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thenixart · 4 years

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Chapter 5: Book 23--The Rescue

Hork-bajir centric rewrite book Animorphs book 23

Toby Hamee is a ‘seer’, literally: the one who sees far into what is and what may be. One thing she likes about the language of her people is the ability to say a lot using very little breath. Something that she reasoned was an adaption to her ancestors living in high-density groups and the necessity to communicate ideas efficiently as they needed to use the rest of the oxygen in their lungs to power their muscles to flee from the monsters from the deep. Quirks of the language that don’t translate well and actively fight with the standards of grammar in Galard and English.

This was why the humans and the yeerks looked down their beaks at her people. They took it as a sign that they were unintelligent and of less worth. Such strange things aliens placed value on as intelligent. Yet how many languages did the average human speak? The average yeerk? She knew almost as many languages as fingers she possessed: Tree of course and then Galard from her parents and tribemates. The basics of English from them as well polished to fluency from watching television. Conversational Tax and claw-sign from teacher Sssirin. Enough Spanish from Dora la exploradora and Telemundo that she was confident enough to use. Naharan dialect skikar and desbadeen balong from teacher Grath Sha. Were there humans that knew as many different languages? Maybe, but they were likely rare meanwhile pretty much every hork-bajir in the tribe knew just as many even if they skipped the redundant grammar rules.

It understandably made her very angry along with many other things.

Unfortunately, that same anger is what made the council uncertain of her ability to lead.

Which was why after the excitement of her first trial run of leadership had worn off, she was secretly listening to their meeting. Not spying, listening.

The meeting was being held in the big community lodge, a large circular platform built around the upper third of four huge pines. Support beams of living oak formed a loose cage connecting to a ring of eight trees outside of the first circle supported the weight of the platform. The whole thing was roofed and camouflaged from above by a woven mat of more living branches and vines. According to her father, Jara Hamee, this was the kind of structure that new tribes built when they settled into a valley. Over time (and with due diligence) as the trees grow, they would merge together into a proper Tribe tree with the expanded hall as the main community center. Toby had no idea if they could grow these alien trees into such a structure or even if they would have that much time on this world. But her father insisted that they should practice their cultural skills if only to keep them fresh in the mind. And besides, getting everyone to work on a project together was good for building bonds especially when they were effectively the tribal equivalent of a chop-toss salad.

And because she’d been involved in the building process (even if all she did was pass things to her dad as she clung to his back) she knew the best place to eavesdrop that wasn’t in the latrine. Been there, done that, learned from it. Or the eaves either for that matter.

Toby was thankful that she hadn’t yet hit her next growth spurt when she nestled into the nice little crook in the support cage next to the gap in the floorboards under the south room. As it was she could just barely fit in the cavity formed by the moss and wood. Her tail had to dangle out and she had to sit with her legs crossed to avoid jabbing her belly with her knee blades. If she stayed very still the only other people who’d notice her would also be eavesdroppers and they couldn’t snitch without snitching on themselves as well.

“...needs only a z-space transponder.”

“Jara Hamee know part. Cannon have?”

“This one knows not. A likely eventuality.”

“Ket Halpak say let yeerk work more. Get radio part. Get hork-bajir. Make big boom.”

“Aad Wanlo agree with Ket Halpak.”

“Aad Wanlo, Ket Halpak, want know how Toby Hamee do?”

“Aad Wanlo think--”

The sudden shout combined with the knowledge that she was doing something that she shouldn’t activated Toby Hamee’s flight reflex and she’d lept twenty feet away from her perch before her mind clamped down on her instincts. Looking around she spotted her spooker, Bek, hanging by his tail and snickering at her. Frowning she stuck out her tongue at him and shouted SHORT in her head, knowing that he was listening.

Bek, in turn, projected an image of her own bugged out fear face back at her with a smirk.

Then she noticed her dad, her mom, and about half of the other people at the meeting sticking their heads out of the door of the south room. Looking directly at her. Toby could feel her head blades flush dark. Quickly she pretended to be interested in picking pine cones. One by one the adults went back to their meeting, Jara being the last and still most suspicious of her.

She did not need to move her head to see Bek thump against the tree a tail length above her. He climbed down to her level face first, his bloodshot black eyes gleaming with mirth. < Toby Hamee is blushing. >

When he opened his beak to laugh she shoved a pinecone in his mouth. This did not phase Bek who thoughtfully crunched and swallowed the treat. Toby dropped down the length of the tree to the ground and headed for the river. This kept Bek too busy trying to keep up with her to send his thoughts, his short legs meant he had to hop twice as much to match her pace.

By the lake was one of the new recruits and one of Toby’s few new friends, Fal Tagut, experimenting with his bows. Fal’s mother-mother lived in a very steep valley practically on the other side of the world from Toby’s own ancestors. In that narrow valley, a seer spent her life inventing what humans would call archery. Not as a weapon or hunting tool, this was back before Dak shared the discovery of violence, but as a way to get ripe gooba fruit from the trees that were too close to the deep to forage under. These bows and arrows that Fal was making now would be weapons to use against the yeerks because the tribe needed long-distance weapons that didn’t need to be charged with nuclear power like their stolen dracon beams.

Fal Tagut did not stop his carving of arrows from leftover building planks as Toby and Bek approached. He did turn so as to see them with his good eye. The other eye having been put out by her namesake, a human named Tobias who happened to have the body of a bird and was also fighting in the battle against the yeerk slavers.

