Three summers ago, I had the chance of a lifetime to go to Turkey for three weeks. We were studying the Ottoman Empire, and we traveled all over the country looking at historically significant buildings, cities, and tombs. We explored traditions that still exist and things that had passed on since the Ottoman Empire dissolved. It was a truly amazing trip.
While the whole thing was unforgettable, parts of it stand out to me in perfect detail. One was eating at this truck stop on the side of a highway. The entire place was surrounded by a seemingly endless field of sunflowers in full bloom. It was like something out of a fairy tale. I wanted to just run out into the middle of it and take in the wonder of it. I settled for a ton of photos instead.
The second was standing under the dome of Selimiye in Edirne. We also saw Suleymaniye in Istanbul, and it was indeed lovely, but its older sister took my breath away. Sinan was a genius, and when left to his own devices, a creator of perfect grace and symmetry.
The most unforgettable place was much, much older. I had wanted to see Hagia Sophia for as long as I can remember knowing about it. I have loved the name since I learned what it means, Holy Wisdom. When I stood under that golden dome on floors over a thousand years old, it completely stole not my breath but my heart. I went back again on my own when we had a free day just so I could sit down on the cool stone and stare up into that glory. The beauty of that place, its sense of sacredness, was like a physical thing. I have only ever been one other place that came close, the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi.
Even though we were on the road for a solid week, the rest of our time was spent based in the Sultanahmet district near the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Hippodrome, Topkapi, the Grand Bazaar, and the Basilica Cistern. We learned, we met people, we explored, and I came to love that city. We never met anyone who wasn't willing to help us. Everywhere people were kind and friendly. Part of me very much wanted to stay there and know it better.
So now, when I see that the rabid violence of suicide bombing has attacked it again, has blown up the very airport we came into and out of, I grieve for the lost and the injured, but I also grieve for Istanbul. That city, that ancient lovely place, deserves to be cherished and protected. It is a unique thing that spans centuries, cultures, empires, languages, even continents. The true goal of the terrorists is, of course, to make people afraid. Afraid to go to places like Istanbul or Paris, these important places where it's possible to see both the ancient past and maybe the future side by side. Afraid to go to places away from home. Afraid of "others."
I've had the "it's not safe to go" conversation already today. I'll hear it increasingly. I've thought it myself. I have to keep telling myself, though, that it's not safe anywhere. Psychopaths walk into our schools and universities, our night clubs, our office buildings, every day with evil intent and heavy weaponry. Even here in this tiny rural place I live, child abductions are attempted, homes are invaded when predators think those inside are elderly or weak. Whatever safety we used to think we had has somehow disappeared, and national borders don't seem to have a lot to do with it. Why then should we allow them to cage us in a corner?
Hamlet tells us that "the readiness is all." We cannot know when our time is coming. We cannot live our whole lives looking for the shadow to fall, listening for Death's soft footfalls coming up behind us. I think we live in a world where it is easy to be afraid all the time, where we certainly have cause for fear. If we give in to it, though, all those horrible, rabid, twisted bastards win. I think we have to keep going places, embracing each other, learning about each other. If this plague of hate is ever going to be defeated, it has to come from its opposite, unity instead of isolation.
Showing posts with label Turkey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Turkey. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Friday, March 21, 2014
Twitter Is Blocked in Turkey
Turkey is so dear to me after the Ottomans course and the travel that went with it. The people who live in that wonderful place deserve better than their leader is giving them. What a tremendously condescending insult to think that he has the right to shut them off from the electronic world. What a tremendously arrogant stance to pretend he has that kind of power. I keep thinking we're about to have a "V" moment there, and the results will be shown to us by the Instagram feeds, YouTube videos, and tweets of the people who will rebuild what he's tried to tear down and repress.
I want to applaud Twitter and Google, too, for standing up to a world leader who is trying to hide his own sins by denying his people freedom and access. He's literally trying to cover not only his own eyes with dirty hands but also the eyes of the whole world like a petulant child who cannot get his way. It heartens me to see them standing up, providing backdoors and work-arounds instead of folding their hands and waiting passively for someone else to do something.
