#district-wide health awareness

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Forms Core Committee to Combat Thalassemia

DM Ananya Mittal announces initiative for awareness and blood availability East Singhbhum district has established a core committee to address the growing concern of Thalassemia and ensure timely access to medical resources for patients. JAMSHEDPUR – District Magistrate Ananya Mittal has formed a District Core Committee to raise awareness about Thalassemia and ensure blood availability for…

[laceswan]

The Spirit of Fate

The Smiling Princess, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

What if the equivalent of a Disney Princess was thrown into the Hunger Games? Sylke is optimistic and has an affinity for all that is gentle and sweet. What happens when she is placed in an arena and forced to kill or be killed?

Fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, T/W: canon-typical violence

Epilogue is out!

Finnick woke up with a startled gasp. With eyes wide open he was now incredibly aware of all that was touching his body. He could feel the suit from the arena clinging to his body, the cold air and the mask on his face, and a bandage on his arm. Looking around, he saw the inside of a jet much like the one had taken to get to the arena. Beetee and Katniss were in a similar position, lying on mats on the floor with bandages and wires monitoring them. Behind a frosted glass door he heard voices. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the door. Inside, he found Haymitch and Plutarch sitting by a table and talking.

“You’re up.”

“I am. Where are the others?”

Plutarch stepped closer. There was sadness in his expression, but Finnick had half a mind not to trust it.

“Snow got to them before we could, there wasn’t any time.”

Finnick leaned against the table, his head hung low and defeated.

“Alright… what about Sylke, where’s she? Are we headed to the house or-“

This time it was Haymitch that spoke. He placed a hesitant hand on Finnick's shoulder.

“Finnick, I’m really sorry.”

Terror painted across Finnick’s face.

“We sent some people, but by the time they got there…”

Haymitch trailed off as Finnick sunk into his body. He let his body fall onto a chair, but had it not been there he would have just ended up on the floor. He assumed the worst. His hands flew to cover his mouth and muffle the little cries that came out. He’d already suffered her death once before, why again?

“Do we at least have her body? I want… I wanna give her a proper burial.”

His voice was shaky, but this was what needed to be done. He needed at least to say goodbye.

Haymitch looked to him with utmost pity.

“Son, she’s alive. They got her.”

And suddenly her death felt like a blessing. Burning emotion seized his body. It wasn’t even rage, nor terror, just pure anguish.

“No, no! You told me-you promised! You promised we would get her out!”

Haymitch sighed.

“I made a lot of promises. We’ll send a rescue team when the dust settles.”

Finnick nodded. His whole body was still stricken and trembling with agony, but he wasn’t one to throw a tantrum; especially not when he knew firsthand the nuances of covert operation in the capitol. Katniss, however, was a different sorry. When she heard about Peeta she did everything Finnick’s impulse had urged him to do. She screamed and shouted, even attacked Haymitch. She clawed and batted at him like a desperate animal, repeating that he made a promise, that he was a liar. Finnick could only watch, for once feeling pity, as well as understanding. Ten years ago, he would have done exactly the same.

When they landed in District Thirteen, Finnick, Katniss, and Beetee were sent to the infirmary. The lightning strike had presented some complications to Finnick’s health, so they dressed him in a white gown and admitted him to a small room with a thick glass door until he recovered. The room was probably white too, clinical and pristine, probably cleaned by the hour. But right now, it looked like it was coated in mustard gas. The lights buzzed with a sort of iodine yellow hue, washing the room in an ominously warm colour.

During his recovery, they allowed him few personal items-not that he had many to begin with. He was however, able to get some rope. When he was awake his mind would race. There was nothing to do, nothing to keep him distracted, his only task was apparently to recover. He could at least keep his hands busy, tying and untying the same couple ropes until there were blisters on his hands. It helped to move his hands, but not enough. Every second, his head was flooded with thoughts of her. Perhaps he had brought this on himself, refusing to think about her for so long in the arena, simply because there wasn’t time. Now, he had all the time in the world, and it felt wrong not to think of her at every moment. They were keeping her alive, he was sure of that much. They wouldn’t give up their leverage so easily. Was she in a similar room, white and cold with a similarly racing mind? We’re they hurting her? Or was she still just some pretty thing in a cage? Was she able to dance? A bittersweet smile came to Finnick’s face when he pictured her dancing. He saw her in a room just like his, in a gown just like his, dancing barefoot around the room with her eyes closed. It brought him comfort, the idea that she could perhaps maintain at least a little joy. But of course, thoughts of her dancing were followed by a much more somber and unfortunately likely possibility. In his mind, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if they were restraining her. He saw her strapped fo a bed much like the one he had in the infirmary, struggling and begging to be given even a moment of freedom to move. He at least had that privilege. He could pace, sit on the floor, even dance if her wanted to. What if she couldn’t? Such questions plagued him mind. The span of morbid possibilities refused to be ignored, and so he listened to that dangerous voice. He fell into a spiraling rabbit-hole of ways she might have been hurting, only further enabled by his present utter inability to help her.

It affected his health too. The doctors called it a parasympathetic stress response, but all he understood was that it felt like shit. He was always tired but only sometimes able to sleep, he experienced phantom pain in random places, and everything took longer to heal. The time he spent in the infirmary was miserable. It was miserable for Katniss too. She had a nightmare once and came into his room. That night was perhaps his lowest point. It was when death looked so welcoming, so lovely a fate to experience, if only it would come sooner. The only thing that kept him alive was knowing the capitol wouldn’t let her die. He refused to die if she was still alive and hurting.

Katniss somehow recovered much faster. Finnick was a little jealous, that she was able to keep living her life even when Peeta was in the capitol. She was discharged, and not long after, Coin called everyone to hear a speech, which included those admitted in the infirmary. Finnick stood with the doctors and other patients, making a little patch of white in a sea of grey. Coin announced that Katniss was to be the face of the rebellion, and that in exchange for that, there were some “concessions”. Specifically the extraction the the victors held hostage in the capitol. The crowd began to clamor at the mention of Peeta’s name. They shouted and exclaimed, rejecting Peeta’s rescue. Katniss made her way over as Johanna’s name was announced.

“Finnick, I made the deal for Sylke too.”

Coin’s voice boomed through the hall.

“…and Sylke Fairinan”

Their was utter silence at her name. Some people looked a little confused. Finnick was just a little shocked himself as well. He never quite thought of Sylke as a victor. Hearing her name, her full name, announced like that to a crowd made her feel like a public figure, a celebrity, someone with an image and a life they hide from the world. But to him she was just Sylke, that’s what she’d always been. He hadn’t even heard her last name in ten years. She was always just Sylke, the angel that occupied eternal space in his mind and heart.

“Once freed, they will be granted pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause.”

The crowd once again resulted into vocal dissent and anger. A worries look quickly came to Katniss’ face. Finnick tried to console her, knowing the two of them were the only ones with loved ones hostage in the capitol.

“Good.”

She looked to him, concerned and clearly unsure of herself.

“That’s good, Katniss.”

For the first time in a long time, there was a small smile on his face. There was hope again, however small.

“If Katniss Everdeen fails to fulfill her duties, the deal will be off.”

That look of fear and heartache returned to both of their faces as the people filed out of the hall. It occurred to Finnick as he made his way back to the infirmary that his spirits were rather fragile now. That night, when he was alone, words couldn’t help but escape his lips. Even with Coin’s speech, hope was hard to hold onto. Finnick sat on the floor of his room, leaning against the bed with his head hung low.

“Angel, how do you do it? How do you stay smiling? I’m trying, I promise.”

His voice was quiet, speaking words meant only for him and someone miles away.

“I’m so tired.”

He cried quietly to himself, though did eventually drift to sleep there on the floor.

Finnick recovered slowly. While Katniss was filming propos and being the Mockingjay, he was in the infirmary. He wallowed, but with every day came a little more hope. Katniss and Beetee sometimes came to see him, bringing news of the rebellion’s plans. Smiling got easier, as did picturing Sylke dancing. The idea that she would be alright seemed more and more true. When the phantom pains and memories of Sylke finally became manageable, he traded in his white gown for a grey jumpsuit.

The whole of thirteen gathered one night to watch Katniss’ new propo. He was horrified by the bombing, he was angry with Snow for uncountable reasons, what he was not was triumphant. At the end, the symbol of the mockingjay came onto the screen accompanied by a message. Join the fight. The crowd chanted their celebration like they won a war. That sort of victory song always felt misplaced to Finnick. Blaring horns and happy voices when people lie dead on the battlefield. People showering him with gifts and congratulations just after someone died in his arms. But that was what the propos were meant to do. He looked to Katniss beside him, and she had a similar look of confusion and discomfort.

“You don’t like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?”

She turned her head to look at him. He continued, reminding her and himself of what they needed to remember.

“The more people on our side, the closer we are to Sylke and Peeta.”

She nodded. No matter how icky it felt, this was what needed to be done.

The days passed with incredible monotony. Every day was exactly the same, the same schedule, the same people. The only variety came in the form of news, speeches, broadcasts. One night, Finnick visited Katniss in her room and they watched Peeta’s interview. He was crying, and he looked terrified. Finnick in a way envied her, for she able to see Peeta’s face and know that he was at least physically healthy. But he also knew that the pain of seeing him say everything they couldn’t believe in was a whole different world of pain and confusion. In the short time he knew Peeta, the subject of rebellion or even government never really came into conversation. It was the same with Sylke. Perhaps that was the worst part; that what Peeta was asking of Katniss and the rebels seemed entirely possible. From where he was standing, he just wanted the violence to stop. He was most certainly being fed information, being manipulated by the capitol, but the root of his argument was something understandable. It was almost reminiscent of Sylke’s words in her interview so long ago. She was never one for violence or combat. Ever since the beginning, she favoured diplomacy, kindness, and compromise. Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if Peeta’s words were even that treacherous. They were currently entrenched in desperate times, and thus desperate measures were called for. But later, they would need people like Peeta, like Sylke, to remind them of the value of compassion. Finnick made a small promise to himself, that he would try to be one of those people, at least when the fighting was over. If they managed to win, he was going to try to be like her. To be kind, to have mercy, and to offer grace.

The next day, he went with Katniss to hunt above ground. It was calming for both of them, getting to move and use the skills they had honed for years. That familiar feeling of a trident sinking into flesh, the thwip of an arrow as it flies through the air, it brought them comfort. They did eventually sit down too.

“I’m glad we were able to come out today. I think you needed this after last night.”

She nodded.

“I don’t like watching those broadcasts, but I can’t look away. He’s so different already. What are they doing to him?”

Finnick was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know. I think that’s the worst part.”

“It is. They could be telling him to say all that stuff and threatening to kill him, or maybe they’re actually convincing him it’s true. I don’t know what’s better.”

“I don’t think there is a better. It’s all bad when it comes to Snow.”

She murmured agreement. They were quiet again, listening to the birds and the rustling trees. Nature has such an ability to soothe, with her ambient noise and dappled light. It made them feel safe enough to talk.

“Is it bad that I just want this to be over? Sometimes I think he’s right, that we should just give up. At least then I could see him again.”

“I don’t think that’s bad, Katniss. I think it’s human.”

She looked unsure of herself.

“You miss him. And you want to be with him, so you can know he’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“Of course. I just want to know she’s safe. That safety could come with a ceasefire, or with victory.”

“Yeah. But a ceasefire means she goes back to that mansion.”

Finnick clicked his tongue and tilted his head in agreement.

