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Non fiction/Historical Fiction: Annotated Bibliography

Non fiction/Historical Fiction: Annotated Bibliography

Yousafzai, Malala (2013). I am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up For Education and Was Shot by the Taliban. New York: Little, Brown & Company.

YA Universal Theme(s): Women’s rights, power or education, bravery

Lexile level/Grade range: 1000 level/level Z/Secondary level

Short summary of the highlights: Malala Yousafzai, a Muslim, grew up in the Swat Valley of Pakistan.  Although most older practicing Muslims had a very strict interpretation of Islam, Malala’s parents valued education, and free speech, even for women.  Her father opened many schools for boys and girls and empowered Malala to enter debates and other scholarly activities.  At the same time, the Taliban grew in power and numbers.  Violence and terror swept through the region.  All of this is background for the unimaginable event which takes place at the beginning of the book; Malala is shot in the face by the Taliban while riding on a city bus.  When asked her name, most likely because she wasn’t wearing the traditional burqa, Malala refused to answer the gunman. Instead of cowering, Malala refused to be silenced.  This inspirational autobiography illuminates the injustices that women in Pakistan endure, and the true hero who was a voice for all of them. 

Pelzer, Dave, (2019). A Child Called “It”. London: Seven Dials

YA Universal Theme(s): child abuse, identity

Lexile Level/Grade Range: 850 level/level Z/Secondary

Short Summary of the Highlights:. This autobiography is a record of David’s unimaginable nightmare and the adults who finally intervened to end it all. David Pelzer suffered years of abuse at the hands of his mentally unstable, alcoholic mother.  David and his family grew up in California.  Although his earliest memories include enjoyable family hikes, and holidays, David’s world changed when his mother began to drink.  What started out as long stints in time out quickly escalated to brutal beatings, and starvation.  David’s father acted as somewhat of a buffer between him and his mother, but he also succumbed to her depression and rage.  Eventually, his father moved out and the abuse worsened.  David often slept in the garage and once was stabbed by his mother.  Although David attended school in old, smelly clothes and often visible bruises, his mother was skilled at making excuses.  Until one day, when David had lost all hope of being rescued, authorities and school officials finally intervened.  David’s life story exposes the true horrors of child abuse, the damaging effects on children, and one man’s drive to find himself again.

Murphy, Jim, (2000). Blizzard!: The Storm that Changed America. New York: Scholastic Press

YA Universal Theme(s): survival, power of nature

Lexile Level/Grade Range: 1080L/Level W/Secondary

Short Summary of the Highlights: Blizzard tells the tale of that day in March of 1888.  Two storm systems merged right over the Northeast bringing record amounts of snow and wind to New York City.  Hundreds of people died because the city was not prepared for such a massive weather event.  Murphy weaves first hand accounts, photographs, drawings and newspaper headlines to recreate that deadly storm.  He gives detailed background regarding the political, transportation and sanitation departments, as well as, bringing to light the need for a National Weather Bureau.  The book also provides accounts of heroism, of people pulling together in time of need.  Blizzard! The Storm that Changed America  leaves the reader with a new found knowledge of the systems, or lack of, in New York during that period and the resilience of the human spirit.

Thanhha, Lai. (2019). Butterfly Yellow. New York: Harper Collins

YA Universal Theme(s): War, Family, Refugee

Lexile level/Grade range: 810L/level V/Secondary

Short Summary of the Highlights: This historical fiction book takes place at the tail end of the Vietnam war, and subsequent years afterward. Hang, and her little brother, Linh, travel to the airport in Vietnam, hoping to catch a plane to America and escape war torn Vietnam.  While there, Linh is accepted into “operation baby lift,” and flown to the United States.  Linh returns home to her grandmother, relieved that her brother was able to flee, but heartbroken at their separation.  Six years later, as a refugee, Linh travels to Texas, where her search for her brother commences.  Even though Linh encounters cultural and language barriers, she is determined to be reunited with her only sibling.  Along the way, she meets LeeRoy, and they embark on an unlikely friendship.  Linh eventually finds her brother Linh, and that presents a whole new set of obstacles.  Immigration, family, and sacrifice are just a few of the themes that young adult readers will encounter in this book.

Heiligman, Deborah. (2017). Vincent and Theo: The Van Gogh Brothers. New York: Henry Holt and Co.

YA Universal Theme(s): Art, Siblings, overcoming obstacles

Lexile level/Grade range: 900/level W/Secondary

Short Summary of the Highlights: This nonfiction text tells the endearing story of two brothers: Theo and Vincent Van Gogh.  The author, Deborah Heiligman, drew upon 658 letters that Vincent wrote to Theo.  Letters that are filled with fear, joy, shame, excitement and pure love for his brother.  The book follows the brothers through their early days, when Vincent worked with the poor while also working at an auction house.  At the same time, Theo, two years younger and an art dealer, traveled the world.  The two brothers leaned on each other during their darkest days and celebrated together on joyous occasions.  Heiligman writes that Theo was the first to discover Vincent’s true talent and encouraged him to use brighter and bolder colors in his paintings.  The reader witnesses deep brotherly love between the two and walks away with a deeper appreciation for the art legend, Vincent Van Gogh. 

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Some Important Tips About Baby Clothes Shopping

Earlier than you bring a baby home from the hospital, do some important things around the home to confirm when it is good time to welcome your newborn baby, the home is all set for her or him. You can set the home with the whole thing before the special day comes. It will make the transition less stressful and easier for everybody involved.

Though, getting all needs of your baby is downright costly. Babies want diapers, clothes, a crib, bedding and a lot more before they come home from the hospital. These things add up and you can find yourself spending lots of money before your baby has also spent a night in your house. There are some methods to save some of your money.

Purchase through sales: With your brand-new package of joy, you do not wish to think about your baby with second-hand items. The main thing is though some baby products are used gently. Because kids grow very fast, they hardly have time to grow into their dresses, accessories or toys. You can check out sales to find if there is something you want for some bucks.

 Discount stores or Thrift stores: these shops go hand in hand as they give same type of products. There have good-looking baby boy and Baby Girls Dresses. The just difference with this store is that the clothing is generally new. There was a poor stitch or an unequal item that has been noticed and you can save good money. If you don’t want this type of cloth then you can head towards best Online Baby Clothes Shopping In Pakistan.

 Buy one size bigger clothes: Mainly when you have a newborn, go with Baby Clothes Online Shopping In Pakistanthat are just one size bigger. Baby will grow very fast in their 3-6 months and you should purchase clothes by keeping this thing in your mind.

Purchase pajama gowns: These types of gowns in terms of best Newborn Baby Clothes Onlineare practical and would last for a while. Usually, baby does not grow out of the gowns fast. The gowns are very much practical as when the baby wants a diaper change, you just need to lift the dress. No buttoning or snapping with the gown.

Pay special care to the seam: If talking about quality then you have to be careful when shopping Baby Clothes Online Pakistan. The seam must be closed and rather enclosed. These kinds of seams are very much sensitive to the needs of your baby and there is no idea of pulling on loose strings or scraping themselves.

Search for great deals and sales. There are a lot of big department stores that will have major sales nearby the big holidays. You could be able to find some wonderful investments this way. Even, you can look for any discount coupons to save some of your money. Having a baby does not mean spending money unnecessarily. You have to be very careful.

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All About Kalpana Chawla, Why She Is Best Astronaut

Kalpana Chawla Death Reason

Kalpana Chawla,  died on February 1, 2003, in an accident in the space shuttle Columbia somewhat over Texa, United Status, while approaching to earth, in an accident.

It is just after 9 a.m. at Cape Canaveral. At the Command Center in Houston, the first wave of panic takes over. Kalpana Chawla Husband - Jean Pierre-JP,  response to their last message from mission control had been aborted midway. All communication with Columbia got disconnected. However, it is a routine when a spaceship re-enters the earth's atmosphere. Jean Pierre-JP to those who know him—to is aware that this is commonplace. However, successive calls go unanswered. At about the two-minute mark, before touchdown, JP does not hear the expected double sonic booms of the shuttle overhead. As the minute pass, the silence becomes deafening. For the first time, the ground crew feels that something has gone wrong. On television screens across the world, the white streak has turned to a series of white spots in the sky. At this moment speculative ideas began to trade-in media about Kalpana Chawla death reason. The first fearful questions have begun doing the rounds; phones are ringing all over the world and what can be the Kalpana Chawla Death Reason. At the landing site, officials with cellphones glued to their ears are exiting the viewing area. The worst is feared. The world does not have to wait until the official word is out. Columbia has blown up, and its debris is raining down on the southern states of Louisiana, Texas, and Arkansas. It is darkness at noon. At the Kennedy Space Center, workers hunch over their terminals in complete shock, while at the same time, family members of the crew are being herded together at Cape Canaveral. Shuttle contingency is declared. In the Houston home of Kalpana, her family stares in disbelief at the television screen. Monty won't be coming home. And, in her hometown, the party for the schoolchildren is over. Instead, the stunned inmates of Tagore Bal Niketan join one billion countrymen in mourning their brightest star. An abrupt end to a space journey for six other brave astronauts too. But in her wake, forty-one-year-old Kalpana leaves behind many unanswered questions. What made it possible for this petite girl from Karnal to successfully undertake such an incredible journey that spanned not only continents but also cultures and finally ended in space? Unlike what many others would have done, Kalpana had chosen to come out of the comfortable cocoon of a well-to-do family, preferring instead to explore the world, taking the challenges as they came. Overcoming a host of prejudices, this five-foot-tall, slightly built girl, armed with only her radiant smile and fierce determination, had managed to realize her dream. Therein lies one of the most compelling stories of our times, one that begins in a house in downtown Karnal in 1961.