I'm not much of a revolutionary. I hate politics passionately. It just makes me furious when I see such a vibrant nation under the heel of such a massive hubris-filled jackass. So by all means, let's #occupytwitter since #twitterisblockedinturkey.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Sufis
For some reason, just tonight, that evening in Istanbul when we saw the Sufi performance is stuck in my head. It's almost like I'm there in that domelike converted bath chamber seeing and hearing it again.
I remember seeing all of them, being interested in the diversity of ages and expressions on the men as they stepped into the circle for the performance. One looked so young and somehow nervous. One was stately and older. One had the face of an angel.
I remember the way their dance began, the way their arms slowly unfurled to their dancing positions as though it were something as natural as a plant's leaves slowly growing under the sun. I remember the way they seemed to switch off the act of leading until everyone had started the pattern. It was soothing and compelling. It made me wonder what it would be like to be one of them, to spin and spin and accept and let go at the same time....
Once I knew the symbolism of what they were doing, something I found out later, it was even more powerful, and it continues to be even now that they are spinning only in my mind. I'm stealing this from Wikipedia because it's faster than my telling it all myself. Semazen is another word for sufi:
In the symbolism of the Sema ritual, the semazen's camel's hair hat (sikke) represents the tombstone of the ego; his wide, white skirt (tennure) represents the ego's shroud. By removing his black cloak (hırka), he is spiritually reborn to the truth. At the beginning of the Sema, by holding his arms crosswise, the semazen appears to represent the number one, thus testifying to God's unity. While whirling, his arms are open: his right arm is directed to the sky, ready to receive God's beneficence; his left hand, upon which his eyes are fastened, is turned toward the earth. The semazen conveys God's spiritual gift to those who are witnessing the Sema. Revolving from right to left around the heart, the semazen embraces all humanity with love. The human being has been created with love in order to love. Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi says, "All loves are a bridge to Divine love. Yet, those who have not had a taste of it do not know!"
The Sufis have been turned into big-time tourist capital by Turkey. Almost any product you can imagine can be found with their image on it. Every country has something like that, some symbol from their past they've turned into a cultural shorthand for commercial endeavours. I sort of think it's a shame that this really deeply personal thing has been used for that.
On the other hand, maybe it's all good. Maybe the symbolism and the beauty of it can reach out through all the tshirts and spinning glass dolls somehow. Maybe when people use the Iznik trivet with the brightly painted dancers on its surface, some of the original intention is passed along. I am not wise enough to know. All I can say with any certainty is that, along with the Hagia Sophia's golden dome, the slow wheel of Sufis rests permanently in my mind.
I remember seeing all of them, being interested in the diversity of ages and expressions on the men as they stepped into the circle for the performance. One looked so young and somehow nervous. One was stately and older. One had the face of an angel.
I remember the way their dance began, the way their arms slowly unfurled to their dancing positions as though it were something as natural as a plant's leaves slowly growing under the sun. I remember the way they seemed to switch off the act of leading until everyone had started the pattern. It was soothing and compelling. It made me wonder what it would be like to be one of them, to spin and spin and accept and let go at the same time....
Once I knew the symbolism of what they were doing, something I found out later, it was even more powerful, and it continues to be even now that they are spinning only in my mind. I'm stealing this from Wikipedia because it's faster than my telling it all myself. Semazen is another word for sufi:
In the symbolism of the Sema ritual, the semazen's camel's hair hat (sikke) represents the tombstone of the ego; his wide, white skirt (tennure) represents the ego's shroud. By removing his black cloak (hırka), he is spiritually reborn to the truth. At the beginning of the Sema, by holding his arms crosswise, the semazen appears to represent the number one, thus testifying to God's unity. While whirling, his arms are open: his right arm is directed to the sky, ready to receive God's beneficence; his left hand, upon which his eyes are fastened, is turned toward the earth. The semazen conveys God's spiritual gift to those who are witnessing the Sema. Revolving from right to left around the heart, the semazen embraces all humanity with love. The human being has been created with love in order to love. Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi says, "All loves are a bridge to Divine love. Yet, those who have not had a taste of it do not know!"
The Sufis have been turned into big-time tourist capital by Turkey. Almost any product you can imagine can be found with their image on it. Every country has something like that, some symbol from their past they've turned into a cultural shorthand for commercial endeavours. I sort of think it's a shame that this really deeply personal thing has been used for that.
