A Correspondence Between Two Lebanese-Armenian Lesbians on the Armenian Genocide: Bekhsoos

Queer Arab magazine Bekhsoos by the amazing folks at Meem, a group of lesbian, bisexual, queer and questioning women and transgender persons in Lebanon, published a correspondence between two queer Lebanese-Armenian women who talk about their identity and the Armenian Genocide.

Here it is, respectfully republished, below (thanks to Unzipped: Gay Armenia where I first found out about this correspondence).

P.S. I know Shant personally, albeit virtually, and apart from being a feminist and a warm, genuine person, she's also a great filmmaker and artist ;)

__________________________________

Dear Sarag,

When I first realized I was queer, it wasn’t anything shocking for me as I was always the minority of some other minority.

My first cause ever was the Armenian genocide and I held on to it like someone holds on to their dear life. The idea that another group wanted to erase something very essential in my being and eradicate it was enough for me to want to resist.

It’s not easy to know that someone wants you to no longer exist.

So when I look around now and I think of the homophobia and the people who want to eradicate us because for them we are a disease, it’s not something new. When I think of all the gendercide and how a lot of our societies break women and burry their existence in petty beliefs, it’s not something new.

I am a queer Armenian Lebanese woman; a half-breed to add to that and this is the essence of my survival. For 95 years our people have been screaming for justice and we will keep on shouting and screaming even when the dearest feminists shout back but who cars about this now? How is it relevant to our cause?

I want to tell you how relevant it is. It is relevant because it is my cause and I am a feminist and it’s a human cause.

It is relevant because its Darfur and Gaza, it is relevant because when we got here we were thrown in camps and orphanages and built our lives from rubbles, it is relevant because women were raped and killed and children sold, it is relevant because justice has not been restored. And you know, when justice is not restored the whole order of your world crumbles. You ask me why I still want them to utter words or recognition? Because I want to be in peace, I want to believe in the good order of the universe, I want to know that the good prevails that there is hope. This is why I fight as a feminist, this is why I fight as a queer, it is why I choose these battles where small victories fuel me with hope

and I think of bigger ones.

Imagine you had 5 more years, only five years to prove that you’ve been raped and beaten, your land stolen. You had five years and you show humanity proof and ask for justice to be made and you know that once those five years go by, humanity’s corrupt system will erase your trauma from its history and move on. You are silenced and mute and your rapist still wandering out there. What would you do? We have 5 more years and then it’s the centenary and after that according to international laws our cause is a lost one. Wonderful example to give to states like Israel, practicing apartheid.

Love,

Shant

___________________

Dear Shant,

You already know, I relate to everything said in your e-mail.

I have always been a part of a minority, ever since I was born.

As I discovered more and more about myself, I became a minority of a minority and it has always been a struggle.

A struggle mainly for my rights. For my rights as an Armenian living in Lebanon, as a Woman, and as a Queer.

A struggle for belonging.. I was born in Lebanon but let’s face it, do I really belong here? It doesn’t really feel like it since I have always been pointed out as The Armenian among the Lebanese. It doesn’t really feel like it since el 3arabeh taba3 el arman mkassar, since we have a different culture and different traditions.

The next question would be. Do I belong in Armenia? Here… This breaks my heart. I don’t even belong in Armenia, because I am only a tourist there. A tourist that doesn’t even speak the same language as the Armenians there.

I have heard so much about Armenians since I was in school by my teachers, my parents, and my grandmothers. I have heard so many stories about my own family, about my own grandfather and my great grandfather and grandmother.

What do I do with all that? Get over it? Let it go?

It’s impossible…

It has become a part of me. A part of my core being.

It is in the blood.

What I find messed up is how countries like The United States or the European union use the Genocide as some joker card against Turkey. They don’t care about the recognition, they hold on to that card so that they can have political stances and gains. The U.S. gets to have army bases and fly into Iraq from over Turkey and the E.U. uses it to stop Turkey from getting in its sphere. And our history relies on their twisted politics.