Kalpana Chawla Family Details

Father: Banarasi Lal Chawla Mother: Sanjyoti. In 1961, the household of Banarasi Lal Chawla, in Karnal, was expecting the arrival of a baby. By the persistent kicking in the stomach, Sanjyoti, going by midwife tales, felt that it was probably going to be a boy—she already had two daughters and a son. But lo and behold, the fourth member born to Banarasi Lal and Sanjyoti Chawla turned out to be a very energetic baby girl. It wouldn't be the last time that Kalpana would surprise her parents. The Chawla household had only recently moved to Karnal. Banarasi Lal, like thousands of others in the wake of the Partition riots, had trekked across from Pakistan, with precious little of his own. Only those with grit eventually made it and, more importantly, we're able to put the bloodshed behind them and move on with their lives. For Banarasi Lal, then a teenager, and his family, the first stop after leaving Gujranwala in Pakistan was Ludhiana. As refugees, they had to begin from scratch, and Chawla senior, along with other members of the family, started on a host of businesses, including selling wares as a street hawker. With each change in occupation, he started nudging up the social ladder. The progress was slow, till the extended family finally moved to Karnal. They took up a two-storeyed house in the middle of the town, close to the family business, which at that time was merchandise in clothes. A little later, the family took to the company of manufacturing tyres, which turned out to be very lucrative. Through all this, the Chawla household retained its spirituality. Banarasi Lal's parents had abdicated worldly existence and moved into a little house on the outskirts of Karnal town to spend their last years in spartan life. The religious attitude in the family was secular. While Banarasi Lal himself read the Guru Granth Sahib, his wife Sanjyoti followed to the preaching of Pune-based Swami Rajneesh. As far as food was concerned, the household was uniformly vegetarian, a habit Kalpana retained even years later when she went up in space as an astronaut. The years of struggle were not lost on Montu, as Kalpana came was popularly known affectionately known in family circles. Though by then the family business had begun to thrive, the basics-never let up in your effort-were never forgotten. From virtually nothing, her father had built up a lucrative business and had even received a laurel from the President of India for an indigenously designed machine to manufacture tyres. Just before the Columbia launch. Her easy-going nature and by then radiant smile masked the extent to which the child had absorbed her father's experience. It would be many years before the family would first realize how this slightly built, the dark-eyed girl had imbibed the family traits of grit and determination. Time and again, after that, the baby of the family would prove unflinching in her resolve-something that would come handy in surmounting the barriers that Montu faced growing up as a girl child in the state of Haryana. Speaking to friends who had dropped in to offer condolences at the Houston home of Kalpana, her mother said, 'Kalpana was born in our family, but she had a mind of her own.'

Kalpana Chawla Childhood in Karnal, Haryana.

Kalpana Chawla’s childhood was spent in the town of Karnal, Haryana, which lies on the Grand Trunk Road, halfway between New Delhi and Chandigarh. Located along the west bank of the river Yamuna, the town and its adjacent areas have a legendary history linked to it, dating back to the Mahabharata. Legend has it that neighboring Kurukshetra-also in Karnal district—was the battlefield that launched the famous war of Mahabharata between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Centuries later, the town's penchant to be associated with history has not changed. Growing up in the sleepy town of Karnal was quite an experience. For girls to be given the privilege of studying was rare, and not many families encouraged the idea. According to Kalpana's contemporaries from Karnal, a fifty-strong class would be hard-pressed to have even five percent girl students-a far cry from the average has seen today. In the Chawla household, however, there was an enormous premium on academic prowess. Elder sister Sunita was already a trailblazer, setting a benchmark as it were. By the time Kalpana came of age, money was no longer an issue in the family. At the same time, the family was not keen to send her to a school far from home. So they opted for Tagore Bal Niketan, which was located in the vicinity of the Chawla home. Captain D. Sharan, who grew up in an adjoining village and is now a pilot with Indian Airlines he was, in fact, piloting the aircraft that got hijacked to Kandahar-recalls that Tagore School was among the best that the town could offer. 'Women were never encouraged to study at that time, he recalled. 'In one class you would have only about three or four girls. For a girl in Karnal to get through (academically) was next to impossible. For that matter, even for a man, it was not easy.' He should know, having cycled every day to go to college and later to the local flying club for his first lessons in aviation.

Kalpana Chawla Education

Kalpana Chawla School: Tagore Bal Niketan Kalpana Chawla College: Dayal Singh College Tagore Bal Niketan was not the best school in town, yet it was unique in the way it was founded and run. At Tagore Bal Niketan, Kalpana's class had only fifteen students. Most classmates remember her as a shy individual. Though she never stood first in class, she stayed among the first five. Her energies were now increasingly towards raising the bar as it were. Her upbringing in a small town and her measured victories against tradition would be valuable lessons, as helpful as the support she drew from her female mentors, not the least from her mother. Given the family's conservative background, Kalpana skipped the better option in Dayal Singh College and opted instead for her pre-university from D.A.V. College in Karnal. It was only in the second year (equivalent to the twelfth grade) that Kalpana moved over to Dayal Singh College, that too because D.A.V. did not offer science beyond the first year of pre-university. As her teacher of English, Dr. Kamlesh Sharma, mentions, Kalpana was never traditional or conservative in her ideology, her thinking. By the time she finished her pre-university from Dayal Singh College, the petite girl with large black eyes, high-pitched voice, and luminous smile had set her sights on a graduation degree in engineering. It was not surprising, therefore, when news filtered home that Kalpana had to attend Punjab Engineering College (PEC) in Chandigarh. The Chawla household was initially reluctant to send her out of Karnal. Ultimately, however, they relented, and as a safeguard, ensured that Kalpana's friend Daisy too got admission in Chandigarh for a graduate degree. Recalling the moment, in the NASA interview, she said, 'I was lucky to get into aerospace engineering at Punjab Engineering College. And, in my case, the goal was, at that stage anyway, to be an aerospace engineer. The astronaut business is far-fetched for me to say, "Oh, at that time, I even had an inkling of it." The time had come for this small-town girl, who weighed ninety pounds with rocks in her pocket, to move on in her journey.  She could well have rested on her laurels and earned a more than comfortable livelihood as a civilian.

Kalpana Chawla Death Reason

The horrific turn of events after the space shuttle made its re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere on its home run are now history. For NASA and people all over the world, the end came as a tragic shock. A host of reasons have forth to explain Columbia's break-up on re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere. The most plausible reason out is that debris from the shuttle's external tank had struck Columbia's wing, just eighty-one seconds after launch on 16 January. The foam insulation purportedly fell and hit the shuttle's left flank on at least two, possibly three, locations. Titis believed, caused damage to the heat resistance tiles covering the wing and eventually proved fatal to the craft on re-entry. Retired Navy Admiral Harold Gehman, head of the independent investigation, is looking into this and other plausible causes. Progress has been painstakingly slow, which is understandable given that the debris from the shuttle is still being located and put together. Therefore, it may well be a long time before something gets is conclusively established. Meanwhile, the initial shock of losing Kalpana and her six colleagues in the unfortunate accident is now gradually wearing off. And the harsh realization has dawned that life has to go on without these magnificent seven among us. Comforting to many people--including her . own husband is the thought that Kalpana's death doing something that was most dear to her. Kalpana Chawla Death reason whatever maybe, 'The initial shock has worn off, aided by a constant stream of prepared meals, friends arriving from far-off places, and ever-present Astronaut Office contacts,' wrote JP on the Iweb log maintained by a Gillan of the rock group, Deep Purple. 'Intellectually, we all realize what has happened. Emotionally, none of us can yet connect the dots. We all take solace in that the crew was doing what they loved, with people they loved and respected. When the end came, it was instantaneous.' It is what makes her legacy enduring-an inspiration for generations to come. In many ways, the spirit of the seven astronauts, lost on that fateful morning on 1 February 2003, will always be with the world. Kalpana's journey from Karnal to space will forever remain a part of us. It did not end with the mishap or after her ashes were spread over Utah. It is not just because of her incredible achievements. It will be as much for her ability to achieve the impossible. Though being born into an upper-middle-class family helped, she struggled against very much the same odds as the rest of her countrymen. As a young girl born in the 1960s, she had no model to follow, no godfathers in the system. She did not use the prejudices and handicaps as an excuse for inaction. She sincerely believed that there was no alternative to hard work. And that if you believed in something genuinely, then it is yours. Her origins and life were, in a sense, very much commonplace. But her achievements were not. That is what makes her extra special--a role model to be emulated by generations after her. That, in many ways, is the central element of her legacy. In her last interview to India Today, she summed up the sine qua non of her incredible achievements thus: 'In one word-perseverance. There have been other factors too. Taking the time to follow other interests such as reading and exploring that have helped to widen the perspective and have enriched the journey.' Kalpana's strengths also flowed from the fact that she did no wanting for effort. She drew inspiration for this from ordinary individuals around her. People who gave it their all, no matter how commonplace their tasks might appear to be. For her, the commitment of her teachers—with their constant ability to devote attention daily to almost every student-was a cause for inspiration. So were the initial struggles of her parents to establish themselves again after being uprooted from their homes by the flames of Partition. The steadfastness and commitment that all of them displayed as they went about their daily lives inspired her in her journey. She looked for very much the same qualities--perseverance and courage-in the stories of explorers like Shackleton and Matthiessen. Another quality—which endeared her to those who knew her and will continue to inspire many, was her bold approach to life. Almost everyone who has been touched by Kalpana recalls the adventurous spirit that was so intrinsic a part of her. As her friend Acuff wrote on his web page after the accident: For Kalpana, the words she wrote on the photograph she gave to Amy (his wife) and I sum her up: In the spirit of adventure. She was always seeking new knowledge, new experience, and a unique wonder. She wrote to David (his son), 'Reach for the stars.' That is the message she would want all the children of the world to hear. Only by reaching beyond what we believe is possible can we achieve the impossible. Also striking was her desire to give back to the community and her commitment to preserving nature. It was this that motivated her to help not only young children from her old school in Karnal but also other deserving people from all over the world. It prompted her to painstakingly track down her alumni to share mementos from her first trip into space. To keep this legacy of generosity alive, her family has set up the Montsu Foundation (PO Box 58937, Houston, TX 77258, USA). As JP put it: 'The Foundation's first objective is to sponsor the university education of bright young men and women whose only obstacle is lack of funds, or means to acquire those funds. Sponsorship is open to anyone anywhere in the world ... The second objective is to acquire and preserve the natural environment, such as the purchase of land used by migratory birds during their stopovers.' Very appropriate for someone who drew inspiration from the words of the philosopher, Seneca: 'I was not born for one corner. The whole world is my native land. It was a connection that she sincerely believed in till the very end. Born Indian, yet died as an American, in space. Indeed a global citizen. As she said in her final interview to India Today, 'I have felt that connection and stewardship for Earth as long as I can remember. And not just for Earth, but the whole universe.'

