
I said:
Yes, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.
GOD said:
No, 2 days!
I said:
Yes, a Bright Day (Daytime) and Dark Day (Night-time) .
GOD said:
No, just 1 day!
I said:
Yes!
GOD asked:
Which day?
I said:
Every Day in the living years of all my friends!
GOD laughed, and said:
All your friends will be healthy and happy Every Day!
Rabu, 10 Juli 2013
Live Each Day As If it Were the Last Day of Your Life
God love us all!
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world, too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it, if I choose to read, or play, on the computer, until 4 AM, or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50, 60 &70’s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will.
I will walk the beach, in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves, with abandon, if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And, I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break, when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet is hit by a car? But, broken hearts are what give us strength, and understanding, and compassion. A heart never broken, is pristine, and sterile, and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong. So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it).
MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT 'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART!
Minggu, 21 April 2013
The Most Handsome Beggar Becomes Famous Online
Fashionable beggar becomes famous online, encounters human flesh search
“Those sad eyes/that sad expression, the sad mustache, the miraculous godly hair, and that messy hair, all of it has deeply captivated me.” …Recently, a very hot/popular beggar post has become famous on the internet, the post narrating what netizens have hailed as “The Ultimate Gorgeous #1 Passerby Handsome Guy” beggar. Owing to his unconventional, nondescript appearance as well as his original “mashup”, netizens have begun following him, even “human flesh searching” him.
Ningbo’s Handsome Guy Beggar is just a poor/pitiful guy
Many netizens have sent me messages asking me to verify whether that latest famous handsome guy begger is really a beggar. Here I will testify that it can be said that he is.
Long ago in 2008 I encountered him. Most people who see him will avoid him, treating him as a beggar and the link, but actually this is not accurate. 乞丐 [qǐgài "beggar"] in our country’s ancient words first appeared as a monosyllabic word. The meaning of 乞 [qǐ] in the golden texts was “to beg”. But he does not beg, nor does he know how to beg, because he has psychological problems (in Ningbo they call it “great fog sickness”). They do not have an identity, they do not have family, they’ve even forgotten who they are. They are a group of people abandoned by society, and their final outcome is to die without anyone inquiring about them. They wander in the space between humans and animals. Help them a bit and they become humans, ignore them and they are animals.
He once said this to me: “Find a girl to love me.”
“Those sad eyes/that sad expression, the sad mustache, the miraculous godly hair, and that messy hair, all of it has deeply captivated me.” …Recently, a very hot/popular beggar post has become famous on the internet, the post narrating what netizens have hailed as “The Ultimate Gorgeous #1 Passerby Handsome Guy” beggar. Owing to his unconventional, nondescript appearance as well as his original “mashup”, netizens have begun following him, even “human flesh searching” him.
Ningbo’s Handsome Guy Beggar is just a poor/pitiful guy
Many netizens have sent me messages asking me to verify whether that latest famous handsome guy begger is really a beggar. Here I will testify that it can be said that he is.
Long ago in 2008 I encountered him. Most people who see him will avoid him, treating him as a beggar and the link, but actually this is not accurate. 乞丐 [qǐgài "beggar"] in our country’s ancient words first appeared as a monosyllabic word. The meaning of 乞 [qǐ] in the golden texts was “to beg”. But he does not beg, nor does he know how to beg, because he has psychological problems (in Ningbo they call it “great fog sickness”). They do not have an identity, they do not have family, they’ve even forgotten who they are. They are a group of people abandoned by society, and their final outcome is to die without anyone inquiring about them. They wander in the space between humans and animals. Help them a bit and they become humans, ignore them and they are animals.
He once said this to me: “Find a girl to love me.”
Rabu, 17 April 2013
Sell The Daughter for Prostitute
Thai mum jailed for prostituting daughter
A Thai prostitute who sold her daughter for sex for seven years, from the age of nine, has become the first person in Australia to be jailed for child trafficking.
In sentencing the 41-year-old woman to nine years' jail, Brisbane Supreme Court Justice David Boddice slammed her behaviour as the "horrendous" exploitation of an innocent child who was simply trying to please her mother.
"This behaviour was particularly shocking, despicable and reprehensible as it was undertaken by a parent for financial profit ... with no regard for common decency," he said.
The court heard on Tuesday that the abuse started when the child visited her mother on a holiday to Australia in 2004.
Prosecutor Todd Fuller SC said the woman brought the child permanently to Brisbane when she turned 11, making her a partner in the business.
Mr Fuller said the woman encouraged the child to perform a wide range of sexual services and threatened her with violence if she refused.
The woman told the daughter to exploit her clients - who paid her handsomely for services - for additional gifts and possible marriage.
"She regarded her daughter's virginity as a commodity that she could sell," Mr Fuller said.
The offending was discovered in 2011 when the girl complained to a family friend, who reported it to police.
The 41-year-old woman pleaded guilty to 20 charges, including child trafficking, procuring prostitution of a child, indecent treatment of a child and maintaining a sexual relationship with a child.
She will be eligible for parole after serving four years.
A Thai prostitute who sold her daughter for sex for seven years, from the age of nine, has become the first person in Australia to be jailed for child trafficking.
In sentencing the 41-year-old woman to nine years' jail, Brisbane Supreme Court Justice David Boddice slammed her behaviour as the "horrendous" exploitation of an innocent child who was simply trying to please her mother.
"This behaviour was particularly shocking, despicable and reprehensible as it was undertaken by a parent for financial profit ... with no regard for common decency," he said.
The court heard on Tuesday that the abuse started when the child visited her mother on a holiday to Australia in 2004.
Prosecutor Todd Fuller SC said the woman brought the child permanently to Brisbane when she turned 11, making her a partner in the business.
Mr Fuller said the woman encouraged the child to perform a wide range of sexual services and threatened her with violence if she refused.
The woman told the daughter to exploit her clients - who paid her handsomely for services - for additional gifts and possible marriage.
"She regarded her daughter's virginity as a commodity that she could sell," Mr Fuller said.
The offending was discovered in 2011 when the girl complained to a family friend, who reported it to police.
The 41-year-old woman pleaded guilty to 20 charges, including child trafficking, procuring prostitution of a child, indecent treatment of a child and maintaining a sexual relationship with a child.
She will be eligible for parole after serving four years.
Senin, 15 April 2013
The Devil On Earth - Mysterious Horned Man
7 Horned Man
Man with horns initially hard to believe, but many cases in different parts of the world. Some people, mostly elderly grow horns on their heads, even in other parts.
There are at least seven people grow horns. Mostly in China. Health experts are still investigating the growth of horns on the head man. Who are the people with horns on their heads? Here's his review.
1. Yuan Fan
A grandfather named Yuan Fan of City Ziyuan, southern China, the talk of the medical world. He has a strange horn measuring seven centimeters. The man is 84 years tells horns on his head began to grow from five years ago until now. "I tried to cut it but it continues to grow. I can not change, the greater," he said
Fortunately it can not grow horns over seven inches. The doctors in China do not know what happened to him.
2. Ma Zhong Nan
In 2007 my grandfather from China named Ma Zhong Nan became one of the horns in the world. From head 93 year old man was sticking a small object like a horn. Previous Nan middle comb my hair and was wounded in the head. At first he did not care about the little wound but over time a hard substance coming out of her head.
Nan has a horn with a length of 10 centimeters. He had tried to go to the doctor, but the medics said could not be helped.
3. Granny Zhao
Still in 2007 the China Yang Cheng reported seeing a grandmother to travel from the city of Zhanjiang. How surprised that women 95 years it has horns on his forehead.
Curved horns like the pumpkin stem up to 15 centimeters in length. My grandmother was named Zhao said the mole, but in fact it grows longer.
4. Saleh Talib
Yemeni Saleh Talib admitted horns growing from his dream. Men's 102 years felt there was something strange in the head. Turns out he has a horn and when she woke up little by little dream come true. He was considered a gift from God.
Despite claims uncomfortable, Saleh refused the gift of God is removed, according to doctors from hospitals, horn man is due to a layer of hard skin on the head. Horn has now been over 12 centimeters.
5. Abdul Razak
Maybe this man most have horns on the head even under their lips. Abdul Razak is a retired police officer from the City Narasimharajapura, India, has been living with some horns on the back of his head, for over 20 years.
Actually this man was born to normal despite aneg growth in her head. But after retirement, antlers begin to grow.
In 2008, a horn Razak, like long fingers, a doctor from the local hospital said the case is very rare. Sometimes it happens because of the fat in the skin.
6. Unicorn Lady
O An unnamed woman allegedly from Russia has horns out of his head. Horn length is up to 17 centimeters. Many people call Women Unicorn.
Initially she had a lump. For some reason it can not be cured lumps out circular horn.
7. Zang Ruifang
Zhan horrendous world Ruifang from China because it has a horn on the left forehead. This is similar to horns goat horns. About six inches in length and can grow again.
101-year-old woman was also felt his right brow horns would grow anyway. Note the black dots on his right forehead. When fully grown the Ruifang became the first woman with animal horn perfectly
Man with horns initially hard to believe, but many cases in different parts of the world. Some people, mostly elderly grow horns on their heads, even in other parts.
There are at least seven people grow horns. Mostly in China. Health experts are still investigating the growth of horns on the head man. Who are the people with horns on their heads? Here's his review.
A grandfather named Yuan Fan of City Ziyuan, southern China, the talk of the medical world. He has a strange horn measuring seven centimeters. The man is 84 years tells horns on his head began to grow from five years ago until now. "I tried to cut it but it continues to grow. I can not change, the greater," he said
Fortunately it can not grow horns over seven inches. The doctors in China do not know what happened to him.
In 2007 my grandfather from China named Ma Zhong Nan became one of the horns in the world. From head 93 year old man was sticking a small object like a horn. Previous Nan middle comb my hair and was wounded in the head. At first he did not care about the little wound but over time a hard substance coming out of her head.
Nan has a horn with a length of 10 centimeters. He had tried to go to the doctor, but the medics said could not be helped.
Still in 2007 the China Yang Cheng reported seeing a grandmother to travel from the city of Zhanjiang. How surprised that women 95 years it has horns on his forehead.
Curved horns like the pumpkin stem up to 15 centimeters in length. My grandmother was named Zhao said the mole, but in fact it grows longer.
Yemeni Saleh Talib admitted horns growing from his dream. Men's 102 years felt there was something strange in the head. Turns out he has a horn and when she woke up little by little dream come true. He was considered a gift from God.
Despite claims uncomfortable, Saleh refused the gift of God is removed, according to doctors from hospitals, horn man is due to a layer of hard skin on the head. Horn has now been over 12 centimeters.
Maybe this man most have horns on the head even under their lips. Abdul Razak is a retired police officer from the City Narasimharajapura, India, has been living with some horns on the back of his head, for over 20 years.
Actually this man was born to normal despite aneg growth in her head. But after retirement, antlers begin to grow.
In 2008, a horn Razak, like long fingers, a doctor from the local hospital said the case is very rare. Sometimes it happens because of the fat in the skin.
O An unnamed woman allegedly from Russia has horns out of his head. Horn length is up to 17 centimeters. Many people call Women Unicorn.
Initially she had a lump. For some reason it can not be cured lumps out circular horn.
Zhan horrendous world Ruifang from China because it has a horn on the left forehead. This is similar to horns goat horns. About six inches in length and can grow again.
101-year-old woman was also felt his right brow horns would grow anyway. Note the black dots on his right forehead. When fully grown the Ruifang became the first woman with animal horn perfectly
Jumat, 12 April 2013
Jesus Has A Wife
‘Jesus wife’ Coptic papyrus is a fake, declares Vatican newspaper
Photo released by Harvard University, divinity professor Karen L. King holds a fourth century fragment of papyrus that she says is the only existing ancient text that quotes Jesus explicitly referring to having a wife.
Citing concerns about fragment’s authenticity and its origin, the paper also criticized Harvard, a Vatican newspaper declared the so-called “Jesus wife” papyrus a fake.
Nine days after early Christianity scholar Karen King announced the discovery of an ancient text suggesting that some Christians believed Jesus was married, the debate has been seemingly nonstop about the Coptic fragment’s authenticity and its role in understanding Jesus’ life.
“The newspaper, L’Osservatore Romano, published an article Thursday by leading Coptic scholar Alberto Camplani and an accompanying editorial by the newspaper’s editor, Giovanni Maria Vian, an expert in early Christianity. They both cited concerns expressed by other scholars about the fragment’s authenticity and the fact that it was purchased on the market without a known archaeological provenance,” the Associated Press reported Thursday.
Last week, Harvard Divinity School professor Karen King cited the ancient text during a presentation at a conference for Coptic scholars in Rome. The text while not declaring that he was married, suggests some early Christians believed he had a wife.
Camplani, a professor at Rome’s La Sapienza university who helped organize Tenth International Congress of Coptic Studies, said he and other attendees questioned King’s understanding of the text.
Some religion blogs recently reported that the Harvard Theological Review declined to publish her paper. The academic journal plans to feasture her research in the January edition pending testing of the fragment.
“Dr. King’s ‘marriage fragment’ paper, which Harvard Theological Review is planning to publish in its January, 2013, edition – if testing of the ink and other aspects of the fragment are completed in time - will include her responses to the vigorous and appropriate academic debate engendered by discovery of the fragment, as well as her report on the ink analysis, and further examination of the fragment,” according to a statement released Wednesday by the Harvard Divinity School.
On Sept. 18, the Harvard Divinity School professor announced her findings at a conference of Coptic scholars held in Rome.
“Christian tradition has long held that Jesus was not married, even though no reliable historical evidence exists to support that claim,” King said in a divinity school news release. “This new gospel doesn't prove that Jesus was married, but it tells us that the whole question only came up as part of vociferous debates about sexuality and marriage. From the very beginning, Christians disagreed about whether it was better not to marry, but it was over a century after Jesus's death before they began appealing to Jesus's marital status to support their positions.”