We fight every day for our rights as queers. We want justice, we want acknowledgement.

We get frustrated and irritated. We go insane when we hear about all the queers and transgendered people that have been murdered.

All this blood spilled… Who could really get over it? Who could really accept it in the first place?

Hate, denial of our existence and their desire to annihilate us…

It’s something none of us should shut up about.

The Armenian cause is so close to all the other causes we believe in and fight for.

You don’t have to necessarily be an Armenian to feel this… You just have to be human.

And there is a big difference between human and “human”.

Love,

Sarag

Social Innovation Camp Caucasus

This 10-minute film on Social Innovation Camp Caucasus, which took place in Tbilisi, Georgia, from April 8 to 10, says it all: What an experience!

And for a more thorough article on Global Voices by Onnik Krikorian, click here.

Coincidences aren’t really coincidences.... or, Not really random encounters in Yerevan

Since I’ve quit my job, I’ve found that I’m busier now than I was when I was working full-time, believe it or not. And that’s a good thing! I’ve had a chance to meet amazing, creative people doing amazing, creative things — and with such a passion for life! People I might not have crossed paths with if I was still working at my former job.

It all started with my trip to Tbilisi for an intense couple of days at Social Innovation Camp Caucasus (and I know I promised to write more on that; it’s just that there’s been so much else going on... I"ll try to get back on that topic later).

Oh, and the fun didn’t stop there.

Only a few days ago, I had the opportunity to meet with Alexis Ohanian, co-founder of Reddit.com, and Drew Curtis, founder of Fark.com, at a bar in Yerevan (and drinks were on them!).

Drew’s in town only for a few days (a little over a week, if I’m not mistaken), while Alexis has been in Yerevan for about 3 months now. He’s here as a Kiva Fellow; in fact, he left Reddit.com in October of last year, but, like me, it seems, leaving his job hasn’t made him idle; in fact, he seems to have his hands full with a host of other projects.

Apart from his first ever trip to Armenia (he’s half-Armenian, half-German, by the way) and working with Kiva, Alexis has also been working on an uncorporation (I love that term) he founded called BreadPig.com, which creates and sells geeky products, donating all profits to charity (according to Alexis’ bio on the Kiva Fellows page).

Not only that, he’s the guy behind TEDx Yerevan, an independently organized TED event to be held in Armenia on September 25, 2010. How cool is that? (and for the TED connection, you should check out his TED talk on “How to make a splash in social media,” where, with a touch of humour and a well-chosen example, he demonstrates the power of social media in just four minutes).

The day after meeting Alexis and Drew, who do I run into randomly on the street but Tony Bowden of MySociety.org? Tony’s originally from Belfast, Northern Ireland, but he currently lives in Tallinn, Estonia (Margit, you have to connect with him: he’s on CouchSurfing and he organizes CS events in Tallinn. And one of these days, I’ll come visit you both! :)

I had the chance to meet Tony, the world-traveller, in Tbilisi where he was presenting at the Social Media for Social Change conference (happening in the same venue and at the same time as SI Camp Caucasus). I knew he was coming to Yerevan, but though we had connected online, we hadn’t yet arranged a Yerevan rendez-vous, and yet here he was! I’m sure he was just as surprised to see me (with bike and all) as I was to see him. We agreed to meet for drinks the following day.

It crossed my mind that maybe Alexis and Drew would like to meet Tony and maybe Tony would like to meet Alexis and Drew, so I tried to coordinate a get-together for Friday night. Alas, I didn’t have a number for Alexis (nor Drew) and Facebook and email were, for once, failing me. I sent a Facebook message to Tony to meet for drinks for his last night in Yerevan anyway.

I was to meet Tony at his hotel lobby on Friday night, but I was running a little late, and when I got there, he was nowhere in sight :( Luckily, my friend Anoush had connected with him and told me that we were to meet at Baobab (oddly enough, same venue where I first met Alexis and Drew only days before... coincidence? I think not).