“Hello, Fal Tagut. How is?”

“Why Toby Hamee dark?”

< Toby Hamee get caught spying. >

She snorted at Bek and flicked his stubby horns that would grow properly if he stopped picking at them. “Bek got Toby Hamee caught!”

To Toby’s annoyance, Fal started laughing at her too. He said smiling, “Toby Hamee need play more hiding/seeking.”

She huffed and gestured at the entirety of Bek’s currently three-foot-tall being, “Bek hears thoughts! How Toby Hamee hide from?!”

Fal and Bek glanced at each other no doubt sharing some joke between them and then turned back to her.

“Easy.” Fal Tagut said.

< Hide thoughts. > Bek finished.

Toby Hamee rolled her eyes at them in the human expression of exasperation that was quickly picking up among both free and enslaved hork-bajir on Father Earth.

Some days she really hated the concept of friendship. Other days she was glad that there were people in the valley who treated her as a peer worthy of ridicule and not just as a kid or as a seer with a great responsibility. And after a while, her embarrassment cooled off as she and Bek helped Fal craft and test different designs of bows and arrows. It was near sundown when her mother found her and both chided her for spying on their meeting and congratulated her on passing Aad Wanlo’s assessment. She would be allowed to lead solo in the next mission.

Toby Hamee celebrated this with a maple syrup mead toast to all of her teachers and her friends and everyone else she learned from.

////

Fal Tagut was the first to notice that Bek is missing.

He’d woken in the middle of the night with the screams from the Yeerk Pool cavern in his head. Brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and cousins all terror and anger. Sadness and calls for vengeance ringing for a forever in his ears. He could still feel something slithering into his ear. His body would not respond. It scared him. His heart pounded in his chest and slowly he was able to make his body be awake as well.

Still, Fal Tagut was scared.

His mother was not here. His father not here. No mother-brothers. No mother-sisters. No father-brothers. No father-sisters. No cousins. None of the people he’d shared the cages with. Fal Tagut cried from loneliness.

After a bit, he leaped from his perch and sought out his friends.

Bek was not in his favorite tree. Curiosity beat out loneliness in Fal’s head. He was somewhat aware that Bek did not tend to sleep at night. When Bek did sleep he liked to sleep in the mornings far away from everyone in this hollow in this exact big oak.

What did Bek do at night? Fal Tagut had no answer.

Toby Hamee slept closer to where Fal Tagut did than Bek’s tree. But it was easier to go from start to far away to back to near than start to near to far. At least it was as far as Fal was concerned. Toby and her parents had a house in the second-best place in the Ellimist valley (the best place is where the community hall is). There were several houses in the valley, most clustered together in the same area. Jara’s house was the biggest of these and the door faced east to catch sunlight in the morning.

If Bek was here, Bek would whisper to Toby to let her know they were there. So Fal hesitated at the door with indecision. He did not want to wake Toby’s parents.

“Hear you. Smell you. Who is?” Jara Hamee’s voice was quiet. Fal’s horns flushed dark in embarrassment at his lack of stealth.

“Am Fal Tagut.” Fal Tagut answered in a matching whisper.

“Is time for sleep, Fal tagut.”

“Yes.”

A silence stretched out long enough that Fal’s crop started to feel slippery.

“Jara Hamee?”

“Yes, Fal Tagut?”

“Bek is not in tree.”

“Bek wanders when should be sleeping. Will look for when is bright.”

“Ok.”

In the darkness, Fal heard someone shifting on a bed. And then one person’s claws on floorboards. The sound of swallowing.

“Jara Hamee?”

“Yes, Fal Tagut?”

“Fal Tagut has sleep demons. Fal Tagut is alone.”

“Jara Hamee has big house and big bed. Fal Tagut is not alone.”

/////

Bek is lost.

Bek is not surprised by that. He almost never left the Ellimist valley alone. His sense of direction is bad, the rock in his head that should know where North is doesn’t work at all. It was too dark to see clearly and if not for the round moon he would see nothing at all. Bek did not sleep good around other people, especially sleeping ones. Their dreams were loud and kept him awake. Usually, he ended up falling asleep around sunup when everyone else was waking.

When Bek couldn’t sleep he went jumping.

Unfortunately, there were yeerks tied up to die at his favorite place to jump. He did not want to listen to their screaming and feel their fear and hate or the suffering of the yeerks’ prisoners. So he went west to one of the smaller valleys. Except, he miss counted a leap and lost track of Ket Halpak’s directions.

Jara Hamee tells everyone, if not know where is make mark as go. If find mark, then has been before. So Bek made nicks in the bark of the trees as he passed by them. When Bek ran into his marks again, he made new ones and went in a different direction.

When the earth bit him in the foot, causing him to trip and scream, Bek decided that he was going to follow Ket Halpak’s advice. The lost should stay put . As he didn’t know why the ground was biting him, he decided to stay put. Maybe it would get tired of biting and let go? It didn’t seem to be trying to eat him like that bear did.

By morning his wounds were dry and didn’t hurt. He could see what was holding him better, some metal mouth on a chain nailed into the ground. It would be pretty easy to free himself if not for the humans rolling up in their car-thing.

Very loud humans.

Only humans, no yeerks. Bek was good at hearing thoughts and people held hostage by yeerks were very easy for him to tell. The yeerks felt one way and the captives always another. But just because they were not controlled by yeerks did not mean they weren’t scary. Especially not with those weapons pointed at him. Bek was very careful. He’d seen the kinds of wounds guns made, he did not want to be shot.

