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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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Captain Swan is my Favorite RomCom: “While You Were Sleeping” (Part Five)

So here’s the next installment, I think we’re down to just about two more, unless something changes. Hope you enjoy!!

While the little misunderstanding has complicated Emma’s life and made her feel all kinds of guilty, she can’t quite want things back the way they were either...

And I apologize now, I know this has no cut line, but I just can’t get it to work for me on mobile. I’ll try to do a morning reboot form my desktop with the cut!

Part Five

By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

The morning after taking Emma to dinner at his folks’ and their near-silent drive back into the city, dawned chilly but bright; though Killian Jones woke to it groggy and angry with himself in the rented hotel room he’d booked in order to be in the city - nearer to the hospital for his brother and the various appointments he needed to attend while in Boston. He knew he had pushed Liam’s fiancé out of her comfort zone - despite his initial good intentions - and he had been beating himself up for the overstep ever since realization hit, mere moments too late.

Stumbling over the nondescript carpet, hand rubbing blearily over his face and his unshaven chin as he made his way to get his morning’s first cup of coffee, Killian kicked himself once more, berating his impatient prying. ‘So what if she has secrets?’ he scolded himself again. ‘Everyone does. You certainly have a few yourself. Just because she wouldn’t tell you her whole life story after knowing you less than 24 hours does not mean she’s hiding things from Liam - or that she has anything serious to hide at all.’

Cursing himself for a fool, and then literally cursing in pain as he clumsily managed both to burn his finger with the tiny complimentary coffee maker and spill the precious brew in the suite bathroom, Killian knew what the issue really came down to. He was disappointed, saddened, struck once again by his own bad luck - the sheer indisputable fact that he didn’t deserve good things, the things he wished for most. Of course Liam would meet the ray of sunshine that was Emma Swan first; he was everything that Killian wasn’t. Ever since they had been in prep school with his citizenship awards and class offices, Liam had been successful, admirable, well-liked...perfect, for all intents and purposes. Though he would never lord it over his five years younger brother, reaching adulthood had not done much at all to bring Killian out of Liam’s impressive shadow. He was successful in his work, even generating surplus for charitable giving, had made a good name for himself in the business world, drawing new customers even as he retained his ethics and honor, had a large, well-situated apartment and nice car, dressed well, and still retained his decent heart and character. What woman wouldn’t choose Liam Jones as a fine man to marry?

Killian sighed, running a frustrated hand through his sleep-disheveled hair and this time managing to pour his coffee into a nondescript white hotel mug - oddly missing his own chipped mug with the jaunty silver anchor on it that Nick had gifted him last Christmas. Not that he was a bad guy or a poor catch, but he certainly looked less promising on paper. He didn’t bring in the paycheck Liam did, nor did he carry the type of prestige his brother had earned. He was more of a jack-of-all trades who had turned his passionate interest in boats and sailing into a modest living at best. Though he well knew he would make a devoted, loving mate for the right woman, she would need to share his love of the sea and adventure, his family, and his simple, uncluttered lifestyle. He didn’t require the material trappings Liam could offer a woman, and if his brother had won Emma Swan’s heart, then Killian knew that he couldn’t truly compete.

And yet...something about her spoke to him, whispered that they could understand each other in a way most would not. He had been to her apartment - and though it had been clean and comfortable, it was nothing fancy. He might have even deemed it sparse, if it weren’t for the unique, cozy touches he had noted scattered throughout her living space: a hand-knit woolen blanket with her name woven in purple draped over the couch, not only a purring pet cat, but adorable personalized dishes for the clearly spoiled creature in pride of place on the very table across from the spot Emma clearly occupied at meals herself. Though he couldn’t pretend to known her whole life story, he sensed a woman with simpler tastes similar to his own - more interested in people and connection, items of sentimental value more than material worth; a kindred spirit more interested in experience than routine complacency.