King posted a draft of the paper as well as a question-and-answer and pictures of the fragment on a page on the Harvard Divinity School Web site.
Smithsonian Channel, which planned to chronicle the story behind King’s discovery in a documentary on Sunday, postponed the program. The channel delayed the broadcast “until the text undergoes further tests,” a spokesman said Thursday. A new premiere date won’t be announced until it’s determined when the tests take place.
Since the headline-grabbing announcement, scholars have weighed in on the discovery.
“Several top Coptic specialists dismissed the fragment as a probable forgery almost immediately after King’s presentation at a major gathering of scholars in Rome,” the Boston Globe reported. “And a British New Testament scholar, Francis Watson, posted several short papers online during the last week arguing — persuasively, to some in the field — that the fragment’s text is probably a modern forger’s pastiche of words and phrases taken from the single surviving copy of the Gospel of Thomas.”
Citing concerns about fragment’s authenticity and its origin, the paper also criticized Harvard, a Vatican newspaper declared the so-called “Jesus wife” papyrus a fake.
Nine days after early Christianity scholar Karen King announced the discovery of an ancient text suggesting that some Christians believed Jesus was married, the debate has been seemingly nonstop about the Coptic fragment’s authenticity and its role in understanding Jesus’ life.
“The newspaper, L’Osservatore Romano, published an article Thursday by leading Coptic scholar Alberto Camplani and an accompanying editorial by the newspaper’s editor, Giovanni Maria Vian, an expert in early Christianity. They both cited concerns expressed by other scholars about the fragment’s authenticity and the fact that it was purchased on the market without a known archaeological provenance,” the Associated Press reported Thursday.
Last week, Harvard Divinity School professor Karen King cited the ancient text during a presentation at a conference for Coptic scholars in Rome. The text while not declaring that he was married, suggests some early Christians believed he had a wife.
Camplani, a professor at Rome’s La Sapienza university who helped organize Tenth International Congress of Coptic Studies, said he and other attendees questioned King’s understanding of the text.
Some religion blogs recently reported that the Harvard Theological Review declined to publish her paper. The academic journal plans to feasture her research in the January edition pending testing of the fragment.
“Dr. King’s ‘marriage fragment’ paper, which Harvard Theological Review is planning to publish in its January, 2013, edition – if testing of the ink and other aspects of the fragment are completed in time - will include her responses to the vigorous and appropriate academic debate engendered by discovery of the fragment, as well as her report on the ink analysis, and further examination of the fragment,” according to a statement released Wednesday by the Harvard Divinity School.
On Sept. 18, the Harvard Divinity School professor announced her findings at a conference of Coptic scholars held in Rome.
“Christian tradition has long held that Jesus was not married, even though no reliable historical evidence exists to support that claim,” King said in a divinity school news release. “This new gospel doesn't prove that Jesus was married, but it tells us that the whole question only came up as part of vociferous debates about sexuality and marriage. From the very beginning, Christians disagreed about whether it was better not to marry, but it was over a century after Jesus's death before they began appealing to Jesus's marital status to support their positions.”
King posted a draft of the paper as well as a question-and-answer and pictures of the fragment on a page on the Harvard Divinity School Web site.
Smithsonian Channel, which planned to chronicle the story behind King’s discovery in a documentary on Sunday, postponed the program. The channel delayed the broadcast “until the text undergoes further tests,” a spokesman said Thursday. A new premiere date won’t be announced until it’s determined when the tests take place.
Since the headline-grabbing announcement, scholars have weighed in on the discovery.
“Several top Coptic specialists dismissed the fragment as a probable forgery almost immediately after King’s presentation at a major gathering of scholars in Rome,” the Boston Globe reported. “And a British New Testament scholar, Francis Watson, posted several short papers online during the last week arguing — persuasively, to some in the field — that the fragment’s text is probably a modern forger’s pastiche of words and phrases taken from the single surviving copy of the Gospel of Thomas.”
The Gospel of Judas
Truth Behind Gospel of Judas Revealed in Ancient Inks
The Gospel of Judas, a text dated to about A.D. 280, tells the story of Judas as a collaborator with Jesus instead of a betrayer.
A long-lost gospel that casts Judas as a co-conspirator of Jesus, rather than a betrayer, was ruled most likely authentic in 2006. Now, scientists reveal they couldn't have made the call without a series of far more mundane documents, including Ancient Egyptian marriage licenses and property contracts.
The Gospel of Judas is a fragmented Coptic (Egyptian)-language text that portrays Judas in a far more sympathetic light than did the gospels that made it into the Bible. In this version of the story, Judas turns Jesus over to the authorities for execution upon Jesus' request, as part of a plan to release his spirit from his body. In the accepted biblical version of the tale, Judas betrays Jesus for 30 pieces of silver.
As part of a 2006 National Geographic Society (the Society) investigation of the document, microscopist Joseph Barabe of McCrone Associates in Illinois and a team of researchers analyzed the ink on the tattered gospel to find out if it was real or forged. Some of the chemicals in the ink raised red flags — until Barabe and his colleagues found, at the Louvre Museum, a study of Egyptian documents from the third century A.D., the same time period of the Gospal of Judas.
A long-lost gospel that casts Judas as a co-conspirator of Jesus, rather than a betrayer, was ruled most likely authentic in 2006. Now, scientists reveal they couldn't have made the call without a series of far more mundane documents, including Ancient Egyptian marriage licenses and property contracts.
The Gospel of Judas is a fragmented Coptic (Egyptian)-language text that portrays Judas in a far more sympathetic light than did the gospels that made it into the Bible. In this version of the story, Judas turns Jesus over to the authorities for execution upon Jesus' request, as part of a plan to release his spirit from his body. In the accepted biblical version of the tale, Judas betrays Jesus for 30 pieces of silver.
As part of a 2006 National Geographic Society (the Society) investigation of the document, microscopist Joseph Barabe of McCrone Associates in Illinois and a team of researchers analyzed the ink on the tattered gospel to find out if it was real or forged. Some of the chemicals in the ink raised red flags — until Barabe and his colleagues found, at the Louvre Museum, a study of Egyptian documents from the third century A.D., the same time period of the Gospal of Judas.
Selasa, 09 April 2013
How Christians and Muslims can Marry
Multi-ethnic couples reflect Bosnia's growing diversity
Rusmir Zaimovic and his wife Sandra enjoy an afternoon coffee at their apartment in Sarajevo.
SANDRA Zaimovic, a Catholic Bosnian Croat and her husband Rusmir, a Bosnian Muslim, are looking forward to celebrating both Eid and Christmas with their new baby this year.
Couples of different ethnicity like the Zaimovics were a rarity in the years following the 1992-1995 war which divided Bosnia along ethnic lines, but today they are slowly reappearing, reflecting the country's growing diversity.
Rusmir and Sandra, herself a child of a mixed marriage between a Bosnian Croat mother and Serb father, met in 2003 at a friend's party. They were married two years later, one of the rare ethnically mixed marriages in Bosnia to take place since the war. "Ours is a marriage of love we have never asked any questions about our ethnicity or our faith," says 33-year-old computer engineer Rusmir.
Their families had no objections, but many others have queried their relationship.
"I often meet people who ask me how my mother has reacted, how the two of us manage everything. Remarks like that remind me where we live," says Sandra.
Over the years, however, Sandra and Rusmir have made a tight network of friends, many of whom are also ethnically mixed couples, or those who find no fault with their life choices.
The former Yugoslav republic was once a shining example of diversity, but Bosnian society was torn apart during the war that pitted its three main ethnic communities Serbs, Croats, and Muslims against each other. Many mixed couples were unable to resist the pressures of the time and either split up or left the country. Most have never returned.
Today the country has a population of just 3.8 million, of which 40 per cent are Muslim, 31 per cent Serb (mainly Orthodox Christian) and 10 per cent Bosnian Croat. Over two million people were forced from their homes during the war, in which 100,000 died.
The ethnologist Ugo Vlaisavljevic confirms that the psychological scars of the war run deep. "As a consequence of the horrors of war that we experienced in the 1990s a deep distrust between the people emerged... and of course this has had a considerable impact on people's personal lives."
Neda Perisic, an anthropologist, points out that couples like the Zaimovics face more than societal pressure, highlighting the institutional discrimination inherent in the political system imposed by the 1995 peace accord.
"In Bosnia, there are no individual, but only collective rights," she says, explaining that almost all jobs in public administration or state-controlled companies are reserved for members of the three so-called constituent communities.
SANDRA Zaimovic, a Catholic Bosnian Croat and her husband Rusmir, a Bosnian Muslim, are looking forward to celebrating both Eid and Christmas with their new baby this year.
Couples of different ethnicity like the Zaimovics were a rarity in the years following the 1992-1995 war which divided Bosnia along ethnic lines, but today they are slowly reappearing, reflecting the country's growing diversity.
Rusmir and Sandra, herself a child of a mixed marriage between a Bosnian Croat mother and Serb father, met in 2003 at a friend's party. They were married two years later, one of the rare ethnically mixed marriages in Bosnia to take place since the war. "Ours is a marriage of love we have never asked any questions about our ethnicity or our faith," says 33-year-old computer engineer Rusmir.
Their families had no objections, but many others have queried their relationship.
"I often meet people who ask me how my mother has reacted, how the two of us manage everything. Remarks like that remind me where we live," says Sandra.
Over the years, however, Sandra and Rusmir have made a tight network of friends, many of whom are also ethnically mixed couples, or those who find no fault with their life choices.
The former Yugoslav republic was once a shining example of diversity, but Bosnian society was torn apart during the war that pitted its three main ethnic communities Serbs, Croats, and Muslims against each other. Many mixed couples were unable to resist the pressures of the time and either split up or left the country. Most have never returned.
Today the country has a population of just 3.8 million, of which 40 per cent are Muslim, 31 per cent Serb (mainly Orthodox Christian) and 10 per cent Bosnian Croat. Over two million people were forced from their homes during the war, in which 100,000 died.
The ethnologist Ugo Vlaisavljevic confirms that the psychological scars of the war run deep. "As a consequence of the horrors of war that we experienced in the 1990s a deep distrust between the people emerged... and of course this has had a considerable impact on people's personal lives."
Neda Perisic, an anthropologist, points out that couples like the Zaimovics face more than societal pressure, highlighting the institutional discrimination inherent in the political system imposed by the 1995 peace accord.
"In Bosnia, there are no individual, but only collective rights," she says, explaining that almost all jobs in public administration or state-controlled companies are reserved for members of the three so-called constituent communities.
Is The Pope Gay? The Biggest Vatican's Secret Revealed!
Sabtu, 06 April 2013
Discrimination In The Air
Air France fined for activist harassment, discrimination on Israeli orders
A French court has convicted Air France of discrimination after a flight crew member interrogated an activist about her ethnicity then had her ejected from a plane headed to Tel Aviv, where she had planned to attend a rally.
Thirty-year-old French nursing student Horia Ankour proved in a French court that she was approached in April 2012 by a flight attendant and asked if she had an Israeli passport, and then if she was Jewish. Replying in the negative to both questions cost Ankour her seat on the plane. She was planning on flying from Nice to Tel Aviv to attend a solidarity initiative called 'Welcome to Palestine.'
“We cannot tolerate this kind of conduct on our territory,” state prosecutor Abdelkrim Grini said during the trial. “Today they ask you if you’re Jewish, tomorrow if you’re Muslim, after tomorrow if you’re homosexual or a trade unionist.”
An Air France official stated shortly following the incident that the flight attendant's treatment of Ankour came "on demand from Israeli authorities and in their name," Le Monde Diplomatique reported at the time.
That claim was confirmed by Air France attorney Fabrice Pradon, who testified that the demand to interrogate Ankour came “directly from Israeli authorities.”
Ankour, like other activists who have experienced the same intimidation tactics and discrimination, was later sent a sarcastic letter from the Israeli government 'thanking' her for trying to come to Israel for humanitarian reasons, according to Israel Nation News.
She was also placed on an Israeli government list of “undesirables.”
Air France was ordered to pay 13,000 euro ($16,700) in fines, damages and interest in the Thursday ruling. Meanwhile, Pradon said the airline would appeal.
A French court has convicted Air France of discrimination after a flight crew member interrogated an activist about her ethnicity then had her ejected from a plane headed to Tel Aviv, where she had planned to attend a rally.
Thirty-year-old French nursing student Horia Ankour proved in a French court that she was approached in April 2012 by a flight attendant and asked if she had an Israeli passport, and then if she was Jewish. Replying in the negative to both questions cost Ankour her seat on the plane. She was planning on flying from Nice to Tel Aviv to attend a solidarity initiative called 'Welcome to Palestine.'
“We cannot tolerate this kind of conduct on our territory,” state prosecutor Abdelkrim Grini said during the trial. “Today they ask you if you’re Jewish, tomorrow if you’re Muslim, after tomorrow if you’re homosexual or a trade unionist.”
An Air France official stated shortly following the incident that the flight attendant's treatment of Ankour came "on demand from Israeli authorities and in their name," Le Monde Diplomatique reported at the time.
That claim was confirmed by Air France attorney Fabrice Pradon, who testified that the demand to interrogate Ankour came “directly from Israeli authorities.”
Ankour, like other activists who have experienced the same intimidation tactics and discrimination, was later sent a sarcastic letter from the Israeli government 'thanking' her for trying to come to Israel for humanitarian reasons, according to Israel Nation News.
She was also placed on an Israeli government list of “undesirables.”
Air France was ordered to pay 13,000 euro ($16,700) in fines, damages and interest in the Thursday ruling. Meanwhile, Pradon said the airline would appeal.
Selasa, 02 April 2013
Teenage Lovers Marry After 60 years Apart
Teenage Sweethearts Prove it's Never Too Late as They Reunite and Marry in Their 70s
A lovesick British couple whose teen romance dissolved under the weight of parental disapproval has reunited and married—six decades after splitting up.
