A Moment of Silence

During an innocent stroll through Maumere, Indonesia with 1 man and 3 other women, our group collected men (and boys), who followed us to the beach with wide-eyed fascination. 

As evidenced by the photo, the beach wasn't really a beach, but a hodgepodge of concrete slabs strewn over what used to be the beach. You wouldn't have known from the friendly demeanor of the locals, but 7 months before our arrival, Maumere suffered a massive earthquake and tsunami, the largest and deadliest earthquake that year. Thousands of people lost their lives, and most of Maumere was destroyed. Did the world sit up and pay attention?

One year ago, the world watched in horror as a wall of water rushed onto the earthquake-devastated landscape of North-Eastern Japan and washed away the lives and livelihoods of nearly 19,000 people.  The world sprang into action, and relief came from around the globe, with help from the likes of Lady Gaga and Cyndi Lauper.

 

A disaster in the right place at the right time can unite the world. The Haiti earthquake. Hurricane Katrina. The Indian ocean earthquake and tsunami of 2004. But what about devastating incidents like the Maumere earthquake, the recent floods in Thailand, or the catastrophic landslides in the Philippines in 2006? Did the world take notice? Should the world take notice? In a time when technology and connectedness broadcast everything everywhere instantaneously, how much is too much? What compels us to act? Do we choose one catastrophe over another? Do we choose not to act? Is it OK not to act?

A moment of silence, then, to remember those affected in Japan one year ago today. And a moment of silence for our global neighbors who fall victim to the countless other tragedies that take place both in the public eye, and far from the public eye, for the human suffering is the same.

AP Photo

Am I a Birdbrain?

Birdnapping, and the oft overlooked sport of pigeon racing, are likely not on your radar screen, at least not until now. A brief bit in the headlines this week announced: Taiwan police bust pigeon-kidnapping ring. Pigeon racing is apparently big business in Taiwan, and around the world, but Taiwan claims to have more racing events than any other country in the world. Owners domesticate and train pigeons that are then released to return home over a set distance. Race analysts time the event, calculate the rate of travel and designate the winner as the bird with the highest speed. Who knew?

Further investigation reveals that 3,000 birds may start a race, while only 20-30 may finish that race. What befalls the other 90% of the birds? Accidents. Predators. Birdnappers. Navigation problems (what does a pigeon have to do around here to get a GPS?). Oh wait, there is a pigeon GPS. Unfortunately for the pigeons, the GPS won't keep them from getting lost, but will help their owners keep track of them.

Consider the mettle and logistics associated with capturing in-flight pigeons and holding them for ransom. 1. String up a gigantic net along racecourse. 2. Wait. 3. Capture pigeon. 4. Untangle pigeon from gigantic net and store in cage. 5. Use pigeon GPS or band to determine rightful owner.
6. Contact owner and offer safe return of pigeon in exchange for cash. There must be easier ways to make money.

A cursory search does not turn up any pigeonnapping incidents in the United States, but the American Racing Pigeon Union boasts approximately 700 clubs across the country, the first established in 1872. So, while pigeon racing may fly below the radar, so to speak, it appears to have a long history around the world, and right here at home. Case in point, pigeonracer.com.

Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast details his pigeonnapping experiences in Luxembourg Gardens where he caught a bird, snapped its neck, and took it home for dinner. I certainly do not aspire to feast on freshly-caught pigeon, and don't foresee myself domesticating a pet pigeon anytime soon. Coo you to sleep? No thank you.

I don't recall anything remarkable about the pigeons I encountered overseas, except that some places had more than others. My most memorable experiences with living beings capable of sustained flight came in the form of bats. There was the evening jaunt over a bridge in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, where I ducked in fear beneath hordes of swooping bats overhead. Then there were the infamous flying foxes, looking almost majestic in their flight, as I viewed them far overhead (thank goodness) from a small wooden boat bobbing in the Indian Ocean. 

Finally, there were the bats for sale in the market for lunch or dinner.  One could choose the small variety, ready to eat,

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 or the large, live variety, for supreme freshness on your dinner table. 

 Irresistible?

 

I'm certain that I've never intentionally ingested any pigeons or bats, although I'm also certain that I have been served meals that likely included mystery meat. Whatever the case, I am certain that I lived to tell the tale.