Anoush and I agreed to meet at a specific intersection than walk over to Baobab. As I was on my way to meet Anoush, who do I run into but a brother of a friend of mine who’s been living in Armenia for over 3 years, but who I had not met till now? He was the spitting image of his brother and for a moment I thought it was him (Berj) but it turned out to be his brother Hratch. He didn’t know me, so I introduced myself and we talked a bit, while I searched for Anoush (at the same intersection, mind you).

As Hratch and I were walking along (and I was playing phone tag with Anoush), a man suddenly asks, “Adrineh?” and I say “Goga? What are you doing here?!” A friend of mine and my sister and brother-in-law’s, Georgy (or Goga, as we call him affectionately), originally from Armenia, was studying in Toronto when we met him a number of years ago. He then moved to Moscow where he currently lives. So you can imagine my surprise at “randomly” running into him on a street in Yerevan. Turns out he’s in town for 9 days, so I gave him my number and we agreed to connect.

All this, while I’m still walking with Hratch and then I see Anoush across the street. She comes over, Hratch takes his leave, I introduce Anoush to Goga. It’s a brief moment of many things going on at once, different people coming together, but though I’m a bit disoriented, I’m relishing the moment and the coincidences that aren’t really coincidences when you live in Armenia.

But, alas, the story continues.

We get to Baobab where I see a number of other familiar faces, mostly from SI Camp Caucasus. A pleasant surprise! As we’re sitting and talking with Tony et al., who happens to come to our table? If you haven’t figured it out by now, it was Alexis and Drew.

For all the organizing and coordinating I attempted to do over the past couple of days, the meeting I was planning happened beyond my control.

I couldn’t help but smile.

I quit my day job and went to SI Camp...

... and both decisions were probably the best things I’ve ever done in my life.

And the great thing is I’m still here.

Over 70 ideas submitted, only 6 selected, and only 40 participants (out of 150 that applied), Social Innovation Camp Caucasus, taking place from April 8–10 in Tbilisi, Georgia, is not a conference, not a bar camp, and most definitely not for the faint of heart.

A group of mainly youth, from Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia (with a few expats, mostly American, and one repat, me ;) working on ideas that address issues we find in our countries using social media tools.

For more on Social Innovation Camp, go here. To see the six ideas selected, go here.

I’m working on “No Problem!” with Karine Mkrtchyan, Ali Resh (Reshad) and Aleksey Chalabyan, a great idea submitted by Karine that seeks to uncover and report on all those problems which government officials say don’t exist and mainstream media don’t report on.

We’re mainly journalists in our group, but we’re lucky to have Aleksey, a whiz at Drupal, the content management system we’ve decided to use to execute our idea. Like with most of the other groups at SI Camp Caucasus, we were lacking a web designer (though Reshad graciously filled that role in the interim, providing wonderful ideas on layout and design).

At 8 pm last night, just before we left Cultural Center Muza to head back to our hotel, Nodar Davituri appeared like magic (recruited by Anna Keshelashvili, I think — thank you!) and announced that he would design our site. We gave him our sketch for the layout and explained the various elements. He said he would begin working on it at 10 pm (poor guy, I think he was running around and probably had his plate full, doing more than what most of us do on a Friday night ;)

I’ll have more to report on SI Camp Caucasus after it wraps up tonight. But I will mention one thing: getting a group of Azerbaijani, Armenian, Georgian youth together in one room is no easy task. We tend to stick with our own, with the people we came with. But I’m so happy to see that our 6 groups are mixed: there are Azerbaijani guys working on an idea envisioned by an Armenian woman that, initially anyway, focuses on an issue in Armenia. There’s an Armenian guy and girl working on an idea created by an Azerbaijani woman about an issue that she’s found in Azerbaijan (and for a website — or I should say, “online platform” — that will be in Azerbaijani). There’s a couple of American expats working on an idea submitted by a Georgian journalist. It’s a good mix of people.