“And that’s why I’m here. If we win, we wouldn’t just be safe, we’d be happy. I want her to be happy.”

Katniss smiled.

“I think I could be happy with him.”

They spent a few more hours talking in the forest, confiding in each other as the only other people who could relate, who knew this special sort of pain. Their afternoon in the forest was a nice respite, but they did eventually need to return to the concrete rooms under the earth.

After the attack on the dam, another interview was broadcast. Peeta called it inhuman, begged her to stop. He looked so genuinely terrified. But what he was scared of was unclear. There was something just behind the camera, something that instilled and powerful fear in him.

“They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in District Thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-“

The broadcast was cut off as he was dragged away. Sirens began to blare, people filed out to level forty. If there was panic in the air it was hard to detect. People were calm and orderly as they rushed down the stairs, perfectly trained soldiers. That is, until water rained from above and the lights went out. People screamed, ran, let go of order in favour of getting to the bunker. People would scream each time a blast hit. When the night grew quieter, no one slept. They just kept waiting for the cracks in the ceiling to widen, for the walls to cave in and for death to arrive. Finnick sat in one of the beds, fiddling with the gold bangle instead of rope, which he had given to Katniss during the bombing. She had looked like she needed it more than him. In the quiet of night, Katniss walked over and sat beside him.

“He’s taunting me, using Peeta to punish me. I didn’t understand until just now, watching that stupid cat.”

“Yeah. That’s why he took Sylke too.”

Finnick sighed before continuing.

“After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act. We all expected you’d continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta’s heart stopped and he almost died that…"

He looked at Katniss directly, hoping to convey just how sincere and vulnerable this conversation was for him. This sort of openness wasn't exactly natural to him, but it needed to be said, and right now, she needed to hear it.

"I misjudged you. You love him. Anyone paying attention can see it.”

“How do you live with it?”

“I’ve been doing it for ten years. For five of them I thought she was gone. I did the whole self-pity thing the first time around. I had nightmares-I still do. But you learn not to give in to it. It gets easier.”

She listened, nodding her head ever so slightly.

“But then it happened again. And it takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart, you saw how long I was in the infirmary. But if Sylke taught me anything it’s that little joys can keep you alive. They kept her sane in that house, and they’ve kept me going down here.”

Katniss didn’t say anything. They sat in silence for a while, and once Finnick started nodding off, she went back to her sister and mother.

In the morning, she was gone and thirteen was buzzing with action. Finnick was sitting, anxiously waiting for something he could do to help. Beetee was working through the capitol’s electronic system or something, there was a rescue team setting up, and all Finnick could do was watch. He had signed up to be on the team, but as a refugee and not a soldier, they informed him that he couldn’t. By nightfall they finally had a job for him. He was going to be a distraction broadcast so they could jam the whole system, and the team could safely get it. He stood on a pile of rubble and white roses, with stagelights warming his skin.

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games. I’m coming to you from District 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the capitol. But I’m not here to give you recent news. Instead, I’m here to tell you the truth. The truth about the capitol.”

He continued for what felt like forever, indulging in his whole story, the one he only ever told Sylke. The story of how after he turned sixteen, he was sold like a commodity to socialites in the capitol. That he wasn’t the only one, and if you refused, your loved ones were killed. That there was one girl who was dead to the rest of the world, but Snow brought her back just to sell her.

“Remember Sylke Fairinan? She was your princess. You dressed her up in fancy gowns and gold tiaras before she went into the arena. I felt her die in my arms. And then they started her heart back up and sold to the highest bidder. Lycan Indigo. He kept her like a doll, locked in a mansion for ten years. She’s alive. You kept your princess in a gilded cage. And what's worse, after ten years in that place, after slowly learning to find happiness there, you've taken her from it again. President Snow is holding her hostage, to taunt me. He is not the kind man he shows himself to be.”

Finnick kept going. He revealed Snow’s history of poison and assignation, the reason behind his heavy perfume, the bloody sores in his mouth, every secret he knew was a secret no longer. As he spoke, one or the people behind the camera spoke up.

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, it looks like they’re broadcasting Katniss now.”

Finnick nodded, unsure of what was going on. They went back down to find everyone looking incredibly distraught. He and Katniss sat in a room, silent, waiting for news. He once again had the rope in his hands, tying and untying knots to keep his hands busy. He had to think she was safe. He had to. Cause if he considered for even a moment that she wasn’t, he’d fall apart again. When Haymitch opened the door, their eyes show up.

“They’re back.”

All that needed to be said for them to get up and sprint to the landing area. Johanna was the first one they saw. She was gaunt, her head shaved, but a smirk was still on her face. And then he heard it.

“Finnick? Finnick!”

That voice he hadn’t stopped hearing for ages, but only ever in his head. Her name fell from his mouth involuntarily, quietly questioning if it was real as he ran towards the source of her voice. Later, people would tell him that they said each other’s names perhaps a thousand times in that single exchange. He would notice later that she looked weak, her hair was longer and had lost some of it’s shine, and that despite all that her spirit had in no way dimmed. Her eyes had lit up when she saw him walk in the room. And suddenly, it was as if there was no one in the world but the two do them, crashing through space to reach each other. They collided and lost balance, slamming against a wall, but they stayed there, clinging into one being. Indivisible. He whispered like he didn’t believe it.

“You’re safe…”

She pulled her head out from his embrace to look at him, nodding with a smile. Whether they were smiling or laughing or crying, even they didn’t know. Words fail to describe the joy, the relief, the wonder of being back together. When heart rates slowed and the dust settled, they finally spoke. Finnick had a smile the magnitude of which hadn’t touched his face in far too long.

“Hi.”

“Hi. It’s been a minute.”

As though they were one being, they burst into simultaneous and gentle laughter.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m okay. They beat me up a little, but I’ll be alright.”

“They what?”

Finnick’s voice was hoarse, breathy. He knew that they would do that, and yet in that moment he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to hurt her. Not even Mr. Indigo did that. But her smile clearly wasn’t gone. With a voice laced with affection, she put a hand against his cheek and reassured him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You guys got me out before they started my ‘treatment’. I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“We should get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

Still refusing to stop touching her, Finnick scooped her into his arms and carried her himself to the infirmary. On the way there, her head was nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

“I was right, you know.”

“Hmm? How?”

“I knew you’d come back to me. You didn’t win, but you didn’t have to. I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did. You were right to hope.”

She laughed to herself, closing her eyes. Even with her sunny disposition, her body was clearly exhausted.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As her body melted further into his and her breathing slowed, he continued walking. They didn’t put her in a room, apparently her condition wasn’t that bad, so she would only need a bed for a few days. Mostly bruises, a couple of open wounds, but nothing bad.

When she woke up, she found herself in a cold room devoid of colour. For a moment, she wondered if it was a dream. Sitting up, she looked around. Finnick wasn’t there, and neither was anyone else. The curtains were drawn. Had they moved her to a new place? We’re they starting her treatment? She hastily removed the IV from her arm, leaving the patch with the needle and luer connector, but no tubing. Whatever they were pumping into her needed to stop there.

“Johanna? Peeta?”

Silence. She heard faint chatter from just outside, doctors or scientists getting ready. Hesitant feet touched the ground. Her fingers brushed against the thin fabric of the curtain. Fear kept her from grasping it. What would she see on the other side? There was hope in her still that she was safe, that she wasn’t in the capitol anymore, but what if she was wrong? What if she was still there, destined to be Syren Indigo? What if she was wrong to hope?

“Hello?”

She heard footsteps. Fearing the scolding that might come should they find her out of bed, she laid back down and put the IV back against the luer connector, though not actually placing it inside. Hopefully she’d be able to fool them. The footsteps got louder. It wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t ready to face them yet, so she relaxed her body and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She heard metal rings scraping against a pole as the curtain was opened.

“Sylke?”

That was his voice. She wanted to open her eyes, see him, but what if it was a lie? What if this was the start of her treatment? She heard how it started with Peeta. They played him altered clips and all sorts of things. What if this was one of those?

“Oh. You’re still asleep.”

A chair was pulled up, and someone sat down. A warm hand smoothed out her hair. She took a long inhale. No perfume. The hand then gently rested on hers. She knew that touch, and it made her flinch. But still terrified, she kept her eyes closed. The technology of the capitol could do anything.

“Sylke? Are you awake?”

That was his voice. He sounded so real. Even if it wasn’t him, couldn’t she take a look? Even if it was fake, couldn’t she see his face again? That voice of temptation was so loud. What would be the worst that could happen? They were going to wake her up anyway. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. And there he was. With those lovely green eyes staring right back at her.

“Hey, Angel. How are you feeling?”

She frantically searched his eyes, before looking to everything else around her. His eyes looked right. His face too. He was in a grey jumpsuit. Everything else was grey too. Behind him was what the curtain used to cover. It looked like a hospital. It was quiet, but not deadly silent. It didn’t look the same. The walls weren’t pristine white, they were concrete. The lights would flicker every now and then, nothing seemed quite perfect like it was before.

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

She looked back at him with terror in her eyes.

“Are you real? Are you really here?”

He moved closer to her, with nothing but love and affection in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m real. We’re safe. We’re in thirteen, remember?”

“We are?”

“Mhmm. You’re in the infirmary right now, but they said you can be discharged in a day or two.”

He looked at the IV lying unconnected at her arm, and plugged it back in with a chuckle.

“That is, if you actually listen to the doctors and take the meds they give you.”

She smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile.

“How come you unplugged it?”

“I… I thought I was in the capitol. I thought they had moved me to start my treatment.”

“You said that earlier too. What treatment?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t hear all of it. But Mr. Indigo… when he visited me-“

“He came to see you?”

“Yeah. Almost every day for maybe an hour, he’d come in and talk to me, make sure they were treating me well, he even snuck in a couple things for me once. More recently he started mentioning the treatment. Said he talked to the doctors and convinced them to let me get the help I needed, so I wouldn’t be starting fires in my room anymore. And he said it would make me a real Indigo if I wasn’t already. I remember the words.

‘Syren Indigo. Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?’

I heard what they were doing to Peeta. I figured they’d do something similar to me. He wanted me to be his daughter.”

“Oh Sylke…”

The words to be said evaded him and he was left with only actions. He stood up and walked over to the bed, gesturing that she move over. She did, and he crawled under the covers, holding her close in his arms. His embrace was warm, comforting, familiar.

“Finnick. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget.”

He held her even tighter, placing a kiss on her head.

“You won’t, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. You remember how to waltz?”

She looked at him with a grin.

“Of course.”

“Then get up.”

He got out of the bed and offered his hand. The moment she took it, he placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close. With his other hand, he grabbed the pole on wheels from which a bag of saline fluid hung. Sylke rested her hand by his neck and with the other room Finnick’s hand, holding the pole as well.

“Do you remember?”

“I couldn’t possibly let myself forget. Not when I still owed you a dance.”

And with that, they swayed about the section of the room she had been allotted. It was just like she taught him that night, all those years ago. One, two, three, brush, one, two, three, brush. Swept up in the music they heard in their heads, the dance continued. He spun her around, lifted her off the floor, and always right on the downbeat. It ended when they let go of the pole and it rolled too far away. Sylke felt a sharp tug at her arm and the imaginary music stopped.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just maybe we should be more careful."

“Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Sylke laughed, wrapping her arms up by his neck.

“We both did. Once I’m out of here, we’ll get to dance properly.”

Finnick nodded.

“Soon.”