On the other hand, maybe it's all good. Maybe the symbolism and the beauty of it can reach out through all the tshirts and spinning glass dolls somehow. Maybe when people use the Iznik trivet with the brightly painted dancers on its surface, some of the original intention is passed along. I am not wise enough to know. All I can say with any certainty is that, along with the Hagia Sophia's golden dome, the slow wheel of Sufis rests permanently in my mind.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Not Kyoto
- Written while listening to the soundtrack Suleyman the Magnificent, which you can find here.
For years, when the deepest longing to be somewhere else has struck me, Kyoto or Nara has always been the destination. The little place in my heart that stores up treasures would tune its shamisen and play me memories of Todaiji, of the Philosopher's Path.
Tonight, I'm longing for the other end of the Silk Road, and it's not the crowded, graceful, grey-tiled roofs and reserved buddha-gazes of those ancient places that I want. Another imperial city calls to me instead.
Ah, God, to be in Istanbul with the light fading from the sky, to see the Bosphorus changing from blue-green to watered silver silk under the light of a waxing moon. To be able to look up and see the minarets piercing the growing night like needles occupied with stitching the heavens to the earth. To be able to hear the muezzins of Sultanahmet and Ayasofya calling the azan, that incredible moment when the accidental harmonies inevitably occur, stopping the breath and the heart with only sound.
To stumble over rough cobblestones in cool air to a place where a meal as simple or as complicated as the palate can stand is waiting. To be with friends who complement, contrast, embrace without questions, even if you've only known them for days that have somehow become lifetimes.
To feel History (very much with a capital H) surround you like an embroidered garment of many silken layers that flutter in the wind, showing now this embellishment, now this flaw in the pattern. To be surrounded constantly by faded empires, to see the still-glorious monuments of world-rulers now returned to dust.
I yearn for Byzantium, for Constantinople, for Istanbul. Tonight I will sleep and walk there again, feel the cold marble of Ayasofya trail beneath my dreaming fingers, watch the crowds surge like the steady tides. No distance can keep all of it from me. One tiny corner I have managed to carry away for myself for the times - like now - when I have the most need.
For years, when the deepest longing to be somewhere else has struck me, Kyoto or Nara has always been the destination. The little place in my heart that stores up treasures would tune its shamisen and play me memories of Todaiji, of the Philosopher's Path.
Tonight, I'm longing for the other end of the Silk Road, and it's not the crowded, graceful, grey-tiled roofs and reserved buddha-gazes of those ancient places that I want. Another imperial city calls to me instead.
Ah, God, to be in Istanbul with the light fading from the sky, to see the Bosphorus changing from blue-green to watered silver silk under the light of a waxing moon. To be able to look up and see the minarets piercing the growing night like needles occupied with stitching the heavens to the earth. To be able to hear the muezzins of Sultanahmet and Ayasofya calling the azan, that incredible moment when the accidental harmonies inevitably occur, stopping the breath and the heart with only sound.
To stumble over rough cobblestones in cool air to a place where a meal as simple or as complicated as the palate can stand is waiting. To be with friends who complement, contrast, embrace without questions, even if you've only known them for days that have somehow become lifetimes.
To feel History (very much with a capital H) surround you like an embroidered garment of many silken layers that flutter in the wind, showing now this embellishment, now this flaw in the pattern. To be surrounded constantly by faded empires, to see the still-glorious monuments of world-rulers now returned to dust.
I yearn for Byzantium, for Constantinople, for Istanbul. Tonight I will sleep and walk there again, feel the cold marble of Ayasofya trail beneath my dreaming fingers, watch the crowds surge like the steady tides. No distance can keep all of it from me. One tiny corner I have managed to carry away for myself for the times - like now - when I have the most need.
Monday, July 08, 2013
The Great Game
It's been a long time since I was in a country where I could use my haggling skills. I know some people hate it, but I sort of love it. It's a game. How low can I get you to go? The price you receive depends directly on the skills you bring. It's like competitive shopping.
I always come armed to the teeth. One thing about growing up in the Deep South, I know how to manipulate the male ego. It's not something I do often. I find it almost distatefully easy when it doesn't matter to me. It's not something we're taught. It's something we sort of absorb, I suppose.