Hanging his head, Killian sipped his caffeine Black, berating himself for wanting his brother’s fiancé – however briefly – before he shoved the thoughts far into the recesses of his mind, for thinking recklessly that he could make her happier, that he could read Emma Swan like an open book. Wincing at the sharp, strong flavor of the unsweetened beverage, still rather warm and burning his tongue a bit, Killian couldn’t help feeling as though he had earned the slight pain to the roof and sides of his mouth for his disloyal and traitorous thoughts, for his ever-cursed and unlucky timing and desires making him feel as though he had finally met the woman who could complete him and make him smile as he had ever seen his mother do for his father his whole life long.

Finishing the cereal and sausage link he had gotten from room service for breakfast, Killian tried to shake lingering romantic thoughts about Emma Swan from his tired brain. He had things to do, calls to make back to work to see that things were covered with his business and shop while he was here awaiting any changes or news on Liam’s medical progress, and errands to run before he was to have lunch with his father. It would do him no good to dwell on the fact that Liam had been incredibly devoted to his college sweetheart - a brilliant lass named Belle French, a PhD candidate currently abroad studying and lecturing upon ancient texts in Brittany - until a painful falling out they’d had a scant five months before over their future and settling down. Though Killian hadn’t heard as much from his older brother, he had always felt that Liam and Belle would find their way back to each other. Perhaps that was why this seemingly sudden engagement to Emma Swan, whom none of the family had even met until two days ago, didn’t quite add up. Of course, Killian also knew that could very well be his own foolish and impulsive heart influencing his thinking.

At any rate, as he gathered his keys and coat and made his way out of his hotel room, locking it behind him, he needed to focus on the rare chance to spend some quality time with his dad, to talk seriously without interruption. Though David Jones had not outwardly fought or dismissed Killian’s decision a few years back, to start up his own business rather than continuing serious apprenticeship to take on the family farm someday, Killian knew there had to have been a part of his father who found it difficult for a second of his three sons to turn away from the livelihood he had worked hard to build, to provide for them all and hopefully hand down into their care. Just as with Liam - though surely his elder brother’s success must have helped to soothe the blow - Killian knew his choice must have hurt his father, which he had never wanted. It was why he had hesitated as long as he had before striking out on his own.

It couldn’t be fought however. Eventually, he’d had to be honest with himself, and with his dad. There was simply something about boats and the sea which called to him. Though it had not been easy the day he’d brought those concerns to his father; it had been a dry mouthed, hands sweating sort of moment in truth. Yet, Killian suspected, that the way the soil, working the earth and being outdoors in the open air amidst his sheep fed his father’s spirit, helped David Jones to understand his middle son’s yearning better than Killian could have hoped. Beyond that, very thankfully, Nick seemed to adore the family farm - even now as he was almost through trade school for animal husbandry and agribusiness management. Nothing seemed to thrill the youngest Jones brother more than being home on the farm during breaks and vacations, and he loved his father’s flock more than anyone but David himself ever had or would.

Reaching the ground floor, Killian passed through the hotel’s open lobby and made his way to the parking garage across the street where he had left his truck the previous night. It was time - for the moment at least - to leave his scattered thoughts and the fleeting warmth in his chest caused by his memories of the way light had glanced off the gold in Emma’s hair and the bright, unguarded sound of her laugh. He needed to see to his business and worry about his family, not nurse pipe dreams with no hope of coming true…

~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~

By that evening at the end of her shift, Emma felt no less conflicted over the secrets she was keeping, the things she had refrained from telling Liam’s family - and Killian in particular - and the convenient misunderstanding she had allowed to let stand; giving her the chance to experience what it felt like to have a whole, vibrant family for the first time, but also taking advantage of the Jones’ kindness shamefully. Equal warring parts of her had run back and forth in her brain all day as she took tokens and watched the trains fly back in and out of their station almost constantly. And despite the guilt she was suffering and the frustration with herself she felt for not correcting Nurse Ariel’s mistake immediately, before she’d known what she would be giving up, Emma found that as she clocked out for the night, there was still just one place her feet would carry her.

Stopping by her favorite street vendor for a quick bite to eat for supper, Emma was at the hospital and making her way up to Liam’s floor before she had even made up her mind to follow her gut. She waved to Ariel, who was on the phone at the nurses’ station and gave her a rather sheepish smile but still waved back enthusiastically, and then let herself into Liam’s room.