“We have simply picked up where we left off. It’s like being teenage sweethearts all over again,” Eileen Billington, 78, told SWNS.com about her newfound relationship with Warner, 79. “It’s as though we have never been apart. As well as loving each other, we are good companions, just as we were when we first met. In fact, we are just like an old married couple.”
More on Yahoo!: As More Vintage Weddings are Forecasted for 2013, David Jones Photography Shares Tips on Capturing Classic Photos that Evoke Timeless Romance
Eileen Lockley met Warner Billington back she was 16 and he was 17, living as neighbors in the West Midlands area of central England, when Warner noticed her walking by with her sister Margaret.
“I saw her and I was smitten,” Warner told the Daily Mail. “I got a pair of garden shears and pretended to cut the hedge outside my parents’ house. When they passed, I said, ‘Hello Margs, who’s that with you?’ and we got talking.”
Shortly thereafter, Warner enlisted in the Royal Air Force and was stationed about three hours away in South Wales. But he wrote to Eileen, an aspiring tap dancer who worked for the gas board, and asked her on a date, and they spent time going to movies and the seashore whenever he was home on leave. They also wrote to each other every other day.
Two years later, they planned to wed. But Eileen’s father said they were too young, and Warner lost his nerve.
“I thought Eileen’s father was wrong, but I didn’t propose,” he recalled. “Somehow, we just parted after that. It was my fault, I just went my own way.”
And life went on for both of them. In 1956, Eileen married a man named Jack Lenton, with whom she ran a hotel in Newquay, Cornwall. They had a son and a daughter, and were together until Jack died in 2006.
Warner, meanwhile, married a woman named Gillian in 1957. They had three sons and were together until Gillian’s death in 2010.
Though Eileen and Warner hadn’t seen each other since their breakup, a friend of Warner’s was a regular at Eileen’s hotel, and Eileen would always ask her how Warner was doing. When she heard he had lost his wife, she called him to express her condolences, and after that they chatted on the phone regularly.
A year later, Warner invited Eileen to visit him at his home in West Midlands; it culminated in a tearful reunion at the train station, where Warner met her “hair all slicked back and roses at the ready,” he told SWNS.com. Then, with the approval of both their families, Warner moved in with Eileen in 2011, and they were married soon thereafter.
“We both had very happy marriages, but anyone who tells you that they don’t remember their first love is fibbing,” Warner said. “Both Eileen and I often wondered about what might have happened if things had worked out differently. But we don’t dwell on it now.”
A lovesick British couple whose teen romance dissolved under the weight of parental disapproval has reunited and married—six decades after splitting up.
“We have simply picked up where we left off. It’s like being teenage sweethearts all over again,” Eileen Billington, 78, told SWNS.com about her newfound relationship with Warner, 79. “It’s as though we have never been apart. As well as loving each other, we are good companions, just as we were when we first met. In fact, we are just like an old married couple.”
More on Yahoo!: As More Vintage Weddings are Forecasted for 2013, David Jones Photography Shares Tips on Capturing Classic Photos that Evoke Timeless Romance
Eileen Lockley met Warner Billington back she was 16 and he was 17, living as neighbors in the West Midlands area of central England, when Warner noticed her walking by with her sister Margaret.
“I saw her and I was smitten,” Warner told the Daily Mail. “I got a pair of garden shears and pretended to cut the hedge outside my parents’ house. When they passed, I said, ‘Hello Margs, who’s that with you?’ and we got talking.”
Shortly thereafter, Warner enlisted in the Royal Air Force and was stationed about three hours away in South Wales. But he wrote to Eileen, an aspiring tap dancer who worked for the gas board, and asked her on a date, and they spent time going to movies and the seashore whenever he was home on leave. They also wrote to each other every other day.
Two years later, they planned to wed. But Eileen’s father said they were too young, and Warner lost his nerve.
“I thought Eileen’s father was wrong, but I didn’t propose,” he recalled. “Somehow, we just parted after that. It was my fault, I just went my own way.”
And life went on for both of them. In 1956, Eileen married a man named Jack Lenton, with whom she ran a hotel in Newquay, Cornwall. They had a son and a daughter, and were together until Jack died in 2006.
Warner, meanwhile, married a woman named Gillian in 1957. They had three sons and were together until Gillian’s death in 2010.
Though Eileen and Warner hadn’t seen each other since their breakup, a friend of Warner’s was a regular at Eileen’s hotel, and Eileen would always ask her how Warner was doing. When she heard he had lost his wife, she called him to express her condolences, and after that they chatted on the phone regularly.
A year later, Warner invited Eileen to visit him at his home in West Midlands; it culminated in a tearful reunion at the train station, where Warner met her “hair all slicked back and roses at the ready,” he told SWNS.com. Then, with the approval of both their families, Warner moved in with Eileen in 2011, and they were married soon thereafter.
“We both had very happy marriages, but anyone who tells you that they don’t remember their first love is fibbing,” Warner said. “Both Eileen and I often wondered about what might have happened if things had worked out differently. But we don’t dwell on it now.”
Church For Sale
Moonee Ponds converted church sells for $2.4 million
A converted church in Melbourne’s Moonee Ponds has sold for $2.4 million.
Located at 1 Hudson Street Moonee Ponds, the sale was secured by John Morello from Jellis Craig Kensington. The architecturally transformed Moonee Ponds church had an incredible 12,500 internet hits and 325 inspections.
So in anticipation of a huge auction day crowd, the agency organised a coffee cart with complimentary drinks.
There were more than 300 spectators and three bidders, with the offering sold just after auction.
Its listing was reported by Property Observer last month.
Designed by owner and architect duo Dominic and Marie Bagnato, the property has five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a gym and a basement wine cellar.
The Gothic-style timber church was originally built by Tadgell Brothers following the general consensus at an 1890 resident’s meeting that the area needed a church for religious purposes and Sunday school.
The church was officially opened by then Lord Bishop of Melbourne Dr Goe.
The church acted as a venue for sports meetings, working bees and other social activities.
The church was part of the St Thomas parish, before leaving temporarily in 1915 and permanently in 1960.
In 1904, an extension to the church was built at the rear and in 1918 a vicarage was built nearby. A church hall was built in 1927.
The current vendors bought the church itself in 2007.
Located at 1 Hudson Street Moonee Ponds, the sale was secured by John Morello from Jellis Craig Kensington. The architecturally transformed Moonee Ponds church had an incredible 12,500 internet hits and 325 inspections.
So in anticipation of a huge auction day crowd, the agency organised a coffee cart with complimentary drinks.
There were more than 300 spectators and three bidders, with the offering sold just after auction.
Its listing was reported by Property Observer last month.
Designed by owner and architect duo Dominic and Marie Bagnato, the property has five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a gym and a basement wine cellar.
The Gothic-style timber church was originally built by Tadgell Brothers following the general consensus at an 1890 resident’s meeting that the area needed a church for religious purposes and Sunday school.
The church was officially opened by then Lord Bishop of Melbourne Dr Goe.
The church acted as a venue for sports meetings, working bees and other social activities.
The church was part of the St Thomas parish, before leaving temporarily in 1915 and permanently in 1960.
In 1904, an extension to the church was built at the rear and in 1918 a vicarage was built nearby. A church hall was built in 1927.
The current vendors bought the church itself in 2007.
Senin, 01 April 2013
A Girl Raised By Monkeys
Kidnapped, dumped in the jungle and raised by monkeys: The story of a little girl wrenched from her family and brought up in the wild who only revealed her tale 50 years later as a Bradford housewife
Marina Chapman tells riveting story exclusively with The Mail On Sunday
She was abandoned aged four in South American rainforest by kidnappers
Mrs Chapman copied monkeys' eating habits and learned to climb trees
A monkey cured her stomach pain by encouraging her drink from a river
Jungle behaviour: Marina's daughter Vanessa describes a 'normal' family walk as one which includes her mother climbing trees
It is an amazing – some might say unbelievable – tale: how a Yorkshire housewife spent five years as a young child being raised by monkeys in the Colombian jungle. Yet experts have found no evidence that Marina Chapman's story is a fantasy – and now she has told it for the first time, in riveting detail.
In a new book, exclusively serialised by The Mail on Sunday from today, Mrs Chapman reveals how a colony of capuchins taught her how to survive after she was abandoned in the rainforest by kidnappers who botched her abduction. She copied the monkeys' eating habits and high-pitched cries and even learned to climb trees, though she slept in a hollowed-out tree trunk at night.
Mrs Chapman's story – which has echoes of the Tarzan tales – began in the Fifties when she was drugged and abducted from her Colombian home at the age of four. Here, she recalls the moment her young life was torn apart, and the ‘human’ kindness of the apes who saved her...
Playing on the vegetable patch at the end of our garden at my home in Colombia, I was in my own special place, my little world where I loved to spend my days. It was 1954, or at least I now think it was. Lost in my activity, I was oblivious to others and everything happened so quickly that fateful day.
One minute I was squatting on the bare earth, playing, preoccupied. The next, I saw the flash of a black hand and white cloth, which covered my face. As I jerked in surprise and terror, there was the sharp smell of a chemical. My last thought as I began to slip into unconsciousness was a simple one: I was going to die.
I don’t know how long it was before the faintest sensations of consciousness began to return. I heard the noise of an engine. I rea-lised I was in the back of a truck. And I wasn’t alone. I could hear crying and whimpering and anguished sobs. There were other children in the truck – terrified children, just like me. I slipped back into unconsciousness.
I had no sense of how much time might have passed when I woke next. The ground around me seemed to be shaking, and I realised I was being carried by an adult. Another man was running with us.
We plunged on further into the depths of the forests until the man hauled me roughly off his shoulder and dumped me on the ground. Dazed, I tried to scramble up and see who had carried me, but all I could see were two pairs of long legs running away and soon they were lost in the gloom. I had no idea where I was, why I was there or when someone would rescue me. The darkness deepened and the eerie night sounds of the jungle were terrifying.
I was nearly five years old, helpless, abandoned and so frightened of being alone. How could I possibly survive?
It was the searing heat of the sun that woke me, and I opened my eyes to the realisation of where I lay. This was the jungle.
Memories of the previous evening came rushing into my head. I stumbled to my feet and began searching for a way to escape. But where to go?
As I span around, I saw only trees, trees and more trees. I trailed disconsolately around, crying and wondering why my mother had not come to find me. As the daylight faded to dusk I knew I would have to spend the night amid the jungle beasts.
The next day, I was wakened by the pain in my stomach. I was hungry and I needed to find something to eat. I curled up on the ground in despair. I wanted to die. I then dozed off and when I woke I opened one eye, and what I saw almost stopped me from opening it any further. I had company. In fact, I was surrounded.
At a distance of several paces were monkeys staring at me. After a short time, one of the monkeys left the circle and approached me. Afraid, I shrank back into a ball, trying to make myself as tiny as possible.
He reached out a wrinkly brown hand and with one firm push, rolled me over on to my side. I quivered on the soil, tensed for the second blow that was surely coming.
But it didn’t – the monkey had lost interest. He had now returned to the circle, squatted back on his hind legs and resumed watching me, along with all the others.
Then they all seemed to want to inspect me. They had been chattering to one another and some had come to check me over.
They began to prod and push me, grabbing at my filthy dress and digging around in my hair. I pleaded, sobbing: ‘Get off me! Go away!’ But I had to wait, cowering and whimpering, until they’d finished their inspection.
Yet I was mesmerised. There was something about the way they seemed to enjoy oneanother’s company that made them feel like a family. And whatever else the monkeys were doing, they seemed to be constantly feeding. I needed to do that too, or I would die.
Startled by a siren shriek from above me, I looked up to see a small monkey swooping from one tree to a smaller one nearby, from which hung banana-like bunches of fruit.
The fruits looked unripe, about the size of my finger, and were an unappetising shade of green. As the monkey dropped a bunch in his haste to grab a handful, I snatched them up from the forest floor.
I watched a nearby monkey who was feasting on the contents and copied him. I looked around to find a stick and had soon snagged another small bunch for myself. I had found company and felt my spirits lifting just a little.
Soon I had spent my third night in the jungle with the monkeys. There were more of my new companions than I’d first seen – looking back now, perhaps 30.
They slept high up in the canopy, while I had to be content with curling up on the bare earth far beneath them, between two shrubs.
Just knowing they were there made me feel a little safer. As the night came rushing down, the sound of them calling to one another gave me comfort.
Figs seemed to be prized over any other foodstuff, and a monkey with figs was a monkey who was hounded.
But life in the jungle during those first days wasn’t just about feeding or grooming. It was also about survival. To my new family, this meant having territory, and defending it.
The first time I saw the monkeys fight with intruders, I was terrified. One minute they were playing, the next there was the crash and clatter of breaking branches as they massed in the canopy.
The sound of the violence above me was petrifying, the noise of their screams as they fought so intense and horrific that I hid under a bush, clamping my hands over my ears.
When they came down again, I was shocked by the sight of the blood around many of their mouths. I was in a dangerous place, but when I thought about how the monkeys had treated me, I decided they must have accepted that I posed no threat.
What I remember most clearly from that time is the feeling of incredible loneliness.
Day after day passed, and still there was no sign of my parents. There was no sign of anyone.
My hope of rescue was fading as fast as the flower pattern on my dress. I imitated the noises the monkeys made for my own amusement, though probably also for the comfort of hearing the sound of my own voice.
But I soon realised that sometimes a monkey – or several monkeys – would respond. So I practised the sounds that they made, desperate for a reaction. If there was an immediate danger their call would be even higher – a sharp, high-pitched scream, which was usually accompanied by the slapping of hands on the ground.
They would then scamper up to the safety of the canopy, leaving me scared and panicky, trying to find a safe place on the ground. All the time I was growing filthier and filthier, and found myself scratching more and more. Like the monkeys, I became home for all manner of little creatures. Not only was my skin growing drier and scalier, I was also soon crawling with fleas.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would fall ill and when I did I was sure I was going to die – but it marked a turning point in my relationship with my monkey family, after which I was truly one of them.