So he complied when they brought out the cage.

////

Toby would be much much more excited about her first real solo leadership job if the mission wasn’t searching for her missing friend. As it was she put on a brave face and got together a search party. Out of a tribe of twenty-three hork-bajir, nine taxxons, and four humans she had nine of her people, a third of the taxxons, and half of the humans to work with. That meant making about three teams with one taxxon each to track Bek’s scent. The one team without humans could cover a lot more ground especially if she assigned them the smallest of the taxxons. Every team member got a talkie and one map and at least one map reader to a team.

She felt confident about the mission.

That confidence shrunk by the end of that day. It shrank some more at the end of the second day. It withered entirely on the morning of the third day when the taxxon of team two called in.

[“Find blood of the one who is Bek,”] Ssskartaa’s voice clicked calmly over the walkie talkie. [“Days old. Not enough for hork-bajir death. No panic in the dirt, one who is Bek was not scared. In dirt is human shoe prints, smell of gasoline, car prints. Car was heavier leaving than coming.”]

“Did the humans take the one who is Bek?”

[“It is strongly possible.”]

Toby radioed everyone to call off the search and regroup back in the Ellimist valley. She was very very tired and it was up to her to come up with the plan moving forward.

How exactly would they go about it? This wasn’t a mall raid, the humans couldn’t just drive them in the vans to a building in the middle of the night. They had no leads whatsoever about where to start looking. Frankly, Bek could be on the other side of the continent by now. They needed cloaking tech! They needed morphing tech! They needed a miracle!

Toby felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder. Her father bumped his horns against hers.

“Breathe deep.” Jara said calmly.

She did. Inhaling to the bottom of her lungs and after a few seconds, letting that air back out.

“Is good?”

“Is good.” She replied. “Toby Hamee got this.”

And then the “Goooaaahahahah” of the suspicious bird alarm call rang out over the valley. The taxxons vanished into the earth and the humans put on their masks and moved under tree cover. All of the hork-bajir aside from the lookouts filled out into the clearing to greet their visitor.

The timing of it niggled under Toby’s scales, what was the last time any of the morphers visited? Had to be almost a year ago when she’d just started hopping around on her own. The timing was suspiciously good for the current crisis, still she put on a pleasant face for Tobias as he circled on raggedy brown wings.

“Hello, friend Tobias!” Her father shouted at the human trapped in the shape of a bird.

“Good seeing you!” Her mother said as Tobias perched on an overhanging tree branch not more than a ska from where human Darnell was hiding. Ket was practically puffing with pride at how well her hiding lessons were working.

“Your timing couldn’t be better Tobias.” Toby said formally. The entire mood of clearing shifted. Yes, there was still work that needed to be done. Tobias himself seemed to deflate as well.

“One of our young males, Bek, went missing a few days ago. We have reason to believe that he was captured by humans while wandering outside of the valley.” Toby said. “We could use some help in finding him.”

<How do you know that? You’ve left the valley looking for him?> Tobias’ thought voice was surprisingly demanding.

“Yes?” Confusion at the odd question was evident on her father’s face. “Search? Look and look and look.”

“Cry, ‘Bek! Bek!’” Grath Sha added sarcastically. Toby remembered that the teenage hork-bajir once told her to never trust a human that asked very obvious questions. Grath has said something along the lines of, either they think you’re dumb or they’re terrible listeners .

“Find footprint. Find carprint. Find smell.” Her mother, Ket, continued.

“Bek is not in the valley,” Toby repeated incase the human was still confused. “We looked for him. We found his trail. We know that he was captured and taken elsewhere by humans.”

Tobias then said several words that could be nothing else but curses. Several they knew from the cages (or taught by those who’d been in the cages to those who’d not) or from the television movies that only came on late at night. There were a few new ones in there that caught their curiosity but Tobias didn’t want to explain them.

“About three days,” Toby replied.

<Oh, man. I have to get back to the others. We'll start a search. But I don't think our chances are very good.> Then the bird-shaped human stopped still, <Do you think Bek could lead people back here? Would he be able to find his way back? The Ellimist has laid some kind of weird spell on this place.>

“Bek is not good with directions. He’d return to the woods if he were able and if he did we would be able to find him,” Toby said. “But he would have very little reason to lead others here.”

“I highly doubt that the yeerks could get one of their inside him, let alone control him.”

<What?>

“Bek is different. In head.” Jara said sagely. “Not seer, but strange.”

<Sure,> Tobias sighed as he took off. <I’ll tell Jake and the others. To think I came here to get away from my problems...>

The tribe waved goodbye as he flew away.

/////

Bek did not like this place. The wood of the building was clearly rotting. There was dirt and grime building up in the corners and crevices. Terrible smells. All around many animals. And all around was the feeling of sadness. Scribbling thoughts of creatures so bored they were rotting inside. Dripping feelings of lasting pains. Except for the humans that came and went, excited and frightened and happy.

He did not like this cage. There were no perches and the humans hit his fingers and toes when he tried to hang from the top. The dirty dry grass on the floor was too thin to be a good bed. Standing on it long made his joints hurt. The metal bowl of water he had to drink from was slimy. Gross. Looking around the animals in the other cages were in the same situation.

Bek was angry.