Upon entering, Emma felt her shoulders relax and a sense of relief coming over her, almost affirming that this was where she had needed to be. Perhaps it was the dim lighting in the room, the calm quiet where so much of her day had been full of bustling crowds and hectic noise, or maybe it was even that this man who had intrigued her for so long from afar - fiance or not - needed her in some way.

It was a double room, but as he had been two days ago, Liam was the only occupant presently. Even if unaware, he was very much alone, and Emma couldn’t stand that. She’d been all by herself for too much of her life; she wouldn’t leave another person in that painful solitude if she could make it otherwise. Settling in for the evening, she pulled the nearby chair right up beside his bed, sat down, and reached out to take his hand in hers.

Twining their fingers together, Emma gently squeezed Liam’s digits, whispering as she pulled his arm carefully over to press it against her chest while she began to speak. Bowing her head slightly, she whispered near him into the quiet room. “Liam? It’s your fiancé… Emma…” Though she had begun her statement with an almost sheepish laugh, as if he might wake up and appreciate the humor of the wacky situation with her, her words were cut off by the lump that rose in her throat which she had to swallow hard to speak around.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” she sighed, her eyes stinging with unwanted emotion as she looked down at the handsome man, peaceful and still as if merely sleeping. Where before she had always found herself wanting to wind her fingers through those stubbornly curling, close-cropped tufts of sandy hair, Emma suddenly pictured dark tendrils falling over his brother’s strong brow instead. This man - while he had intrigued her and drawn her in with his kind smiles and friendly greetings each week - she didn’t really know him; never had known him, truth be told. She merely wanted to brush an almost sisterly touch of fingertips across his cheek, hold his hand, and see him wake up - for the sake of his family who loved him dearly, for his own sake, as he didn’t deserve to be struck down so senselessly, and for hers, so she could explain what had happened and hope that - just maybe - he wouldn’t hate her and the rest of the Jones family wouldn’t either.

Finally giving into the urge, Emma laid her cool palm over his slightly warm forehead, wishing to bring him some comfort and to let him know he wasn’t alone before settling into her seat more comfortably, propping her chin on the fist of her free hand while the other still held his large one, rubbing gentle circles over the space between thumb and forefinger. “We both know I’m a complete stranger to you. I don’t know why I’m still pretending when you’re the only one here. You may think I’m the worst sort of person when you wake up, but it truly was a big misunderstanding. I didn’t know how to stop it at first, and then things just got out of hand. Your family…” she paused again, pressing her mouth into a thin line as she tried to bring the welling regret and longing under wraps, “they’re pretty wonderful really. You know that, right? I mean, they just took me in, and they’re so warm and funny. Even though my adoptive mom was great, she’s been gone a long time. It’s just been, well me and my cat,” a strangled little laugh escaped and she wiped a hand across her eyes, sniffling, “for years now. Like I was in the beginning…” She trailed off, shaking her head as the man she was speaking to remained motionless and unresponsive. “Sheesh, just listen to me,” she finally finished off, blowing out a breath and straightening slightly. “This must sound crazy!”

Turning to reach for her jacket and preparing to go, Emma touched Liam’s arm one last time, a parting squeeze of farewell. “Ever been so alone you’d spend the night confusing a man in a coma?” she asked self-deprecatingly. Then, she stood and leaned back down to press a light peck of a kiss to his hairline whispering, “Wake up soon, Liam.”

Then she was gone, slipping out of the room and soon the hospital without ever noticing Killian, who had arrived not long after her to check in on his brother. He had frozen in the doorway behind her, stunned into silence by the admission he’d overheard before he could announce his presence, and had just barely remembered to retreat down the hall far enough to escape detection when Emma had gathered her things to leave. Emerging after a moment, he stood dumbfounded in his brother’s doorway, conflicting emotions all swarming behind his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, running a hand over his face, “Now what are we supposed to do?”