Like all fine arts, there is a procedure for it. I find something I want and ask its price. Then I get all sweet and Southern. I smile a lot. My accent becomes a little more pronounced. I start my end of the game at half of whatever the asked me for in the first place. Every Southern man knows that underneath that little butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smile is a straight razor. These guys know it, too, I'm sure. Maybe all men recognize that steel under the sweet. God help them if they don't. After all, it's all a part of the game. Whether they see it or not, I must say that the straight razor never seems to bother them....
I got a marriage proposal today. I wanted a scarf, and I could have come away with a husband. This is another part of the game. "You're so beautiful. You're so fascinating. Won't you give me a little more money if I tell you this?" Perhaps this is their version of the straight-razor.
Again, Southern woman training comes in handy for that. We grow up surrounded by gallant men who are so full of crap that hip boots are commonly required. I know how to smile and say, "Aw. Thank you, honey," and walk off to the next challenge.
And really, everybody is happy at the end of it. Somehow the items I get this way mean more to me. I have a ring I got in Costa Rica that was my best ever haggle. I paid less than half of his asking price. Every time I put it on, I think about it and smile to myself. That was a good day.
Today was, too. Today I was sweetheart, darling, and I think even precious one time. That's fine. I got good prices on everything I purchased, and I felt like I won a State Championship. They got what was undoubtedly a good profit on me, since that is the way of these things, and they also got to feel all manly and stuff. Win-win. Totally win-win. I wish we did this back home. I would probably shop more if we did.
I always come armed to the teeth. One thing about growing up in the Deep South, I know how to manipulate the male ego. It's not something I do often. I find it almost distatefully easy when it doesn't matter to me. It's not something we're taught. It's something we sort of absorb, I suppose.
Like all fine arts, there is a procedure for it. I find something I want and ask its price. Then I get all sweet and Southern. I smile a lot. My accent becomes a little more pronounced. I start my end of the game at half of whatever the asked me for in the first place. Every Southern man knows that underneath that little butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smile is a straight razor. These guys know it, too, I'm sure. Maybe all men recognize that steel under the sweet. God help them if they don't. After all, it's all a part of the game. Whether they see it or not, I must say that the straight razor never seems to bother them....
I got a marriage proposal today. I wanted a scarf, and I could have come away with a husband. This is another part of the game. "You're so beautiful. You're so fascinating. Won't you give me a little more money if I tell you this?" Perhaps this is their version of the straight-razor.
Again, Southern woman training comes in handy for that. We grow up surrounded by gallant men who are so full of crap that hip boots are commonly required. I know how to smile and say, "Aw. Thank you, honey," and walk off to the next challenge.
And really, everybody is happy at the end of it. Somehow the items I get this way mean more to me. I have a ring I got in Costa Rica that was my best ever haggle. I paid less than half of his asking price. Every time I put it on, I think about it and smile to myself. That was a good day.
Today was, too. Today I was sweetheart, darling, and I think even precious one time. That's fine. I got good prices on everything I purchased, and I felt like I won a State Championship. They got what was undoubtedly a good profit on me, since that is the way of these things, and they also got to feel all manly and stuff. Win-win. Totally win-win. I wish we did this back home. I would probably shop more if we did.
Friday, July 05, 2013
Getting Ready
Tomorrow my journey to Turkey begins. I've been waiting for it so long that it hardly seems possible that I will finally get on a plane and start the long, long process of getting there.
Today was dedicated to packing. I got out my new bag and loaded it. I love that thing. It was some of the best money I've ever spent. While I was trying not to have to carry a rolling carry-on, I still have one for my camera gear and so forth. Everything else, and I do mean EVERYTHING else fit inside that new back and I'm almost ten pounds under the weight limit. It's surreal.
Every trip is the beginning of a new way of looking at the world. Every journey opens up a new perspective. I feel as if this one is going to truly momentous, though. Maybe it's because of how long it is. Maybe it's the distance I'm going. I don't know. It just feels like I'm on the edge of a big cliff waiting for the courage to leap. How thrilling.
Today was dedicated to packing. I got out my new bag and loaded it. I love that thing. It was some of the best money I've ever spent. While I was trying not to have to carry a rolling carry-on, I still have one for my camera gear and so forth. Everything else, and I do mean EVERYTHING else fit inside that new back and I'm almost ten pounds under the weight limit. It's surreal.
