"A long way gone," but hitting home in this Starbucks nation
As I was ordering my tall skim latte two weeks ago at Starbucks, my eyes -- always looking for something new -- wandered to their CD collection and its latest contribution to the greater global good, a new book called A Long Way Gone, Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah. I picked it up and started reading, then immediately had to buy it. It was certainly a long way from this Starbucks on Park Avenue to this young boy's tragic story in Sierra Leone during that country's civil war in the 1990s.
When Ishmael was 12, his family and town were decimated by rebel forces. Ishmael got away and for a year he wandered and witnessed the most atrocious acts that continue to haunt his every waking moment. At 13, he was picked up and made to be one of them -- the rebel attackers. What followed was hell on earth that seems unimaginable to most of us, and unthinkable when you look at your own kids and all they are so fortunate to have. Ishmael learned to kill, and he learned to laugh at the bloodied bodies he would then stomp on with the other kids-- all brainwashed. But Ishmael was one of the lucky ones because he was rescued by UNICEF in 1998. He was sent here to the U.S. and after a lot of rehabilitation and learning how to forgive himself, he was able to go on and graduate high school and in 2004 he graduated from Oberlin College.
The memoir opens with what could be a typical scene at any high school, though this one in NYC and the conversation is disturbing. Ishmael's friends ask him why he had to leave Sierra Leone. He says simply, because there is war. They ask, did you witness some of the fighting. He says everyone did. They press on, you mean you saw people running around with guns and shooting each other? He says, yes, all the time. To which his friends reply, "Cool." Teenagers, perhaps, but they could not know at the time all that he did to survive, to be able to be in the hallways of a New York city high school. What a faraway land that war seemed... and to this day according to UNICEF there are still an estimated 300,000 child soldiers in the more than 50 conflicts around the world. But that war in Sierra Leone, brought to your and my nearest Starbucks where $2 dollars of each book purchase will go to UNICEF -- which saved Ishmael's and so many other young children's lives.
Coincidentally, as I am now midway through the book, last week I read an article about it in the New York Times (March 10) and was glad to learn it has had great success in sales and Ishmael Beah is generating so much buzz. Perhaps it was a risky choice for Starbucks, but it proves perhaps we are hungering for more depth and a greater understanding of what is happening around the world.
I can only imagine what the once boy soldier must now think when he sees people buying their lattes or cappuccinos and a copy of his memoir -- thankfully, he has come a long long way.
Lords of the Rings
I spent the weekend in Santa Monica with my family basking in California's almost always perfect weather-- when I witnessed what might be just a local phenomenon... A "ring culture." Who they are I have no clue, but what they can do as they swing from ring to ring is most impressive-- like trapeze artists at a circus. Why I write about this is because it's an interesting (at least I think so) observation in human behavior -- and particularly an observation about men... Though there are women "ringers" too.
If you've been to the beach in Santa Monica I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. There is a bar with about a dozen metal rings, and anyone who deems himself (or herself) strong enough can swing all the way across and back. All are included and invited to try -- though it takes a certain upper body strength and willingness to be humiliated when you don't quite cut it. Mostly it is the bronzed and chiseled alpha male that makes the attempt. The real ringers can do twirls in between like wanna be Olympians, and swing and arc their bodies into all sorts of contortions as they reach from ring to ring.
As I watched from afar my husband got in line with his "ring friends" as he started to call them by the end of the weekend. He wasn't the only non-regular giving it a go. Some Japanese tourists also waited their turn -- though neither could quite get far enough. An older gentlemen made a few failed attempts but finally, with his family and the regular ringers' support, he made it to the end. Everyone, ringers and spectators alike, gave him a big round of applause as if celebrating a rite of passage. As I said all are accepted. So why do so many men try? (Besides the need for attention while showing off their pecs.) Maybe it goes back to their pack-like mentality from the caveman days (sorry guys) or simply an eagerness to prove their manliness. Certainly there's the challenge and the workout. And while it isn't a competiton -- the regulars do try to outdo one another. But there is also the bonding that goes on. Some of the regulars lend the non-ringers chalk for their hands, or dole out advice... Like you have to pull yourself up to one ring before reaching forward to grasp the other.
Fortunately, my husband is very strong and he made it to the end and back a few times, though his career as a ringer was cut short with the development of a few painful hand calluses. But even my 3 year-old son wanted to try and he was able to hold on for a few seconds.
As for me, you may be wondering? I had nothing to prove and was there for the spousal support. Ok, I do admit to grabbing on to the kids' set nearby. What I discovered? I'm better off with my feet firmly planted on the ground. Well, thank goodness it's a long way to Santa Monica and a definite amount of humiliation. My husband though, keeps talking about the "ring culture" like he's been indoctrinated into a muy macho select club. Oh well, boys will be boys.