Seconds before disaster Columbia Space Shuttle

A Timeline of Events in the Last Flight of Space Shuttle Columbia (All times EST) 16 January 2003 10.39 a.m.: Columbia rockets into orbit from Kennedy Space Center 1 February 2003 8.15 a.m.: Columbia fires braking rockets, streaks towards a touchdown. 8.53 a.m.: NASA loses temperature measurements for the shuttle's left hydraulic system. 8.58 a.m.: NASA loses measurements from three temperature sensors on the shuttle's left side. 8.59 a.m.: NASA loses eight more temperature measures and pressure measures for left inboard and outboard tyres. One of the measurements remains visible to crew on a display panel, which crew acknowledges. 8.59 a.m.: Final transmission. Mission Control radios: 'Columbia, Houston, we see your tire pressure messages and we did not copy your last.' Columbia replies: 'Roger, uh. 9.00 a.m.: NASA loses all data and contact with Columbia at 207,135 feet. Residents of Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana report hearing a big bang' and seeing flames in the sky. 9.16 a.m.: Columbia's scheduled landing time. 9.29 a.m.: NASA declares an emergency. 9.44 a.m.: NASA warns residents to stay away from possibly hazardous debris. 11.00 a.m.: Kennedy Space Center lowers the flag to half staff. 2.05 p.m.: President Bush announces: Columbia is lost; there are no survivors.' Read the full article

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[stringserver25-blog]

47 Good Models Of Winnie the Pooh Baby Bedroom Decor

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Home » bedroom » 47 Good Models Of Winnie the Pooh Baby Bedroom Decor

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Winnie Puuh Baby Schön Winnie the Pooh Baby Bedroom Fresh How to Decorate A Gender Neutral, source: latineg.com

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Winnie the Pooh Baby Blanket Winnie the Pooh Nursery Decor Baby Show – The Red Pistachio FREE SHIPPING IN THE USA, source: pinterest.com

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Source: https://blimeyoreilly.org/winnie-the-pooh-baby-bedroom-decor/

[davidastbury]

Victoria Railway Station

They must have been away from each other for a while - perhaps days; perhaps a college term - and boy are they glad to see each other. The hugging isn’t enough; they have to lean back and look at each other. They might be seeing changes - after all, they have been involved in unshared experiences. Along with time studying he will have spent time with friends - mixed friends. They will have talked about their lives, their backgrounds, their parents, even their relationships. They would have laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company. He might have liked one of the girls - who knows?

Soon they will share edited versions of ‘catching up’ and the mild surprise of his different hair length, use of unfamiliar words and oddly cautious smile will melt away along with the irritating smell of hotel soap.

Mr. Rahmani .... for Rochelle

Mr. Rahmani was one of our first asylum seeker friends. He left Afghanistan with his wife and large family and was trapped for a year or so in Pakistan. It was there that his heart condition became critical and he had bypass surgery. Then onwards to Germany and finally England. Pat met him in the local housing office where he was being allocated two adjacent apartments (on a dreadfully run-down estate; the local authority had 550 empty flats and were happy to take a block booking from the government to cover the rented accommodation for the newest refugees).

Mr. R was a very grand person; at least sixty years old - iron grey hair and wise, green eyes. He wore tailored grey suits and silk shirts and walked like a monarch. In fact he had been the governor of a huge chunk of Afghanistan. The people in the housing office, normally off-hand and impatient with their clients, jumped up and fussed Mr Rahmani offering him a chair and being creepy-crawly attentive.

So we became friends. He came to our house many times and we visited his twin flats nearly every day. We had long conversations about the collapse of order in his home country, the demise of the Iranian Shah, the opportunistic Soviet invasion, the Western mischief - all that stuff.

The important aspect was that we were the only friends he had at that time, and we did all we could to ease the difficulties of settling into normal life in this country - helping with his appeals, filling in endless forms for this and that, buying household items, finding school places for his younger children and college applications for the older ones. They had all previously attended the best private schools - his eldest daughter was a gynaecologist and a son was a civil engineer. And it was all done with good humour and cheerfulness. We enjoyed being with them - and honestly, how on earth would I otherwise have met such an interesting personality?

But it’s the little things that I remember best. Once, when admiring his suit, I gave him a cane handled umbrella and he practiced walking with it - and to complete the ensemble I presented him with an overcoat, I’d hardly ever worn it as it made me feel self conscious - it was expensive and it had been foolish to buy it - but it was superb on Mr Rahmani! Elegant Herringbone - three-quarter length, maroon satin lining - and - slim black velvet collar! He was delighted - as if it brought back the memories of half forgotten simple pleasures.

He sailed through the tribunal appearances - the immigration judges knew a big player when they saw one - and once that was settled he told me that he would be taking his family to London. It was at that point that he very movingly said - ‘For what you have done for me and my family, you will go to Paradise!’

Lunchtime on the Terrace

Creased Frenchwoman nearby, sucking on a cigarette. She calls across to a woman at the next table - and what a voice - 24ct Edith Piaf, hoarse, raucous, scarred by decades of shouting and sour wine.

I half close my eyes and Paris is everywhere; eating my watery soup with a heavy spoon; a saucer of cream for the pussycat; a livre de poche on the table and I’m up for anything - love, cheap brandy, dodging grape-shot at the barricades, waving my hat at the garçons and ripping up cobblestones.

The Moorcroft Building ... (Miss Jean Turpin, 1963)

Fake Roman - solid, dependable. Built by the dignitaries who put up the money for the construction of the Manchester Ship Canal. Now (1963) in the worthy hands of the Chamber of Commerce. It sits in splendour, facing the town-hall, the Portland stone facade sparkling like a sugared biscuit in the thin English sunshine. Most memorable of all - and anyone who knew Manchester at that time will agree - was the sight of the amazing curved doors. Two gorgeous, stainless-steel segments - slid back by the porter each morning - following the curvature of the doorway, allowing entrance via an inner plate glass revolving door.

A commercial bank on the ground floor and a warren of rented rooms up above. Numerous names on the brass plates - solicitors, actuaries, surveyors etc had sets of rooms and throughout the day people arrived and left - red faced business men rolled in from late lunches, export clerks carried stacked files, barristers scuttered along in their striped trousers.

Just entering this building inspired reassurance and confidence - the people there would look after your pension, your lump-sum, your annuity, your trust-fund!

Miss Jean Turpin worked in the first-floor office of Meadowland International Finance, as private secretary to Mr Harrop the Northern manager. She was a sharp and disagreeable woman living out the last years of youthfulness and moral constraint. She nursed a very widespread anger - none were spared; except Mr Harrop, who was actually afraid of her. She was amused by his nervousness; the way he squirmed and apologised when asking her to do something - or his habit of peering round her door - it made her imagine that he was undressed, or he spent the day in women’s clothes or stood naked at his tape-recorder, dictating the complexities of an irrevocable letter of credit to the rotating spools. But her thoughts mostly focused on Mr. Latimer, who delivered the contracts every afternoon. She had plans for Mr. Latimer - although he was unaware. He was another mild mannered man, inoffensive and soft spoken, divorced (but kept the house) nice to his neighbours in Cheadle Hulme. Jean Turpin would watch him lay the folders on the long table at the window, each one neatly labelled, paginated, with supplementary documents attached and she would plot his seduction ... the light suggestive humour, the teasing, the ‘knowing’ look, the coaxing, the accidentally-on-purpose touch, the slide beyond the point of no return - and then the fury of her unleashed nature. Poor Mr Latimer would no longer gaze furtively at the legs of the prickly Miss Turpin; nor would he share randy chat over the garden fence with the Jack-the-Lad man next door - nor would slipping between the gorgeous segments of the stainless steel doors ever be the same again.