Every trip is the beginning of a new way of looking at the world. Every journey opens up a new perspective. I feel as if this one is going to truly momentous, though. Maybe it's because of how long it is. Maybe it's the distance I'm going. I don't know. It just feels like I'm on the edge of a big cliff waiting for the courage to leap. How thrilling.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Turkey Again
I am keeping up with the news on Turkey daily. What I see makes me more and more concerned. Something that started as a protest over a public space has turned into an issue big enough to rend a nation.
I do not really feel qualified to comment much on the events I see there. I am at best an interested outsider. I can't understand some of the things I see, though, and feel compelled to ask a question. How do leaders get so out of touch that they refuse to hear the voices of those who put them in power? If unrest suddenly breaks out in large sections of a nation, I'm not sure I think an elected official should use threats and force to keep themselves in power.
I can't form absolute opinions about Turkey's current situation because everything I'm getting about it is from a few sources, and, of course, both sides are accusing each other of editing for greatest political currency. As I scroll through images of tear gas, emergency hospitals, water cannons, and the like, though, I wonder if it looks the same to us on the outside as it does to the people affected. I throw my mind back to the Occupy Wall Street protests, and I remember how divided my own nation was about that. All I guess I can say with any certainty is that it looks an awful lot like a situation that will end in many more people being wounded or killed.
In addition to thinking about the situation in general, I am also concerned about my upcoming trip. I don't mean to be selfish. Surely the events that are unfolding are so much more important than just one trip for one group of foreign tourists. However, I have been excited about this trip for a long time now, and as I have come to know more about this country, so too has my eagerness to see and experience it all increased. I can't help but wonder if we will even get to go at all, if all this will just wind up being a place I yearn to see and never have access to. I also have to say that I sometimes wonder if we do go if we'll wind up caught in the riptide of this particular moment in history. I wonder if, once again, being an American will be an uncomfortable thing abroad.
Mostly, though, I am just wondering if Turkey will manage to find a middle way or if it will collapse into the same sort of partisan turmoil that devours the land to its south. I can only hope that the different groups can come together and somehow find peace.
I do not really feel qualified to comment much on the events I see there. I am at best an interested outsider. I can't understand some of the things I see, though, and feel compelled to ask a question. How do leaders get so out of touch that they refuse to hear the voices of those who put them in power? If unrest suddenly breaks out in large sections of a nation, I'm not sure I think an elected official should use threats and force to keep themselves in power.
I can't form absolute opinions about Turkey's current situation because everything I'm getting about it is from a few sources, and, of course, both sides are accusing each other of editing for greatest political currency. As I scroll through images of tear gas, emergency hospitals, water cannons, and the like, though, I wonder if it looks the same to us on the outside as it does to the people affected. I throw my mind back to the Occupy Wall Street protests, and I remember how divided my own nation was about that. All I guess I can say with any certainty is that it looks an awful lot like a situation that will end in many more people being wounded or killed.
In addition to thinking about the situation in general, I am also concerned about my upcoming trip. I don't mean to be selfish. Surely the events that are unfolding are so much more important than just one trip for one group of foreign tourists. However, I have been excited about this trip for a long time now, and as I have come to know more about this country, so too has my eagerness to see and experience it all increased. I can't help but wonder if we will even get to go at all, if all this will just wind up being a place I yearn to see and never have access to. I also have to say that I sometimes wonder if we do go if we'll wind up caught in the riptide of this particular moment in history. I wonder if, once again, being an American will be an uncomfortable thing abroad.
Mostly, though, I am just wondering if Turkey will manage to find a middle way or if it will collapse into the same sort of partisan turmoil that devours the land to its south. I can only hope that the different groups can come together and somehow find peace.
Saturday, June 08, 2013
My Name Is Red
I wasn't prepared for the journey that awaited me. For general information, you can click through to the Wikipedia page. The novel deals with a community of artists in 16th century Istanbul, the miniaturists. Each chapter is told by a different voice, but the main characters repeat throughout. This reminded me a lot of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. (I know. I see links where there probably are none, the the similarities are remarkable.) The chapters are short and intricate, like the very miniatures the characters are commissioned with creating. At first, I had no idea what was going on and who was involved. It starts very much in medias res, and the first voice you hear is actually the voice of a dead man. Once I got used to the flow of the novel and started to figure out who was linked to whom, it was charming.