Finnick did eventually have to leave and resume his schedule. Sylke went back to sleep, clutching a pillow in his stead. Slowly but surely, a new world faded in. Her limbs were blocky, solid, and utterly incapable of movement. All that she had control over was her eyes, glancing around. In her periphery, she was able to figure out what exactly she was. She was a marionette, strung up on a stage. In the audience, right there in the front row, we’re the cold, wolf-like eyes of Mr. Indigo. He was watching her, with a hideous, inhuman grin. And then the music started. It was plucky, out of tune, like a harpsichord left untouched for ages. And she began to dance. Her arms and legs flailed about, and her torso was yanked up and down. She couldn’t open her mouth or even breathe, and yet somehow she kept moving. This dancing cage of hers moved without life or spirit. It had no bones, no muscle, only string that extended up into the vague darkness above.

Sylke didn’t wake up screaming or yelling. Her eyes merely flew open, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling and quietly sobbing, she sat up and clutched the pillow in her arms. Johanna, from the neighboring bed, spoke up. Her tone was harsh, unsympathetic.

“What are you crying about?”

“I-I just had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Mr. Indigo. He was looking at me, and I just…”

Words dissolved into sniffles. Johanna just laughed. There was venom in her voice when she spoke.

“Your scared of him? Seriously? That man visited you almost every day. He was so good to you-“

Heartache emerged from her throat.

“He loved you!”

A whimper escaped from Sylke and she clutched the pillow even tighter.

“But he…”

“He what? I heard him talk about you, he had nothing but love for you.”

"Please don't say that..."

She kept going, words flowing like a river from her mouth, with no hesitation or tact.

“Are you really that ungrateful? Everything he did was for you…”

She paused for a moment, a devilish smile growing on her face.

“… for his little Syren.”

“Please, just stop…”

Sylke took a shaky breath, shifting to look at Johanna straight on.

“I never asked for his love. I know he’s the reason I’m still alive, I know that it could have been worse. But that man took my life and made it his.”

The shaking stopped. Sylke regained her composure. She stood up and walked to Johanna’s bed, sitting down next to her. Their time in the capitol made them quite familiar with one another’s hardships. Sylke knew exactly where these words were coming from. She knew why Johanna was hurting, she knew that when one has no one, even unwanted love seems desirable. And so she spoke gently, hoping her empathy would be understood as such, rather than pity.

“Mr. Indigo didn’t love me as a person. He didn’t care if I was happy, so long as I provided entertainment. That’s not how you’re supposed to love someone.”

Johanna nodded, saying nothing. She knew she overstepped, she knew her words were impulsive. And now suddenly she felt a little guilty. Sylke had appealed to her humanity with just a few sentences.

“I know. It just hurts, you know?”

“I know.”

Sylke murmured more validation, placing her head on Johanna’s shoulder. She wanted to say that Johanna had friends here, people who loved her, but decided to let it be quiet. She’d say it some other time.

Sylke’s wounds took very little time in healing. She only needed to stay in the infirmary until the larger wounds had closed up, which didn’t take long. Really, they only worried about the cut on her side. She remembered when it was made. The blade was jagged and dull, dragging across her skin at a snail’s pace, over and over again. They asked her with every stroke what she knew. Of course Finnick hadn’t told her about the plan, she barely even knew he was a rebel. But they kept going. First there was a raised line of red, where the skin was raw and irritated. The blade tore further into her skin, but drew no blood. They grabbed her arms with and iron grip and threw her back into her cell, earning her a couple bruises. Once there was a film of yellow scabbing, they took her back out. Slowly, and again with the questions, they peeled it. With the layer of platelets gone, blood dribbled out of the wound. The flesh beneath was tender, and they took advantage of that. She answered each question honestly, but they didn’t like what she said. And with each answer they didn’t like, she received another swipe against her side with the jagged blade. Eventually, they gave up on trying to get information out of her. Sometimes they would try again, but never to that degree.

Now, she had a bandage wrapped around that area, gently changed and cleaned every couple of hours. The doctors were kind here, always making sure it was alright to touch her and asking if the bandage was too tight. Under their care, the wound closed up in no time. By then, all of her smaller cuts and bruises left only fading scars. Soon, she was given a drab grey jumpsuit and assigned to new quarters. It was a small room not unlike the infirmary in style. There were two small beds and a table between them, one bed for her and the other for a roommate. After guiding her to the room, the nurse previously assigned to her shut the door, leaving her alone in that room. She did not hear the click of a lock. Her schedule was to start tomorrow, for now she could settle in and find a place in the room for any personal items. Of course she had none, but curiosity led her to peak at her roommate’s. Everything was neat, folded, as though it was never lived in. The only signs of a human’s stay there were a couple of items on the table, seemingly the only personal items this roommate of hers had. Perhaps they were a refugee as well, with only a moment to have gathered items of sentimental value. Or perhaps residents of thirteen simply didn’t value material possessions all that much. Considering the lack of decor and personality in all parts of the place she had seen, that was in fact the case. Sylke allowed herself to fantasise for a moment about who this person might be. A coal miner from twelve? She had always wanted to see a forest, maybe they could tell her about them. A soldier from thirteen? One who had trained their whole life for combat, for revolution, and now finally had the chance to prove themselves? Or perhaps another refugee from the capitol. What if she knew them? What if one of the few people she was able to meet in the capitol had been a rebel, one who took a chance one night and ran away? They could exchange life stories, maybe become friends. But none of those turned out to be true. On the table, she found a golden bangle and a short bit of rope, neither of which told her about this person. She sat on one of the beds, hopefully the unoccupied one, and waited. She wasn’t tired, she’d slept plenty in the infirmary. So she sat, waiting for something to happen. The door slid open to reveal her roommate.

“Finnick?”

He chuckled.

“I asked them to put you in as my roommate, I didn’t know they’d actually do it. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Everything’s healing well, so I they discharged me this afternoon. I do still have to keep it bandaged, but the wound is much smaller now.”

“That’s great!”

He walked over to the bed and stood before here, a smile adorning his face.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here with me.”

She leaned into his touch as he caressed her cheek. The words “I love you” were not needed in that moment. There was a mutual understanding of affection, one that had been there for ten years. Though not entirely true, retrospect and nostalgia had a way of convincing both of them that it had always been this way, that this familiarity and affection was present since that first night they met. In some ways this was correct, there was always a connection. But the comfort in it had developed over time. Insecurity was able to fade away, they became more familiar with the other’s habits. And yet wonder was not lost. There was still a glimmer of shock, of flustered joy in moments of affection. Things between them weren’t perfect, but they were damn well close to it.

Sylke’s task in thirteen was to help in the kitchen. The food was boring, seasoned only with salt, and they often stirred in powders of vitamin supplements or something of that nature, because the people down here rarely saw the sun. She spent her days standing beside people she found to be kind, talkative in comparison to the Indigo household staff, and generally pleasant company. Life was certainly monotonous, but that was something she was used to. At least now, she wasn’t alone. During mealtimes, she would serve the food, watching everyone eat and chat from afar. On occasion, she would sneak away and sit by Finnick, but that often got her scolded by someone who cared far too much for rules. At the end of the day, the whole facility would get dimmer, and she would be back in her room with Finnick. The beds were made for one person, but they made it work for the both of them. In the mornings, she would wake up before him, needing to go and prepare breakfast. His arms held her tightly, unwilling to let go.

“Finnick, I need to go.”

His voice was deep, raspy, and barely awake.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. His eyes were still closed, but a satisfied grin appeared on his face.

“Fine. Two minutes, and then I really have to go.”

He groaned, considering her offer, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Okay.”

Running his fingers up her body, he attempted to feel for her face, too tired to open his eyes. His touch was gentle and yet possessive, still unwilling to let go. Once he found her jaw, he pulled it closer and planted endless kisses on her face. At some point, his eyes fluttered open. He was confronted with the image of her smile, a little tired and a little exasperated, but undeniably lovely.

“You’re beautiful.”

A little colour came to her cheeks.

“You know, you can’t keep me here forever. Do you want food today or not?”

He let a sigh as she got up from the bed.

“Alright fine, I concede. Just one more kiss though.”

She laughed, leaning down to peck his forehead before leaving. Once alone, Finnick’s mind couldn’t help but fantasise about waking up with her every day, and not having to rush off somewhere.

The explicit concept of marriage had come up only once or twice in their five years of exchanging letters. Far more common was talk of a hypothetical life they would have one day. A wedding was implied, but never really stated outright. Instead, they talked about days without urgency, when they could lie in bed for hours, dance in the kitchen instead of cooking, fall asleep on the beach, and all of this simply because they wanted to. But as the danger of revolution increased, both of them began thinking about the specifics of that vague life together. It didn’t take Finnick long to understand that he wanted to marry her. He mentioned it one night when the room felt quiet and too awake.

“Hey,”

“Hmm?”

“Would you want to get married? I know we’ve talked about being together, when it’s all over, but what if we did it now?”

She looked to him with wide doe-eyes.

“Now?”

“I mean here, in thirteen. Before anything happens-before anything possibly could happen. Just in case.”

She took a moment to think, sinking into his chest. If she had been falling asleep before, she was wide awake now.

“Okay. Just in case.”

“Yeah. That way if something happens, I’ll have been married to you. Another thing to help prove to the world that you’re here, and that I’m yours.”

She lifted herself to prop her head up on her hand, smiling at him. He soon followed, staring lovingly back at her.

“I like the sound of that.”

She placed a kiss on his lips.

“But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?”

That was partially a lie. There was a reason they were doing this, a risk, and they both knew it. But after everything they’d been through, fate had to be in their favour. It would simply be wrong, to have done all of this, just to lose their happily ever after.

She reassumed her position lying on his chest after that, speaking softly to him, but also to herself.

“I used to picture my wedding, you know. When I was little, I had this image in my head of a white dress and a castle and a ballroom, like in the fairytales. I didn’t know who would be my prince or princess charming, but I knew that I’d love them. That was always the best part. I know we won’t be in a castle, but in a way it’ll be exactly like how I dreamed of as a child.”

He was falling asleep by that point. She lifted herself to look at his peaceful face. He looked calm and safe, lying next to her like he was sure, like everything in the world assured him, that this is where he was supposed to be.

“I love you, my prince.”

Plutarch explained that the wedding was going to be filmed. “To show the capitol that we’re alive and well” he said. Because of that, they were allowed all sorts of luxuries that thirteen didn’t usually permit. The hall was glowing with amber light and greenery they brought in from above. Finnick was dressed in a lighter grey than usual, with sturdy fabric that hugged his waist but got a little looser at the shoulders. He was also given something of a cape, but it only covered one shoulder. He looked somewhere between a soldier and a duke. For Sylke they made a dress fit for a princess. White of course, a colour held with some disdain in thirteen. The skirt was long and full, trailing behind her every so slightly when she walked. It was simple, no layers of tulle or golden jewelry to match, but it made her feel like herself, entirely herself, which was really all it needed to be. It felt like all of her, nothing held back or exaggerated for anyone.

She made her way alone down the aisle, smiling at the man ahead, the destination toward which she walked. He took her hands in his, this time with no iron bars between them. She looked into his green eyes, like she had so many times before, and everything felt right in the world. There was no sunlight or gentle breeze, no magnolias or birdsong, but there didn’t need to be. He was here, looking back at her with all the love in the world. When it came time for her to say her vows, she had very little prepared. She spoke truthfully, freely, saying everything that her heart told her to say in that moment.