The pain was overwhelming, causing me to clutch my stomach and whimper. The day before, I had eaten tamarind, one of my favourite choices, but even as I’d tasted it, I’d known it wasn’t the usual tamarind.
As I writhed, I saw that sympathy might be at hand. Though my vision swam, I could see Grandpa monkey. I’d called him that simply because that’s what he looked like, with the same sprinklings of white fur that triggered a distant memory of the few old people I’d encountered in my former life.
He jumped down from the tree he most liked to sit in and approached me. He squeezed my arm firmly, then began shaking me slightly, shoving me, as if determined to herd me somewhere else. He was purposeful, and I half-crawled, half-stumbled into the foliage, in the direction his repeated shovings wanted me to go.
And then suddenly, I was falling – tumbling over and over, down a mossy, rocky bank, which was running with cool water. I ended up in a little basin below.
But Grandpa monkey seemed intent on putting my head under, keeping a tight grip on my hair. Was he trying to drown me? Or trying to make me drink the water?
I struggled, heaving myself away from him and slapping the surface of the pool, splashing him, and as I did so he yanked my face up and looked me straight in the eyes. As I looked back at him, I could see something I hadn’t before. His expression was completely calm, rather than angry, agitated or hostile. Perhaps he was trying to tell me something.
In that instant I trusted him. The look in his eyes and the calmness in his movements made me realise he was trying to help me.
I did as he seemed to want. I went under and drank in great mouthfuls of muddy water, feeling it force its way up my nose.
Grandpa monkey let go of me. I scrambled out and collapsed face-down on the ground. I began coughing again and then vomiting – great heaving gouts of acid liquid that burned my throat.
The purging worked. Gradually, I felt able to make my way slowly back towards our territory. Grandpa monkey, seeming satisfied with his efforts, turned and scuttled off ahead of me, back to his tree. From that point on, Grandpa monkey’s attitude changed completely. Where once he’d been indifferent and then wary, he now felt like both my protector and my friend.
At the time, I didn’t give them names – I had no such concept – but now, when I look back, I remember them as individuals and so have given them names.
There was Grandpa, of course, energetic Spot, gentle, loving Brownie, and timid White-Tip, one of the little ones, who seemed to love me and who would often jump on to my back, throw her arms around my neck and enjoy being carried.
Perhaps my favourite – aside from Grandpa – was Mia. She was affectionate, but unlike him she was also shy. I first won her round when I got cross about the way she was sometimes bullied and I would use my size to stop some of the more aggressive young monkeys from poking her and pushing her around.
Now I felt more accepted, I became determined to learn how to climb to the top of the tree canopy, to join my monkey family in their natural domain. Day after day, I would try to climb the shorter, slimmer trees. I fell often but I didn’t let my failures deter me.
I grew stronger, the muscles in my arms and legs developing and becoming sinewy, while the skin on my hands and feet, elbows, knees and ankles was dry and leathery.
I will remember the day I reached the canopy for the rest of my life. The view was breathtaking – literally. The rush of cool air up there was such a shock to me that it made me gasp.
The monkeys were, of course, indifferent, showing no interest in the fact that I was suddenly up there with them. But I couldn’t have been more excited. So here was where they most liked to be. I had now become fully part of their world.
There were few moments that the monkeys didn’t spend together, whether grooming or playing or communicating in some other way. Now I could go where they went, communicate with them and play.
I was just happy to be one of them, to feel included. There were still nights when I was overcome by what I’d lost and wept for hours. But as the months rolled by, curled up in my little ball, in a hollowed-out piece of tree trunk, with the comforting, familiar sound of the monkeys up above me, I was gradually turning into one of them.
Time had no meaning to me, but I can’t think I had been in the jungle for more than three years when memories of my earlier life came clamouring back.
I had started to explore and was rewarded one day by the discovery of a territory that belonged to a whole new species. I could see three huts – large and circular, with roofs made from long grass. The sight of them created a sort of yearning in my heart. I had forgotten so much. I could see people – a family. A human family. And I was human, too.
From then on my life became focused. Though I’d scamper back to my monkey troop at around nightfall, most of my waking hours were now spent at the camp. I would carefully climb up into a tree close to the perimeter and spend hours, a silent wraith, just looking on. I would gaze at tantalising scenes: children playing, fires lit, all the family together. How wonderful it would be, I thought, to be one of those cherished children.
One day I stepped out from the scrubby undergrowth and planted my feet on the beaten sandy earth of the camp. Beside a water butt was a woman, a mother of a newborn baby. My heart leapt at the sight of her. What an intense thing it is, this human need to be loved. It’s one of the most profound things that make social animals social – monkeys too.
But as she looked into my eyes, all I could see in hers was fear. She began stumbling in panic, shouting at me, and as I tried to make myself as small and submissive as I could, a well-built man came running from one of the huts.
He wore a fabric headband with a pair of feathers – one was a vivid, gorgeous blue, the other a deep green, and brightly coloured jewellery made from beads. He also had two stripes – one red and beneath it one black – daubed across his cheeks.
Now it was my turn to be terrified, because he placed a strong hand on one of my shoulders, while his other hand grasped my face and pulled it forwards.
While my heart thumped in my chest, he opened my mouth to inspect my teeth. The job done, he simply shooed me away. I was devastated. I tried begging to him, making gestures to convey my wish for food and shelter.
But my voice and actions were those of a monkey, not a child. He took not the slightest notice and I slunk away into the jungle once more, feeling wretched.
I learned a valuable lesson that day – and an enduring one. Family is found anywhere you are loved and cared for. And I’d been so disloyal to the monkeys. I realised I must put all thoughts of humans firmly out of my mind.
The monkeys, not the humans, were my family.
YOU ONLY HAVE TO MEET HER TO KNOW THAT IT IS TRUE
Did I believe it? I wasn’t sure, writes Lynne Barrett-Lee, co-author of Marina Chapman’s book The Girl With No Name. Of the many stories I have been asked to consider ghostwriting, this one was singular: the story of a woman who’d been raised, in part, by monkeys – or so they said.
I had read some of the material, but the one thing that would clinch it was a face-to-face meeting. It took only a few seconds for me to trust Marina’s story.
It was important to establish such facts as were known. It was essential that the detail was correct.
Here, her daughter Vanessa James had done a brilliant job, spending many hours with Marina, homing in on memories, then cross-checking against images of indigenous species. Vanessa ascertained that the monkeys were probably weeper capuchins, Marina ate guava, and the trees shed brazil nuts and figs.
It has been known for monkeys to accept young humans in their fold. In 1996, a two-year-old Nigerian boy was found living with chimps.
Expert analysis of Marina’s case has found no evidence of obvious fraud or fantasy.
National Geographic and Animal Planet have now commissioned a documentary, and staff will travel with Marina to Colombia next month. I’m left with no doubts. This is an incredible true story.
MY 'MONKEY MUMMY', BY HER DAUGHTER
Thanks to my family, I am rarely able to have a ‘normal’ walk, writes Vanessa James, Marina’s daughter. Instead, I often return home with twigs in my hair.
Typical adventures of a Chapman day out would involve scaling the trees with Mum and my sister Joanna, while my father John studied the bark and lichen below.
At some point there might be an animal-rescue mission, then perhaps a spot of getting lost.
Painting a picture of life at home in Bradford, West Yorkshire, reveals some embarrassing truths. Mum would sometimes sit with a bowl of sweet porridge and have my sister and me ask for it by doing our best monkey impressions.
I’m glad social services never visited us! After dinner, we would often groom one another by picking through each other’s hair.
Being brought up by such a wild and spontaneous mother suggested to us that she had been raised by another breed. She has always been our own ‘monkey mummy’.
She was sometimes criticised for her style of parenting, but her only example was from a troop of monkeys.
So, from what we’ve seen, my sister and I are clear – they must be the most loving, fun, inventive, creative parents on the planet!
Marina Chapman tells riveting story exclusively with The Mail On Sunday
She was abandoned aged four in South American rainforest by kidnappers
Mrs Chapman copied monkeys' eating habits and learned to climb trees
A monkey cured her stomach pain by encouraging her drink from a river
Jungle behaviour: Marina's daughter Vanessa describes a 'normal' family walk as one which includes her mother climbing trees
It is an amazing – some might say unbelievable – tale: how a Yorkshire housewife spent five years as a young child being raised by monkeys in the Colombian jungle. Yet experts have found no evidence that Marina Chapman's story is a fantasy – and now she has told it for the first time, in riveting detail.
In a new book, exclusively serialised by The Mail on Sunday from today, Mrs Chapman reveals how a colony of capuchins taught her how to survive after she was abandoned in the rainforest by kidnappers who botched her abduction. She copied the monkeys' eating habits and high-pitched cries and even learned to climb trees, though she slept in a hollowed-out tree trunk at night.
Mrs Chapman's story – which has echoes of the Tarzan tales – began in the Fifties when she was drugged and abducted from her Colombian home at the age of four. Here, she recalls the moment her young life was torn apart, and the ‘human’ kindness of the apes who saved her...
Playing on the vegetable patch at the end of our garden at my home in Colombia, I was in my own special place, my little world where I loved to spend my days. It was 1954, or at least I now think it was. Lost in my activity, I was oblivious to others and everything happened so quickly that fateful day.
One minute I was squatting on the bare earth, playing, preoccupied. The next, I saw the flash of a black hand and white cloth, which covered my face. As I jerked in surprise and terror, there was the sharp smell of a chemical. My last thought as I began to slip into unconsciousness was a simple one: I was going to die.
I don’t know how long it was before the faintest sensations of consciousness began to return. I heard the noise of an engine. I rea-lised I was in the back of a truck. And I wasn’t alone. I could hear crying and whimpering and anguished sobs. There were other children in the truck – terrified children, just like me. I slipped back into unconsciousness.
I had no sense of how much time might have passed when I woke next. The ground around me seemed to be shaking, and I realised I was being carried by an adult. Another man was running with us.
We plunged on further into the depths of the forests until the man hauled me roughly off his shoulder and dumped me on the ground. Dazed, I tried to scramble up and see who had carried me, but all I could see were two pairs of long legs running away and soon they were lost in the gloom. I had no idea where I was, why I was there or when someone would rescue me. The darkness deepened and the eerie night sounds of the jungle were terrifying.
I was nearly five years old, helpless, abandoned and so frightened of being alone. How could I possibly survive?
It was the searing heat of the sun that woke me, and I opened my eyes to the realisation of where I lay. This was the jungle.
Memories of the previous evening came rushing into my head. I stumbled to my feet and began searching for a way to escape. But where to go?
As I span around, I saw only trees, trees and more trees. I trailed disconsolately around, crying and wondering why my mother had not come to find me. As the daylight faded to dusk I knew I would have to spend the night amid the jungle beasts.
The next day, I was wakened by the pain in my stomach. I was hungry and I needed to find something to eat. I curled up on the ground in despair. I wanted to die. I then dozed off and when I woke I opened one eye, and what I saw almost stopped me from opening it any further. I had company. In fact, I was surrounded.
At a distance of several paces were monkeys staring at me. After a short time, one of the monkeys left the circle and approached me. Afraid, I shrank back into a ball, trying to make myself as tiny as possible.
He reached out a wrinkly brown hand and with one firm push, rolled me over on to my side. I quivered on the soil, tensed for the second blow that was surely coming.
But it didn’t – the monkey had lost interest. He had now returned to the circle, squatted back on his hind legs and resumed watching me, along with all the others.
Then they all seemed to want to inspect me. They had been chattering to one another and some had come to check me over.
They began to prod and push me, grabbing at my filthy dress and digging around in my hair. I pleaded, sobbing: ‘Get off me! Go away!’ But I had to wait, cowering and whimpering, until they’d finished their inspection.
Yet I was mesmerised. There was something about the way they seemed to enjoy oneanother’s company that made them feel like a family. And whatever else the monkeys were doing, they seemed to be constantly feeding. I needed to do that too, or I would die.
Startled by a siren shriek from above me, I looked up to see a small monkey swooping from one tree to a smaller one nearby, from which hung banana-like bunches of fruit.
The fruits looked unripe, about the size of my finger, and were an unappetising shade of green. As the monkey dropped a bunch in his haste to grab a handful, I snatched them up from the forest floor.
I watched a nearby monkey who was feasting on the contents and copied him. I looked around to find a stick and had soon snagged another small bunch for myself. I had found company and felt my spirits lifting just a little.
Soon I had spent my third night in the jungle with the monkeys. There were more of my new companions than I’d first seen – looking back now, perhaps 30.
They slept high up in the canopy, while I had to be content with curling up on the bare earth far beneath them, between two shrubs.
Just knowing they were there made me feel a little safer. As the night came rushing down, the sound of them calling to one another gave me comfort.
Figs seemed to be prized over any other foodstuff, and a monkey with figs was a monkey who was hounded.
But life in the jungle during those first days wasn’t just about feeding or grooming. It was also about survival. To my new family, this meant having territory, and defending it.
The first time I saw the monkeys fight with intruders, I was terrified. One minute they were playing, the next there was the crash and clatter of breaking branches as they massed in the canopy.
The sound of the violence above me was petrifying, the noise of their screams as they fought so intense and horrific that I hid under a bush, clamping my hands over my ears.
When they came down again, I was shocked by the sight of the blood around many of their mouths. I was in a dangerous place, but when I thought about how the monkeys had treated me, I decided they must have accepted that I posed no threat.
What I remember most clearly from that time is the feeling of incredible loneliness.
Day after day passed, and still there was no sign of my parents. There was no sign of anyone.
My hope of rescue was fading as fast as the flower pattern on my dress. I imitated the noises the monkeys made for my own amusement, though probably also for the comfort of hearing the sound of my own voice.
But I soon realised that sometimes a monkey – or several monkeys – would respond. So I practised the sounds that they made, desperate for a reaction. If there was an immediate danger their call would be even higher – a sharp, high-pitched scream, which was usually accompanied by the slapping of hands on the ground.