He was not big enough or strong enough to cut the metal bars of the cages. And he did not know what to do with the animals but he could tell Toby and their humans who would know more. And he could listen to the lock on his cage, there were lots of small parts he could not see. The humans opened and closed the door after sticking in a small metal twig. The twig made the little parts move. He could make the little parts move by thinking about it. But it was not easy, a puzzle! He needed to move them in the right order!

Days passed.

The humans figured out that he did not eat meat. Bek ate their bad bread crumbles because he was hungry. Bread made of grass and seed, yuck! Bek ate to stay strong. He ate, he slept, he tinkered with tiny metal things, and he watched.

A lesson from the Storyteller, Hruthin, yeerk, human. Similar. All think people who do not speak same or look same is stupid. Very silly. Tell secrets. Pay no attention. Is useful, no?

Bek paid very close attention to the yeerk talking to the human who owned the building. Something was wrong with the yeerk’s host. There was no human thought in the human body.

Strange.

The yeerk was thinking, yes tonight we will take this hork-bajir and make him bait for the tribe . The human was thinking, this strange one with bring me many materials . And further away, out of sight but not range of his thoughts or hearing were people spying.

////

The Tribe’s humans had gone out looking for Bek and came back with pulp leaves dyed with bad-smelling colors. Fal Tagut was told that the scribbles on the ‘paper’ said where to find his friend Bek. Fal believe them.

His other friend Toby decided that they would not wait for the Animorph humans to find Bek. She and he and humans Darnell and Jade would go rescue Bek themselves. With them, they took a few dracon beams and left in the van-type car. The others wished them luck and safety and they gave wishes in return, Ket Halpak and Jara Hamee were leading an attack on the hidden yeerk cannon at nightfall.

Fal Tagut did not like riding in the van. When the van was moving it felt like he was trapped at the top of a leap with the earth below pulling on his insides. Except instead of below the earth pulled him forward, back, side to side. He spent most of the trip trying not to vomit up the good bread that Loro Lok had made for them.

It took some time to get to the place where Bek was. The sun went from four hands until dark to settled under the earth by the time they arrived. There were already sounds of fighting and big animals in one of the buildings.

Toby Hamee said, “Darnell, your our driver. Keep the motor running. Fal Tagut! Jade! Give me cover fire. I’m going to get Bek.”

Toby burst from the back of the van like a seed from an exploding pod. Windows down, he and Jade used stunning dracon shots to clear her path as she flowed like water across the battlefield. Darnell kept pace with her, maneuvering the van around other cars and downed bodies.

Toby leaped onto the building and rounded to the other side. They rounded through the car lot to see Bek! And some strange many-legged creature and a wounded Ket Halpak. Fal Tagut was confused for a bit until he remembered that some of the Animorphs humans had shapes of Ket Halpak and Jara Hamee from when they helped them flee from the yeerks. From the booming voice in his head, Fal guessed that the strange monster was Visser Three.

None of this stumbled Toby as she dropped from the roof, cutting off the Visser’s muzzle in the process. She turned on the spot and cut across the monster’s throat with an elbow blade and chopped the legs from one side of the Visser’s body causing it the flop to the ground. From there she lept for Bek and Fal shot the yeerk-in-human that tried to take aim at her back.

With a mighty triumphant honk, Toby bounded for the van with Bek clinging to her back. The van swung around open back to the fight as the two tumbled in. Using his feet he helped Toby close the van doors.

The ride back was three times as long to avoid leading anyone back to the valley and twice as bouncy with a shot out tire from the fight.

////

Toby Hamee did not relax until she set foot back into the Ellimist valley.

Her plans worked. Her friends were safe. She faced Visser Three in morph in battle and lived to tell of it.

And tell she did. In the light of the bonfire surrounded by her friends and family and tribe. Everyone that had gone out that day taking turns to tell their personal stories about their missions. She spoke of Visser Three’s fear and surprise when she cut into their host’s morphed flesh. Bek talked about his captivity and the minds of the humans and yeerks he encountered. Her mother pantomimed the size and beauty of the yeerk cannon and base exploding. And her father outdid them all with a funny story about how he got the parts for his deep-space radio that involved weaponizing a bunch of bananas of all things.

Eventually, the fire died down and exhaustion snaked into everyone and the party ended. Folks said their goodnights and left for their homes to rest and recover. Bek, of course, stayed the night at her house. And so did Fal Tagut.

The peace of the next morning’s breakfast was broken by the ‘many odd birds’ alarm call.

No one actually dropped what they were doing per se, yesterday had been a long day and people wanted to eat their breakfasts. Her father, in particular, was busy tinkering with the radio at the table. The metaphorical cat was already out of the bag about their human tribemates, who only put on their masks as they continued eating their cooked eggs and soft bread. And the taxxons had discussed it the other night that they might as well reveal themselves before some accident happened and the Animorphs attacked them as enemies. Besides, if she left her oak and maple porridge at the table Bek would absolutely steal it.

Tobias arrived first fluttering around overhead before landing in a nearby tree. The hruthin following soon after on swift legs. And then came the humans with the taller ones easily outpacing the shorter ones.

“Ok, so that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” Rachel said with excitement. She brushed her long yellow mane out of her face and her eyes seemed to be sparkling.

“Where did you guys get a car!” Marco puffed breathlessly. Then his eyes wandered warily to the taxxons who waved greetings with a few of their forelimbs.