Tagging: @csromcom18 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @linda8084 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @resident-of-storybrooke @bcmbbcs4evr @coliferoncer @vvbooklady1256

#csromcom2018 #while you were sleeping au ff #movie au #cs modern au #part five

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

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Kenya’s New Digital IDs May Exclude Millions of Minorities

NAIROBI, Kenya — For all his 73 years, Ahmed Khalil Kafe lived as a citizen of Kenya.

Born in the capital, Nairobi, Mr. Kafe worked as a police officer and even served with the presidential guard, court documents show. But last April, when he tried to register for a national ID in the giant biometric database that President Uhuru Kenyatta has said will be the ��single source of truth” on Kenya’s population, he was turned away.

Now, Mr. Kafe said, “My life is in limbo.”

In an ambitious new initiative, the Kenyan government is planning to assign each citizen a unique identification number that will be required to go to school, get health care and housing, register to vote, get married and obtain a driver’s license, bank account and even a mobile phone number. In preparation, nearly 40 million Kenyans have already had their fingerprints and faces scanned by a new biometric system that ramped up last spring.

But millions of ethnic, racial and religious minorities — like Mr. Kafe, who is a Kenyan of Nubian descent — are running into obstacles and facing additional scrutiny when they apply for the documents required to get a biometric ID. Many have faced outright rejection.

Now the biometric ID plan is being challenged in court by civil rights organizations, which say it is disenfranchising members of minority groups. The high court is expected to rule Thursday on whether the project is constitutional.

“The government is digitizing discrimination,” said Shafi Ali, the chairman of the Nubian Rights Forum, one of three civil rights groups that brought the court challenge. Without an ID card and identification number, he said, “you are totally a living dead.”

The Kenyan Interior Ministry, which is leading the biometric project — known as the National Integrated Identity Management System — declined to comment on anything about it, citing the pending court case.

Such identity projects are increasingly common and sometimes even lauded by global institutions like the World Bank for their potential to increase access to financial services and ensure transparent elections.

But as in India, where the government has come under withering criticism for forcing nearly two million people to prove their citizenship or risk being declared stateless, Kenya’s program has been denounced for further marginalizing already vulnerable populations.

“There is the real risk,” said Keren Weitzberg, a researcher at University College London who is studying the biometric program in Kenya, that the IDs “will only reproduce existing inequalities and exacerbate debates over who is ‘really’ a Kenyan.”

Kenya is a diverse country with a history of tensions between ethnic groups. Indians and Nubians, whose ancestors were brought to Kenya as workers by the British colonial authorities, have struggled for generations to be accepted as full citizens. Kenyans of Somali descent have faced particular suspicion and discrimination — even being rounded up and held for days in a stadium — in the wake of terrorist attacks by the Shabab militant group.

In Kenya, to secure a biometric identification number — known as a Huduma Namba, or “service number” in Swahili — adults must provide a national identity card, while birth certificates are required for those under 18.

The Kenyan government has long made it harder — or even impossible — for members of some ethnic groups, among them Nubians, Somalis, Maasais, Boranas, Indians and Arabs, to apply for the documents required for national ID cards.

They may be asked to present land titles or the papers of their grandparents, or be questioned by security agents. And often, they can apply only on specific days of the week or in certain seasons, especially in small towns and rural areas.

Members of some of these communities live along Kenya’s borders, and government officials say they have introduced some measures to keep out those who pose a security risk, or people fleeing war in neighboring Somalia. But the measures also affect pastoralists who cross back and forth along the country’s borders, such as the Maasai and Samburu.

The added hurdles have affected at least five million of Kenya’s 47.5 million people, leading to delays in processing their ID cards and outright denials, said Laura Goodwin, the citizenship program director for Namati, an international legal justice group.

Human rights advocates say that many people were turned away during the biometric registration drive last April and May. If the biometric ID system goes ahead, Ms. Goodwin said, millions could end up without identification numbers.

For Mr. Kafe, whose Nubian forbears were brought from Sudan to Kenya by the British colonial authorities over a century ago, the government’s plan risks rendering him stateless.

He said that he lost his national identity card in a robbery soon after leaving the police service in the early 70s, and was unable to secure a replacement even after supplying sworn affidavits.

“I lost hope,” he said on a recent morning near his home in Kibera, an urban slum southwest of Nairobi. “I was very disappointed in Kenya.”