A Family

It’s nice to be in the middle and look both backwards and forwards. Once upon a time there were three generations in that house ... the widowed grandmother, stoical and grumbling, always sitting in ‘her chair’ or occasionally, putting on sensible shoes and best navy blue coat and going to church. She’d lost her brother in WW1.

Then there was her daughter. She had welcomed home her husband from WW2 and they worked as a team - he drove the bus, she collected fares. The optimistic fifties - a much loved couple.

And then there was her daughter. Badly upset by the death of her father - the hurt was deep and she kept it to herself - didn’t mention it at school. Yet she became a bright little star in the mid 1960s - always smiling, rushing about, kissing everyone - like all the female pop stars rolled into one - irresistible in dramatic black polos, leather minis, Quant hair; the lot.

And then her daughter (at this point my only info is FB) - I’d guess in her early fifties. And further guess she’s either a medic or something in caring. Wonderful kindly look, both outwards at the camera and when facing her mother - the sort of face you would like to see if ever you are in trouble.

And then there is her daughter - bright eyed at her own wedding - modern, greedy for happiness.

And then there is her daughter ... a baby.

Russell and the Frog

It was early evening and I was watching TV - probably Popeye or Yogi Bear - when Russell appeared at the side window. I rushed to open the door and saw that he was holding something in his cupped hands. ‘What is it?’ - I asked. He replied - ‘a frog’ - and creating a small crack I was able to see two bulging eyes staring back at me.

He said - ‘I’m taking it home. I’m going to keep him in the garden’.

Russell had been walking home from one of his private lessons, probably music, and had taken the shortcut (forbidden) across swampy land behind the barracks - and there he had come across the frog.

I told him that frogs need to be in their own territory - the place where they lived as tadpoles. Sometimes they travelled away but always came home for the spawning season. That’s where they had to have their babies - even if it meant crossing roads and being killed.

Russell said - ‘I didn’t know this. I’ll take him back’.

So together we went back to the land behind the barracks and to the exact place where Russell had found him.

He crouched down and the frog jumped from his hand and nuzzled his way into the reeds.

And then we walked home and talked about other things.

Russell And The Unexploded Bomb ... for Leyla

My hometown was never on the tick-list of the German bombing department - however, nearby Manchester certainly was. The industrial areas around Trafford Park were badly hit. But sometimes, for unknown reasons, not all the bombs were released and rather than return home and having to explain things, the German aircrews simply dropped them anywhere and headed for home.

For several years after, some of these bombs which had failed to explode on impact, would be accidentally discovered. Russell found one.

We crossed boggy fields to where the ground sloped down to the river. There was the bomb, rinsed by rainfalls, gleaming with the sombre dignity of a beached whale. Perhaps there had been a movement in the soil, or perhaps the field itself had wished to reject this unwelcome foreign body - so there it was, sticking outwards at an angle, wrong way up.

I remember looking at the stencil lettering - which we couldn’t understand - and the long line of numbers. We discussed telling our parents but that would have been boring. Adults never believed us - so we held on to a lot of things - like how we knew that a platoon of Japanese soldiers were living in the woods near our school. They didn’t know that the war was over and they would shoot us if we approached them.

We visited the bomb about three times - and then it vanished. The surface of the field was chewed up with tyre tracks. It had been removed. Russell wanted to learn more about what had happened and against my advice, we knocked on the farmer’s door. I was apprehensive about the farmer recognising me - he had chased me off his land more than once. The door was opened by his wife, who glared at us, said she didn’t know anything about bombs, and slammed it shut in our faces.

So that was the end. Except the memory of seeing it for the first time. And how Russell got astride it like a motorbike and I rode pillion; my arms around his waist, laughing and holding tight and Russell shouting ‘Fuck off!’ and the crows flying to the treetops and the big shiny bomb between our legs.

Mel Brooks said that the words ‘so am I’ characterised his marriage to Anne Bancroft. Whenever she announced an intention to do something he’d call out ‘so am I!’ If she said ‘I’m going shopping’ or ‘I’m ready to eat’ he would tell her ‘so am I’.

And she did exactly the same with him.

Never tired of each other - never wanting to do things separately - never wanting their ‘own space’.

On The Train

She’s thin and she has a cough. It’s a cold night and she’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans; at every stop the doors slide and the heat of the carriage is sucked out. And she coughs ... and coughs.

Coughing means something to my generation. We remember the word ‘consumption’ and experimental ‘open-air’ hospitals for children - and Victorian sanitoriums, set back from the road, places we were told to keep away from - and the signs on buses announcing that spitting was strictly prohibited - and the haggard, lung-sick faces of men in pub doorways - and the hopelessness of broken homes, poverty and early deaths.

There was another side of course - my lot getting to know everything in college. Glib talk about the coughing artists and writers. We could hear the coughing in Modigliani, Beardsley and early Picasso; in the poetry of the Brontës and Keats and all the others. This wasn’t too bad - every genius seemed to cough.

But here we are in 2020 and she shouldn’t be coughing - and all the love we feel is held back - our love is like a flower under concrete and it’s as hard for us as it is for her.

[biofunmy]

How The 2010s Crystalized Women’s Anger

Amanda Edwards / FilmMagic

NEW DELHI, India — As a woman in my twenties who grew up in India — a country where abuse of women has been described as the biggest human rights violation on Earth — the SlutWalks of 2011 were, frankly, bewildering.

Every day of our lives, women like me were taught to go over a mental checklist of ways to avoid getting raped. The list had become second nature, so deeply, seamlessly internalized that the doorbell only had to ring, and my mother and I, hanging out in our home, watching TV, or maybe making dinner, would first reach for a scarf to throw over our bodies before we answered the door. At my high school, where uniforms were mandatory, girls were asked to kneel on the ground, so the teachers could check if our skirts were long enough. If they didn’t touch the ground, they were too short, and a particularly terrifying teacher would rip open the hem of our skirts, those frayed edges marking us for the rest of the school day. There were a million ways to dress like a slut if you were a girl (there were no such codes for boys) — our white shirts could be “too transparent” if the cotton had worn thin from frequent washing or if we wore colored bras inside instead of white or “skin”-colored ones.

When I was a 25-year-old reporter, I went to ask a group of young girls who lived in a slum in Govandi, Mumbai, what their checklist looked like. What did paranoia look like in a place where thin corrugated sheets of steel were all that stood between the girls and their neighbors, adult men, leering boys?

Fourteen-year-old Nafisa told me she made sure she texted her friend Neelu before she left home. Neelu carried red chili powder with her everywhere she went in case she needed to throw it in the eyes of a potential attacker. Annu made sure her water bottle was always full so that she had something heavy to hit a potential molester with. Pinki had stopped wearing glass bangles once she turned 11 — because her mother told her that if someone grabbed her wrists, they would break and injure her, slowing her down as she ran from her attackers. Neena had stopped wearing her hair down because it attracted too much attention. At 15, most of them avoided going outdoors unless it was absolutely necessary, and when they did, they were usually accompanied by an older male from the family. A lot of the older girls carried small knives in their bags but were unsure if they’d be able to use them when the time came.

Some girls who wore hijabs said they did not feel any safer: “They want to find out what is underneath,” Nafisa said.

If adulthood was the steady accumulation of survival skills — a realization of one’s own power and its limitations — womanhood, for as long as I’d known it, appeared to be about developing a sixth sense that warned you when you were in a specific kind of danger from a man. But the news we read every day, of women abducted, burnt, raped, killed, appeared to be filled with women whose sixth sense had let them down.

Dibyangshu Sarkar / Getty Images

A SlutWalk in Kolkata in 2012.

The comment that sparked the first SlutWalk, leading to gatherings across 200 cities and 40 countries, didn’t even seem particularly surprising to me. A police officer in Toronto had said to a group of students: “I’ve been told I’m not supposed to say this, however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.” It was the kind of thing that ministers, judges, police officers, holy men, and celebrities constantly repeated across the world.

But as the protests began to go viral, we dissected the SlutWalks avidly, over Facebook posts and IRL, in quiet, thrilled tones with other women. When Indian women held their own version of the SlutWalk — the Besharmi Morcha, or the March of Shamelessness — we cheered them on. But privately, I wondered if the entire project of reclaiming a pejorative word was counterintuitive. Did we really need to normalize the word “slut,” or the behavior associated with it, when there was so much else at stake — especially in a country where women struggled for basic rights?

And then there was the question of inclusivity, posed in the open letter from black women to SlutWalk organizers: Who can afford to reclaim the word “slut”? Who are the women whose bodies are always already considered sexualized and without agency by the patriarchy, and did the marches have space for sex workers? Trans women? Dalit women? Were the SlutWalks about provocation or about language? Were they only for the rights of privileged white women? Could we ever change the power imbalance that routinely blamed women for inviting sexual assault just by walking down a street?