“You do know there’s cars everywhere in the city right?” Darnell responded.

Cassie gave him a very long and strange look that Toby did not yet know how to decipher, “You didn’t… steal that van did you?”

“Of course not,” Darnell lied through his teeth with notes of sarcasm, “My uncle Reese let me borrow it.”

“Didn’t know you guys had so many other friends,” Jake said. His mouth a stern frown. “Seems like you didn’t need our help at all.”

“By luck, our own investigation turned up the location of Bek’s imprisonment. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a way to contact you to alert you of recent developments.”

That seemed to placate the Animorphs. And frankly there was no way that Toby was going to tell them about the walkie talkies and the radio project, her parents hadn’t and the humans didn’t ask. The andalite noticed that Jara was building something but didn’t seem fit to ask what. They left soon after anyway, to some other mission and the tribe wished them luck.

The rest of the day went as planned.

Cooks cooked. The doctor made his rounds and taught his students. Parents cared for their children. Workers put their blades to use on building new houses. Everyone keeping busy while waiting for the main show.

Her father finished the deep space radio not one hand from sundown and she and a decent chunk of the adults and taxxons went to another valley (specifically chosen for the caves and signal strength with the regular radios) to use it try to contact other rebel groups out in space. It was a funny sight, chitin and scales effectively crammed together as everyone crowded to watch Jara Hamee hunched over a tiny desk. Everyone waiting with bated breath while he switched stations as he played -here-happy-whole- dozens of times on a small wooden hand drum.

-here-happy-whole-

-here-hap- [-heard-received-welcome-freedom-comrades-]

#thenixkat #animorphs #hork-bajir #taxxons #fanfiction #episode rewrite

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carahealstheworld · 6 years

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15 Things That Surprised Me My First 24 Hours In Uganda

I have now been in Uganda for a day and a half. In that time I have adjusted to the time here, exchanged money, gone shopping and a host of other things. I’m seriously trying to take this bit of time to vacation but I am learning a lot about myself and life in general. Here are the things that surprised me in the first 24 hours of being here:

1. How Quickly I Got Through Immigration- I am here on a tourist visa that is approved for 30 days. I thought there would be some long drawn out process like the ones you see in TV movies and here about from immigrants to the United States. I thought I would be grilled with questions about why I was here for a month on a tourist visa, who I was going to see, where I was staying, and all the medical supplies in my suitcase. The only questions I got were Passport? Visa? Yellow Card? Then they took my picture and sent me on my way. Overall, I was through immigration in 5 minutes or less.

2. How Quickly I Forgot About Personal Space- Personal space is an American thing. If there are 2 strangers on an elevator, they stand on opposite ends. Two strangers on a bench, sit on opposite ends. Passing someone in public? Give them as much space as possible. Here in Uganda, all of that has gone out the window. It doesn’t bother me to be shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. Even when I’m on my phone. In general, everyone else you’re standing shoulder to should with here is minding their business and not worried about what you’re doing.

3. Everyone Is A Friend When Everyone Is A Stranger- Since I was traveling alone, I made conversation with anyone who would talk to me. Some of those people were Americans going to other countries in Africa or areas of Uganda. Some of those people were Ugandans from different areas of the country. However, everyone was friendly. Everyone here is also a hugger. I’ve been hugged by many people here including merchants and hotel staff. They are all friends.

4. That I Need To Learn More World Languages- The very first time that someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, happened here. It was a European gentleman so I believe he thought I was from Africa and spoke to me in French (a lot of African countries speak French or do their schooling in French). I know English. I know a lot of Spanish. I know some Afrikaans (and it is very similar to English). I know very little Arabic. I know pretty much no French but I should probably get a move on it if I want to continue world traveling. The second time someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, it was a security guard. I believe the language was Lugandan but I have no idea.

5. How Quickly I Lost My Was Of Luxury- Taking a warm shower is a luxury that we often take for granted. We are used to just turning the tap and have warm water. That’s not always the case here. Sometimes water has to be warmed so you have to turn on hot water 10-15 min before you shower. I was somewhere that didn’t have that option. I took a shower anyway. It turned out, I just needed to least the water run a little but. It did eventually get warm but I really didn’t care.

6. Telemundo...In English-So I’m not really surprised that they have TV in Africa. Nor am I surprised that they have “Junk TV” or Telemundo. However, I was surprised that they have Telemundo in English here. The signs and things on the screen are still in Spanish though.

7. The People Of Flint, MI (and any other place in the US with lead infested pipes) Have It More Difficult Than Some Africans- I know this is a VERY strange thing to say but I am a graduate of THEE Social Justice HBCU, Philander Smith College, so I had to mention something about social justice (and issue you a call to action since I never stop serving others). I said this one particularly because I have to brush my teeth with bottled water while I am here. Have you ever brushed your teeth with bottled water? Do you know how difficult that is when you’re used to being able to turn on the tap? I want you to try it for one week. Seven full days. Brush your teeth with bottled water because we often don’t understand what we don’t experience (and if you’re really adventurous don’t use your tap at all for a week--use only bottled water for cooking, cleaning, bathing, brushing, washing clothes, washing hair, etc. Save the receipts and find out how expensive and unrealistic it is to do everyday). Once you have, I want you to contact your senators and representatives in Washington DC. Tell them about your experience and how no Americans should have to live that way. Push them to create legislation to rectify this issue. If you don’t think this works or will work, I encourage you to watch the movie “Toilet: Ek Prem Katha.” It’s in Hindi but there are subtitles in English. You’ll understand after you watch.