They would then scamper up to the safety of the canopy, leaving me scared and panicky, trying to find a safe place on the ground. All the time I was growing filthier and filthier, and found myself scratching more and more. Like the monkeys, I became home for all manner of little creatures. Not only was my skin growing drier and scalier, I was also soon crawling with fleas.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would fall ill and when I did I was sure I was going to die – but it marked a turning point in my relationship with my monkey family, after which I was truly one of them.
The pain was overwhelming, causing me to clutch my stomach and whimper. The day before, I had eaten tamarind, one of my favourite choices, but even as I’d tasted it, I’d known it wasn’t the usual tamarind.
As I writhed, I saw that sympathy might be at hand. Though my vision swam, I could see Grandpa monkey. I’d called him that simply because that’s what he looked like, with the same sprinklings of white fur that triggered a distant memory of the few old people I’d encountered in my former life.
He jumped down from the tree he most liked to sit in and approached me. He squeezed my arm firmly, then began shaking me slightly, shoving me, as if determined to herd me somewhere else. He was purposeful, and I half-crawled, half-stumbled into the foliage, in the direction his repeated shovings wanted me to go.
And then suddenly, I was falling – tumbling over and over, down a mossy, rocky bank, which was running with cool water. I ended up in a little basin below.
But Grandpa monkey seemed intent on putting my head under, keeping a tight grip on my hair. Was he trying to drown me? Or trying to make me drink the water?
I struggled, heaving myself away from him and slapping the surface of the pool, splashing him, and as I did so he yanked my face up and looked me straight in the eyes. As I looked back at him, I could see something I hadn’t before. His expression was completely calm, rather than angry, agitated or hostile. Perhaps he was trying to tell me something.
In that instant I trusted him. The look in his eyes and the calmness in his movements made me realise he was trying to help me.
I did as he seemed to want. I went under and drank in great mouthfuls of muddy water, feeling it force its way up my nose.
Grandpa monkey let go of me. I scrambled out and collapsed face-down on the ground. I began coughing again and then vomiting – great heaving gouts of acid liquid that burned my throat.
The purging worked. Gradually, I felt able to make my way slowly back towards our territory. Grandpa monkey, seeming satisfied with his efforts, turned and scuttled off ahead of me, back to his tree. From that point on, Grandpa monkey’s attitude changed completely. Where once he’d been indifferent and then wary, he now felt like both my protector and my friend.
At the time, I didn’t give them names – I had no such concept – but now, when I look back, I remember them as individuals and so have given them names.
There was Grandpa, of course, energetic Spot, gentle, loving Brownie, and timid White-Tip, one of the little ones, who seemed to love me and who would often jump on to my back, throw her arms around my neck and enjoy being carried.
Perhaps my favourite – aside from Grandpa – was Mia. She was affectionate, but unlike him she was also shy. I first won her round when I got cross about the way she was sometimes bullied and I would use my size to stop some of the more aggressive young monkeys from poking her and pushing her around.
Now I felt more accepted, I became determined to learn how to climb to the top of the tree canopy, to join my monkey family in their natural domain. Day after day, I would try to climb the shorter, slimmer trees. I fell often but I didn’t let my failures deter me.
I grew stronger, the muscles in my arms and legs developing and becoming sinewy, while the skin on my hands and feet, elbows, knees and ankles was dry and leathery.
I will remember the day I reached the canopy for the rest of my life. The view was breathtaking – literally. The rush of cool air up there was such a shock to me that it made me gasp.
The monkeys were, of course, indifferent, showing no interest in the fact that I was suddenly up there with them. But I couldn’t have been more excited. So here was where they most liked to be. I had now become fully part of their world.
There were few moments that the monkeys didn’t spend together, whether grooming or playing or communicating in some other way. Now I could go where they went, communicate with them and play.
I was just happy to be one of them, to feel included. There were still nights when I was overcome by what I’d lost and wept for hours. But as the months rolled by, curled up in my little ball, in a hollowed-out piece of tree trunk, with the comforting, familiar sound of the monkeys up above me, I was gradually turning into one of them.
Time had no meaning to me, but I can’t think I had been in the jungle for more than three years when memories of my earlier life came clamouring back.
I had started to explore and was rewarded one day by the discovery of a territory that belonged to a whole new species. I could see three huts – large and circular, with roofs made from long grass. The sight of them created a sort of yearning in my heart. I had forgotten so much. I could see people – a family. A human family. And I was human, too.
From then on my life became focused. Though I’d scamper back to my monkey troop at around nightfall, most of my waking hours were now spent at the camp. I would carefully climb up into a tree close to the perimeter and spend hours, a silent wraith, just looking on. I would gaze at tantalising scenes: children playing, fires lit, all the family together. How wonderful it would be, I thought, to be one of those cherished children.
One day I stepped out from the scrubby undergrowth and planted my feet on the beaten sandy earth of the camp. Beside a water butt was a woman, a mother of a newborn baby. My heart leapt at the sight of her. What an intense thing it is, this human need to be loved. It’s one of the most profound things that make social animals social – monkeys too.
But as she looked into my eyes, all I could see in hers was fear. She began stumbling in panic, shouting at me, and as I tried to make myself as small and submissive as I could, a well-built man came running from one of the huts.
He wore a fabric headband with a pair of feathers – one was a vivid, gorgeous blue, the other a deep green, and brightly coloured jewellery made from beads. He also had two stripes – one red and beneath it one black – daubed across his cheeks.
Now it was my turn to be terrified, because he placed a strong hand on one of my shoulders, while his other hand grasped my face and pulled it forwards.
While my heart thumped in my chest, he opened my mouth to inspect my teeth. The job done, he simply shooed me away. I was devastated. I tried begging to him, making gestures to convey my wish for food and shelter.
But my voice and actions were those of a monkey, not a child. He took not the slightest notice and I slunk away into the jungle once more, feeling wretched.
I learned a valuable lesson that day – and an enduring one. Family is found anywhere you are loved and cared for. And I’d been so disloyal to the monkeys. I realised I must put all thoughts of humans firmly out of my mind.
The monkeys, not the humans, were my family.
YOU ONLY HAVE TO MEET HER TO KNOW THAT IT IS TRUE
Did I believe it? I wasn’t sure, writes Lynne Barrett-Lee, co-author of Marina Chapman’s book The Girl With No Name. Of the many stories I have been asked to consider ghostwriting, this one was singular: the story of a woman who’d been raised, in part, by monkeys – or so they said.
I had read some of the material, but the one thing that would clinch it was a face-to-face meeting. It took only a few seconds for me to trust Marina’s story.
It was important to establish such facts as were known. It was essential that the detail was correct.
Here, her daughter Vanessa James had done a brilliant job, spending many hours with Marina, homing in on memories, then cross-checking against images of indigenous species. Vanessa ascertained that the monkeys were probably weeper capuchins, Marina ate guava, and the trees shed brazil nuts and figs.
It has been known for monkeys to accept young humans in their fold. In 1996, a two-year-old Nigerian boy was found living with chimps.
Expert analysis of Marina’s case has found no evidence of obvious fraud or fantasy.
National Geographic and Animal Planet have now commissioned a documentary, and staff will travel with Marina to Colombia next month. I’m left with no doubts. This is an incredible true story.
MY 'MONKEY MUMMY', BY HER DAUGHTER
Thanks to my family, I am rarely able to have a ‘normal’ walk, writes Vanessa James, Marina’s daughter. Instead, I often return home with twigs in my hair.
Typical adventures of a Chapman day out would involve scaling the trees with Mum and my sister Joanna, while my father John studied the bark and lichen below.
At some point there might be an animal-rescue mission, then perhaps a spot of getting lost.
Painting a picture of life at home in Bradford, West Yorkshire, reveals some embarrassing truths. Mum would sometimes sit with a bowl of sweet porridge and have my sister and me ask for it by doing our best monkey impressions.
I’m glad social services never visited us! After dinner, we would often groom one another by picking through each other’s hair.
Being brought up by such a wild and spontaneous mother suggested to us that she had been raised by another breed. She has always been our own ‘monkey mummy’.
She was sometimes criticised for her style of parenting, but her only example was from a troop of monkeys.
So, from what we’ve seen, my sister and I are clear – they must be the most loving, fun, inventive, creative parents on the planet!
Sabtu, 23 Maret 2013
From Slum Life To Disney Film
From slum life to Disney film: Ugandan teen chess star 'the ultimate underdog'
Phiona Mutesi relishes her first victory at the 2010 Chess Olympiad in Khanty-Mansiysk, Russia
She grew up in one of the poorest spots on earth. She couldn't read or write. As a child, she scrounged for food each day for herself, her mother, and her brother.
But a chance encounter with a chess coach turned her into a rising international chess star, the subject of a book -- and the protagonist in a future Disney movie.
Ugandan teenager Phiona Mutesi is "the ultimate underdog," her biographer says.
Those who work with her believe she's 16. But since her birthday is unclear, she might still only be 15, they say.
Her father died from AIDS when Mutesi was around 3.
"I thought the life I was living, that everyone was living that life," the teenager told CNN, describing her childhood in Katwe, a slum in the Ugandan capital of Kampala.
I thought the life I was living, that everyone was living that life.
Phiona Mutesi, Ugandan chess star
"I was living a hard life, where I was sleeping on the streets, and you couldn't have anything to eat at the streets. So that's when I decided for my brother to get a cup of porridge."
Robert Katende, a missionary and refugee of Uganda's civil war, had started a chess program in Katwe. He offered a bowl of porridge to any child who would show up and learn.
"It teaches you how to assess, how to make decisions, obstructive thinking, forecasts, endurance, problem solving, and looking at challenges as an opportunity in all cases -- and possibly not giving up," he told CNN. "The discipline, the patience ... anything to do with life, you can get it in that game."
Mutesi did not become a top player overnight. But from the time she first showed up in 2005, her aptitude was clear.
Her talent is "extraordinary," said Katende.
Mutesi liked chess, and started training and practicing regularly. "It took me like a year" to get very good, she said.
She walked about four miles a day to practice -- and to get that precious food.
Soon she found herself beating the older girls and boys in the program.
Mutesi and her family faced pressure from some people in Uganda who insisted chess was a white man's game, or at least not something girls should be playing, according to her biographer, Tim Crothers.
But in her slum, so few people even knew what chess was that they didn't give her a hard time, Mutesi told CNN.
Eventually, she became her country's champion -- and represented Uganda at international tournaments. In 2009, she traveled to Sudan. Then, in 2010, she boarded an airplane to Siberia.
When the flight took off, "I thought that I was maybe in heaven," she wrote in a letter to her mother quoted in Crothers' book. "I asked God to protect me because who am I to fly to the europlane."
Mutesi had also never seen ice before.
This year, she played in Istanbul.
Mutesi is not one of the world's top chess players. But she is the first titled female Ugandan player. She has a fighter's instinct to reach the top level -- and to achieve much more.
"Chess gave me hope, whereby now I'm having a hope of becoming a doctor and ... a grand master," she said.
A grant from a program called Sports Outreach has allowed her to go back to school. She's learning to read and write.
Meanwhile, Mutesi is becoming an inspiration to people all over the world.
Some learned about her through Crothers' article for ESPN, which went viral. Others have seen a brief documentary about her on YouTube.
Crothers' book about her, "The Queen of Katwe," was published this fall.
"That she's from Africa makes her an underdog in the world. The fact that she's from Uganda makes her sort of an underdog in Africa, because it's one of the poorer countries in Africa. The fact that she's in Katwe makes her an underdog in Uganda because it's the most impoverished slum in the entire country. And then to be a girl in Katwe -- girls are not treated as equals to the boys," said Crothers.
"Every hurdle that the world can place in front of her it has placed in front of her."
The extreme poverty and deprivation in Katwe is hard for many around the world to imagine. Crothers wrote that "human waste from downtown Kampala is dumped directly into the slum. There is no sanitation."
utesi wakes at 5 a.m. every morning to "begin a two-hour trek through Katwe to fill a jug with drinkable water, walking through lowland that is often so severely flooded by Uganda's torrential rains that many residents sleep in hammocks near their ceilings to avoid drowning," he wrote.
In the country of 34 million people, about one-fourth live below the poverty line, according to the CIA World Factbook. About three-quarters of the men in Uganda are literate; only 58% of women are.
Mutesi told CNN she's never heard of Idi Amin, the so-called butcher of Uganda, who helped plunge his country into economic chaos throughout the 1970s.
She does know the name Joseph Kony, a brutal Ugandan warlord who was the subject of a viral video earlier this year. Kids talk about him, Mutesi said.
"He was in northern Uganda torturing people and could kidnap children. That's what I know."
Chess could prove to be Mutesi's ticket out of a hard life -- particularly through a project that lies ahead.
Disney has optioned the rights to "The Queen of Katwe," and is starting work on a movie, Crothers said.
It's all too much for Mutesi to fathom.
"I feel happy," she said when asked about the growing attention. "I'm excited. I didn't have hope that one time, one day, I would be like someone who can encourage people, and they start playing chess," she told CNN.
As her world travels take off, she's in for more and more culture shock.
"I don't like New York because there's too much noise in it," the teenager said with a big smile.
But while it may be somewhat overwhelming for her, Mutesi's success at the game she loves is bringing joy to her family.
"Some of them cried. Years back we didn't have hope that ... one day it can happen," she said. "So they are very excited."
She grew up in one of the poorest spots on earth. She couldn't read or write. As a child, she scrounged for food each day for herself, her mother, and her brother.
But a chance encounter with a chess coach turned her into a rising international chess star, the subject of a book -- and the protagonist in a future Disney movie.
Ugandan teenager Phiona Mutesi is "the ultimate underdog," her biographer says.
Those who work with her believe she's 16. But since her birthday is unclear, she might still only be 15, they say.
Her father died from AIDS when Mutesi was around 3.