“My darling Finnick. I’ve said to you before that I believe in fate. We were just kids when we met, and even then, I knew my story was tied to yours. I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to be by your side for the rest of happily ever after that fate allows.”

The smile on his face grew before he took a breath and said his vows.

“Sylke, my angel, you have my heart, as you always have, for all eternity. Whether together or apart, we will always be united, tied together by the strings of fate. I promise to protect you, to dance with you, and to love you until death do us part.”

They didn’t quite need to be told that they could kiss, but once prompted, they did just that. All of thirteen began to applaud, but neither Sylke nor Finnick could bring themself to care for the audience. Just as it had ten years ago, the watching eyes melted away, leaving only tenderness and love burning between the them.

The festivities began once the aisle and ceremonial decor was packed away. First was a slow waltz meant just for the newlyweds. The two of them had danced in their room many times before, but never with music. With a guiding melody, they were able to truly get lost in the movement. No longer was it necessary to count or concentrate, they could simply dance. They swayed and twirled about the room, never once breaking eye contact. When the music slowed to a halt, Sylke was securely nested in Finnick’s arms and lowered to a dip. There was once again applause as people came to join them on the dance floor. A more upbeat tune filled the hall as everyone started to dance. The sound of lively fiddles filled the room, and spirits were lifted. It seemed like everyone was having a lovely time, smiling and laughing with friends. For that night, war was but an afterthought. It was a respite from tragedy, a true celebration of all that is good and lovely, and its survival even in dark times.

It wasn’t long after the wedding that Finnick was sent away again. He and Sylke had a rather lousy honeymoon, spent mostly in their room underground or in the forest just above. Soldiers were slowly returning from the fight at the capitol, some injured, others returning for a dignified burial. Sylke was transferred to the infirmary when it got too understaffed. And then Plutarch called Finnick into a meeting. That night, Finnick sat waiting in their room until Sylke returned from her shift in the infirmary. She entered the room and gravitated to his hunched figure.

“Finnick, are you alright?”

She placed a hand to his face, suggesting that he look at her. His eyes were sad, conflicted, scared. Sylke saw his expression and quickly kissed him before anything more could be said.

“What happened?”

He shifted to make space for her on the bed; she sat down.

“Plutarch wants me in the capitol. They put together this squad for filming propos, he calls it the face of the invasion.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, such that it was hardly a question: he would be going. There was no debate about it, both of them knew that. An all too familiar feeling churned in her core. Her chest became heavy and her throat strained. She croaked out a single sentence before leaning into his embrace.

“Come back to me, okay?”

He held her tightly, the way he wanted to that night outside the mansion.

“I will. I believe in fate.”

They fell asleep there, unsure when the trembling cries faded into unconsciousness.

Finnick left in the morning. Goodbyes were cut short by the arrival of a jet full of wounded soldiers. Sylke was pulled away by the other medical staff, parting with a fleeting kiss and a smile.

The infirmary was bursting with people. New patients arrived every day from the capitol, covered in wounds and burns and horror stories from the city. They told of abandoned streets full of bombs and traps set by peacekeepers. Every moment of peace or quiet we’re impossible to trust, they were left waiting for the inevitable bloodshed as they walked through empty streets. Sylke couldn’t help but wonder the state of the mansion. Had Mr. Indigo evacuated? What did he take with him? She pictured the house empty, devoid of the usual upkeep, dusty and alone. What about the household? Had they gone as well? What would they do without their jobs? Did that even matter when the city was under attack? Her imagination took her through each room and corridor. The office she’d only been in a few times, the dining room that could seat a dozen but never saw more than two, and of course, her bedroom. Soot still on the ceiling, dance slippers tucked hastily under the bed. The soldiers mentioned bombs and fire. What if the mansion was destroyed? The image of fallen walls, a pile of rubble and ash, arrived in her mind. A bittersweet sort of pain burned in her chest as she pondered such a possibility. That mansion was her prison, her gilded cage. And yet there were happy memories there. There were times when she smiled, dancing around her room or strolling through the garden. She found joy in that wretched place and thus made it slightly less wretched. The delicate China in the sitting room was beautiful, with hand-painted birds and flowers under the faintly cracked glaze. The furniture was soft, velvet or leather or brocade, but always unreasonably comfortable. And of course the magnolias. Those fragrant blossoms could distract her from everything bad. A lovely part of being human, isn’t it? The ability to be distracted, to find small joys, even trapped in a cage. She pondered all the things she loved in that house. The drapes and the garden and smooth feeling of the banister beneath her fingers as she walked down the stairs, all things she missed now. Was it bad that she missed it? Was that terrible, to think somewhat fondly of her time in the mansion? A part of her was sure that it was simply horrible. Mr. Indigo was a dangerous, horrible man, and thus his home was the same way. But he also gave her dancing slippers. He cared for her in his twisted, infantalising way. Johanna’s words sounded in her head. Perhaps, in a strange interpretation of the word, he loved her. Sylke couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that idea. Love was the tenderness she saw in Finnick’s eyes, it was the warmth in her chest when they were close, she was entirely and unequivocally sure of that. But as time went on, she continued to wonder, her mind volleying standpoints, if Mr. Indigo’s bizarre affection was also love.

Such thoughts bounced around the back of her head as she tended to those in the infirmary. Days slowly bled into one another, all monotonous and practically identical. She would wake up alone, eat with some of the other medics, and then go to the infirmary. After a long day, she would return to her quarters and lie on her side, reaching her arm out to where Finnick would have been lying beside her. And when the foggy darkness of sleep arrived, the day would begin again.

News from the capitol came every night. The whole of thirteen would go quiet the watching broadcasts. Just a day after they deemed Peeta well enough to join the “Star Squad” in the Capitol, that infamous anthem blared from the broadcast. The faces of every member of the squad was shown. Sylke had been working when it came on the screens. All faces looked to the screen in the room, stepping away from their work for a moment. She froze when she saw Finnick’s portrait appear. She hadn’t seen his face is so long, too long, but this was not the way she wanted to see him again. He couldn’t be dead, he promised. Why, after all this time, why now? After all the trials they encountered and survive, how could it end? Something was wrong, it was simply wrong. Fate wasn’t supposed to be like this, fate couldn’t be like this.

You said you would come back to me

Her perception of the world was cloudy. The hands on her shoulder, the steps she was taking, they didn’t register. Voices were muddled, nothing felt real. All she could do was mutter his name, repeat the same phrases, praying that someone would hear her, some great puppet master who could pull the strings of fate and make them right again. Her murmurs became sobs, and when her eyes were dry, when her energy was drained, she could finally sleep.

She woke to a sharp voice and someone shaking her awake.

“Sylke, get up!”

She pulled herself up, groggy and confused. For a moment, it was just like any other morning, and she almost bolted up, afraid of being late for the start of her shift. But then her vision cleared, and reality set in. She saw the medic uniform she was still wearing and the sad look on Johanna’s face.

“What happened?”

Johanna’s tone was careful and sympathetic.

“You kinda lost it after the broadcast. Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt anyone or do anything bad, you just kinda froze. We didn’t know what else to do, so we just took you here to rest.”

Sylke nodded, not quite sure if she could bring herself to stand up and start her day, as though nothing happened.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t even know. But they’re calling all the medics right now, so…”

Sylke didn’t move.

“They’re flying you guys out to the capitol.”

She still didn’t move.

“Sylke, that means you need to go.”

“I know… I just…”

Johanna placed her hands on Sylke’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Look. I know you’re hurting. I know you just lost someone. It’s not the same but I lost him too. But Sylke we’re so close. And people are hurting in the capitol that don’t need to be. We need you to go out and help them.”

Sylke took a shaky inhale and nodded. With Johanna’s help, she made her way down to the hanger where medics were streaming into jets and strapping into their seats. Sylke followed suit, getting her jet assignment and sitting down on a cold metal chair.

The flight was a blur. They landed in district two and waited until the final stages of the battle to fly into the capitol to help innocent citizens. Soon, they were flown in and dropped off in the city circle. When the cries of countless people reached her ears, helping them became Sylke’s sole priority. The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed to anyone and everyone that looked hurt.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“Let me take a look.”

She was wrapping a splint for a woman with a broken leg when a familiar chime rang through the air. She looked up to see grey canisters on parachutes floating down from the sky. She froze again, remembering everything from years ago. She remembered the way Finnick’s eyes lit up when he saw a trident float down on an identical grey parachute. That had always been a sweet memory, but now it was laced with pain. She looked around, seeing the people stretching their arms out, welcoming the gifts. There was a flash, a boom, and then quiet.

Sylke’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She was lying on her back, on something soft and comfortable. There was quiet. A peaceful, calming sort of silence surrounded her. She noticed pain on her skin when she tried to get up. Her body was bandaged in random places, and the flesh of her arms and hands felt incredibly sensitive. Her body was sore, but she could move, albeit only slightly. She turned her head to look at her surroundings. She was in a tent, seemingly a medical tent, surrounded by equipment and kits she recognised as the portable medic kits that each person on the jet had been equipped with. Turning her head to look directly to the side, she saw someone lying in a bed like her own. They looked like him. Beneath the bandages she saw his face, sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed. She longed to believe that it was him, to enjoy that delusion and ignorance. But she knew it wasn’t. She knew he was gone. He wasn’t there, no matter how much she wanted him to be, no matter how much he should have been. Tears formed and fell quickly from her eyes. Quiet wails and sobs escaped her. She murmured his name, hoping beyond hope that it would will him back to life. The person in the bed began to rouse.

“Hmm?”

They sounded like him too, why did they have to sound like him? She curled into herself, ignoring the pain in such movement. She hid herself beneath the blanket, like a child afraid of the monsters beneath their bed.

“Hey, are you alright?”

That was his voice.

“Why do you sound like him?”

She wailed with a volume she hadn’t used in days.

“Sylke?”

“You sound just like him…”

Her whole body shook with sobs. She heard fabric rustling and quiet groans that sounded so familiar. There was a hand on the edge of the blanket.

“Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Her voice was dejected, entirely hopeless. The blanket was pulled away, revealing a face with cuts and bandages, seemingly some stitches as well, and sea green eyes holding a tender gaze.

“You look like him too.”

“Angel… I’m right here.”

“No you’re not! You died! I saw your picture, I heard the song, you died!”

“Oh sweetheart…”

The person sat down on the bed and gently lifted her to sit up as well. They then pulled her into their arms. That warmth was exactly the same.

“I’m right here, I’m alive. I got damn near dying, but I didn’t. I told you I’d come back to you, didn’t I?”

Finally, she let herself believe. Her grasp on him tightened.

“You’re alive? You’re safe?”

“I’m alive. I’m right here, Angel.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe it. Somehow, there was a shard of pessimism in her that refused to be tricked. And he could sense that. He understood all too well the spirit of self preservation that will do anything to keep itself from hurting. So he pulled away slightly to look at her.

“Hey, look at me, look at my eyes.”

She gazed up at him with scared, teary doe-eyes.

“Don’t you believe in fate?”

And with that, the last bit of denial shattered within her. A smile and then a laugh came to her face as hope returned to her spirit.

Taglist: @zulpix-blog

[misfitwashere]

December 15, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

DEC 16

Tomorrow, December 16, is the fiftieth anniversary of the Safe Drinking Water Act, signed into law on December 16, 1974, by President Gerald R. Ford, a Republican. The measure required the Environmental Protection Agency to set maximum contaminant levels for drinking water and required states to comply with them. It protected the underground sources of drinking water and called for emergency measures to protect public health if a dangerous contaminant either was in or was likely to enter a public water system.

