Bump to baby on the beaten expat track
Hello Kitty was the stuff of many an Asian kid’s fanaticism. I did also think it was cute, but thankfully as an adult pondering parenthood I can now appreciate my parents’ inability to spoil me with lots of toys on birthdays and christmases, or fill my room with all manner of stuffed animals, Barbie dolls, and pink girly things for that matter.
Anyway, I came across this blog post by a guy trapped in the cutesy culture of Asia; I love the “evil feline” mockery!
Several women in my family went prematurely gray, and since they were not slaves to the beauty industry I knew from an early age those strands which society hates so much would pop out soon. Sure enough, at the age of 12, they started. Remarks were plenty, but none (that got to my ears) were patronising about my choice to leave it be.
(Frankly, the thought of that carcinogenic sludge on my hair or skin was less the attractive option than staying salt-n-pepper, never mind the time sink of perpetual coloring sessions.)
Here in Southeast Asia, with the role of women as they are (subservient, servile, invisible unless spoken to), the pressure to look good is greater, which explains why the taboo of gray hair is so much worse than it is back home in the US. There’s hardly a salon visit here in which I don’t shock the stylist with my natural grays and scolded that I should color my hair so that I “look good” and make my husband happy.
It’s like the conversations with my male Khmer friends acquaintances: “What do you mean your wife has no interests?” “You don’t know how to cook?”
Sigh. Sometimes there’s such charm in ignorance.
Needless to say, those stylists got an earful on how this chic-tica views such advice and why they won’t get my business again – but only after the cut and style was finished!
So the times they are a-changin’, and goin’ gray has become the vogue thing in the fashionista world. As uncommon as it is for caucasian women in the spotlight to be comfortable getting photographed with their gray, there are even fewer Asian women mellowing to this route. (Ping me if you see any, I’ll post their photos to replace the ones above, beautiful as they are!)
Photos are from Oprah’s Gray Hair Bible and IndiaInfo’s Gray Hair to Age Backwards?. How is gray hair not seen as sexy and smart? I say flaunt it. Here are my locks:
I love this webzine. Good is having a contest to create an infographic about the new health care bill. It has a great roundup of links:
The piece from The New York Times helps sum up the major changes. This piece in the Washington Post shows how people in the House voted, and how much money they took from the health-care lobby. Here is a great bullet-pointed list from CBS. Here is the full text of the bill, and here is the Congressional Budget Office’s estimation of how much it costs. Feel free to supplement this with any data you find yourself. And please, help each other. No one will get extra credit for using special data, so if you find something cool or helpful, please post it in the comments.
I just concluded my employment with the GTZ Health Programme, who I’ve been with since 2006, on a team collaborating with the Ministry of Health and partners on social health protection strategy and policies for Cambodia. Concurrent with health financing initiatives, the programme is active in developing quality accreditation processes at the provincial, district and facility levels. I was responsible for monitoring, evaluation and reporting, the Safe Motherhood programme and patient rights advocacy.
Vastly challenging and rewarding though working on this programme was, after much thought about my role on the team, I finally came to the conclusion that it was too limited on the community mobilisation side, a personal interest that is simply outside the mandate of the programme. I opted to cut the salary ties and go the independent consultancy route. I found myself in a second-guessing cold sweat for several weeks after that decision, but in the end there is no other option.
The disconnect between policy/programme priorities and the goals of the community was not being addressed, and vertical programming is inadequate to address the social issues among the population. Amid the rapid changes in Cambodia’s health care system, it’s a crucial time to build upon the grassroots infrastructure. So I’m currently exploring options for lifestyle messaging trainings. In this I’m referencing primarily safe motherhood/delivery messages considering the high maternal and infant mortality rates (MMR and IMR) in Cambodia (two of our millennium development goals). Having worked on health financing initiatives and in light of Cambodia’s social health protection strategy, in addition to the personal financial planning gaps highlighted by the global economic downturn, I’m also investigating financial literacy as a component of such public health messages.
Another project I’m involved with is developing a Centre for Exchange in Phnom Penh and Vientiane. Back in college, friends and I set up an Asian American organisation under the leadership of a smart businesswoman I greatly admire, Latsamy. Today it is still very active in advocacy and networking. There was a lot of great input from members, and mentorship from a Pakistani activist, Asma Barlas. We’re aiming to set up a platform for Khmer-, Hmong- and Lao-American students to network with fellow students in Cambodia and Laos to promote, advocate and develop sustainable solutions to issues in these two countries.
I’m still concepting the programming strategy for both and bouncing ideas around with fellow consultants and startups. I’ll keep you posted :-)
This year’s Guinness quest took us to Pacharan for happy hour. Celebrating St Patrick’s Day at a spanish tapas bar might sound a bit odd, but they were temporarily hosting the Guinness Surger Unit. This nifty contraption uses ultrasonic pulses to stimulate the molecules and release the nitrogen, transforming your sad can of Guinness into a cream-brimmed glass of velvet, just like a draught pour. Funky eh? The unit isn’t expensive; I’m amazed these Irish bars around town haven’t caught on to it as it’s been around nearly 4(?) years. And for $3.50 a pint, it sure beats the other bars selling the widget cans for $6.50!
Great piece from Good, on getting to know your Éire-inspired words, from Irish apricots to Irish wolfhounds: Get Your Irish Up!
Like it or not, part of Irish history involves a metric ton of colloquial terms that have the word “Irish” as a describer. While you’re hoisting a Guinness or chasing a leprechaun, take a minute to appreciate this small but vibrant subset of the huger linguistic impact of the Irish. As a substantially Irish person myself, I can appreciate that not all these terms are flattering, but they’re an undeniable fossil record of how people have perceived the Irish, and the prejudice they’ve faced. Dictionaries—accurate ones, anyway—have never been a safe haven for the squeamish; they record the sins, errors, prejudices, and foibles of humanity in all their ugly glory.
So Keith and I were the other night having a few drinks at Rising Sun by the river when the Soup Messenger came by. Here’s what it sounded like:
[audio:https://www.abejero.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/Sound-clip-clak-clak1.mp3|titles=Sound clip clak clak|righticon=0x0000ff]
It’s a relic of the olden days, when food carts roamed the city streets and a little boy was sent ahead to let people know the food is coming. The kid taps a stick against a piece of bamboo, the sound of which the dead of night really carries– especially back when houses were mostly wooden. (The concrete shophouses along the river also bounce a healthy bit of noise). The sequence and rhythm of the clak-clak-clak is code for what kind of food they sold – bohboh (rice soup), nom ban chok (white noodle soup), etc. If you want some, the kid will run back to the cart and bring a bowl of soup to you. The cart pusher will wait until you finish eating (cuz s/he wants his bowl and chopsticks back), and the boy will go on ahead looking for more customers.
When we heard the familiar clak-clak-claks, Keith chased the kid down for a photo (we’ve been trying to catch a picture of him for months!). But it just doesn’t really do it justice. So when the kid came back around to go into the opposite direction I chased after him for a sound clip. It was dark and hardly a soul was out on the streets, so he was probably thinking how loony foreigners are.
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