In 2012, the conversation turned dark and urgent in India, when the gang rape and murder of a young woman in New Delhi sent tens of thousands of women marching on the streets. Overnight, our fear had birthed an inchoate rage — against the culture of shame, against the constant policing of our bodies and clothes and words and movement. We wanted more than just the right to be safe, we wanted the right to roam the streets and hang out in public and take risks and have fun like any man, without fear of assault. We demanded justice; we also demanded joy. And for a moment, it seemed as though something might really change.

The next year, the world changed so much that it became unrecognizable to me. I was sexually assaulted, not by a stranger on a dark street corner, but by a person I had known and trusted for many years. I testified in court against him and felt as though I had set my entire life on fire. I lost my job, moved cities, moved back in with my mother. Scores of people and professional opportunities disappeared from my life. (The accused denies any wrongdoing.)

From the depths of my nightmare, SlutWalk, even with its problems, represented a spectacle of sex-positivity. It felt like a world of color and hope that I would never inhabit again. People from a range of genders and ages were still gathering in Spain, South Africa, India, and Pakistan, marching in the streets wearing school uniforms, office clothes, lace and leather, nuns’ habits, fishnets, and denim — flashing skin, drumming, dancing, holding babies and signs, and sharing stories of rape and assault and trauma and songs and jokes.

Meanwhile, I was called a slut all the time, by people close to the man who abused me, his lawyers, others who had never met me but were convinced I had lied — by strangers on the internet. I became less interested in reclaiming words and dissecting them. I was tired and suicidal, and I wanted to focus on being something more than, other than, separate from what happened to me and my body. The SlutWalks were described as the most successful feminist action of the last two decades. What good was any of it going to do?

It wasn’t until 2017, when women first began to speak publicly and loudly about Harvey Weinstein and the things they said he had done, that the fog of the past few years started to clear: For some of us, the SlutWalks had been our first moment of articulating collective rage.

For women, particularly those who were in our twenties or younger when this decade began, our only point of reference for women’s rage had been photographs from the anti-rape movements of the ’60s and ’70s, or marches called “Take Back the Night” — women occupying city streets at hours when decent women were supposed to be safe at home. Some of us knew about feminist theory, the first wave and the second and the third, still more of us knew that no matter where we were, our rights were precarious. Many of us now had opportunities our grandmothers could only dream of, but we were marching for the same old shit. Our bodies were still our first battlegrounds.

The next billion people — including women — who are learning about the power of collective action on the internet are from places like India, China, South Africa, Brazil, and the Middle East. These women have grown up in worlds where public spaces are fraught with danger and private spaces are frequently regarded with shame. As a teenage girl in Pakistan learns a new language of sexual freedom and identity online, she is also learning to navigate the murky waters of digital abuse that a woman lawmaker in the US is punished for. The cautionary tales of trolling, doxing, being targeted with rape threats, having intimate photographs posted online for all to gawk at, being morphed onto naked bodies on a random porn site all exist. But so do the possibilities of forming solidarities, joining protests beyond geographical confines, allowing more women than ever before to have a voice — and to listen in. The measure of successful feminist action, I learned this decade, has never been only about changing laws, governments, or workplace policies. Anger itself is clarifying, because it changes us, the people who participate in it, by giving us ways of seeing: seeing ourselves as part of a collective, seeing through patterns of abuse, seeing as in witnessing each other’s lives and stories.

In this decade, we have seen women’s rage move front and center — it is the subject of books and films and television shows. Beyoncé feels it, so does Greta Thunberg — a 16-year-old climate activist who only recently was told by the president of the US to seek anger management.

But, in workplaces, in courtrooms, at universities, on red carpets and during election campaigns, women are still expected to articulate that anger in the most bloodless way possible, in order to seem rational, likable, electable, and believable.

Hindustan Times / Getty Images

Students protest in Mumbai on Dec. 3, 2019.

Carefully contained anger has a role to play in history. Over the years, we’ve watched Anita Hill testifying against Clarence Thomas to an all-male, all-white jury that dismissed her account of being harassed at work. We read the letter that Chanel Miller read out to Brock Turner — a man who sexually assaulted her, but served only three months in prison. We witnessed Christine Blasey Ford’s restrained terror when she was forced to face the man who she said sexually assaulted her. We listened to Nadia Murad, as she described with every shred of dignity she could muster the ethnic cleansing, genocide, and rape of Yazidis — and then again, when Yazidi women were made to confront their rapists on the news.

It is telling that the backlash against the #MeToo movement, in the form of defamation and libel and aggressive defense lawyers, has sought to drag women back to the courtroom: a space they did not trust with the trauma of their abuse in the first place, a place where they are treated as though they cannot be credible witnesses to their own truths.

Yet women’s rage is still unruly: It frustrates all attempts to contain it, shocks, confuses, and provokes. And its unruliness is productive. What else can explain the fact that women are still gathering and marching together across the world? That a day after Donald Trump — a man who was recorded on tape bragging about sexually assaulting women — was confirmed as president of the USA, women held the largest protest in American history? This year, women declared a feminist emergency across 250 cities and towns in Spain, after years of gang rape acquittals, domestic violence, and murders, despite being called “psychopathic feminazis.” In Argentina, the murder of teenage girls, abortion rights, and widespread harassment sparked #NiUnaMenos (Not One Less Woman, Not One More Death) — mass strikes in 2015 which spread across Peru, Bolivia, Uruguay, and El Salvador, and most recently Chile, where this year, a street protest has turned into a feminist anthem performed across Istanbul and Latin America. In South Korea, over 40,000 women protested an epidemic of spy cameras in dressing rooms, unleashing the largest women-only strike in the country’s history. And in India, women came together to form a 385-mile-long human wall against hundreds of years of patriarchy that illegally restricts their entry into a Hindu temple.

It’s 2019, and everything is both terrible and fine. If you feel tired, inhale, exhale, drink some water, and take a break. But remember, even this form of self-care is a luxury for 785 million people on this planet who lack access to clean water, and hours spent looking for water locks women across the world in a cycle of poverty and abuse. In China, polluted air is being linked to an increased risk of miscarriages; in India, Pakistan, Sydney, and California, a deep breath can be hazardous.

Meanwhile, that thing we all need more of — time — is marching on, and so must we. ●

Sahred From Source link World News

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2ZbBGzA via IFTTT

[clusterassets]

New world news from Time: ‘We Must Protect Our Girls.’ Will Pakistan Finally Vote to End Child Marriage?

Aisha was 14 years old when she married a man almost a decade older in a match arranged by her parents. “I was just thinking I would have the opportunity to wear good clothes and high heels,” Aisha, now 35, tells TIME.

Living in Pakistan’s northwest Mianwali district, the marriage festivities made her feel glamorous, even though she would no longer attend school and her elders had forged a marriage certificate saying she was 18. Soon after the marriage was solemnized, however, the abuse from her husband began: Age 16, Aisha’s pregnant body was hurled against a cupboard, leaving her covered in bruises. Her husband later burned his daughter’s hand on a heater and dropped icy water over his wife’s head as she slept. “He was torturing me in small, cruel ways,” says Aisha, who asked TIME not to use her real name for safety reasons. Her husband sought a second wife, but ordered Aisha to initiate a divorce first, fearing the risk to his reputation in the family.

Pakistan has one of the highest numbers of child brides in the world. Almost a quarter of girls marry before the age of 18, according to a recent poll by Gallup. Although the minimum age limit for marriage is set at 18 for men, women can legally marry at 16 in the South Asian country of more than 200 million. However, some lawmakers are taking action following longtime lobbying efforts of women’s and child rights groups, and have proposed amending the legal age of marriage for women to 18. On Dec. 11, parliament will vote to end child marriages nationwide under the Child Marriage Restraint (Amendment) Bill 2017.

“In a country where people are not allowed to drive or vote before the age of 18, why should marriage be the exception?” Senator Sehar Kamran, one of the main supporters of the bill, tells TIME. “Similarly, why protect only our boys and not our girls under the guise of “values” or “culture?”

Read More: Child Marriage Survivor: I Was Introduced to Him in the Morning and Handed Over That Night

However, the bill faces opposition from conservative religious groups who contend that girls as young as 15 can wed. In October, the Council of Islamic Ideology, an advisory body that judges whether certain bills are compliant with Islamic religious law, characterized raising the age from 16 to 18 as “anti-Islamic,” on the grounds that girls who have undergone puberty are of marriageable age. Three years ago, the same Council advocated allowing girls as young as nine to marry if signs of puberty were evident, drawing the ire of rights’ activists around the country.

“The argument that it is un-Islamic is invalid,” counters Anbreen Ajaib, executive director of Bedari, a nonprofit working on combating child marriages in Pakistan. “The Council of Islamic Ideology never gets involved in anything to do with Islam, it just becomes active when it comes to women,” she says. While the Council’s recommendations to lawmakers are not legally binding, the 55-year-old body serves a barometer for potential backlash by religious conservatives in the Islamic republic.

In Pakistan, like its South Asian neighbors Bangladesh, India, and Nepal, early marriage is prevalent, especially in rural communities. Women who enter wedlock before the age of 18 have a higher risk of maternal or infant death or health complications: Eight percent of Pakistani women aged 20 to 24 delivered a baby before the age of 18, and every 20 minutes, a Pakistani woman dies from childbirth or complications in pregnancy. “The children of young mothers are more likely to die at an early age because their bodies are not ready, nor are they psychologically ready,” Ajaib says. In Pakistan, 64 infants die per 1,000 births — the highest rate of infant mortality in Asia, and worse than war-ravaged Afghanistan or Yemen, according to figures from the World Bank. The high maternal and infant death rates in Pakistan have a close link to early pregnancy and marriage, says Sadia Hussain, the executive director of the Society for the Protection of the Rights of the Child.