To conduct research on clean drinking water and provide grants for states to clean up their systems, Congress authorized appropriations of $15 million in 1975, $25 million in 1976, and $35 million in 1977.

The Safe Drinking Water Act was one of the many laws passed in the 1970s after the environmental movement, sparked after Rachel Carson’s 1962 book Silent Spring explored the effect of toxic chemicals on living organisms, had made Americans aware of the dangers of pollution in the environment. That awareness had turned to anger by 1969, when in January a massive oil spill off Santa Barbara, California, poured between 80,000 and 100,000 barrels of oil into the Pacific, fouling 35 miles of California beaches and killing seabirds, dolphins, sea lions, and elephant seals. Then, in June, the chemical contaminants that had been dumped into Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River caught fire.

The nation had dipped its toes into water regulation during the Progressive Era at the beginning of the twentieth century, after germ theory became widely understood in the 1880s. Cleaning up cities first meant installing sewer systems, then meant trying to stop diseases from spreading through water systems. In 1912, Congress passed the U.S. Public Health Service Act, which established a national agency for protecting public health and called for getting rid of waterborne illnesses—including the life-threatening illness typhoid—by treating water with chlorine.

It was a start, but a new focus on science and technology after World War II pointed toward updating the system. The U.S. Public Health Service investigated the nation’s water supply in the 1960s and discovered more than 46,000 cases of waterborne illness. In the 1970s it found that about 90% of the drinking water systems it surveyed exceeded acceptable levels of microbes.

In February 1970, Republican President Richard M. Nixon sent to Congress a special message “on environmental quality.” “[W]e…have too casually and too long abused our natural environment,” he wrote. “The time has come when we can wait no longer to repair the damage already done, and to establish new criteria to guide us in the future.” He called for “fundamentally new philosophies of land, air and water use, for stricter regulation, for expanded government action, for greater citizen involvement, and for new programs to ensure that government, industry and individuals all are called on to do their share of the job and to pay their share of the cost.”

Later that year, Congress passed a measure establishing the Environmental Protection Agency, and Nixon signed it into law.

Widespread calls to protect drinking water ran up against lobbyists for oil companies and members of Congress from oil districts. They complained that the science of what substances were dangerous was uncertain and that how they would be measured and regulated was unclear. They complained that the EPA was inefficient and expensive and was staffed with inexperienced officials.

Then, in 1972, an EPA study discovered that waters downstream from 60 industries discharging waste from Baton Rouge to the Mississippi River’s mouth in New Orleans had high concentrations of 66 chemicals and toxic metals. Chemical companies had sprung up after World War II along the 85 miles between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, potentially polluting the water, while the lower end of the Mississippi River collected all the runoff from the river itself.

Two years later, an analysis of drinking water and cancer death rates among white men in that same area of Louisiana suggested that carcinogens in the water might be linked to high cancer rates. Louisiana representative Lindy Boggs, a Democrat, told Congress that “it is really vitally important to our region that we have controls enforced on the toxic organic compounds that come into the river from the industrial and municipal discharges, from runoffs from from agricultural regions, from accidents on the river, and from chemical spills on the river.”

Concerns about the area of Louisiana that later came to be known as “Cancer Alley” were uppermost, but there were chemical companies across the country, and Congress set out to safeguard the lives of Americans from toxins released by corporations into the nation’s water supply. The Safe Drinking Water Act, the first law designed to create a comprehensive standard for the nation’s drinking water, was Congress’s answer.

The new law dramatically improved the quality of drinking water in the U.S., making it some of the safest in the world. Over the years, the EPA has expanded the list of contaminants it regulates, limiting both new man-made chemicals and new pathogens.

But the system is under strain: not only have scientific advances discovered that some contaminants are dangerous at much lower concentrations than scientists previously thought, but also a lack of funding for the EPA means that oversight can be lax. Even when it’s not, a lack of funding for towns and cities means they can’t always afford to upgrade their systems.

By 2015, almost 77 million Americans lived in regions whose water systems did not meet the safety standards of the Safe Drinking Water Act. In addition, more than 2 million Americans did not have running water, and many more rely on wells or small systems not covered by the Safe Water Drinking Act.

The Biden administration began to address the problem with an investment of about $22 billion to upgrade the nation’s water systems. The money removed lead pipes, upgraded wastewater and sewage systems, and addressed the removal of so-called forever chemicals and proposed a new standard for acceptable measures of them.

What this will mean in the future is unclear. President-elect Donald Trump has vowed to increase production of oil and gas—although it is currently at an all-time high—and such projects are often slowed by environmental regulations. On Tuesday, December 10, he posted on social media, “Any person or company investing ONE BILLION DOLLARS, OR MORE, in the United States of America, will receive fully expedited approvals and permits, including, but in no way limited to, all Environmental approvals. GET READY TO ROCK!!!”

“[B]y ignoring environmental costs we have given an economic advantage to the careless polluter over his more conscientious rival,” Trump’s Republican predecessor Nixon told the nation in 1970. “While adopting laws prohibiting injury to person or property, we have freely allowed injury to our shared surroundings.” When he signed the Safe Drinking Water Act in 1974, President Ford added simply: “Nothing is more essential to the life of every single American than clean air, pure food, and safe drinking water.”

—

[sarkariresultdude]

Tamil Nadu Board Exam Results: A Comprehensive Overview

 The Tamil Nadu Board Result of Secondary Education (TNBSE) plays a critical function in shaping the instructional landscape of the kingdom. The board is accountable for carrying out examinations for classes 10 and 12, which are pivotal in determining students' academic paths. The effects of these examinations are surprisingly anticipated every yr, impacting students' futures and educational choices.

Examination Structure

The Tamil Nadu board checks generally encompass principal levels: the Secondary School Leaving Certificate (SSLC) for class 10 and the Higher Secondary Certificate (HSC) for class 12. The SSLC assessments usually take area in March, while the HSC exams observe quickly after. These tests cover various topics, such as Tamil, English, Mathematics, Science, and Social Science, among others.

Importance of Results

The outcomes of these board assessments are enormous for several reasons:

Academic Progression: For magnificence 10 students, the SSLC outcomes determine their eligibility for higher secondary education. Depending on their rankings, students can select among diverse streams including Science, Commerce, or Arts in class 11.

Higher Education Opportunities: Class 12 students, however, need their HSC consequences for university admissions. Performance in those tests is critical for securing seats in universities and expert publications.

Career Decisions: The results additionally impact career alternatives. High rankings can open doorways to prestigious establishments and aggressive courses, while lower scores may also require college students to recall opportunity paths or remedial measures.

Psychological Impact: The strain surrounding board examination outcomes can considerably affect students' intellectual health. The anticipation of consequences can cause anxiety, stress, and, in some cases, sadness, highlighting the need for adequate counseling and aid systems.

Result Announcement Process

The Tamil Nadu board commonly publicizes the examination results in May or June, some weeks after the crowning glory of the exams. The results are made available online on the legit TNBSE website, along with different structures, making sure easy get admission to college kids and dads and moms. 

In recent years, the board has also delivered SMS offerings, allowing college students to access their results directly on their mobile phones. This initiative aims to ensure that students in far-flung regions have identical access to their results, thereby promoting inclusivity.

Performance Trends

Every 12 months, the Tamil Nadu board sees various performance trends based totally on several elements:

Overall Pass Percentage: The ordinary bypass percentage is a critical metric. In recent years, the SSLC results have frequently visible pass percentages in the variety of ninety-95%, while the HSC results can vary more widely, depending at the subjects and the general trouble of the exam.

Subject-Wise Performance: Typically, students perform well in languages and social sciences, even as topics like Mathematics and Science can also see a decrease in common ratings. This fashion regularly sparks discussions about the need for a curriculum evaluation and stepped-forward coaching strategies in these subjects.

District-smart Performance: The results also are analyzed at the district level, with some districts always outperforming others. These statistics is precious for policymakers and educators to become aware of regions desiring interest and assistance.

Post-Result Scenario

After the results are announced, the subsequent steps for students include:

Counseling and Admission Processes: Students ought to make crucial selections concerning their in addition schooling. Many faculties and colleges arrange counseling periods to help students recognize their options based totally on their ratings.

Re-assessment and Re-checking: Students who are disappointed with their effects have the option to use for re-assessment or re-checking of their solution sheets. This system is vital for individuals who agree that their overall performance is no longer correctly pondered within the initial grading.

Supplementary Exams: For college students who did not bypass, the board gives supplementary tests, normally performed a few months after the primary results are declared. This gives students a second chance to clear their subjects.

Challenges Faced

The board consequences method isn't without its challenges. Issues such as administrative delays, discrepancies in grading, and the high stakes associated with the exams can result in significant pressure for college kids and educators alike. Furthermore, the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic has raised issues approximately the preparedness of college students, as many had to adapt to online learning, which varies in effectiveness.

[yourreddancer]

Heather Cox Richardson 12.15.24

Tomorrow, December 16, is the fiftieth anniversary of the Safe Drinking Water Act, signed into law on December 16, 1974, by President Gerald R. Ford, a Republican. The measure required the Environmental Protection Agency to set maximum contaminant levels for drinking water and required states to comply with them. It protected the underground sources of drinking water and called for emergency measures to protect public health if a dangerous contaminant either was in or was likely to enter a public water system.

To conduct research on clean drinking water and provide grants for states to clean up their systems, Congress authorized appropriations of $15 million in 1975, $25 million in 1976, and $35 million in 1977.

The Safe Drinking Water Act was one of the many laws passed in the 1970s after the environmental movement, sparked after Rachel Carson’s 1962 book Silent Spring explored the effect of toxic chemicals on living organisms, had made Americans aware of the dangers of pollution in the environment. 

That awareness had turned to anger by 1969, when in January a massive oil spill off Santa Barbara, California, poured between 80,000 and 100,000 barrels of oil into the Pacific, fouling 35 miles of California beaches and killing seabirds, dolphins, sea lions, and elephant seals. Then, in June, the chemical contaminants that had been dumped into Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River caught fire.

The nation had dipped its toes into water regulation during the Progressive Era at the beginning of the twentieth century, after germ theory became widely understood in the 1880s. Cleaning up cities first meant installing sewer systems, then meant trying to stop diseases from spreading through water systems. In 1912, Congress passed the U.S. Public Health Service Act, which established a national agency for protecting public health and called for getting rid of waterborne illnesses—including the life-threatening illness typhoid—by treating water with chlorine.

It was a start, but a new focus on science and technology after World War II pointed toward updating the system. The U.S. Public Health Service investigated the nation’s water supply in the 1960s and discovered more than 46,000 cases of waterborne illness. In the 1970s it found that about 90% of the drinking water systems it surveyed exceeded acceptable levels of microbes.

In February 1970, Republican President Richard M. Nixon sent to Congress a special message “on environmental quality.” “[W]e…have too casually and too long abused our natural environment,” he wrote. “The time has come when we can wait no longer to repair the damage already done, and to establish new criteria to guide us in the future.” He called for “fundamentally new philosophies of land, air and water use, for stricter regulation, for expanded government action, for greater citizen involvement, and for new programs to ensure that government, industry and individuals all are called on to do their share of the job and to pay their share of the cost.”

Later that year, Congress passed a measure establishing the Environmental Protection Agency, and Nixon signed it into law.