The work has so much to enjoy. First of all, there is all the historical research that must have been involved. The time period is described so clearly. That, however, pales when compared to the technical aspect of its creation. I cannot imagine the difficulty of maintaining no fewer than twelve narrative voices, one of which is actually the "split personality" of another. Each character has a distinct and realistic voice and view on the world. It's an amazing accomplishment to see the world through so many eyes.
Woven into the plot of murder and intrigue is a healthy dose of folklore, custom, and even costuming. It was a perfect choice for me to read just now because it perfectly accompanied the course text and readings we had. So many of the things the text described were humanized and made accessible through the story. Stories about famous characters from folk tales, poetry, songs, patterns of behavior, even architecture is presented in such glorious detail. Every chapter really was a little picture.
I have another book by Pamuk, his Istanbul, which is quite different, a set of memoirs of the city he grew up in and still lives in today. I have a few other things I want to read first, but it's in my near future. It will be interesting to see how he continues to reveal this place I am becoming increasingly more and more fascinated with.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Lightning (Bug and Other)
As I came home tonight, the sky was full of stars. Suddenly, though, everything flickered. The sky itself was green for seconds, parts of seconds, and then it plunged back into the deepest blue. Lightning from the oncoming storm had ripped away the illusion of calm.
We're still too far away from whatever is coming to hear the thunder, but everything has that horrible stillness that happens right before a big rain, and the last two days, I've been sick in the bed with a migraine, so I am guessing that something epic is marching towards us.
I took the dogs out for a late evening stroll, and as we made our way through the pasture, thousands of little tiny flashes of light filled the low tree limbs and the underbrush. The lightning bugs, usually to be found at the tops of the trees, were low because of the atmospheric pressure. It looked like the edges of the woods had been strung with countless fairy lights, but even that beauty managed to be ominous because of the reason for its presence.
There are so many other things that rumble in the distance, flash and then are gone, before sweeping over us. Of course, I've been reading about the protests in Turkey almost ceaselessly. It started with a flash, a sudden moment of the people together, and now it has escalated into something widespread and lasting, a storm of some duration. It's amazing. I pray that it won't turn any bloodier than it already is.
I am so impressed by the way the protesters are behaving. The news articles I've read say that everything is kept clean by the protesters themselves even though there are massive (and growing) numbers of them present, that they are sharing supplies and protection with each other, that they have the support of the people in the shops and in the police to the point that stores are opening to them for places of refuge and police are not reporting to work because they refuse to be a part of confronting them. Even while the Prime Minister calls these protests "undemocratic," even his vice secretary is apologizing for the way they protests have been handled. It seems that everyone except one is on the same side. I've never seen anything like it.
The more I read and study of the past, the more fascinated I am with this present. I pray that we still get to go. I have to see this remarkable place and these remarkable people for myself.
We're still too far away from whatever is coming to hear the thunder, but everything has that horrible stillness that happens right before a big rain, and the last two days, I've been sick in the bed with a migraine, so I am guessing that something epic is marching towards us.
I took the dogs out for a late evening stroll, and as we made our way through the pasture, thousands of little tiny flashes of light filled the low tree limbs and the underbrush. The lightning bugs, usually to be found at the tops of the trees, were low because of the atmospheric pressure. It looked like the edges of the woods had been strung with countless fairy lights, but even that beauty managed to be ominous because of the reason for its presence.
There are so many other things that rumble in the distance, flash and then are gone, before sweeping over us. Of course, I've been reading about the protests in Turkey almost ceaselessly. It started with a flash, a sudden moment of the people together, and now it has escalated into something widespread and lasting, a storm of some duration. It's amazing. I pray that it won't turn any bloodier than it already is.
I am so impressed by the way the protesters are behaving. The news articles I've read say that everything is kept clean by the protesters themselves even though there are massive (and growing) numbers of them present, that they are sharing supplies and protection with each other, that they have the support of the people in the shops and in the police to the point that stores are opening to them for places of refuge and police are not reporting to work because they refuse to be a part of confronting them. Even while the Prime Minister calls these protests "undemocratic," even his vice secretary is apologizing for the way they protests have been handled. It seems that everyone except one is on the same side. I've never seen anything like it.
The more I read and study of the past, the more fascinated I am with this present. I pray that we still get to go. I have to see this remarkable place and these remarkable people for myself.
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