"I thought the life I was living, that everyone was living that life," the teenager told CNN, describing her childhood in Katwe, a slum in the Ugandan capital of Kampala.
I thought the life I was living, that everyone was living that life.
Phiona Mutesi, Ugandan chess star
"I was living a hard life, where I was sleeping on the streets, and you couldn't have anything to eat at the streets. So that's when I decided for my brother to get a cup of porridge."
Robert Katende, a missionary and refugee of Uganda's civil war, had started a chess program in Katwe. He offered a bowl of porridge to any child who would show up and learn.
"It teaches you how to assess, how to make decisions, obstructive thinking, forecasts, endurance, problem solving, and looking at challenges as an opportunity in all cases -- and possibly not giving up," he told CNN. "The discipline, the patience ... anything to do with life, you can get it in that game."
Mutesi did not become a top player overnight. But from the time she first showed up in 2005, her aptitude was clear.
Her talent is "extraordinary," said Katende.
Mutesi liked chess, and started training and practicing regularly. "It took me like a year" to get very good, she said.
She walked about four miles a day to practice -- and to get that precious food.
Soon she found herself beating the older girls and boys in the program.
Mutesi and her family faced pressure from some people in Uganda who insisted chess was a white man's game, or at least not something girls should be playing, according to her biographer, Tim Crothers.
But in her slum, so few people even knew what chess was that they didn't give her a hard time, Mutesi told CNN.
Eventually, she became her country's champion -- and represented Uganda at international tournaments. In 2009, she traveled to Sudan. Then, in 2010, she boarded an airplane to Siberia.
When the flight took off, "I thought that I was maybe in heaven," she wrote in a letter to her mother quoted in Crothers' book. "I asked God to protect me because who am I to fly to the europlane."
Mutesi had also never seen ice before.
This year, she played in Istanbul.
Mutesi is not one of the world's top chess players. But she is the first titled female Ugandan player. She has a fighter's instinct to reach the top level -- and to achieve much more.
"Chess gave me hope, whereby now I'm having a hope of becoming a doctor and ... a grand master," she said.
A grant from a program called Sports Outreach has allowed her to go back to school. She's learning to read and write.
Meanwhile, Mutesi is becoming an inspiration to people all over the world.
Some learned about her through Crothers' article for ESPN, which went viral. Others have seen a brief documentary about her on YouTube.
Crothers' book about her, "The Queen of Katwe," was published this fall.
"That she's from Africa makes her an underdog in the world. The fact that she's from Uganda makes her sort of an underdog in Africa, because it's one of the poorer countries in Africa. The fact that she's in Katwe makes her an underdog in Uganda because it's the most impoverished slum in the entire country. And then to be a girl in Katwe -- girls are not treated as equals to the boys," said Crothers.
"Every hurdle that the world can place in front of her it has placed in front of her."
The extreme poverty and deprivation in Katwe is hard for many around the world to imagine. Crothers wrote that "human waste from downtown Kampala is dumped directly into the slum. There is no sanitation."
utesi wakes at 5 a.m. every morning to "begin a two-hour trek through Katwe to fill a jug with drinkable water, walking through lowland that is often so severely flooded by Uganda's torrential rains that many residents sleep in hammocks near their ceilings to avoid drowning," he wrote.
In the country of 34 million people, about one-fourth live below the poverty line, according to the CIA World Factbook. About three-quarters of the men in Uganda are literate; only 58% of women are.
Mutesi told CNN she's never heard of Idi Amin, the so-called butcher of Uganda, who helped plunge his country into economic chaos throughout the 1970s.
She does know the name Joseph Kony, a brutal Ugandan warlord who was the subject of a viral video earlier this year. Kids talk about him, Mutesi said.
"He was in northern Uganda torturing people and could kidnap children. That's what I know."
Chess could prove to be Mutesi's ticket out of a hard life -- particularly through a project that lies ahead.
Disney has optioned the rights to "The Queen of Katwe," and is starting work on a movie, Crothers said.
It's all too much for Mutesi to fathom.
"I feel happy," she said when asked about the growing attention. "I'm excited. I didn't have hope that one time, one day, I would be like someone who can encourage people, and they start playing chess," she told CNN.
As her world travels take off, she's in for more and more culture shock.
"I don't like New York because there's too much noise in it," the teenager said with a big smile.
But while it may be somewhat overwhelming for her, Mutesi's success at the game she loves is bringing joy to her family.
"Some of them cried. Years back we didn't have hope that ... one day it can happen," she said. "So they are very excited."
Rabu, 20 Maret 2013
Church for Muslims
Episcopal church opens doors to Aberdeen Muslims
Sheikh Amed Magghabri (left) and Rev Isaac Poobalan at St John's Episcopal Church.
A SCOTTISH Episcopal church has opened its doors to the local Muslim community in what has been hailed as an event of “global significance.”
• Rector and congregation of St John’s Episcopal Church have offered part of church building to Muslims due to their overcrowded mosque
• Chief Imam Amed Magghabri : “What happens here is special and there should be no problem repeating this across the country.”
The Rector and congregation of St John’s Episcopal Church in Aberdeen have offered the hand of Christian fellowship - and part of their church building - to the hundreds of Muslims attending the neighbouring and overcrowded mosque in the city’s Crown Street
The Aberdeen mosque is so busy at times that members of the Muslim community were having to pray outside in the wind and rain. They have now been offered the use of part of the Episcopalian church hall for daily prayers
The church’s Rector, the Rev Canon Dr Isaac Poobalan said: “Praying is never wrong. My job is to encourage people to pray. The mosque was so full at times, there would be people outside in the wind and rain praying.
Neighbours
“I knew I couldn’t just let this happen - because I would be abandoning what the Bible teaches us about how we should treat our neighbours.”
He continued: “When I spoke to the people at the church about the situation, someone actually said to me this was not our problem, but I had seen it with my own eyes, so it was a problem.
“When I spoke to the imam there was some hesitation on their part too, because this has never been done before. But they took us up on the offer and it has been a positive relationship”
Chief Imam Amed Magghabri said: “What happens here is special and there should be no problem repeating this across the country. The relationship is friendly and respectful.”
The actions of the congregation were praised by the Rt Rev Dr Robert Gillies, the Episcopalian Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney.
He said: “It would be good to think that we can change the world. Most of us most of the time feel we can’t so don’t bother. But sometimes, just sometimes, someone has a vision that we can do something of global significance on a local scale. This is what is happening between St John’s Episcopal Church on Crown terrace in Aberdeen and the Mosque in its grounds.”
Bonds of friendship
Bishop Gillies continued: “Internationally the news speaks of tension and struggles between Islam and Christianity. Yet here in Aberdeen a Mosque and a Church have built bonds of affection and friendship. It must be stressed that neither has surrendered or compromised any aspect of the historic faith to which each holds. But mutual hospitality and goodwill exists. Cooperation is there a-plenty. Laughter can be heard as humour links people together.
“If you go to St John’s Church you’ll see unlocked doors that link Church and Mosque. You’ll find a footpath physically connecting one to the other. It’s a footpath which we hope can be developed into a café and recreation area where people can be welcomed into both buildings.”
He added: “Basically put, when people get together locally things begin to happen which can seem beyond reach on the international scale. Everyone can do something locally and if more were to do so then something big might just begin to happen globally. That’s why the eyes of the world are on Crown Terrace in Aberdeen. Christianity and Islam don’t have to agree in order to be together. Here in Aberdeen they already are.”
A SCOTTISH Episcopal church has opened its doors to the local Muslim community in what has been hailed as an event of “global significance.”
• Rector and congregation of St John’s Episcopal Church have offered part of church building to Muslims due to their overcrowded mosque
• Chief Imam Amed Magghabri : “What happens here is special and there should be no problem repeating this across the country.”
The Rector and congregation of St John’s Episcopal Church in Aberdeen have offered the hand of Christian fellowship - and part of their church building - to the hundreds of Muslims attending the neighbouring and overcrowded mosque in the city’s Crown Street
The Aberdeen mosque is so busy at times that members of the Muslim community were having to pray outside in the wind and rain. They have now been offered the use of part of the Episcopalian church hall for daily prayers
The church’s Rector, the Rev Canon Dr Isaac Poobalan said: “Praying is never wrong. My job is to encourage people to pray. The mosque was so full at times, there would be people outside in the wind and rain praying.
Neighbours
“I knew I couldn’t just let this happen - because I would be abandoning what the Bible teaches us about how we should treat our neighbours.”
He continued: “When I spoke to the people at the church about the situation, someone actually said to me this was not our problem, but I had seen it with my own eyes, so it was a problem.
“When I spoke to the imam there was some hesitation on their part too, because this has never been done before. But they took us up on the offer and it has been a positive relationship”
Chief Imam Amed Magghabri said: “What happens here is special and there should be no problem repeating this across the country. The relationship is friendly and respectful.”
The actions of the congregation were praised by the Rt Rev Dr Robert Gillies, the Episcopalian Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney.
He said: “It would be good to think that we can change the world. Most of us most of the time feel we can’t so don’t bother. But sometimes, just sometimes, someone has a vision that we can do something of global significance on a local scale. This is what is happening between St John’s Episcopal Church on Crown terrace in Aberdeen and the Mosque in its grounds.”
Bonds of friendship
Bishop Gillies continued: “Internationally the news speaks of tension and struggles between Islam and Christianity. Yet here in Aberdeen a Mosque and a Church have built bonds of affection and friendship. It must be stressed that neither has surrendered or compromised any aspect of the historic faith to which each holds. But mutual hospitality and goodwill exists. Cooperation is there a-plenty. Laughter can be heard as humour links people together.
“If you go to St John’s Church you’ll see unlocked doors that link Church and Mosque. You’ll find a footpath physically connecting one to the other. It’s a footpath which we hope can be developed into a café and recreation area where people can be welcomed into both buildings.”
He added: “Basically put, when people get together locally things begin to happen which can seem beyond reach on the international scale. Everyone can do something locally and if more were to do so then something big might just begin to happen globally. That’s why the eyes of the world are on Crown Terrace in Aberdeen. Christianity and Islam don’t have to agree in order to be together. Here in Aberdeen they already are.”
The Wife Married to Five Brothers
The wife married to FIVE brothers: Rajo, 21, follows a tradition in Indian villages which allows families to hold on to their farmland
Rajo Verma, 21, lives in one room with the siblings, in Northern India
The young wife spends each night with a different brother in turn
She does not know which of siblings is the father of her young son
Fraternal polyandry is tradition in the small village near Dehradun
Happy family: Five brothers (L-R) Sant Ram Verma, 28, Bajju Verma, 32, Gopal Verma, 26, Guddu Verma, 21, and Dinesh Verma, 19, with their shared wife Rajo Verma, 20, and their son Jay VermaHousewife: Rajo said she got a lot more attention and love than many other wives
A young Indian woman has spoken out about being married to five husbands, all of whom are brothers.
Rajo Verma, 21, lives in one room with the siblings and they sleep on blankets on the floor.
The mother-of-one, who sleeps each night with a different brother, does not know which of her five related husbands is the father of her 18-month-old son.
The set-up may seem peculiar, but it is tradition in the small village near Dehradun, Northern India, for women to also marry the brothers of their first husband.
She told the Sun: 'Initially it felt a bit awkward. 'But I don’t favour one over the other.'
Rajo and first husband Guddu wed in an arranged Hindu marriage four years ago.
Since then she has married Baiju, 32, Sant Ram, 28, Gopal, 26, and Dinesh, 19 - the latest in the line of husbands - who married her as soon as he turned 18.
'We all have sex with her but I’m not jealous,' first husband Guddu - who remains the only official spouse - said. 'We’re one big happy family.'
The ancient Hindu tradition of polyandry was once widely practiced in India, but is now only observed by a minority.
It sees a woman take more than one husband, typically in areas which are male dominated.
In fraternal polyandry the woman is expected to marry each of her original husband's brothers.
It is thought to have arisen from the popular Sanskrit epic of Mahabharatha, which sees Draupadi, daughter of the King of Pancha being married to five brothers.
The practice is also believed to be a way of keeping farming land in the family.
It is most commonly found near the Himalayas in the north of the country, as well as in the mountainous nation of Tibet.
While the advance of modernity has seen the archaic practice largely die out in most areas, the shortage of women in countries such as China and India has helped keep it alive as a solution to young men's difficulties in finding a wife.
Rajo said she knew she was expected to accept all of her husbands, as her own mother had also been married to three brothers.
She said they sleep together in turn, but that they do not have beds, just 'lots of blankets on the floor'.
She added: 'I get a lot more attention and love than most wives.'
POLYANDRY: AN ANCIENT TRADITION
The practice of polyandry is believed to stem from the tale of Mahabharata, the ancient Indian epic.
The text, one of the cornerstones of Indian culture, sees Draupadi, daughter of the King of Pancha being married to five brothers.
It is not legal, but in its most common form - whereby women in polyandrous relationships marry more than one man from the same family - it is permitted.
It tends to be practised in male dominated villages, who still follow primitive rituals and customs. Brothers who refuse the union are often treated as outcasts.
In polyandrous families, the woman often cannot say which of her husbands fathered which children.
Recently, there have been instances of DNA testing, to solve inheritance disputes.
Rajo Verma, 21, lives in one room with the siblings, in Northern India
The young wife spends each night with a different brother in turn
She does not know which of siblings is the father of her young son
Fraternal polyandry is tradition in the small village near Dehradun
A young Indian woman has spoken out about being married to five husbands, all of whom are brothers.
Rajo Verma, 21, lives in one room with the siblings and they sleep on blankets on the floor.
The mother-of-one, who sleeps each night with a different brother, does not know which of her five related husbands is the father of her 18-month-old son.
The set-up may seem peculiar, but it is tradition in the small village near Dehradun, Northern India, for women to also marry the brothers of their first husband.
She told the Sun: 'Initially it felt a bit awkward. 'But I don’t favour one over the other.'