Widespread ater that year, Congress passed a measure establishing the Environmental Protection Agency, and Nixon signed it into law.calls to protect drinking water ran up against lobbyists for oil companies and members of Congress from oil districts. They complained that the science of what substances were dangerous was uncertain and that how they would be measured and regulated was unclear. They complained that the EPA was inefficient and expensive and was staffed with inexperienced officials.

Then, in 1972, an EPA study discovered that waters downstream from 60 industries discharging waste from Baton Rouge to the Mississippi River’s mouth in New Orleans had high concentrations of 66 chemicals and toxic metals. Chemical companies had sprung up after World War II along the 85 miles between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, potentially polluting the water, while the lower end of the Mississippi River collected all the runoff from the river itself.

Two years later, an analysis of drinking water and cancer death rates among white men in that same area of Louisiana suggested that carcinogens in the water might be linked to high cancer rates. Louisiana representative Lindy Boggs, a Democrat, told Congress that “it is really vitally important to our region that we have controls enforced on the toxic organic compounds that come into the river from the industrial and municipal discharges, from runoffs from from agricultural regions, from accidents on the river, and from chemical spills on the river.”

Concerns about the area of Louisiana that later came to be known as “Cancer Alley” were uppermost, but there were chemical companies across the country, and Congress set out to safeguard the lives of Americans from toxins released by corporations into the nation’s water supply. The Safe Drinking Water Act, the first law designed to create a comprehensive standard for the nation’s drinking water, was Congress’s answer.

The new law dramatically improved the quality of drinking water in the U.S., making it some of the safest in the world. Over the years, the EPA has expanded the list of contaminants it regulates, limiting both new man-made chemicals and new pathogens.

But the system is under strain: not only have scientific advances discovered that some contaminants are dangerous at much lower concentrations than scientists previously thought, but also a lack of funding for the EPA means that oversight can be lax. Even when it’s not, a lack of funding for towns and cities means they can’t always afford to upgrade their systems.

By 2015, almost 77 million Americans lived in regions whose water systems did not meet the safety standards of the Safe Drinking Water Act. In addition, more than 2 million Americans did not have running water, and many more rely on wells or small systems not covered by the Safe Water Drinking Act.

The Biden administration began to address the problem with an investment of about $22 billion to upgrade the nation’s water systems. The money removed lead pipes, upgraded wastewater and sewage systems, and addressed the removal of so-called forever chemicals and proposed a new standard for acceptable measures of them.

What this will mean in the future is unclear. President-elect Donald Trump has vowed to increase production of oil and gas—although it is currently at an all-time high—and such projects are often slowed by environmental regulations. On Tuesday, December 10, he posted on social media, “Any person or company investing ONE BILLION DOLLARS, OR MORE, in the United States of America, will receive fully expedited approvals and permits, including, but in no way limited to, all Environmental approvals. GET READY TO ROCK!!!”

“[B]y ignoring environmental costs we have given an economic advantage to the careless polluter over his more conscientious rival,” Trump’s Republican predecessor Nixon told the nation in 1970. “While adopting laws prohibiting injury to person or property, we have freely allowed injury to our shared surroundings.” When he signed the Safe Drinking Water Act in 1974, President Ford added simply: “Nothing is more essential to the life of every single American than clean air, pure food, and safe drinking water.”

—

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

December 15, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Dec 15, 2024

Tomorrow, December 16, is the fiftieth anniversary of the Safe Drinking Water Act, signed into law on December 16, 1974, by President Gerald R. Ford, a Republican. The measure required the Environmental Protection Agency to set maximum contaminant levels for drinking water and required states to comply with them. It protected the underground sources of drinking water and called for emergency measures to protect public health if a dangerous contaminant either was in or was likely to enter a public water system.

To conduct research on clean drinking water and provide grants for states to clean up their systems, Congress authorized appropriations of $15 million in 1975, $25 million in 1976, and $35 million in 1977.

The Safe Drinking Water Act was one of the many laws passed in the 1970s after the environmental movement, sparked after Rachel Carson’s 1962 book Silent Spring explored the effect of toxic chemicals on living organisms, had made Americans aware of the dangers of pollution in the environment. That awareness had turned to anger by 1969, when in January a massive oil spill off Santa Barbara, California, poured between 80,000 and 100,000 barrels of oil into the Pacific, fouling 35 miles of California beaches and killing seabirds, dolphins, sea lions, and elephant seals. Then, in June, the chemical contaminants that had been dumped into Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River caught fire.

The nation had dipped its toes into water regulation during the Progressive Era at the beginning of the twentieth century, after germ theory became widely understood in the 1880s. Cleaning up cities first meant installing sewer systems, then meant trying to stop diseases from spreading through water systems. In 1912, Congress passed the U.S. Public Health Service Act, which established a national agency for protecting public health and called for getting rid of waterborne illnesses—including the life-threatening illness typhoid—by treating water with chlorine.

It was a start, but a new focus on science and technology after World War II pointed toward updating the system. The U.S. Public Health Service investigated the nation’s water supply in the 1960s and discovered more than 46,000 cases of waterborne illness. In the 1970s it found that about 90% of the drinking water systems it surveyed exceeded acceptable levels of microbes.

In February 1970, Republican President Richard M. Nixon sent to Congress a special message “on environmental quality.” “[W]e…have too casually and too long abused our natural environment,” he wrote. “The time has come when we can wait no longer to repair the damage already done, and to establish new criteria to guide us in the future.” He called for “fundamentally new philosophies of land, air and water use, for stricter regulation, for expanded government action, for greater citizen involvement, and for new programs to ensure that government, industry and individuals all are called on to do their share of the job and to pay their share of the cost.”

Later that year, Congress passed a measure establishing the Environmental Protection Agency, and Nixon signed it into law.

Widespread calls to protect drinking water ran up against lobbyists for oil companies and members of Congress from oil districts. They complained that the science of what substances were dangerous was uncertain and that how they would be measured and regulated was unclear. They complained that the EPA was inefficient and expensive and was staffed with inexperienced officials.

Then, in 1972, an EPA study discovered that waters downstream from 60 industries discharging waste from Baton Rouge to the Mississippi River’s mouth in New Orleans had high concentrations of 66 chemicals and toxic metals. Chemical companies had sprung up after World War II along the 85 miles between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, potentially polluting the water, while the lower end of the Mississippi River collected all the runoff from the river itself.

Two years later, an analysis of drinking water and cancer death rates among white men in that same area of Louisiana suggested that carcinogens in the water might be linked to high cancer rates. Louisiana representative Lindy Boggs, a Democrat, told Congress that “it is really vitally important to our region that we have controls enforced on the toxic organic compounds that come into the river from the industrial and municipal discharges, from runoffs from from agricultural regions, from accidents on the river, and from chemical spills on the river.”

Concerns about the area of Louisiana that later came to be known as “Cancer Alley” were uppermost, but there were chemical companies across the country, and Congress set out to safeguard the lives of Americans from toxins released by corporations into the nation’s water supply. The Safe Drinking Water Act, the first law designed to create a comprehensive standard for the nation’s drinking water, was Congress’s answer.

The new law dramatically improved the quality of drinking water in the U.S., making it some of the safest in the world. Over the years, the EPA has expanded the list of contaminants it regulates, limiting both new man-made chemicals and new pathogens.

But the system is under strain: not only have scientific advances discovered that some contaminants are dangerous at much lower concentrations than scientists previously thought, but also a lack of funding for the EPA means that oversight can be lax. Even when it’s not, a lack of funding for towns and cities means they can’t always afford to upgrade their systems.

By 2015, almost 77 million Americans lived in regions whose water systems did not meet the safety standards of the Safe Drinking Water Act. In addition, more than 2 million Americans did not have running water, and many more rely on wells or small systems not covered by the Safe Water Drinking Act.

The Biden administration began to address the problem with an investment of about $22 billion to upgrade the nation’s water systems. The money removed lead pipes, upgraded wastewater and sewage systems, and addressed the removal of so-called forever chemicals and proposed a new standard for acceptable measures of them.

What this will mean in the future is unclear. President-elect Donald Trump has vowed to increase production of oil and gas—although it is currently at an all-time high—and such projects are often slowed by environmental regulations. On Tuesday, December 10, he posted on social media, “Any person or company investing ONE BILLION DOLLARS, OR MORE, in the United States of America, will receive fully expedited approvals and permits, including, but in no way limited to, all Environmental approvals. GET READY TO ROCK!!!”

“[B]y ignoring environmental costs we have given an economic advantage to the careless polluter over his more conscientious rival,” Trump’s Republican predecessor Nixon told the nation in 1970. “While adopting laws prohibiting injury to person or property, we have freely allowed injury to our shared surroundings.” When he signed the Safe Drinking Water Act in 1974, President Ford added simply: “Nothing is more essential to the life of every single American than clean air, pure food, and safe drinking water.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[ericanderson]

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂.

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒.

Name: Eric Anderson.

Faceclaim: Skeet Ulrich.

Gender & Pronouns: Cis male & he/him.

Age: Fifty-one.

Occupation: Gym teacher & football coach.

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.

Every good game needs a good playbook, right? 

GOAL: All Eric has ever wanted was to feel worthy. 

OBSTACLE:  Maybe it was his father’s disapproving groans. Maybe it was the fact that he was the last kid in his class to learn how to read. Maybe it was his failure to pass the sixth grade the first time. Maybe it was the shoulder-slumping, eyes-widening, pity-filled sighs in his hometown of Lancaster, South Carolina. Or maybe the only thing that was ever in the way of him and a sturdy foundation was him.

PLAN OF ACTION:  Eric Anderson just doesn’t know how to quit. If he had to work twice as hard as his classmates, so be it. If he had to spend longer in the locker room to get himself back together after failure, so be it. Sweat could not be a game-stopper. Fear could not be a roadblock. So here was the plan: Go to a community college. Major in nutrition and health. Transfer to a school with a high acceptance rate, like Coker University, for instance. Aim for a football scholarship for good measure. Get a job. Find a wife. Raise his kids to never feel as worthless as he did. Build a secure atmosphere for the world around him, something sturdy enough to fence everyone in. Work his ass to the bone to make that happen.

TURN-OUT: Now, Eric Anderson is fifty-one. He doesn’t run the way he used to. He doesn’t sweat the way he used to. He can’t catch up with the team. He’s been with the local high school in Marshall Island for twenty-six years now, and over time, hamstrings have been pulled. His morale has been questioned. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about throwing in the towel before, but Eric Anderson just doesn’t know how to quit.

NEW GOAL:  Find out how long he can do what he’s doing without going back to the kid he used to be.

NEW PLAN OF ACTION: Take a moment to catch his breath. Look around at the life he’s breathed into his surroundings. Observe. Accept.

NEW OBSTACLE:  The tight-lipped, wide-eyed nervous smile he sees on the kid in the old family photos, desperate to prove his worth.

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.

He gives great talks. If you need some advice, he’s your guy. It doesn’t matter whether you grew up in Marshall Island or not. You need him to talk some sense into you, he’s there.

He unironically loves what most people would call “2000s butt rock”. Nickelback, Daughtry, Puddle of Mudd, etc. He doesn’t consider it a guilty pleasure, either. He doesn’t quite know it’s taboo. He’ll just show up with it blasting in his car. 

He’s aware of his zodiac sign. He knows he’s an Aries. He just has no clue what it means.

During his summers off, he’ll spend some of his time fishing. If you catch a 6’0 guy in a backwards snapback, tank top, and cargo shorts with a fishing rod in his hand, that’s him.