8. There’s No Reason To Fear Foreign Food- When we travel different places or even visit someone’s house who comes from a different culture, we tend to have an inherent fear of unfamiliar food. The benefit of the world being connected (or maybe the benefit of being American) is that you will always find some type of familiar food. I happened to have had eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and a fried fish burrito bowl (yes I had Mexican food in Africa) for dinner. Don’t fear it.

9. Most Of The Houses I’ve Seen Here Are Bigger And Nicer Than Mine- I’m not saying that there are not poor people here. I’m not saying that everyone here is rich. I’m also not saying that my family is poor (We’re not rich either so don’t be asking us for money). I’m just saying there are really nice houses here that are bigger than my house in the US.

10. The Beauty of Simplicity-Most things here are pretty simple. There are some elaborate things but for the most part its simple and beautiful. There’s simple locks. Simple doors. Simple gates with guards. Simply beautiful simplicity.

11. Police Guns-It wasn’t surprising to me that the police here carry guns. After all, I am American, I haven’t been living under a rock and we have many issues with police use of force and firearms (This isn’t a political statement or my opinion. Look at the numbers compared to other countries of the same or larger size. The numbers tell all). What surprised me was the size of the guns. Police here carry riffles. They have guns the size of their leg at their waist.

12. There’s Literally Security Everywhere- When my professor came inside the airport to meet me, she had to through a metal detector. That was just to walk inside the airport. She wasn’t coming through security to meet me at my gate or see me through immigration. She was just coming inside the door to walk me to the car to the hotel. It didn’t end there though. We went to the mall as well and also had to go through security. Although it didn’t happen in the first 24 hours, we also had to go through security at church and a fancy hotel we briefly visited. At church and the hotel they also checked the car we were in.

13. My Adaptability-People have always told me that I am quite adaptable. They say it in letters of recommendation and it even showed up as one of my strengths in Strengths Finder. So why did it surprise me? Because everything became so normalized to me almost immediately. Driving on the left and passing on the right? Normal. Everyone hugging me as if they haven’t seen me in years? Normal. Majority of people looking like me? Normal. I’ve just adapted super quickly and it’s surprised me.

14. The Bugs Here Clap Back- So I will tell the entire story later but for now, I will say that there was something squirming in my room in the shadows. I had no idea if it was a small snake or a bug. It turned out to be a bug and it clapped back when I tried to get it out. It turned in to a huge ordeal. Security and the hotel manager ended up coming to help.

Number 15 is really for Millennials. I will caution you that there is some censored language in this one because it is in a common phrase. So if you want to stop reading now, I will not be offended. If you do keep reading and later find yourself offended, DO NOT attempt to contact my parents, another elder relative, my pastor or whoever else to discuss your disdain. You. Were. Warned.

15. I Learned Where The Phrase “Black People S**t” Came From- This one adds a little more comedy to the already comical bug incident that occurred (which I promise to recap). So we’re driving around Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. I’m taking in the sites, the people and the buildings. I’m looking at traffic and people randomly gathering and everything else I was seeing. My literal though was, “This is some black people s**t.” And I mean that in the best way possible. It’s like all the stuff that we do in America that we call “n***a rigged” or “black people s**t” is written in our DNA and has been passed down to us for centuries. I’m serious. I wish you could see my face as I type this and hear me say this. I was literally watching people gather on the side of the street to eat food and party. I promise you they were having a cookout. They have what they call bodabodas (motor bike taxis) here. Y’all know most motorcycles can have 1 driver and 1 passenger. I bet you never seen a whole family ride on one though! I have and bodas are a little smaller than motorcycles. You’d be surprised at how many people can fit on one. Like how some of y’all try to squeeze your entire lineage in the back seat of a car. And the traffic. Y’all! These bodas drive wherever! Get in where you fit in at its finest. They don’t stop for traffic signals. If there’s a space between cars for the to drive in they do. If they have to drive on a side walk they will. It’s just the blackest thing you have ever seen or heard of. Why? These are OUR people. We do black people s**t and think nothing of.

I hope you keep reading to learn more about my adventures.

Bug story and pictures coming soon!

Be Blessed!!!!

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randomvariablefactor · 7 years

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Hey Q! It's 2017, not 1981!

Yeah, no shit! I hear it often. I realize that I'm 51 and not 15. My recent stay in the hospital taught me that for sure. I am not bulletproof. I am not invincible. That said, I am still The Q and that must count for something.

The 15 year old Q listened to Led Zeppelin and the first three Van Halen albums religiously. He still does at age 51. Van Halen and Van Halen II get regular rotation in Donna's Jeep. Most of my Zeppelin CDs are in my car. I have the Deluxe Editions at home in my personal library.

I often hear people ask the question of if you could talk to your teenage self, what would you say to him? There's a thousand things I would say to him. I'd probably slap him upside the head because the 15 year old me could be an ornery prick at times. I trusted nobody, was mad at the world, hated school, and hated where I lived. My original escape was through sports, though I was never any good at it. The escape route later came through music. My parents hated that idea.