Rajo and first husband Guddu wed in an arranged Hindu marriage four years ago.
Since then she has married Baiju, 32, Sant Ram, 28, Gopal, 26, and Dinesh, 19 - the latest in the line of husbands - who married her as soon as he turned 18.
'We all have sex with her but I’m not jealous,' first husband Guddu - who remains the only official spouse - said. 'We’re one big happy family.'
The ancient Hindu tradition of polyandry was once widely practiced in India, but is now only observed by a minority.
It sees a woman take more than one husband, typically in areas which are male dominated.
In fraternal polyandry the woman is expected to marry each of her original husband's brothers.
It is thought to have arisen from the popular Sanskrit epic of Mahabharatha, which sees Draupadi, daughter of the King of Pancha being married to five brothers.
The practice is also believed to be a way of keeping farming land in the family.
It is most commonly found near the Himalayas in the north of the country, as well as in the mountainous nation of Tibet.
While the advance of modernity has seen the archaic practice largely die out in most areas, the shortage of women in countries such as China and India has helped keep it alive as a solution to young men's difficulties in finding a wife.
Rajo said she knew she was expected to accept all of her husbands, as her own mother had also been married to three brothers.
She said they sleep together in turn, but that they do not have beds, just 'lots of blankets on the floor'.
She added: 'I get a lot more attention and love than most wives.'
POLYANDRY: AN ANCIENT TRADITION
The practice of polyandry is believed to stem from the tale of Mahabharata, the ancient Indian epic.
The text, one of the cornerstones of Indian culture, sees Draupadi, daughter of the King of Pancha being married to five brothers.
It is not legal, but in its most common form - whereby women in polyandrous relationships marry more than one man from the same family - it is permitted.
It tends to be practised in male dominated villages, who still follow primitive rituals and customs. Brothers who refuse the union are often treated as outcasts.
In polyandrous families, the woman often cannot say which of her husbands fathered which children.
Recently, there have been instances of DNA testing, to solve inheritance disputes.
Selasa, 19 Maret 2013
Parents in China Can Sue Their Ignorant Kids
Adult Children Ignoring Confucius Risk Lawsuits in China
(Updates to add grandparents’ involvement in raising children in 21st paragraph.)
March 18 (Bloomberg) -- In 10 years as head of an elder- care center in Confucius’s hometown of Qufu, Yang Youling has seen the Chinese philosopher’s exhortation of filial piety turned on its head.
Many children never visit their aged parents in the 50-bed home in eastern China’s Shandong province to avoid being criticized for not taking care of them, said Yang, 47. “The children are ashamed of being seen,” she said.
They will soon have a new deterrent. From July 1, parents in China can sue their kids who don’t visit often enough, under a broadened law mandating children take better care of the aged. With China’s elderly population forecast to more than double to 487 million in the next 40 years, the government needs to try and limit the cost of caring for seniors.
“China’s aging problem is at a scale and speed not comparable with anywhere else in the world,” said Yuan Xin, director of Nankai University’s Aging Development Strategy Research Center in Tianjin, and a member of an advisory committee on the new rule. “My concern is how we can have sustainable economic development” while maintaining Confucian values such as respect and care for one’s parents, he said.
Traditionally, children lived with their parents and looked after them in accordance with Confucian beliefs. The ancient Chinese philosopher emphasized filial piety as the foundation of all values and placed great importance on harmony and a proper order of social relationships especially within families.
Values Erosion
That relationship has eroded as China’s one-child policy has increased the burden on the sole offspring and people have moved to cities in pursuit of jobs.
In response, the government passed amendments to the Law for the Protection of the Rights and Interests of the Elderly on Dec. 28 to include the visitation requirement and a stipulation that employers approve the necessary leave, without specifying how often the visits should be. The law enables the elderly to seek legal recourse and prohibits “discrimination, insult, ill- treatment and abandonment” of the aged.
China also assigned a symbolic Elderly Day under the legislation, and said it will improve long-term care services and benefits for senior citizens.
“Old people left alone at home are very lonely and lack both physical and psychological care, so it’s actually better to live in a home like ours where we have people to care for them,” said Yang, director of the Xiyanghong Elderly Home that she set up in 2002, near a 2,500-year-old temple honoring Confucius. “But some think their children put them in the home because they don’t want them anymore.”
Economic Reality
Besides an effort to preserve tradition, the rules are an economic necessity to limit the state’s burden. China’s working- age citizens ages 15 to 59 fell as a share of the population last year, and the National Committee on Aging estimates people 60 years and older will rise to 487 million by 2053 from 185 million in 2011. The U.S. population is projected to reach about 406 million in 2053, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.
“The pace and scale of demographic and social change is so great most families simply do not have traditional options anymore, so change is inevitable,” said Feng Zhanlian, a Waltham, Massachusetts-based health analyst at RTI International. Feng is co-author of a study on China’s policy challenges amid a rapidly aging population that was published in the journal Health Affairs in December.
Social Guidance
China isn’t alone in mandating filial responsibility. Singapore, Canada and at least 29 U.S. states have legislation to ensure children provide financial support for their elderly parents in need. Still, the reality is some aspects of China’s law may be hard to implement and are intended more as a guidance for social behavior, said Zhao Liangbo, deputy chief litigator at JoinWay Law Firm in Shanghai.
“This amendment, especially requirements for children to visit their elderly parents regularly, is almost impossible” to enforce, Zhao said. “Even if the children are sentenced, how would the court be able to make sure they visit regularly, and do it with sincerity?”
Lawsuits over family disputes are so far rare in China, and are more likely to be resolved through court-appointed mediators, Zhao said. Parents may hesitate to take their kids to court because of social stigma and “loss of face” in publicizing family problems, while already-strained ties may be further tested, Yang of the Xiyanghong Elderly Home said.
In one case in northern Shanxi province, a divorcee in her 70s surnamed Nie sued two sons for support three times in the past decade, most recently winning a court award of 2,000 yuan ($322) a year from each son, the state-controlled Chinanews.com reported Dec. 13, citing the People’s Court in Xinjiang county.
Odd-Job Worker
Wang Mingsheng, 78, has been working odd-jobs in Qufu and sells vegetables to supplement his monthly income of 600 yuan and a 220-yuan government pension, since retiring as a worker in a chemical factory. None of his five daughters and two sons want to live with him and his wife, he said.
“I don’t think they are unfilial but they have their own lives and won’t be able to take care of two old people,” Wang said as he rested on the sidewalk outside the Temple of Confucius. “If children can afford it and don’t take care of their old parents, then they should be punished by the law.”
Most amendments in China’s law discuss development of community elder-care services in prosperous, coastal regions, said Zhang Xiaoyi, vice-dean of Shanghai Jiaotong University’s School of International and Public Affairs. That doesn’t help the old left behind in rural areas, where health-care facilities are also inferior, as children seek jobs in cities, she said.
Rural Loophole
“The problem of how to help the rural elderly is still a loophole in the design of our existing system,” said Zhang, who advises the Shanghai government on aging issues. “One ideal solution would be if migrant children who have done well in the cities could then take their parents to live with them.”
In rural China, grandparents care for 38 percent of children younger than 5 whose parents have gone to work in cities, according to a report last year published by the United Nations Population Fund in New York.
China and other governments will also have to adapt their health-care systems with improving life expectancy, said Nick Beckett, a Beijing-based managing partner at law firm CMS. The average Chinese lived until 74.8 years of age in 2010, rising from 68.6 in 1990, the National Bureau of Statistics said in September.
More Beds
The government will introduce favorable policies that include boosting the number of beds in care facilities to 30 per 1,000 elderly persons by 2015, from 20 currently, Minister for Civil Affairs Li Liguo told reporters at the National People’s Congress in Beijing on March 5.
The growth in the past 15 years that has turned China into the world’s second-largest economy has also made 2,500-year-old advice irrelevant, said Nankai University’s Yuan, whose 94-year- old father is cared for by his retired sister in western Xinjiang province, a seven-hour flight from where he’s based.
“Confucius once said ‘During your parents’ lifetime, do not journey afar,’” said Yuan. “This is no longer possible in modern Chinese society because the consequence of not journeying afar may be to give up one’s career development.”
(Updates to add grandparents’ involvement in raising children in 21st paragraph.)
March 18 (Bloomberg) -- In 10 years as head of an elder- care center in Confucius’s hometown of Qufu, Yang Youling has seen the Chinese philosopher’s exhortation of filial piety turned on its head.
Many children never visit their aged parents in the 50-bed home in eastern China’s Shandong province to avoid being criticized for not taking care of them, said Yang, 47. “The children are ashamed of being seen,” she said.
They will soon have a new deterrent. From July 1, parents in China can sue their kids who don’t visit often enough, under a broadened law mandating children take better care of the aged. With China’s elderly population forecast to more than double to 487 million in the next 40 years, the government needs to try and limit the cost of caring for seniors.
“China’s aging problem is at a scale and speed not comparable with anywhere else in the world,” said Yuan Xin, director of Nankai University’s Aging Development Strategy Research Center in Tianjin, and a member of an advisory committee on the new rule. “My concern is how we can have sustainable economic development” while maintaining Confucian values such as respect and care for one’s parents, he said.
Traditionally, children lived with their parents and looked after them in accordance with Confucian beliefs. The ancient Chinese philosopher emphasized filial piety as the foundation of all values and placed great importance on harmony and a proper order of social relationships especially within families.
Values Erosion
That relationship has eroded as China’s one-child policy has increased the burden on the sole offspring and people have moved to cities in pursuit of jobs.
In response, the government passed amendments to the Law for the Protection of the Rights and Interests of the Elderly on Dec. 28 to include the visitation requirement and a stipulation that employers approve the necessary leave, without specifying how often the visits should be. The law enables the elderly to seek legal recourse and prohibits “discrimination, insult, ill- treatment and abandonment” of the aged.
China also assigned a symbolic Elderly Day under the legislation, and said it will improve long-term care services and benefits for senior citizens.
“Old people left alone at home are very lonely and lack both physical and psychological care, so it’s actually better to live in a home like ours where we have people to care for them,” said Yang, director of the Xiyanghong Elderly Home that she set up in 2002, near a 2,500-year-old temple honoring Confucius. “But some think their children put them in the home because they don’t want them anymore.”
Economic Reality
Besides an effort to preserve tradition, the rules are an economic necessity to limit the state’s burden. China’s working- age citizens ages 15 to 59 fell as a share of the population last year, and the National Committee on Aging estimates people 60 years and older will rise to 487 million by 2053 from 185 million in 2011. The U.S. population is projected to reach about 406 million in 2053, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.
“The pace and scale of demographic and social change is so great most families simply do not have traditional options anymore, so change is inevitable,” said Feng Zhanlian, a Waltham, Massachusetts-based health analyst at RTI International. Feng is co-author of a study on China’s policy challenges amid a rapidly aging population that was published in the journal Health Affairs in December.
Social Guidance
China isn’t alone in mandating filial responsibility. Singapore, Canada and at least 29 U.S. states have legislation to ensure children provide financial support for their elderly parents in need. Still, the reality is some aspects of China’s law may be hard to implement and are intended more as a guidance for social behavior, said Zhao Liangbo, deputy chief litigator at JoinWay Law Firm in Shanghai.
“This amendment, especially requirements for children to visit their elderly parents regularly, is almost impossible” to enforce, Zhao said. “Even if the children are sentenced, how would the court be able to make sure they visit regularly, and do it with sincerity?”
Lawsuits over family disputes are so far rare in China, and are more likely to be resolved through court-appointed mediators, Zhao said. Parents may hesitate to take their kids to court because of social stigma and “loss of face” in publicizing family problems, while already-strained ties may be further tested, Yang of the Xiyanghong Elderly Home said.
In one case in northern Shanxi province, a divorcee in her 70s surnamed Nie sued two sons for support three times in the past decade, most recently winning a court award of 2,000 yuan ($322) a year from each son, the state-controlled Chinanews.com reported Dec. 13, citing the People’s Court in Xinjiang county.
Odd-Job Worker
Wang Mingsheng, 78, has been working odd-jobs in Qufu and sells vegetables to supplement his monthly income of 600 yuan and a 220-yuan government pension, since retiring as a worker in a chemical factory. None of his five daughters and two sons want to live with him and his wife, he said.
“I don’t think they are unfilial but they have their own lives and won’t be able to take care of two old people,” Wang said as he rested on the sidewalk outside the Temple of Confucius. “If children can afford it and don’t take care of their old parents, then they should be punished by the law.”
Most amendments in China’s law discuss development of community elder-care services in prosperous, coastal regions, said Zhang Xiaoyi, vice-dean of Shanghai Jiaotong University’s School of International and Public Affairs. That doesn’t help the old left behind in rural areas, where health-care facilities are also inferior, as children seek jobs in cities, she said.
Rural Loophole
“The problem of how to help the rural elderly is still a loophole in the design of our existing system,” said Zhang, who advises the Shanghai government on aging issues. “One ideal solution would be if migrant children who have done well in the cities could then take their parents to live with them.”
In rural China, grandparents care for 38 percent of children younger than 5 whose parents have gone to work in cities, according to a report last year published by the United Nations Population Fund in New York.
China and other governments will also have to adapt their health-care systems with improving life expectancy, said Nick Beckett, a Beijing-based managing partner at law firm CMS. The average Chinese lived until 74.8 years of age in 2010, rising from 68.6 in 1990, the National Bureau of Statistics said in September.
More Beds
The government will introduce favorable policies that include boosting the number of beds in care facilities to 30 per 1,000 elderly persons by 2015, from 20 currently, Minister for Civil Affairs Li Liguo told reporters at the National People’s Congress in Beijing on March 5.
The growth in the past 15 years that has turned China into the world’s second-largest economy has also made 2,500-year-old advice irrelevant, said Nankai University’s Yuan, whose 94-year- old father is cared for by his retired sister in western Xinjiang province, a seven-hour flight from where he’s based.