His favorite show is Yellowstone for some reason. 

His favorite color is red. It’s also his favorite color to wear.

He’s been teaching in this town since 1998, and it was the first district to hire him.

[positivedevelopment]

Monthly Roundup January 2024

Here are some of my recommendations on who to follow on Instagram for updates and/or ways you can take action:

@so.informed

@letstalkpalestine

@euromedhr

@humanrightswatch

@amnesty

@red_maat

@cjpmeoffical

@unicef

@sulalanimalrescue

@savethechildrencanada

@oxfamcanada

@oncanadaproject

@wearthepeace

@devthepineapple

______________________________________________________________

10 Good News Stories for Kids in 2023 Despite a Difficult Year, Children’s Rights Made Progress

Rohingya refugee children in a school classroom at a refugee camp in the Cox's Bazar district of Bangladesh, March 9, 2023. © 2023 Mahmud Hossain Opu/AP Photo

Thomas Kwoyelo: Ugandan Lord's Resistance Army rebel commander on trial

"The long-awaited trial of a child soldier-turned-commander in the notorious Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) has begun in Uganda.

Thomas Kwoyelo faces more than 70 charges - including murder, rape and the recruitment of child soldiers. He becomes the first LRA commander to be tried by a Ugandan court, marking a watershed moment for the country's judicial system."

______________________________________________________________

Heart Month 2024 is an annual observance in February dedicated to raising awareness about heart health and cardiovascular diseases.

Visit Heart and Stroke to learn more: https://www.heartandstroke.ca/

Every year on February 12th, Red Hand Day encourages political leaders to stop the use of child soldiers. This day is also referred to as the International Day against the Use of Child Soldiers.

Hundreds and thousands of handprints have been collected in more than 50 countries and handed over to politicians and to responsible parties, including UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon. There is progress, but there are still 250,000 child soldiers in the world.

Help to stop this abuse of children. Show your Red Hand to the world!

[ewan-mo]

On the way home

Sat 30th Sept 2023.

I started yesterday with a visit to the Benedict Medical Centre, a small hospital in a poor suburb of Kampala.   They are continuing to find funding a bit of a struggle.  It was worse in Covid but there are 3 government health centres in the locality who give free medication when they have it, and three or four private-for-profit ones.  Also Butabika Hospital, the main psychiatric hospital, is only about 3 miles away, so many people with a mental illness go straight there. The public perception of mental illness is that it means 'Butabika'. It takes quite a shift to imagine that mental illness can be treated at the level of a small hospital like Benedict Medical Centre.

They are hoping that having a psychiatric clinical officer will enable them to develop a good reputation for mental health care.    JF has sponsored Robin to train as a psychiatric clinical officer.  He has finished the course but has still to get a project approved.  We are helping them to raise the awareness of mental illness and its care in their community and to present the hospital as an alternative to Butabika.

Meanwhile, Joshua and I had agreed to look at the experiences of people with mental illness or epilepsy who have been confined at home, usually by their families. They may be chained, tied with ropes, or left in shackles and sometimes leg shackles as well, then locked in the room and dependent on someone else to prepare their food and attend to their personal hygiene. I would be really interested to know how they think of it all. Are they troubled by traumatic memories? Angry with their families? Resentful about the lost years? Or do they just accept that this is how it is during times when they are ill and troubled or overactive and moveous?

Some of you will remember James, who was kept locked in a dark room, chained by his ankle, from his late 20’s to age 42, about 15 years. When we saw him 6 months after our first meeting, he was being cared for by the team and on treatment, and was totally transformed. James taught me a little of what it can be like for our patients, and his story comes with me whenever I teach on international mental health. 

Joshua and I thought it would be interesting to interview some of the  patients we know who have been in similar situations. He’s made a good start, but the majority of the cases so far come just from Bwindi Hospital. Apparently the research journals get suspicious when that appears to be the case; you may have been making up the details!

I’ve asked our young colleagues to scout around to find us some more, as several thought there were some in their districts. Village health workers from the Village Health Teams (VHT), church leaders and local councillors often know their communities very well and will be aware if there are some individuals hidden in the darkness.

The VHTs remind me of the old wise women of the villages in earlier times in our English landscapes. I can remember some from the villages near where my grandmother lived in Somerset. ‘Aunt Em’ and ‘Aunt Cis’, for example. They knew all the local remedies, the herbs and potions that could help with everyday ailments. I’d quite like to talk with them again now, but they have long gone.

When Joshua and I talk, we find our conversation ranges far and wide beyond clinical matters. He’s not short of opinion on some of the political shenanigans that go on in Uganda and from his stories I learnt some fascinating details. He’s interested in English politics too though even he, who has long experience of goings on in Africa, was a bit surprised at the thinking and impact of Liz Truss. And indeed her very short tenure as our prime minister. Uganda’s current president has been in charge for 37 years. Just imagine….

Joshua is a great friend to Jamie’s Fund. He has years of experience in mental health research, and trained as an mhGAP Master Trainer in Geneva (and Italy!) directly under the auspices of the World Health Organisation. We have been very fortunate to have him and his support in our training programmes which have been making such a difference across Uganda. 

Market day at the roadside.

Hassan later drove us down to Entebbe where we had a late lunch in a café we have known for some years.  It has a lush green garden.

A metal baboon in the garden.

We were then dropped at Guinea Fowl guest house, where we spent time catching up on our computers. They were doing major road works on the residential road outside and I enjoyed watching the machines at work – as I used to do 60 years ago.  Not sure why they have selected this road for such major works – the fact that a number of military officers apparently live on it may not be a coincidence.

A grader at work, even after dark.

We went to the airport late evening and  all went smoothly.  In Brussels I was fascinated to make the acquaintance of a Ugandan dentist who has lived in London for a long time but still comes back to Uganda to see family. Her father is a doctor and her sister is a psychiatrist in UK! 

We changed planes in Brussels and got home late morning today, Saturday.

It has been a very encouraging visit.  Hugh, Linda and Avril have found the same encouragements visiting the hospitals in the west as well.  Although JF is stopping we will continue to visit and have tentative plans to return early next year when six of the PCOs JF sponsored will be graduating.

Thank you for reading our blogs and we hope you have found them of interest.  We have aimed to give you a flavour of what we have been doing.

If you would like to drop us an email, please do using the email the200x100challenge@gmail.com

[homoepathic-pet-medicine]

Can Punganur cows be crossbred with other cattle breeds?

The Unique Punganur Cow: A Treasure of Indian Agriculture

The Punganur cow, also known as Punganur dwarf cow, is a breed indigenous to the Punganur village in the Chittoor district of Andhra Pradesh, India. These cows are renowned for their diminutive size, standing only about 70-90 centimeters tall at the shoulder. Despite their small stature, Punganur cows have gained significant attention due to their exceptional milk-producing capabilities and adaptability to various climates. However, a common question arises: Can Punganur cows be crossbred with other cattle breeds? Let's explore this fascinating topic.

The Significance of Crossbreeding in Cattle Breeding

Crossbreeding is a technique widely used in cattle breeding to combine the desirable traits of different breeds. It aims to improve overall productivity, enhance genetic diversity, and develop cattle with superior qualities. By introducing genetic variations, crossbreeding can often result in increased milk production, better disease resistance, improved fertility, and other favorable traits.

Punganur Cows and Crossbreeding

Punganur cows have a unique genetic makeup and are considered a pure breed. Their small size and ability to adapt to different climates make them valuable for small-scale farmers and those with limited land resources. While crossbreeding is common in the cattle industry, it is essential to carefully consider the implications before attempting to crossbreed Punganur cows.

Read more : -

Challenges in Crossbreeding Punganur Cows

Crossbreeding Punganur cows presents several challenges due to their distinctive characteristics. The small size of Punganur cows is a result of genetic factors specific to this breed. Attempting to crossbreed them with larger breeds may lead to difficulties during the gestation period and calving process, potentially posing risks to the health and survival of the cows and their offspring.

Maintaining Breed Purity

Another factor to consider is the preservation of the pure Punganur breed. Punganur cows are considered a national treasure of India and hold cultural significance. The breed's unique genetic traits and historical importance make it crucial to maintain the purity of the breed. Crossbreeding Punganur cows extensively may dilute their genetic distinctiveness and compromise the breed's purity, which could have long-term consequences.

Potential Benefits and Considerations

While crossbreeding with other cattle breeds may present challenges, there could still be some potential benefits worth exploring. By carefully selecting compatible breeds, it might be possible to introduce desirable traits while minimizing the risks associated with size discrepancies. Crossbreeding could potentially lead to increased milk production, enhanced disease resistance, or improved adaptability to specific environments.

Responsible Crossbreeding Practices

If crossbreeding is pursued, it is essential to adopt responsible breeding practices. This involves conducting thorough research, consulting with experts in cattle genetics, and carefully selecting suitable breeds that complement the Punganur cows' characteristics. By adhering to these practices, it may be possible to achieve the desired outcomes while minimizing any negative impacts.

The Need for Conservation Efforts

Given the unique qualities of the Punganur cows and their historical significance, conservation efforts play a vital role. Conservation programs and initiatives should focus on preserving the pure Punganur breed through responsible breeding practices and promoting awareness about the breed's importance. This approach ensures that future generations can benefit from the distinct traits and genetic diversity offered by the Punganur cows.

Conclusion

Punganur cows are a treasure of Indian agriculture, cherished for their small size, adaptability, and milk-producing abilities. While the question of crossbreeding Punganur cows with other cattle breeds arises, it is crucial to approach the topic with caution and responsibility. The challenges posed by their small stature and the importance of preserving the pure breed highlight the need for careful consideration. If pursued, crossbreeding should be carried out with a thorough understanding of the potential risks and benefits, in collaboration with experts in cattle genetics. By doing so, we can ensure the preservation of this unique breed while exploring opportunities for improvement and increased productivity in Indian cattle farming.

Visit now : -

Read more : -

[townpostin]

Nutrition Awareness Rath Launched in Jamshedpur for National Month

District officials flag off campaign to promote healthy diets and best practices across region The Nutrition Awareness Rath, launched to mark National Nutrition Month, aims to educate communities about balanced diets and healthy lifestyles. JAMSHEDPUR – National Nutrition Month was commemorated by the commencement of a Nutrition Awareness Rath by district officials, which was designed to…

[heritage-kl]

Affordable Luxury: Top Jewellery Brands for Every Budget

Explore the finest heritage jewellery in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where timeless designs meet expert craftsmanship. Discover the latest gold rings in KL, Malaysia and elegant gold mangalsutra in KL, Malaysia, designed to suit any occasion. Experience the charm of heritage and elegance in every piece that showcases unparalleled quality.

As of December 16, 2024, here are the latest developments in the gold jewellery sector:

Superdrug's Jewellery Clearance

Superdrug stores have significantly reduced prices on various jewellery items, including rings, necklaces, and earrings, with some pieces priced as low as 10p. This clearance has attracted numerous shoppers seeking affordable accessories and Christmas stocking fillers. Customers have reported finding sterling silver earrings for 10p and watches for 49p or £1.50. Fashion experts note that Superdrug's jewellery range includes over 150 pieces online, many priced under £10.

Monica Vinader's Black Friday Sale

Monica Vinader's Black Friday sale offered up to 50% off on a wide range of luxury jewellery. The sale included daily flash deals on pieces favored by celebrities like Kendall Jenner and Princess Kate. Highlighted deals featured Siren Wire Earrings reduced to £70.40 from £128 and Skinny Eternity Rings for £149, down from £298. The sale, which started on November 18, concluded on December 4 and was available on the Monica Vinader website and other major retailers.