A girl I dated in high school took me to a dance at St. Mary's in Lynn. There was a band onstage made up of kids from the school playing the classic rock covers of the day. My date totally lost my attention. Sorry Pam, and thank you. I was mesmerized by what I heard, not to mention what I saw in the crowd. There were girls dancing to the music. So what if a bunch of them dressed like their boyfriends in flannel shirts, Levi's, and work boots. Many of them sported the Farrah flip do from Logan's Run that I still like to this day. I started saving for an electric guitar the next day. 36 years later, I am still playing music. Why? Because I can? Sure! Because I want to? Yeah, that too. The correct answer is because I HAVE to. This thing is in my blood. Most guys take up music to meet girls. I was no exception. The only problem was my taste in music was undesirable to most of my local lady peers, meaning if I wanted to date, I had to listen to crappy music. I gave in and gave up often. My music always won.

But back to that mano a mano with Q51 vs Q15. In the back of my 15 year old head, I had a blind faith that things would get better, though I was also very cynical. I often associated myself with older people. I could not relate to my own age group that well, but give me some people 10 years older than me and it was a different ball game. I wanted to be like Larry on Three's Company at the Regal Beagle having drinks with an airline stewardess in a spaghetti strap or sleeveless summer dress with a flower in her hair. You know, like the girl on the cover of Bob Welch's French Kiss album. It wasn't happening.

Teen years are tough. Later I learned that we all had a hard time going through them. Let's face it, we are awkward and geeky. I was blessed with the Grand Slam Of Teenage Hell in junior high: skinny, glasses, braces, and freckles. Throw in a bad haircut and a Prince stache and you got it. People told me I'd get through it if I stuck to my guns. Would I have listened to the 51 year old me? Who knows? I'm betting no. Listening wasn't my forte unless it was, say, a Grand Funk or Alice Cooper 8 track.

Yeah, I had to learn a lot of things the hard way as a teen. My alcohol and drug problems in high school, college, and most of my 30 somethings. Even now, I found out I have Type 2 Diabetes and must watch my carbs. I wouldn't have listened then and I didn't until I got diagnosed. I honestly thought I was never going to make it to 25. I was surprised when I did. I was on a deathwish. Both of my parents had major health issues. We lived on red meat and starchy vegetables. Like The Mick once said: "If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."

I think the discussion of Q51 and Q15 would be mind blowing to the young buck. Telling him that he'd move out of Southie and go to Dorchester for 13 years. Unthinkable during the Bosco years. Southie and Dot guys broke each other's balls. It was a time honored tradition. That he'd forgive people that screwed him over? I'm Scotch-Irish. We invented the grudge. Even when it was sister Pat off her meds blabbing more info than they needed to know to my classmates. How about people who I thought were my allies that weren't, be it a classmate, bandmate, coworker, girlfriend, or someone that had the misfortune of hitting my radar on a bad day. Life is too short to be angry all the time. It may feel good when you are 15, but not at 51. At 15, a good bout of anger was like drinking 3 cans of Jolt. It makes you wired. At 51, it makes you tired. No more Jolt for this kid. When I went to the clinic to get checked out for what I thought was just a bronchial issue, my blood sugar was 723. I should have been in a coma or worse. Today it was 101, which is good.

Telling the kid he would meet a beautiful woman and be with her for 11 years and counting? He wouldn't believe it. Telling him he had everything he needed except for a little self discipline and self confidence? He would have said that I sounded like all the other people that talked to him over the years. That he'd keep a steady job and not miss a paycheck for 35 years and counting? You gotta be kidding me. That eventually he would find some like minded music people to play with? That some of those people that asked him to play music with them played on records he had as a teenager? That the suggestion his sister Patty once made that he should buy a Fender bass would open up a whole new world? That same sister that he shrugged off that day for being crazy had a good idea for that 15 year old kid. It would take him almost another 15 years to buy a bass, but when he did, the light at the end of the tunnel was no longer an oncoming train. Being sought out to resurrect Alice Cooper and BOC tribute bands and honor the memory of a dear budzo who would enlighten him beyond belief and mean the world to him? The kid would think I was off my rocker.

How about telling him that he would embrace other forms of music like jazz, soul, early R&B, funk, electronica, and even the dreaded disco!

Q15 was a dog lover. He'd be shocked to find out he became the owner of two ginger kitties. Would he be shocked to find out that he'd move to the North Shore? Telling him about the advancement of electronics and the role they would play in his life. DVDs of Classic TV shows, the Compact Disc, the Internet, the cell phone. The things you could tell him.

Yeah, I could tell him all that, but I think what I'd say would be simple. Be yourself, stick to your guns, don't be an asshole, treat people the way you would like to be treated, and hold on tight. It's a bumpy ride. The things you dream about wanting to do, if you work hard, they will happen. If they don't, you'll find other stuff to take your mind off of it. Oh yeah, and someday South Boston will get cable and there will be a station called Telemundo that you will love because all the women are hot. The only problem is that the show is in Spanish and you're in your fourth year of French. Go get yourself a Latina girl, maybe a New Yorker. Make sure she can speak Spanish so she can translate for you. You'll do fine kid.

#oldschoolrockerreflection

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thisdaynews · 5 years

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This Is What Latinos Think Everyone Got Wrong About El Paso

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/this-is-what-latinos-think-everyone-got-wrong-about-el-paso/

This Is What Latinos Think Everyone Got Wrong About El Paso

As a reporter, I’ve talked to immigration activists for the better part of a decade. They don’t often cry, at least not in front of me.