And with a good mix of people, you can’t go wrong. Something amazing is bound to happen ;) More to come on that later.

Why are you in Armenia?

I know a few expats and even more repats in Armenia, but I think I might be the only queer repat or expat who’s here to be with the person she loves. There are at least a few men from the US (often who came initially as volunteers with the Peace Corps), not to mention others, who came to Armenia, met an Armenian woman, got married, and stayed (and in some cases had kids). Not an unfamiliar story.

There are a number of Diasporan Armenians who are not from here, who have repatriated. They’re not expats, they’re repats, because their ethnicity is that of the dominant majority: they (we) are Armenian. Or as Merriam-Webster defines it, to repatriate is “to restore or return to the country of origin allegiance, or citizenship.”

Some of us repats speak Armenian, some don’t. Some of us speak the Western dialect, some of us the Eastern dialect (that which is spoken more commonly in Armenia). Some of us are here on a one-year program funded by grants, some of us have started businesses or created NGOs and charities, sometimes from the ground up. Some (like me) got here, then looked for work to earn an income (it helps, though, if you prepare in advance).

There are also those of us who are half-Armenian or a quarter-Armenian (if we want to play the numbers game) who are here discovering our roots or at least experiencing first-hand the country that we have read about, heard about and — perhaps — dreamed about. I don’t consider myself part of this group. Not simply because both of my parents are Armenian, but because I have family here, I’ve been here before, and I never really held this idolized image of a “homeland.”

I grew up in Toronto, Canada, where I went to an Armenian private school for the first 12 years of my life. I was rooted in my community, while feeling that I unable to fully express myself in what I considered to be (and still do) a closed-off, conservative Diasporan community.

Then I went to Catholic school and from that point on, most of my friends were not Armenian and I found myself going to events in the Armenian community less and less (to my father’s chagrin). All the same, I never felt like I belonged in either the Armenian community or the dominant majority culture in Canada. But what does it mean to belong anyway? Might “belonging” not be a fluid experience, changing in different communities, in different spaces, in different countries?

In Armenia, I can’t say that I feel like I belong. I am here; I live here. But I find myself unable to express myself fully in Armenian, though I speak the language. And I’ve realized that language, too, is not simply knowing words or even the meaning of words. Language is a gateway: to culture, to a way of seeing the world, to an approach (This reminds me of a recent post by fellow repat Raffi Niziblian). And I have an English-language approach. I think and read and write more in English, I problem solve in English, I analyze in English. But the truth is, I feel in Armenian. And that is why I could never reconcile myself in English whilst in Canada. I can express myself logically, with words, to someone in English. But they will not fully understand what I mean, or rather, what I feel, because for me, that is in Armenian.

So what else is new? It is the experience of the hyphenated Canadian (in my case), the Diasporan, the immigrant, or the expat/repat all over the world. Fellow blogger Anastasia M. Ashman, in her blog “Furthering the Worldwide Cultural Conversation,” asks good questions about the “hybrid self” and the “hybrid life” here and on fluidity here.

But the funny thing is (or maybe it’s not so funny, maybe it’s the most logical thing in the world), I find myself able to relate more to the expats in Armenia, that is, those who are not Armenian, who might never have even heard of Armenia before coming here, but who came and fell in love and stayed, than the repats, the Diasporan Armenians who chose to come here, who came with their partners or came solo, who came to do good work, or just to see what living in the “homeland” is like.

Though I told my grandmother before she passed away that I would like to live in Armenia for year (long before I met my partner), it wasn’t because I was searching for home or longing for culture. I don’t know why I said that. Perhaps I wanted to live in a country where I heard and spoke in Armenian all the time, where it wasn’t compartmentalized to one part of my life (speaking it at home with my family, for instance).

Perhaps I just wanted to experience the adventure of living abroad for a year (an experience I had afterwards, but in Europe). Perhaps I told her I wanted to live here because it would be something she might be proud of, seeing as I was yet unmarried and childless — life stages I should have already reached (“accomplished”) by my age, something she could be proud of.