“Confucius once said ‘During your parents’ lifetime, do not journey afar,’” said Yuan. “This is no longer possible in modern Chinese society because the consequence of not journeying afar may be to give up one’s career development.”
Senin, 18 Maret 2013
One day passes with happiness, and then you gain one day
Sixty plus and still keep going
Don't worry about what will happen after you are gone, because when you return to dust, you will feel nothing about praises or criticisms.
Don't worry too much about your children for children will have their own destiny and find their own way.
Don't be your children's slave
Don't expect too much from your children.
Caring children, though caring, would be too busy with their jobs and commitments to render any help.
Uncaring children may fight over your assets even when you are still alive, and wish for your early demise so they can inherit your properties.
Your children take for granted that they are rightful heirs to your wealth; but you have no claims to their money.
60-year olds like you, don't trade in your health for wealth anymore………….
Because your money may not be able to buy your health………
When to stop making money, and how much is enough (hundred thousand, million, ten million)?
Out of thousand hectares of good farm land, you can only consume three quarts (of rice) daily;
Out of a thousand of mansions, you only need eight square meters of space to rest at night.
So as long as you have enough food and enough money to spend, that is good enough. So you should live happily.
Every family has its own problems. Just do not compare with others for fame and social status and see whose children are doing better, etc. but challenge others for happiness, health and longevity………….
Don't worry about things that you can't change because it doesn't help and it may spoil your health.
You have to create your own well-being and find your own happiness;
As long as you are in good mood, think about happy things, do happy things daily and have fun in doing, then you will pass your time happily every day.
One day passes, you will lose one day;…
One day passes with happiness, and then you gain one day.
In good spirit, sickness will cure;
in happy spirit, sickness will cure fast;
in good and happy spirit; sickness will never come.
With good mood, suitable amount of exercise, always in the sun, variety of foods, reasonable amount of vitamin and mineral intake, hopefully you will live another 20 or 30 years of healthy life.
Above all learn to cherish the goodness around ……and FRIENDS……..they all make you feel young and "wanted"…without them you are surely to feel lost!!
Wishing you all the best.
So share this with all your friends who are 60 plus and those who will be 60 plus after some time.
Don't worry about what will happen after you are gone, because when you return to dust, you will feel nothing about praises or criticisms.
Don't worry too much about your children for children will have their own destiny and find their own way.
Don't be your children's slave
Don't expect too much from your children.
Caring children, though caring, would be too busy with their jobs and commitments to render any help.
Uncaring children may fight over your assets even when you are still alive, and wish for your early demise so they can inherit your properties.
Your children take for granted that they are rightful heirs to your wealth; but you have no claims to their money.
60-year olds like you, don't trade in your health for wealth anymore………….
Because your money may not be able to buy your health………
When to stop making money, and how much is enough (hundred thousand, million, ten million)?
Out of thousand hectares of good farm land, you can only consume three quarts (of rice) daily;
Out of a thousand of mansions, you only need eight square meters of space to rest at night.
So as long as you have enough food and enough money to spend, that is good enough. So you should live happily.
Every family has its own problems. Just do not compare with others for fame and social status and see whose children are doing better, etc. but challenge others for happiness, health and longevity………….
Don't worry about things that you can't change because it doesn't help and it may spoil your health.
You have to create your own well-being and find your own happiness;
As long as you are in good mood, think about happy things, do happy things daily and have fun in doing, then you will pass your time happily every day.
One day passes, you will lose one day;…
One day passes with happiness, and then you gain one day.
In good spirit, sickness will cure;
in happy spirit, sickness will cure fast;
in good and happy spirit; sickness will never come.
With good mood, suitable amount of exercise, always in the sun, variety of foods, reasonable amount of vitamin and mineral intake, hopefully you will live another 20 or 30 years of healthy life.
Above all learn to cherish the goodness around ……and FRIENDS……..they all make you feel young and "wanted"…without them you are surely to feel lost!!
Wishing you all the best.
So share this with all your friends who are 60 plus and those who will be 60 plus after some time.
The Angel from Central Java
Lo Siaw Ging: Doctoring to the rich and poor
Lo Siaw Ging, usually called Doctor Lo, is a physician of Chinese descent in Surakarta, Central Java.
The 78-year-old man is popular not only for his correct diagnoses and effective medicine, but also for requiring no fixed fees.
Every day except Sunday, dozens of patients pack his waiting room. They come from all walks of life: pedicab drivers, sidewalk vendors, factory workers, private employees, civil servants and businesspeople. They also include patients from surrounding towns.
Dr. Lo is special for making no distinction between treating the rich and the poor. He is even annoyed if a patient insists on paying if under financial constraints.
Lo also helps the poor pay for the medicine he prescribes by asking the relevant pharmacy to collect his bills monthly.
He does the same for inpatients at the hospital where he works, Kasih Ibu Hospital. Consequently, Lo has to pay bills worth Rp 8 million (US$860) to 10 million monthly. If the cost of treatment is large enough, like in the case of surgery, he seeks donors who are prepared to contribute anonymously.
“Fortunately many people still trust me,” he said. In the eyes of disadvantaged citizens, Lo is indeed seen as an angel of rescue. He defies the logic of medical charges going beyond the financial capacity of the poor. What he’s doing seems to challenge the current witticism, “The poor must not get sick.”
“I know which patients can afford to pay and which ones can’t. Why should they pay for doctor’s fees only to be unable to buy rice later? Their children should be pitied if they get underfed,” he pointed out.
Speaking in a firm and exacting tone, Lo frequently admonishes his patients for trivializing their complaints. Once, he became angry at a housewife who took her child to him after running a temperature for four days.
“So far many people have retained such an attitude. Illness can’t be relieved without cure so one has to see the doctor immediately. Self-diagnosis should be avoided,” he said.
Yet Lo is loved by many and remains a top medical reference of the have-nots. On the other hand, the graduate of Surabaya’s Airlangga University feels what he has been doing is nothing special and thus needs no exaggeration.
“It’s the duty of physicians to help their patients recover by whatever means. I’m only helping people in need of medical assistance. There’s nothing unusual about that,” noted the doctor, who practices at his residence in Kampung Jagalan, Solo.
Born in Magelang on Aug. 16, 1934, Lo was brought up by a family in the tobacco business. His parents, Lo Ban Tjiang and Liem Hwat Nio, allowed their children freedom to choose what they wanted to be. So Lo attended high school in Semarang, for the same school in Magelang was considered inferior.
After high school, he revealed his interest in studying medicine, to which his father responded by advising him that becoming a doctor and doing business wouldn’t go together well. Lo interpreted the advice to mean that a doctor shouldn’t merely pursue material gain because of the main duty to help people in need.
“Whoever comes here, poor or rich, deserves proper service. Helping people should never show discrimination and the entire work should be done with sincerity. The medical profession helps the sick instead of selling drugs,” he said.
A doctor since 1963, Lo started his career at a polyclinic, Tsi Sheng Yuan, owned by Dr. Oen Boen Ing (1903-1982), a famous physician in Solo. During the New Order, the polyclinic became Panti Kosala Hospital, which is now Dr. Oen Hospital.
Besides his father’s guidance, Lo said he learned a lot from Dr. Oen while working with the man for 15 years. “He wasn’t just a brilliant doctor but also had a high sense of modesty and charity,” recalled the former director of Kasih Ibu Hospital.
His principle of helping people in need was also proven during a critical time. When the anti-
Chinese riots of May 1998 broke out, Lo continued his practice despite his neighbors’ warning of the dangerous situation, particularly for citizens of Chinese descent, prompting them to watch over the doctor’s home.
“Lots of people needed help, including riot victims, how could I reject them? If all physicians had stopped practicing, who would have treated the patients?” asked Lo,.
Until the rioting ended and the situation returned to normal, Lo’s residence remained undisturbed. In fact, many of the houses in the vicinity had been looted and burned down by rioters.
Now nearing the age of 80, Lo still practices daily from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. at home, and sees his patients from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Kasih Ibu. After a two-hour pause, he again opens his home practice until 8 p.m.
“As long as I’m strong enough, I’m not thinking of retiring yet. A doctor will only retire when nothing can be done. My service gives me satisfaction that no money can buy,” said the physician, who has for the last few years used a walking stick.
According to Lo, his wife has had a major role in boosting his career. Without her encouragement, said Lo, he wouldn’t have been able to succeed the way he has. “She is a wonderful woman. I’m lucky to be her spouse,” said Lo about the woman he married in 1968.
In the profession for decades, once even directing a big hospital, Lo has continued to live a modest life with his wife in an old house that is relatively the same as when it was built, except for some new paint. It’s not an imposing and storied mansion like most doctors’ residences either.
“This house is big enough for us both. If I earn more, let it be shared with those in dire need. We just want to live properly. I’m very grateful to be able to reach my age, meaning more opportunity to help others,” added Lo, whose 43-year marriage to Gan May Kwee has been childless.
With expensive drugs, frequently unsatisfactory hospital service and mostly materialistic doctors, the presence of Lo is indeed like refreshing dewdrops. Only a few physicians like Dr. Lo can be found today.
The 78-year-old man is popular not only for his correct diagnoses and effective medicine, but also for requiring no fixed fees.
Every day except Sunday, dozens of patients pack his waiting room. They come from all walks of life: pedicab drivers, sidewalk vendors, factory workers, private employees, civil servants and businesspeople. They also include patients from surrounding towns.
Dr. Lo is special for making no distinction between treating the rich and the poor. He is even annoyed if a patient insists on paying if under financial constraints.
Lo also helps the poor pay for the medicine he prescribes by asking the relevant pharmacy to collect his bills monthly.
He does the same for inpatients at the hospital where he works, Kasih Ibu Hospital. Consequently, Lo has to pay bills worth Rp 8 million (US$860) to 10 million monthly. If the cost of treatment is large enough, like in the case of surgery, he seeks donors who are prepared to contribute anonymously.
“Fortunately many people still trust me,” he said. In the eyes of disadvantaged citizens, Lo is indeed seen as an angel of rescue. He defies the logic of medical charges going beyond the financial capacity of the poor. What he’s doing seems to challenge the current witticism, “The poor must not get sick.”
“I know which patients can afford to pay and which ones can’t. Why should they pay for doctor’s fees only to be unable to buy rice later? Their children should be pitied if they get underfed,” he pointed out.
Speaking in a firm and exacting tone, Lo frequently admonishes his patients for trivializing their complaints. Once, he became angry at a housewife who took her child to him after running a temperature for four days.
“So far many people have retained such an attitude. Illness can’t be relieved without cure so one has to see the doctor immediately. Self-diagnosis should be avoided,” he said.
Yet Lo is loved by many and remains a top medical reference of the have-nots. On the other hand, the graduate of Surabaya’s Airlangga University feels what he has been doing is nothing special and thus needs no exaggeration.
“It’s the duty of physicians to help their patients recover by whatever means. I’m only helping people in need of medical assistance. There’s nothing unusual about that,” noted the doctor, who practices at his residence in Kampung Jagalan, Solo.
Born in Magelang on Aug. 16, 1934, Lo was brought up by a family in the tobacco business. His parents, Lo Ban Tjiang and Liem Hwat Nio, allowed their children freedom to choose what they wanted to be. So Lo attended high school in Semarang, for the same school in Magelang was considered inferior.
After high school, he revealed his interest in studying medicine, to which his father responded by advising him that becoming a doctor and doing business wouldn’t go together well. Lo interpreted the advice to mean that a doctor shouldn’t merely pursue material gain because of the main duty to help people in need.
“Whoever comes here, poor or rich, deserves proper service. Helping people should never show discrimination and the entire work should be done with sincerity. The medical profession helps the sick instead of selling drugs,” he said.
A doctor since 1963, Lo started his career at a polyclinic, Tsi Sheng Yuan, owned by Dr. Oen Boen Ing (1903-1982), a famous physician in Solo. During the New Order, the polyclinic became Panti Kosala Hospital, which is now Dr. Oen Hospital.
Besides his father’s guidance, Lo said he learned a lot from Dr. Oen while working with the man for 15 years. “He wasn’t just a brilliant doctor but also had a high sense of modesty and charity,” recalled the former director of Kasih Ibu Hospital.
His principle of helping people in need was also proven during a critical time. When the anti-
Chinese riots of May 1998 broke out, Lo continued his practice despite his neighbors’ warning of the dangerous situation, particularly for citizens of Chinese descent, prompting them to watch over the doctor’s home.
“Lots of people needed help, including riot victims, how could I reject them? If all physicians had stopped practicing, who would have treated the patients?” asked Lo,.
Until the rioting ended and the situation returned to normal, Lo’s residence remained undisturbed. In fact, many of the houses in the vicinity had been looted and burned down by rioters.
Now nearing the age of 80, Lo still practices daily from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. at home, and sees his patients from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Kasih Ibu. After a two-hour pause, he again opens his home practice until 8 p.m.
“As long as I’m strong enough, I’m not thinking of retiring yet. A doctor will only retire when nothing can be done. My service gives me satisfaction that no money can buy,” said the physician, who has for the last few years used a walking stick.
According to Lo, his wife has had a major role in boosting his career. Without her encouragement, said Lo, he wouldn’t have been able to succeed the way he has. “She is a wonderful woman. I’m lucky to be her spouse,” said Lo about the woman he married in 1968.
In the profession for decades, once even directing a big hospital, Lo has continued to live a modest life with his wife in an old house that is relatively the same as when it was built, except for some new paint. It’s not an imposing and storied mansion like most doctors’ residences either.
“This house is big enough for us both. If I earn more, let it be shared with those in dire need. We just want to live properly. I’m very grateful to be able to reach my age, meaning more opportunity to help others,” added Lo, whose 43-year marriage to Gan May Kwee has been childless.
With expensive drugs, frequently unsatisfactory hospital service and mostly materialistic doctors, the presence of Lo is indeed like refreshing dewdrops. Only a few physicians like Dr. Lo can be found today.
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