For child brides, the risk of domestic violence, early pregnancy, and marital rape increases significantly, while many drop out of school and have little employment opportunities, according to UNICEF. Aisha, who faced heavy bleeding during her second pregnancy, regrets the physical and emotional toll the early marriage took on her. “It should have been with someone the same age, so that I could have shared my life with them,” she says. “I wanted to grow old together with this person, and be at the same mental level as them. At least then I could have had a chance at a happy marriage.”

Multiple factors, including poverty, lack of education, and deeply entrenched patriarchal customs, can impel families to arrange early marriages. In 1929, the British passed a law restraining underage marriage in colonial-era Pakistan, raising the legal age to 14 for girls and imposing a 1,000 rupee fine (around $10) for violations. Since this period, lawmakers have sought to institute checks on child marriage through amendments to both the Child Marriage Restraint Act 1929 and the Penal Code, which was updated in February 2017 to criminalize forced marriages of underage brides. A punishment of five to ten years was imposed, along with fines of up to one million rupees ($9,500). However, these strict penalties only apply when a marriage is classified as “forced” and the bride is under the current marriageable age of sixteen. For this reason, activists have pushed for an update to the Child Marriage Restraint Act itself, to widen the scope of the law.

Read More: How One Indian School Is Working to End Child Marriage

Pakistan has already achieved some successes in fighting early marriage: the southeast province of Sindh proscribed child marriages in 2014, levying prison terms of up to three years, along with a 45,000-rupee (around $427) fine. And in Pakistan’s most populous Punjab province, a six-month jail sentence and $475 fine was approved under a 2015 bill. However, a lack of enforcement has done little to stop early marriage in rural Pakistan, where it is most commonly practiced. The new bill would revise the marriageable age of women to 18, and increase punishment to a minimum 100,000 rupee fine (around $950) and a two-year jail term. Those who would face punishment under the law include the adult husband, the child’s parents or guardians, and the person who solemnizes the wedding. In a country where underage marriage is sometimes used as a means to reduce the burden of childcare on destitute families, the stiff financial penalty might dissuade some from arranging early unions, activists say.

Previous attempts to raise the national minimum marriage age for women to 18 have failed. In October, parliamentarians scuppered a draft bill, pointing to Muslim theologians who argued that Islam’s lack of an explicit age for marriage indicated that early unions could be approved. Likewise, last year, another proposal was derailed by clerics who labeled it “blasphemous.” Despite these setbacks, a few weeks ago, the Child Marriage Restraint Bill was approved by a Senate committee, paving the way for this month’s upcoming vote. If the bill passes the Senate floor, it will head to the National Assembly for approval. If it’s rejected, activists and lawmakers will return to the drawing board, Kamran says. “We must protect our girls,” the senator tells TIME.

Read More: Why Is It So Hard to Combat Child Marriage?

“A 16-year-old girl cannot have property, open a bank account, or travel alone without a national ID card,” says Bedari’s Ajaib. “She can’t even buy a small mobile SIM card without a national ID card, so how can she take responsibility for a family as a wife?”

Senator Kamran is optimistic about the prospects ahead for reform. “We are keeping our fingers crossed,” she says, but cautions “Changes don’t come overnight.”

For Pakistani women like Aisha, whose education was cut short by a failed early marriage, the legal change would prevent the setbacks faced by young brides like herself. Now divorced, she is determined not to allow the same fate to befall her young daughter: “A 14-year-old child can’t make a decision about marriage,” Aisha says. “We don’t understand what a husband or marriage is.”

December 08, 2017 at 07:30AM ClusterAssets Inc.,

[trendingnewsb]

‘We hate the headscarf’: can women find freedom in Tehran’s female-only parks?

Parks exclusively for women are popping up in Iranian cities, but critics are divided over whether this is just another ploy to keep them hidden in public

I love to take off my headscarf, says Laleh, 47, a hairdresser from Tehran. Shes sitting with a group of friends around one of the many picnic tables in the Mothers Paradise, a park in the Iranian capital. Shes wearing a fringed mint-green T-shirt through which you can see her bare stomach. We can wear airy clothes here, and thats a freedom I really enjoy.

Behind her, a group of women wearing T-shirts and skinny jeans are dancing to loud pop music. One of them climbs on top of a table and sways her hips to the rhythm of the music. A group of schoolgirls wearing white headscarves stop to watch.

We hate the headscarf, says one of Lalehs friends, a retired nurse. We are so happy to be able to go to a place where we can walk around uncovered, do sports and sunbathe.

In the capital of the Islamic Republic of Iran, women must abide by a strict dress code: a headscarf, long trousers and a coat that covers the hips. Those who flout the rules risk the wrath of the morality police.

But here at Mothers Paradise park, the women who have hung their headscarves and coats on the branches of trees nearby arent breaking any rules: this is one of Tehrans women-only parks, a popular new development across the country.

The Mothers Paradise was the first to open in the capital, in 2008. Three subsequently materialised in other neighbourhoods and then spread to other cities. In the popular tourist city of Isfahan, for example, there are now five.

While women-only parks also exist in other Islamic countries including Pakistan, Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia to offer women recreational spots safe from sexual harassment, in Iran they have at least ostensibly also been set up for health reasons.

Iranian women exercise together in a central Tehran park. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Reza Arjmand, a sociologist at the University of Lund, Sweden, who recently published a book about the parks, says Vitamin D deficiency is a problem in Iranian cities, where women are forced to cover themselves in public and often live in apartments with small windows that dont admit much sunlight. A study in 2001 for the ministry of health revealed an alarming growth in the number of women developing osteoporosis, which Arjmand says inspired the authorities to start building the parks.

Traditionally it wasnt considered decent for Persian women to walk around in parks, Arjmand says. And after the Islamic revolution of 1979 the government deemed parks for women unnecessary. But when it turned out that the next generation runs medical risks because their mothers are unhealthy, the authorities became interested.

According to Arjmand, the parks also offer the authorities a great chance to take segregation of women and men to another level and for this reason many Iranian women are fiercely critical of them.

These parks are an insult and I will never go there. I refuse to be secluded in a reservation, says Roya, a feminist writer who asked for her name to be changed. If you put women in separate parks, men and women will never learn how to interact in a normal way. This can lead to dangerous situations.

Criticism has also come from conservative Iranians. The pro-government sociologist Ali Entezahi has stated that parks where headscarves can be removed will only cause confusion among women, because they might start doubting the necessity of covering themselves up in public at all times.

At the Mothers Paradise, women eat lunch in pavilions, some train on outdoor fitness equipment, others buy soft drinks at a kiosks or are busy with their children. There are girls in miniskirts and shorts, but some women prefer to keep their coats and scarves on. A large metal fence shuts out the outside world. Female guards in blue uniforms with white gloves and a whistle keep a keen eye on everything. It is strictly forbidden to take photographs.

And on closer inspection, the parks are not as woman-friendly as their name suggests. Though there are a few playgrounds for children, there are no changing facilities for babies, and boys above the age of five are not allowed to enter. According to Arjmand, it was initially announced that women would be involved in the development of the spaces, but in the end they were designed solely by men. We have many great female architects and urban planners in Iran, but they havent even been asked for their opinion.

Finding suitable locations for the parks has also been problematic, because of the risk that men could see in from a window or a balcony from a neighbouring building. As a result, many of the green spaces are situated in suburban areas, which make them difficult to reach for many women. Some are also required to close early, to prevent a confrontation between unveiled women and male gardeners who come to water the plants meaning working women are unable to use them.

It is a strange paradox: Iran is building parks for women but doesnt seem to have considered the qualities that would make them uniquely attractive to them.

Nevertheless, Arjmand does see a positive side to the development. No matter how you look at it: a group of women will benefit from these parks. For women from religious families this is often the only possibility to spend time outside without a headscarf.

Its true that these parks isolate women, but it also offers a group of them a freedom they formerly did not possess.

Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook to join the discussion, and explore our archive

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[peacchiebun]

Henna Tattoo Design - How To Make Henna Tattoos

Shalwar kameez is the national dress of Pakistan. Males and ladies in Pakistan, wear it as a every day schedule gown. Dupatta is also a component of it for women living in Pakistan. It is not only a causal put on but it is also formal put on to wear on any formal event this kind of as weddings, events, get togethers and so on. It is easy and simple to put on and you can be much comfy in it. Amelia fights tooth and nail to prove that every person in America is equivalent and ought to be treated equally. Ranveer and Amelia's fight becomes stronger when they meet FBI Agent Sean Meyers, he as well like Amelia believes in the spirit of equality. Sean Meyers not only joins the battle, but also tends to make it into a crusade, which is taken discover not only joins the fight, but also makes it into a crusade, which is taken notice not only by the authorities, but by also the American citizens who want the culprits to be brought to the books.

Ardaas: -This is held on the girl's home throughout which Presents, cloths and sweets are exchanged from both boy's family members and girl's family members side. Also girl's Mama Ji provides her a ring to put on on the wedding day. Following this occasion wedding date is set. I believe Indian mehandi art don't want any introduction; however I wanna inform you more about it. Indian usually like mehandi very a lot just likes Pakistanis. Simply because individuals of both nations were lived on the exact same place (Ashia Sub-Continent) and have many similarities in their Traditions, Routines and Marriages etc. A stunning distinction; their brides generally look alike.