Many Kenyans in towns and villages outside of Nairobi and other major cities lack papers because their local registration centers are far away. Or they have to wait longer for papers because those centers are overwhelmed.

Meimuna Mohamood is a Kenyan citizen of Somali descent, and lives in the northeastern town of Garissa, along the border with Somalia. Garissa has been the target of repeated terrorist attacks by the Shabab extremist group, including one on the university in 2015 that left 148 people dead. Afterward, government officials vowed to tighten security.

Ms. Mohamood has an identity card. But she has not been able to obtain birth certificates — which are necessary for children to get biometric identifiers — for her daughters, who are 5 and 7.

The two girls were born at home, not a hospital, where their births would have easily been recorded. Her efforts to register them have so far been stymied by government officials.

“I keep going back to government offices, and they always say there is something missing,” Ms. Mohamood said. “I am afraid for my girls. They are not in any system. I am worried about their future.”

The government has also drawn criticism over the mechanism it used to institute the Huduma project, whose initial cost was projected at over $74 million.

It was introduced in Parliament using a procedure usually reserved for minor changes to existing laws, and its first iteration sought to collect DNA and GPS data, both of which were barred by a court in April. The legislation detailing how the system would work was not published until July, after the registration drive had ended.

The law also imposes fines and criminal penalties, including prison time, for failing to register — which critics have called disproportionate.

“You shouldn’t have to blackmail people into doing things that are for their own good,” said Nanjala Nyabola, the author of “Digital Democracy, Analogue Politics: How the internet Era is Transforming Politics in Kenya.”

Then there are questions about privacy, about how the government will keep the information secure and how exactly the data will be used. Kenya approved a data protection law in November that outlined restrictions on data handling and sharing by companies and the government. That law is being challenged in a separate court case.

Most biometric initiatives, said Ms. Weitzberg, the researcher at University College London, involve partnerships between governments and private companies, and could be compromised if they are not fully transparent or regulated by robust laws.

Idemia, the French firm that won the contract to supply Kenya’s biometric kits, was already embroiled in controversy for its work on Kenya’s 2017 elections and was sanctioned by Parliament last year — a move Idemia is challenging in court.

Testifying in the case before the Kenyan high court, an Indian cybersecurity expert said that Huduma was “functionally and architecturally very similar” to his own country’s biometric ID program, Aadhaar, which was itself subject to a constitutional challenge.

The expert, Anand Venkatanarayanan, said the project would create national security risks, including hacking by foreign actors, that Kenya’s government did not have the technological capability to mitigate. Huduma’s design is like a cart “drawn by a lame horse on the digital highway,” he told the court.

“That it would fail and fall behind is a foregone conclusion,” he said.

For Mr. Kafe, at least, there may be a glimmer of hope.

After he agreed to testify in court in the challenge to the Huduma program, he said, registration officials visited his home and said they would process his documents.

In September, he was given a “waiting card,” which the government supplies while a national ID is being processed. But it could be months or even years before his identity card is delivered, if he receives one at all.

“When does a Kenyan become Kenyan?” Mr. Kafe asked. “We need a system that’s good for all. We need equality.”

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janiklandre-blog · 8 years ago

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Friday, March 31st, 2017

last day of March, nasty weather - 9:35 a.m. - preoccupied with those cataracts - "they" said they would call me today to let me know time to be on Monday on East 80th street - still under shock about price of these drops - also the drops he told me to use, such a pain, you have to squeeze and squeeze that tiny bottle - at last likely to miss the eye - no fun.

So, I treasure now my time at this here computer - came downstairs at 9:15, room here still closed, at this moment one of the nice maintenance men appeared - will I get this Asus? will I not get it and learn to use ipad at last - in the meantime I am wasting money - and prepared for the worst in co-pay - some do get millions out of medicare - thank God I am not one of them - still - all I do is pay for it and then endless copay - only my socalled primary doctor - whom I like but also don't trust - she has never charged me a penny.