I don’t know why I said it, but I know that I meant it at the time. And living here became a reality when I made the move last year not only because I met the love of my life, but also because I met amazing women, artists, activists, and a lively LGBT community (though perhaps few would use such terms, or even identify themselves as belonging to “the community”). I wanted to come here to work with them, to create art with them, to create change through art. I could see the possibilities during my brief stay here, and yes, I felt a sense of community.

And maybe, just maybe it felt a little like coming home.

My Top 10 New Favourite Blogs

None of these blogs are new per se, but some of them I only came across yesterday (hence, they’re new to me). Others I’ve been following for some time (like Unzipped).

I wonder, where do these bloggers have the time to write? None of them (as far as I know) make their living from blogging. And yet they put together well-thought-out, insightful, engaging stories (not to mention photographs and videos) on a regular basis.

I have complete respect for these writers and analysts (for they are analysts even if they may not say so themselves), artists, activists, journalists, moms, and cultural workers.

Here they are (in no particular order):

http://jonathanmakiri.com/blog/

Jonathan Makiri, American living in Istanbul. Currently in Yerevan. Beautiful photographs. See what he sees.

http://tom.ride-earth.org.uk/

Tom Allen, English cyclist and web guru living in Yerevan with his Armenian wife from Tehran, Iran. His first solo exhibit featuring photographs from touring (by bicycle, naturally) in the Middle East and North Africa opens at the Armenian Center for Contemporary Experimental Art (ACCEA, or NPAK in Armenian) in Yerevan tomorrow.

http://dividingmytime.typepad.com/my-blog/

Dividing My time: Finding the Funnier Side of Life in Russia

Jennifer Eremeeva. American expat living in Moscow. I think the title says it all :)

http://scaryazeri.blogspot.com/

Scary Azeri in the Suburbs

Mom from Baku, Azerbaijan, now living in the UK. I love her writing, and how accessible it is.

http://flyingcarpetsandbrokenpipelines.blogspot.com/

Arzu Geybullayeva. Young blogger, and social and political activist from Baku, Azerbaijan. Lived in the States for a year and has studied in Turkey and in the UK. Returned to Baku, where she works with the European Stability Initiative. Interests include conflict resolution (she writes extensively on conflicts in the South Caucasus), gender studies, and sustainable development.

http://gayarmenia.blogspot.com/

Art Mika. Gay Armenian man from Armenia currently living and working in the UK. I live in Yerevan, but somehow he seems to know more about what’s going on in my city than I do :) A trusted source on just about everything gay and Armenian (not to mention the Eurovision Song Contest :)

http://anastasiaashman.wordpress.com/

Anastasia Ashman (aka Thandelike). US expat living in Istanbul. “Furthering the worldwide cultural conversation: Raising the feminine voice on issues of culture and history, self improvement and the struggle for identity — in one family to entire hemispheres.”

http://rosedeniz.blogspot.com/

“Love, Rose”

Rose Deniz. American expat living in Turkey. Art is Dialogue curator. Writes about identity, mothering, hybrid lives, art. Just came across her blog yesterday and even though I’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg, I want to read more about what this writer and illustrator has to say.

http://arpinegrigoryan.blogspot.com/

“Whatever you are be a good one”

Arpiné Grigoryan. Armenian living in Armenia (can you believe it? Not an expat :) I relate very much to what she writes about, which is simply the day-to-day of living here, in Yerevan and in this life.

http://larajan.blogspot.com/

"Motherhood, Repatriation and other fictions" (I love the title.)

Lara Aharonian. Expat mother of three from Montreal, Canada (but Beirut, Lebanon, before that), living in Yerevan. The title says it all (side note: Lara is a friend of mine.)

And there you have it. Yes, there are many expats and yes, there’s a focus on the region (Azerbaijan, Turkey, Armenia). However, if you’re reading this (and if you read my blog, in general), I think you might be interested in what these bloggers have to say.