One important thing to remember, nevertheless, is that you do not want to use henna on chemically treated hair. I waited about four months from my formerly skillfully dyed hair and had no problems. Also, you only want to use one hundred%25 all-natural henna. Anything labeled as black henna may be produced from the indigo plant and contain additives. I have heard of burns from such goods. The only thing all all-natural henna does is situation proteins (pores and skin, hair, nails, leather-based, and so on) and leaves a reddish-brown stain behind. The color can variety anywhere from a brown or orange to a deep cherry red. I would definitely recommend beginning with a powder foundation and mixing your personal simply because you never know what might have been additional to goods that are marketed as pre-mixed. Some physiological hair loss can be noticed in a mother who has given a beginning to a baby lately. Meaning to say, after shipping and delivery, 1 might shed hairs for about three-4 months due to hormonal imbalance. Some therapy like chemotherapy brings drastic hair drop in an person, which is usually irreversible. Medicines utilized for gout, anti-coagulants, beginning manage pills, anti-depressant medication and Vitamin A in extra are nicely recognized factors that deliver hair loss. You have to use a soft soap that can't cause your skin turn out to be exfoliate. Then, prepare a vegetable oil and use it two times a working day to your tattoo. Before you get the tattoo in fingers or http://itsaboutmehandi.webnode.com/ feet, you may use the vegetable oil to that region. For getting a good vegetable oil, you may inquire the expert.

[kawaiicloudcollector]

Baby Girl & Boy Clothing Sets In Pakistan | Bold And Mismatched Kids Fashion Trends

Fashion Mart#1 Baby Girl & Boy Clothing Sets In Pakistan have arisen in Indian films and red floor coverings, testing the conventional style of wearing a coordinating outfit. Also, one of the greatest saints you will notice, who is strictly pursuing this direction is – in all honesty, our own personal Ranveer Singh.

Fashion Mart#1 Baby Girl & Boy Clothing Sets In Pakistan

Baby Girl & Boy Clothing Sets In Pakistan a particularly famous and rule-breaking pattern clearing a path to our adolescents, how might kids be forgotten about from it? Keep in mind, the term for this style is an intentional bungle. You deliberately need to wear sets of apparently unrivaled garments and embellishments. Try not to stress over your child watching 'the oddball.' It has to be sure to become a thing today. Disregard being so complex, we should extricate our style! 

Baby Jackets & Sweaters In Pakistan is an endeavor to assist you with getting a strikingly amazing wardrobe with an extraordinary arrangement of garments that can be worn with certainty and self-assuredness regardless of whether the sets aren't coordinating. How about we look at some tasteful blend of tees and bottoms for child young ladies and young men to kill their watch and draw out the outfit motivations to the world. 

Here, examine our thoughts:

Best Baby Jeans In Pakistan shadings is likewise the vogue. Consolidate flower and illustrations prints in red, beige and pink to achieve an exquisite city-young lady search for your child young lady. Give her the total highlighted blended surfaces and for that, a snakeskin boot is an ideal extra. 

Kids Dresses In Pakistan joining conflicting prints, shirt and base are sufficient to make a style proclamation. Spotlight more on prints of backwoods or travel designs and odd shadings (not especially utilized). The deliberate befuddling gives an emanation of refinement that improves the happy energy for your kid, and he will adore it, without a doubt.

Kids Watches In Pakistan compared to other approaches to carry out this pattern is to allow your kid to pick garments for him. Allow them to blend their #1 examples, shadings, styles or shades any way they like. It's spruce up time. Become a web sensation with your special design sense. In any case, a large number of us have our hands bound because of lockdown. Try not to stress over that even, for we have an offer you can't help it.

info@fashionmart.me

+060 (800) 801-858

[whyspeakin]

All About Kalpana Chawla, Why She Is Best Astronaut

Kalpana Chawla Death Reason

Kalpana Chawla,  died on February 1, 2003, in an accident in the space shuttle Columbia somewhat over Texa, United Status, while approaching to earth, in an accident.

It is just after 9 a.m. at Cape Canaveral. At the Command Center in Houston, the first wave of panic takes over. Kalpana Chawla Husband - Jean Pierre-JP,  response to their last message from mission control had been aborted midway. All communication with Columbia got disconnected. However, it is a routine when a spaceship re-enters the earth's atmosphere. Jean Pierre-JP to those who know him—to is aware that this is commonplace. However, successive calls go unanswered. At about the two-minute mark, before touchdown, JP does not hear the expected double sonic booms of the shuttle overhead. As the minute pass, the silence becomes deafening. For the first time, the ground crew feels that something has gone wrong. On television screens across the world, the white streak has turned to a series of white spots in the sky. At this moment speculative ideas began to trade-in media about Kalpana Chawla death reason. The first fearful questions have begun doing the rounds; phones are ringing all over the world and what can be the Kalpana Chawla Death Reason. At the landing site, officials with cellphones glued to their ears are exiting the viewing area. The worst is feared. The world does not have to wait until the official word is out. Columbia has blown up, and its debris is raining down on the southern states of Louisiana, Texas, and Arkansas. It is darkness at noon. At the Kennedy Space Center, workers hunch over their terminals in complete shock, while at the same time, family members of the crew are being herded together at Cape Canaveral. Shuttle contingency is declared. In the Houston home of Kalpana, her family stares in disbelief at the television screen. Monty won't be coming home. And, in her hometown, the party for the schoolchildren is over. Instead, the stunned inmates of Tagore Bal Niketan join one billion countrymen in mourning their brightest star. An abrupt end to a space journey for six other brave astronauts too. But in her wake, forty-one-year-old Kalpana leaves behind many unanswered questions. What made it possible for this petite girl from Karnal to successfully undertake such an incredible journey that spanned not only continents but also cultures and finally ended in space? Unlike what many others would have done, Kalpana had chosen to come out of the comfortable cocoon of a well-to-do family, preferring instead to explore the world, taking the challenges as they came. Overcoming a host of prejudices, this five-foot-tall, slightly built girl, armed with only her radiant smile and fierce determination, had managed to realize her dream. Therein lies one of the most compelling stories of our times, one that begins in a house in downtown Karnal in 1961.

Kalpana Chawla Family Details

Father: Banarasi Lal Chawla Mother: Sanjyoti. In 1961, the household of Banarasi Lal Chawla, in Karnal, was expecting the arrival of a baby. By the persistent kicking in the stomach, Sanjyoti, going by midwife tales, felt that it was probably going to be a boy—she already had two daughters and a son. But lo and behold, the fourth member born to Banarasi Lal and Sanjyoti Chawla turned out to be a very energetic baby girl. It wouldn't be the last time that Kalpana would surprise her parents. The Chawla household had only recently moved to Karnal. Banarasi Lal, like thousands of others in the wake of the Partition riots, had trekked across from Pakistan, with precious little of his own. Only those with grit eventually made it and, more importantly, we're able to put the bloodshed behind them and move on with their lives. For Banarasi Lal, then a teenager, and his family, the first stop after leaving Gujranwala in Pakistan was Ludhiana. As refugees, they had to begin from scratch, and Chawla senior, along with other members of the family, started on a host of businesses, including selling wares as a street hawker. With each change in occupation, he started nudging up the social ladder. The progress was slow, till the extended family finally moved to Karnal. They took up a two-storeyed house in the middle of the town, close to the family business, which at that time was merchandise in clothes. A little later, the family took to the company of manufacturing tyres, which turned out to be very lucrative. Through all this, the Chawla household retained its spirituality. Banarasi Lal's parents had abdicated worldly existence and moved into a little house on the outskirts of Karnal town to spend their last years in spartan life. The religious attitude in the family was secular. While Banarasi Lal himself read the Guru Granth Sahib, his wife Sanjyoti followed to the preaching of Pune-based Swami Rajneesh. As far as food was concerned, the household was uniformly vegetarian, a habit Kalpana retained even years later when she went up in space as an astronaut. The years of struggle were not lost on Montu, as Kalpana came was popularly known affectionately known in family circles. Though by then the family business had begun to thrive, the basics-never let up in your effort-were never forgotten. From virtually nothing, her father had built up a lucrative business and had even received a laurel from the President of India for an indigenously designed machine to manufacture tyres. Just before the Columbia launch. Her easy-going nature and by then radiant smile masked the extent to which the child had absorbed her father's experience. It would be many years before the family would first realize how this slightly built, the dark-eyed girl had imbibed the family traits of grit and determination. Time and again, after that, the baby of the family would prove unflinching in her resolve-something that would come handy in surmounting the barriers that Montu faced growing up as a girl child in the state of Haryana. Speaking to friends who had dropped in to offer condolences at the Houston home of Kalpana, her mother said, 'Kalpana was born in our family, but she had a mind of her own.'

Kalpana Chawla Childhood in Karnal, Haryana.