Speaking of that, I heard that French Christine is town - she went to my primary doctor, then got on an HMO that does not pay her - never understood that - she still treated her, for free and Christine wanted to sue her for not treating her right. She now lives in Paris, in the 16eme arrondissmont - fancy Paris - of course, she also owns an apartment that she rents, bad neiborhood - and at this moment she is here for two weeks. She taught me about people of value - since - I hope - she no longer wants to use my docror - I am no longer of great value - wonder if she will call me at all - if not, so be it. All the people users - they call you when they want something from you.

All the annoyances. But also pleasures! Well, yesterday I headed for the dentist - good dentists have kept me painfree for most of my life - and I am thinking of a Dutch woman in Amherst, she was beautiful, she went to some dentist who was a friend - who did something that caused her such permanent pain - one day she killed herself. In the NYT was also an item - medicare does not pay a cent for dental car, medicaid only for fillings and extractions and perhaps some lousy dentures - millions don't go to dentists because they cannot afford it - and teeth cause great medical problems.

My very expensive dentist whom I have now seen for 20 years, began to relent on payments when he knew I no longer could afford it - and saw me with great sorrow through the deterioration of my teeth due to betablockers - meds to keep my veins open to prevent strokes - and strokes are scary - but now my teeth are gone and since last August this bridge he lovingly made - a great decoration, I look wonderful - but a year ago he still had hopes for improving them but in August he told me, there was no more hope. Then he told me I have to face dentures - he would make them - though it seems it is not his specialty. Slowly I'm getting used to this idea - but yesterday, once again, he said he was using the strongest cement but did not want to talk about the dentures - his office equipped with very expensive machinery, two lovely assistents in a neighborhood whre rents also a sky rocking - I would not be surprised if the landlord is squeezing him - and he also is not getting younger - all he could say yesterday was: wait until after Easter - and so I have no idea where this is going and may also end up with great costs for decent dentures. Just about all people I know who have them keep taking them out, eating without them - and yet my grandmother got them at 24 and I don't remember complaints, the parents of my ex-husband had them and joyfully ate their steaks they so loved - while my bridge looks great but I have not been able to chew properly since I got it.

The great German writer Thomas Mann who, just like the Russians and also Proust and others wrote novels in the most leisurely of styles, I read most of Thomas Mann - he was very teeth conscious and remarked in his writing how teeth are related to social class. My mother spent much effort to keep her teeth and my teeth in classy shape - I immediately notice somebody's missing tooth or teeth. And I am so aware of the high cost of keeping teeth in some sort of shape. Of the countless people who suffer infection - and yes, how can I forget my former husband - whose second and third wives no longer allowed him to see the excellent dentist, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who's husband we had hosted in Geneva had recoomended when I asked her in 1962 - they would not allow him to see a dentist I was seeing and he obayed - and is was the dentist of the disastrous third wife, whose dentist extracted a tooth and did not give him anti biotics. It seems as a child he had had rheumatic fever that had effected his heart - in any event - he developed a heart infection that nearly killed him, put him on a drip in the hospital for weeks - a good reason for cutting his sons off any support because the wife claimed they did not show enough concern - and, then there was a repeat of the heart infection and a second hospital stay - may have led up to his triple bypass - all related to teeth and a bad dentist.

Obviously, I too can dwell on the topic at length - wondering when and how I will get these dentures - ate enough steaks in my life, don't care that much for them - am resigned not to bite into apples any more, to stay away from nuts, to cherish what is soft - icecream! chocolate cake - and yes, there is the mixer not much used until now - longingly I do look at many foods I no longer can eat - but this is more survivable than a heart infection, and the great pain of the beautiful Dutch woman.

It is a trip to get to my dentist - he is on the Upper West Side - I always get there early in ordeer to be on time, by now have sampled eateries on Broadway, settled on what is called a diner - a nostalgia diner - has little to do with what diners once were about. A pricey diner. Before seeing the dentist I treated myself to chocolate mousse cake, it was excellent.