And if you’re a blogger writing about similar topics, drop me a line, introduce yourself. I’d love to read you :)

P.S. The idea for this blog came from here.

Organic Evolution: From CouchSurfing to Blogging to Twitter

A little over 5 years ago, I was living in Amsterdam and travelling in the Baltic states. I used the online service/community site CouchSurfing and was able to secure places to stay by generous people who I met online and then in person.

I was amazed (and still am) by the kindness of strangers.

The first person I ever stayed with was M. in Tallinn, Estonia. I was her first CouchSurfing guest and she was my first CouchSurfing host (not counting the person I stayed with in Berlin, who I had met through friends in Amsterdam). My brief stay in her small apartment, meeting her friends, drinking good coffee at the chain of cafés she worked at, and eating vegetarian food at the local Hare Krishna restaurant are memories that have stayed with me over the years.

Fast forward 5 years.

I, a Canadian of Armenian descent, have moved to Yerevan, Armenia. On a whim, I contact M. (whose number or email I do not have) through CouchSurfing. She writes back! I find out she’s working for an EU organization, while working on a Master’s degree. I tell her I’ve moved to Yerevan, where I’m living with my partner and trying to eek out a living. She sends me her Skype account details. I send her mine.

A couple of days ago, she calls me on Skype. And I have a chance to speak to an old friend who I have neither seen nor been in contact with for 5 years... the conversation is brief as we both have to return to work, but it is reassuring, comforting. I am so happy to hear her voice.

She tells me there’s been progress: she’s now living in an apartment that has hot water and a washing machine (luxury items she didn’t have in the apartment she was renting, and in which I stayed, over 5 years ago). I remember sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the middle of a not-too-too-cold Estonian winter. I remember her greeting me at the airport, getting to her apartment, tired and hungry, and her offering to make me crêpes for dinner! (Before then, I had considered crêpes to be an exclusively breakfast food item :)

That day (though it was evening when I arrived) was probably the start of my trust in the universe. Of trusting in serendipity. CouchSurfing in a way led me to Friendster which led me to Facebook, then blogging, then Twitter. The organic evolution of using online networks, social media, and the resources available on the world wide web to effect change in real life — whether that be a small change in my own life, or a larger change, impacting more people, across borders and boundaries.

And yes, the kindness of strangers.

Thank you, M. If I didn’t say so then, those crêpes were yummy!

Not really a day off, but...

Today, I worked from home. A simple text message to my colleague in the morning: “I need to work from home.” And work I did; in fact, I think I am more efficient, less stressed, and generally more content with my day if I don’t go into the room we call our office (see earlier post).

It also gave me an opportunity to eat warm food (thanks to the opportunity to heat food which exists at home, but not at work), to stare out the window occasionally, and catch up on some much-needed reading of fellow bloggers’ posts.

Reading other people’s writing inspires me. (This reminds me of a post by one of my favourite bloggers, Arzu Geybulla, who writes on her personal blog, Flying Carpets and Broken Pipelines.)

And when you work long hours at an unfulfilling job, it can be difficult sometimes to get inspired and motivated to write... hell, it becomes difficult to just gather your thoughts even, in order to form coherent sentences that someone might actually want to read.

Today was a day full of ideas. And positive energy. And both of these things I hope to take with me when I go to the Social Media for Social Change conference in Tbilisi in April, which I’m very much looking forward to.

Drop me a line if you’re reading this post and will be there too. Interesting things always happen at crossroads...

I work in a room

I work in a room. That is my workplace — a room. There are white walls (at least the ceiling is high), fluorescent lights, one small window, a heater. If we keep the blinds open, a lot of sunlight can get in through that one small window.

In that room, there are 4 long boardroom-type desks, 11 computers, a small table and chair for eating one’s lunch, 2 cupboards. There is a water cooler that provides both hot and cold water. A small electric jazzve for making “Eastern” coffee (also known as Armenian/Arabic/Turkish/Greek coffee) though no one uses it.