Affordable Luxury Jewellery Brands

A recent article highlighted the top affordable luxury jewellery brands for 2024, showcasing various styles from dainty necklaces to bold statement pieces. Brands such as Gorjana, Kendra Scott, Mejuri, and BaubleBar were noted for their affordability and unique designs. Sustainable options like Ana Luisa and ethically sourced diamonds from Brilliant Earth were also featured. The article provided details on each brand’s price range, shipping policies, and standout pieces, assisting consumers in finding high-quality, stylish jewellery without overspending.

Impact of Climate Change on Pearl Prices

The resurgence of pearls in 2024 has been accompanied by significant price increases due to climate change and labor shortages affecting pearl cultivation. Prices have surged by up to 50%, impacting all types of pearls, including Akoya, freshwater, and South Sea varieties. Pearl farming's sensitivity to oceanic conditions has heightened awareness of environmental challenges, prompting brands to invest in sustainability initiatives to ensure ocean health. Designers are adopting creative solutions, such as using vintage pearls or stockpiling supplies, to address these challenges while maintaining quality and raising environmental awareness.

Mandatory Hallmarking Expansion in India

India has expanded its mandatory gold hallmarking program to 18 more districts, bringing the total to 361. Since its launch in June 2021, over 40 crore gold jewellery pieces have been hallmarked, enhancing consumer trust. The program has also led to a surge in registered jewellers and assaying centers, ensuring the authenticity and quality of gold jewellery in the market. 

Customize your style with exclusive custom gold ornaments in KL, tailored to your unique preferences. Choose from an exquisite range of gold pendants in KL, Malaysia, crafted to perfection. Visit us to experience bespoke artistry and find jewellery that truly reflects your individuality!

[history-matters]

Why Tatars in Georgia have Mingrelian accent?

The Mingrelian affair, or Mingrelian case was a series of criminal cases conducted in 1951-52 against Georgian State and Communist Party figures of Mingrelian tribe accused of secession in favor of Turkey. The secessionists were led by former head of Ajara Autonomy, Second Secretary of Georgian CP Mamia Baramia, and head of Ajara Autonomy Kirile Bechvaia.* Case was initiated by Stalin with his work "About Mingrelian National Group" (О Менгрельской Национальной Группе) written in Georgian resort Likani, and lesser known to the general public in rest of the Soviet Union. The Operation against the Group was entrusted to the Minister of State Security of Georgian SSR Nikolai Maksimovich Rukhadze.

Archival materials have preserved the identities of other arrested individuals: Head of the Counterintelligence Department of the Transcaucasian Military District Kote Bziava, Prosecutor of the Republic Vladimir Shonia, Minister of Justice Chichiko Rafava, Secretary of the Ordzhonikidze District Committee of Tbilisi Nina Zhvania, Security Officer Grigol Karanadze, Secretary of the Central Committee Petre Sharia, Former Secretary of the Tskhakaia (now Senaki) District Committee Aleksandre Kvaratskhelia, Former Secretary of the Tsalenjikha District Committee Mikheil Kvaratskhelia, Secretary of the Khobi District Committee Mikheil Sordia, Former Central Committee Instructor Mariam Chkadua, Former Central Committee Instructor Alyosha Mirtskhulava, Secretary of the Kutaisi District Committee Grigol Kokaia, Head of the Zugdidi Regional Department of the Ministry of Security L. Gabisonia, former secretary of the Gegechkori (now Martvili) district committee Parthen Kortkhonjia, secretary of the Tskhakia district committee Valerian Gugunava, secretary of the Zemo Svaneti district committee Vladimir Sichinava, secretary of the Abasha district committee Severian Ebralidze, secretary of the Chkhorotsku district committee Mamanti Pachkoria, Mayor of Tbilisi Mamia Zodelava, head of the Poti port Konstantine Rekvava, former secretary of the Chkhorotsku district committee Varlam Mzarelua, secretary of the Gali district committee Antipo Chezhia, former department head of the Adjara regional committee Akaki Kilasonia, former chairman of the Abkhazian State Planning Committee V. Kalandia, Mayor of Batumi E. Jikia, Minister of Health of Abkhazia G. Papaskua, director of the Agara Sugar Factory Rafiel Kvirkvelia, etc. - approximately 40 people.

Many aspects of the Mingrelian Affair are still not completely understood in the West. But it was very serious and Stalin's growing distrust of his lieutenant Beria, was quite evident.

It was completely unknown outside Georgian SSR. It was not publicized widely, and no mentioning secession with aim incorporation to Turkey. Central Committee of the CPSU condemned it as corruption among high ranking officials of Mengrel ethnicity. Just narrow circle of state security officials were aware of the true nature of the event. After Stalin's death in 1953, Beria managed to temporarily reinstate his clients in Georgia. However, later many of them were prosecuted as the members of "Beria's gang".

___

*Beria handed over the apartment of Simon Chikhladze, who was executed in 1937, to the first secretary of the Abkhazian regional committee, Kirill Bechvaia. A nearby small room was accomodated for S. Chikhladze's two young sons and their nanny. This is a very important moment in the Mingrelian Affair, which is more of a Turkish Affair, and indicates the deep roots of the case and its delicacy. It would not have been easy for Stalin to radically confront Turkey in the post-war years, and same time, he would not have allowed the country's national security to be violated by an external force.

[investorocean0007]

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THE CONTROVERSIAL Life OF OSHO - Osho के नाम से मशहूर Acharya Rajnish | Fact And Reality About OSHO

Osho, born Chandra Mohan Jain in 1931 in India and later known as Acharya Rajneesh, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, and finally Osho, was a spiritual teacher and philosopher whose life and teachings were both revolutionary and controversial. His life story is a fascinating blend of spiritual inquiry, provocative teachings, and international notoriety.

Key Aspects of Osho's Life:

1. Early Life and Enlightenment

Born on December 11, 1931, in Raisen district, Madhya Pradesh, India.

Experienced a deep spiritual awakening at the age of 21, which he later described as enlightenment.

Studied philosophy and earned a Master’s degree, eventually becoming a professor at Jabalpur University.

2. Teachings

Advocated for a life of meditation and celebration, combining spirituality with material enjoyment.

Criticized organized religion, political systems, and societal norms, making him a polarizing figure.

Popularized meditation techniques like Dynamic Meditation, which aimed to release suppressed emotions and encourage self-awareness.

Emphasized the importance of love, creativity, and individuality.

3. Rise to Fame and Controversies

Gained a large following in India in the 1960s and 1970s.

His open discussions about sex and spirituality led to him being nicknamed the "Sex Guru."

Advocated for free thought, which challenged traditional societal norms, leading to criticism from religious and political leaders.

His commune in Pune, India, became a hub for seekers from around the world.

4. Establishing Rajneeshpuram in the USA

In 1981, Osho moved to Oregon, USA, and established a commune called Rajneeshpuram.

The commune grew rapidly, becoming a self-sustaining city with thousands of followers.

Controversies arose over land use, conflicts with local residents, and legal disputes.

5. Legal Troubles and Bio-Terror Scandal

In 1984, members of the commune orchestrated a bioterror attack, contaminating salad bars in a nearby town with salmonella to influence local elections. It became the largest bioterror attack in US history.

Osho was arrested in 1985 on charges of immigration fraud. He eventually pleaded guilty, was fined, and deported.

He accused his secretary, Ma Anand Sheela, of orchestrating the crimes without his knowledge.

6. Later Years and Death

Returned to Pune, India, and re-established his ashram, which became the Osho International Meditation Resort.

Continued teaching until his health declined.

Passed away on January 19, 1990, at the age of 58. The cause of his death remains disputed, with some claiming natural causes and others alleging poisoning during his time in US custody.

Legacy

Osho remains a highly influential figure, with his teachings inspiring millions worldwide.

His books, transcribed from his discourses, cover a wide range of topics, from spirituality to relationships and societal transformation.

The Osho Meditation Resort in Pune is one of the largest centers for spiritual growth globally.

Why Controversial?

His frank discussions on taboo topics like sex, wealth, and power.

His lavish lifestyle, owning over 90 Rolls-Royces, which contradicted traditional notions of asceticism.

The legal and ethical issues surrounding his commune's activities in the US.

Osho's life epitomizes a blend of spiritual insight and human controversy, making him an enigmatic figure in modern spirituality

[mukulaggarwal7845]

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[nishmahealthassist]

Who Is Dr. Sangeeta Kabra? A Glimpse Into Her Career As a Consultant Gynecologist At Krishna Hospital

Who Is Dr. Sangeeta Kabra? A Glimpse Into Her Career as a Consultant Gynecologist at Krishna Hospital

When it comes to gynecological care in Bhilwara, one name stands out among the rest: Dr. Sangeeta Kabra. With a career spanning over two and a half decades, she has become synonymous with expert care, compassion, and trust. Since 1997, Dr. Kabra has been serving as a Consultant Gynecologist at Krishna Hospital, where she has earned the admiration of patients and colleagues alike. This blog provides a closer look at her remarkable journey and the impact she has made in her field.

A Journey of Dedication and Expertise

Dr. Sangeeta Kabra began her career with a vision of transforming women’s healthcare in Bhilwara. Joining Krishna Hospital Bhilwara in 1997, she brought with her not just medical expertise but also a patient-first philosophy that has defined her practice. Over the years, she has handled countless cases with precision and care, ranging from routine gynecological concerns to complex obstetric cases.

Her continuous commitment to education and innovation has kept her at the forefront of advancements in gynecology. She has successfully integrated modern techniques with a deep understanding of patient needs, making her an indispensable figure at Krishna Hospital.

Transforming Women’s Health in Bhilwara

Dr. Kabra’s contribution goes beyond delivering medical care. She has been a beacon of hope for countless women, providing guidance, support, and treatments that address both physical and emotional well-being. Her ability to foster trust and understanding with her patients has set her apart in a field where empathy is as vital as skill.

From adolescent health to menopause management, Dr. Kabra has been a pillar of support for women at every stage of life. Her efforts in promoting awareness about reproductive health and encouraging preventive care have been instrumental in improving health outcomes across the district.

Commitment to Excellence at Krishna Hospital

As a Consultant Gynecologist at Krishna Hospital, Dr. Sangeeta Kabra has played a vital role in shaping the hospital’s reputation as a leading center for gynecological care in Bhilwara. Her expertise extends to areas such as prenatal care, infertility treatment, high-risk pregnancies, and gynecological surgeries. Patients travel from far and wide, confident that they will receive world-class care under her supervision.

Krishna Hospital itself has grown significantly, thanks in part to Dr. Kabra’s contributions. Her association with the hospital has ensured that it remains a trusted institution for women’s health in the region.

A Legacy of Trust and Care

Dr. Sangeeta Kabra’s career is a testament to what dedication and compassion can achieve in the medical field. Her unwavering commitment to her patients and her community has made her a household name in Bhilwara. For over 25 years, she has been the person women turn to for expert advice and care, building a legacy that inspires future generations of healthcare professionals.

Whether you are seeking routine gynecological care, expert advice during pregnancy, or a compassionate ear for your concerns, Dr. Sangeeta Kabra at Krishna Hospital continues to be the trusted choice for women in Bhilwara.

If you want to know more about her services or need expert gynecological care, feel free to visit Krishna Hospital or book a consultation today.