Later I headed for Central Park - for years and years I walked there, yesterday I took two buses, one down Broatway to 79th Street and then one across. On the first one a man got on with greatest difficulty, moaning and groaning - I said I sing the song What a drag it is getting old - I am not old, he angrily said, I am only 76. O.k. I said, you are the new 36 and he said, indeed I am, I have so much energy, I will do in Trump - good for you, I said. A New York exchange. I am glad theere are Americans like you - and indeed we need them - reading the NYT - it all is unbelievable. The cuts for this here my housing could be momentarily cut, good bye computer room - who knows where I'll go.

In the park I met two impassioned birders - one woman who had been on many safaris in Africa but now arthritis plagues her, the other a photographer - somewhere in the 70's - young - she sells her photograohs on 5th Avenue, brings a table and all - and then there was my friend Suzanne. A German - in her 50's - she never was married, no children, also strenuously staying young - I must, I must, I must she says - a bundle of incredible energied - and endless diseases - long living on an overstayed visitor's visa - great efforts and expense to get a green card - one of so many European I do meet - who consideer it their worst fate having to go back to their native country. I was lucky to arrive here on permanent papers and on the day I was here five years, at little cost and no effort became a U.S. citizen - it was 1956 - withiut a moment's hesitation I gave up my German citizenship. My number 456 German passpart alas burned in 2000. Now dual citizenship is possible - expemsive and tedious project - I am glad for my American passport - though I now do say, I've managed to be a citizen of two evil empires - luckily Hitler made me stateless, so I was not a citizen then.

Suzanne, a long story - she now found her vocation as a tourist guide - loves it - works incredibly hard at it - yesterday she also had some book on Prana - she knows countless people, many Indians - some sort of Indian wisdom she is studying and wants to teach - about changing your consciousness - to her regret I did not have too much interest - but she is such life wire - I do enjoy her - and she is a good reason for going to Central Park - so serene and quiet compare to Washington Square - a park where you can enjoy the flowers provided by the park conservancy - run by rich neighbors of the park - and a long waiting list to become a volunteer. Society status.

My friend had called, said she would come for an hour at 6 p.m. - I got on bus at 4:30 was downtown at 5:30 - figures it is 3.5 miles - marathon runners do 26 miles in a little over two hours - you waait for New York buses endlessly, then this one stopped nearly a block short of the 26 street stop, said last stop - there had been three people on the bus - Uber is getting cheaper than buses - clogging the streets - the buses do run good routes, but rarely come - and then - five at a ime, getting into each other's way.

My friend came, she then went to see Hair done by some old people under Columbia U.auspices - we were joined by my house guests - she of course was particularly interested in the Lebanese man - there are many religions in Lebanon, two Catholic - amazing into how many categories we are divided - I say I only want label: Human being - trying to be as good as I can. Maronite and Caldeic Catholics. the Maronites speak Arabic, the Caldeic speak Caldeic, some ancient language - and if lucky we can communicate in English. French also an important language in Lebanon - it was a French colony.

It's 11 a.m.off to the church - there is a woman Marie, Serbian, she comes to the CW - she has a daughter Svetlana who escaper her to Europe, she is a horder and about to be evicted - she always tries to get my attention - bt she is real trouble - still I feel a bit guilty for totallu avoiding her, could I give her some good reason - well - there have been others in my life who later told me they saw me as stuck up - I guess I do give many different impressions to different people - mostly thesae days an old woman hobbling about - still, this Marie who so much wants to tell me of her great troubles bothers me - she is there at the church, fighting with people - there is nothing I can do for her, but I also don't want to listen to her - my friend likes her - and of course she is not much available and so Marie looks at me. What does one do. 11:10 - I'll miss the writing - Monday the op - then dark glasses, expensive drops, my friend who has come says he'll stay until I feel o.k. - I much appreciate that. Have not heard from "them" - perhaps a message on my land line. Adios.

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

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Kenya’s New Digital IDs May Exclude Millions of Minorities

NAIROBI, Kenya — For all his 73 years, Ahmed Khalil Kafe lived as a citizen of Kenya.

Born in the capital, Nairobi, Mr. Kafe worked as a police officer and even served with the presidential guard, court documents show. But last April, when he tried to register for a national ID in the giant biometric database that President Uhuru Kenyatta has said will be the “single source of truth” on Kenya’s population, he was turned away.