There are 2 types of coffee available. Instant and “Eastern” (which very few drink here and when they do, they don’t make it with the jazzve, they make it like they would make instant coffee). I don’t consider instant coffee, coffee, yet what other choice is there? No café or restaurant nearby offers coffee that’s neither instant nor Eastern. The automatic machine downstairs offers cappucino (which is as good as it gets) except it, too, is made from a mix.

I’m not a fan of Starbucks, but oh how I wish sometimes I could just pop downstairs and get a latté (I’m not even asking for a soy latté or a chai or a matcha green tea latté) or some sort of forthy milky real coffee beverage (preferably made with fair trade, organic coffee beans).

But I digress.

In that room, there’s no kitchen, no microwave, no toaster oven, no electric kettle (the hot water from the water cooler will have to suffice). There isn’t even a separate room in which to enjoy your lunch break in peace (but do you even get a lunch break? Let’s start there).

Most people here begin their workday at 9 am, leave after 6 pm (sometimes 7 or 8 pm). The newer staff, eager and dedicated, but also in charge, don’t even take a lunch break. Most of us eat at our desks. Can you imagine working 9-10 hours a day without a break, barely leaving your seat, glued to your computer, not eating more than a salad or a sandwich all day and then coming in on Saturday to do it all over again? I don’t agree to these conditions. I don’t accept them. And unlike most everyone else, I don’t have to. Being a native English speaker in a country whose main language is not English, I have more options available to me. Being a citizen of a “developed” country, I can set my terms. They know that I’m neither used to nor accepting of such workplace conditions.
I can’t say for sure, but I probably get paid more than they do — and I work less hours. It’s enough to make you sick.

Today is February 23. We have not yet gotten paid this year. We have worked nearly all of January and February is almost over. As a general rule, pay is monthly and often paid for the month worked before. We should have received our January pay cheque earlier this month. But we all know (from experience) not to expect to get paid for January till nearly the end of February. How do they do it? How do we survive?

Under these conditions, we should be happy we have jobs. We work (and supposedly we get an income). There are far too many who are worse off. But again, I ask: how do we do it? One begins to act cautiously, carefully, sometimes in fear of losing their jobs: we don’t even demand our pay cheques anymore. We simply ask, kindly, politely, please, boss, might you be so kind as to let us know when you will be paying us?

I asked him yesterday. He said either today (yesterday) or tomorrow (today). I knew from experience not to expect to get paid on the same day I asked (even if he did say so). I think that if we get paid today, it’ll be a miracle. It’ll mean he was true to his words. Which, as experience has shown, has never been the case.

But we wait. I wait. And when I see him today (he has a habit of not always being around, not coming in every day), I will ask him again. And again, and again. But it gets tiring sometimes.

Monsanto? Improving Farmers' Lives? Gimme a break

It's about four months too old, but I happened to find this Monsanto ad in the October 12, 2009, issue of New Yorker magazine (which I borrowed from the American Corner resource centre in Yerevan; what can I say, I get my English-language news however I can :)

I was about to turn the page after simply rolling my eyes at the layout (and of course, the overall message) when I saw the words "Improving Farmers' Lives" (shown at the bottom of the photo below) which caused me to nearly choke on my sunflower seed.

Whatever Monsanto might say about Food Inc. (the film on the U.S. food industry which heavily criticized the multinational agricultural corporation), the truth is the company did sue small-time Canadian farmers whose crop happened to be contaminated by Monsanto seeds. How can you control where your seeds pollinate? How can you call this "improving farmers' lives"? Oh and did I mention that farmers have to pay to plant Monsanto's genetically engineered products which can only be planted for one year? Farmers who wish to plant Monsanto seeds have to purchase them every year (unlike other seeds that can be re-sown) and this becomes a high cost for farmers. Not to mention that they're genetically modified. Tell me again: how does Monsanto improve farmers' lives?