Kalpana Chawla’s childhood was spent in the town of Karnal, Haryana, which lies on the Grand Trunk Road, halfway between New Delhi and Chandigarh. Located along the west bank of the river Yamuna, the town and its adjacent areas have a legendary history linked to it, dating back to the Mahabharata. Legend has it that neighboring Kurukshetra-also in Karnal district—was the battlefield that launched the famous war of Mahabharata between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Centuries later, the town's penchant to be associated with history has not changed. Growing up in the sleepy town of Karnal was quite an experience. For girls to be given the privilege of studying was rare, and not many families encouraged the idea. According to Kalpana's contemporaries from Karnal, a fifty-strong class would be hard-pressed to have even five percent girl students-a far cry from the average has seen today. In the Chawla household, however, there was an enormous premium on academic prowess. Elder sister Sunita was already a trailblazer, setting a benchmark as it were. By the time Kalpana came of age, money was no longer an issue in the family. At the same time, the family was not keen to send her to a school far from home. So they opted for Tagore Bal Niketan, which was located in the vicinity of the Chawla home. Captain D. Sharan, who grew up in an adjoining village and is now a pilot with Indian Airlines he was, in fact, piloting the aircraft that got hijacked to Kandahar-recalls that Tagore School was among the best that the town could offer. 'Women were never encouraged to study at that time, he recalled. 'In one class you would have only about three or four girls. For a girl in Karnal to get through (academically) was next to impossible. For that matter, even for a man, it was not easy.' He should know, having cycled every day to go to college and later to the local flying club for his first lessons in aviation.

Kalpana Chawla Education

Kalpana Chawla School: Tagore Bal Niketan Kalpana Chawla College: Dayal Singh College Tagore Bal Niketan was not the best school in town, yet it was unique in the way it was founded and run. At Tagore Bal Niketan, Kalpana's class had only fifteen students. Most classmates remember her as a shy individual. Though she never stood first in class, she stayed among the first five. Her energies were now increasingly towards raising the bar as it were. Her upbringing in a small town and her measured victories against tradition would be valuable lessons, as helpful as the support she drew from her female mentors, not the least from her mother. Given the family's conservative background, Kalpana skipped the better option in Dayal Singh College and opted instead for her pre-university from D.A.V. College in Karnal. It was only in the second year (equivalent to the twelfth grade) that Kalpana moved over to Dayal Singh College, that too because D.A.V. did not offer science beyond the first year of pre-university. As her teacher of English, Dr. Kamlesh Sharma, mentions, Kalpana was never traditional or conservative in her ideology, her thinking. By the time she finished her pre-university from Dayal Singh College, the petite girl with large black eyes, high-pitched voice, and luminous smile had set her sights on a graduation degree in engineering. It was not surprising, therefore, when news filtered home that Kalpana had to attend Punjab Engineering College (PEC) in Chandigarh. The Chawla household was initially reluctant to send her out of Karnal. Ultimately, however, they relented, and as a safeguard, ensured that Kalpana's friend Daisy too got admission in Chandigarh for a graduate degree. Recalling the moment, in the NASA interview, she said, 'I was lucky to get into aerospace engineering at Punjab Engineering College. And, in my case, the goal was, at that stage anyway, to be an aerospace engineer. The astronaut business is far-fetched for me to say, "Oh, at that time, I even had an inkling of it." The time had come for this small-town girl, who weighed ninety pounds with rocks in her pocket, to move on in her journey.  She could well have rested on her laurels and earned a more than comfortable livelihood as a civilian.

Kalpana Chawla Death Reason

The horrific turn of events after the space shuttle made its re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere on its home run are now history. For NASA and people all over the world, the end came as a tragic shock. A host of reasons have forth to explain Columbia's break-up on re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere. The most plausible reason out is that debris from the shuttle's external tank had struck Columbia's wing, just eighty-one seconds after launch on 16 January. The foam insulation purportedly fell and hit the shuttle's left flank on at least two, possibly three, locations. Titis believed, caused damage to the heat resistance tiles covering the wing and eventually proved fatal to the craft on re-entry. Retired Navy Admiral Harold Gehman, head of the independent investigation, is looking into this and other plausible causes. Progress has been painstakingly slow, which is understandable given that the debris from the shuttle is still being located and put together. Therefore, it may well be a long time before something gets is conclusively established. Meanwhile, the initial shock of losing Kalpana and her six colleagues in the unfortunate accident is now gradually wearing off. And the harsh realization has dawned that life has to go on without these magnificent seven among us. Comforting to many people--including her . own husband is the thought that Kalpana's death doing something that was most dear to her. Kalpana Chawla Death reason whatever maybe, 'The initial shock has worn off, aided by a constant stream of prepared meals, friends arriving from far-off places, and ever-present Astronaut Office contacts,' wrote JP on the Iweb log maintained by a Gillan of the rock group, Deep Purple. 'Intellectually, we all realize what has happened. Emotionally, none of us can yet connect the dots. We all take solace in that the crew was doing what they loved, with people they loved and respected. When the end came, it was instantaneous.' It is what makes her legacy enduring-an inspiration for generations to come. In many ways, the spirit of the seven astronauts, lost on that fateful morning on 1 February 2003, will always be with the world. Kalpana's journey from Karnal to space will forever remain a part of us. It did not end with the mishap or after her ashes were spread over Utah. It is not just because of her incredible achievements. It will be as much for her ability to achieve the impossible. Though being born into an upper-middle-class family helped, she struggled against very much the same odds as the rest of her countrymen. As a young girl born in the 1960s, she had no model to follow, no godfathers in the system. She did not use the prejudices and handicaps as an excuse for inaction. She sincerely believed that there was no alternative to hard work. And that if you believed in something genuinely, then it is yours. Her origins and life were, in a sense, very much commonplace. But her achievements were not. That is what makes her extra special--a role model to be emulated by generations after her. That, in many ways, is the central element of her legacy. In her last interview to India Today, she summed up the sine qua non of her incredible achievements thus: 'In one word-perseverance. There have been other factors too. Taking the time to follow other interests such as reading and exploring that have helped to widen the perspective and have enriched the journey.' Kalpana's strengths also flowed from the fact that she did no wanting for effort. She drew inspiration for this from ordinary individuals around her. People who gave it their all, no matter how commonplace their tasks might appear to be. For her, the commitment of her teachers—with their constant ability to devote attention daily to almost every student-was a cause for inspiration. So were the initial struggles of her parents to establish themselves again after being uprooted from their homes by the flames of Partition. The steadfastness and commitment that all of them displayed as they went about their daily lives inspired her in her journey. She looked for very much the same qualities--perseverance and courage-in the stories of explorers like Shackleton and Matthiessen. Another quality—which endeared her to those who knew her and will continue to inspire many, was her bold approach to life. Almost everyone who has been touched by Kalpana recalls the adventurous spirit that was so intrinsic a part of her. As her friend Acuff wrote on his web page after the accident: For Kalpana, the words she wrote on the photograph she gave to Amy (his wife) and I sum her up: In the spirit of adventure. She was always seeking new knowledge, new experience, and a unique wonder. She wrote to David (his son), 'Reach for the stars.' That is the message she would want all the children of the world to hear. Only by reaching beyond what we believe is possible can we achieve the impossible. Also striking was her desire to give back to the community and her commitment to preserving nature. It was this that motivated her to help not only young children from her old school in Karnal but also other deserving people from all over the world. It prompted her to painstakingly track down her alumni to share mementos from her first trip into space. To keep this legacy of generosity alive, her family has set up the Montsu Foundation (PO Box 58937, Houston, TX 77258, USA). As JP put it: 'The Foundation's first objective is to sponsor the university education of bright young men and women whose only obstacle is lack of funds, or means to acquire those funds. Sponsorship is open to anyone anywhere in the world ... The second objective is to acquire and preserve the natural environment, such as the purchase of land used by migratory birds during their stopovers.' Very appropriate for someone who drew inspiration from the words of the philosopher, Seneca: 'I was not born for one corner. The whole world is my native land. It was a connection that she sincerely believed in till the very end. Born Indian, yet died as an American, in space. Indeed a global citizen. As she said in her final interview to India Today, 'I have felt that connection and stewardship for Earth as long as I can remember. And not just for Earth, but the whole universe.'

Seconds before disaster Columbia Space Shuttle

A Timeline of Events in the Last Flight of Space Shuttle Columbia (All times EST) 16 January 2003 10.39 a.m.: Columbia rockets into orbit from Kennedy Space Center 1 February 2003 8.15 a.m.: Columbia fires braking rockets, streaks towards a touchdown. 8.53 a.m.: NASA loses temperature measurements for the shuttle's left hydraulic system. 8.58 a.m.: NASA loses measurements from three temperature sensors on the shuttle's left side. 8.59 a.m.: NASA loses eight more temperature measures and pressure measures for left inboard and outboard tyres. One of the measurements remains visible to crew on a display panel, which crew acknowledges. 8.59 a.m.: Final transmission. Mission Control radios: 'Columbia, Houston, we see your tire pressure messages and we did not copy your last.' Columbia replies: 'Roger, uh. 9.00 a.m.: NASA loses all data and contact with Columbia at 207,135 feet. Residents of Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana report hearing a big bang' and seeing flames in the sky. 9.16 a.m.: Columbia's scheduled landing time. 9.29 a.m.: NASA declares an emergency. 9.44 a.m.: NASA warns residents to stay away from possibly hazardous debris. 11.00 a.m.: Kennedy Space Center lowers the flag to half staff. 2.05 p.m.: President Bush announces: Columbia is lost; there are no survivors.' Read the full article