But all day on Sunday, the day after the shooting in El Paso, hardened advocates became emotional while explaining what it’s like to live in the United States after a killer drove 10 hours to kill Mexicans, Latinos and immigrants. The next day I still felt restless after a conversation with a friend. She had been crying because her husband overheard white men at the community pool remarking that while they didn’t agree with the killings — how magnanimous — they, too, didn’t want white people to be “wiped out” and for Hispanics to “take over.”

Story Continued Below

Where was this said? The deeply Republican city of Los Angeles, of course.

“He openly was discussing this like it was sports talk,” she told me, furious. “After 20 people are dead.”

The news media’s approach to its coverage of the El Paso shooting has obscured what made it uniquely horrifying for the Latino community. From the moment the shots were fired, this was a trend story: Another mass shooting, so let’s restart our debates about gun control and mental illness, maybe pull up some video game b-roll. And after so many shootings in recent years, journalists have decided it’s wrong to give too much attention to the shooter, so we downplayed his name and face, his bizarre and hateful manifesto.

But the media’s desire to erase the shooter and his ideology ended up erasing his victims and their community, too. While the news media successfully portrayed this shooting as part of a national epidemic of mass killings, we failed to accurately convey how this one was different. The visceral emotions of the Latinos I spoke with should have been—and should still be—front and center.

After years of covering immigration, I thought I understood how immigrants felt, because of our similar backgrounds. But I didn’t, not really. I’m Puerto Rican and Ecuadorian and from New York. Like many Hispanics, I’ve known undocumented people, but while I could empathizewith immigrants going through hardship, that’s not the same as sharing their experience.

This killer expressly traveled to a city filled with Mexicans and immigrants. This is new territory. The El Paso shooting isn’t just a sad moment that will pass, but the culmination of an anti-immigrant four decades in politics that ratcheted up in the 1990s and 2000s and has become only louder, emboldened and unchecked by American leaders, led by the president but certainly not just by him.

Of the 49 victims three years ago at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, 90 percent were Latino. Almost half were Puerto Rican. Others were Colombians, Mexicans and Dominicans. But what makes El Paso different is that people were targeted, not by someone pledging themselves to ISIS, but to white supremacy.

“Now Hispanic Americans have been targeted, some who are immigrants, and all who have limited political power,” I wrote on Twitter on Tuesday. “That’s what’s going on. And people are terrified.”

Then the messages starting coming in.

I received more than 160 private messages on Twitter along with some emails and texts from people who told me they didn’t have a safe space to share these stories.

They were from immigrants and people born in this country just like me. They were from older people scared for their children and grandchildren, but also from teenagers, heartbreakingly young teens of 16 and 17, who shouldn’t have to worry that someone is going to tell them to “go back to Mexico” and threaten to attack them while walking their dog if they don’t cross the streetnow. They were from people in red states and blue states, the united states of hating immigrants and people who just look like they might be. They were from biracial people, but also from white people who explained that their sister had married a Latino man and that means they have two Latina nieces, or a grandson, and they’re scared of the ways their neighbors might try to hurt them — with words they won’t forget or violence that could take them away forever.

A Latina in a predominantly Hispanic border city “very much like El Paso” told me she has a new job, overseeing a team of mostly Hispanic staff, with her name on the door — something to really be proud of. But instead she’s terrified, she said, because the office is marketed toward Latinos and that means she feels like a target.

A Dreamer in Texas told me he was terrified of taking his son to stores or crowded places, and said he warned his parents not to speak Spanish in public. A first-generation Salvadoran man with a wife who is white said they just had a baby boy four weeks ago. He said he has told her he hopes the baby doesn’t have dark skin.

A white man said his Latina wife from the Rio Grande Valley broke down after reading the shooter’s manifesto. She told him she’s sorry if their future kids are targets because of her.

There were people who said they wish they didn’t have an accent so they could pass as white, and others who said they are ashamed to be relieved they can pass as white. “We’re not fine,” a resident of a border town wrote to me.

And then the process started all over again. A massive Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid at seven food processing plants in Morton, Mississippi, led to the arrests of 680 undocumented workers, a record. Children cried outside the gates for their parents. Wives came to the scene to say goodbye to their husbands. It was a new method for separating families, but with the same result.

At first I didn’t watch the video of 11-year-old Magdalena Gomez Gregorio tearfully begging the government to release her father every time it popped up online, because while as a journalist I understand the news value of these images to show the human cost of Trump’s immigration policy, I’ve personally found it hard to continue looking at haunting images like it. I remember little Jakelin, 7, who died of dehydration in U.S. custody last year, or Oscar Alberto Martínez Ramírez and his 23-month-old daughter, Angie Valeria, face down in the Rio Grande in June, their tragedy transformed into a small part of the perpetual motion machine of online content. But I watched the video as I wrote this paragraph, of her asking the government to “please show some heart,” between sobs, while adding that her father is not a criminal.

Like her, many Hispanics are worried. They live in parts of the South where there aren’t many Latinos, but also in majority-Hispanic areas where the actions of an outsider coming to a border town to kill means the cocoon of community doesn’t present the sense of protection it once did. But even in this dark moment there are hopeful signs.

The Latino community in the United States is not monolithic. At most, we have a shared language that not all speak. But I’ve seen a growing awareness of people sticking together online, as people check on one another on Instagram, in person and on the phone. There is fear, but people are also resolute that things will get better. And some wanted to make clear to me that while they’re well aware of how deeply awful this moment is, they still stand in defiance of those who would instill fear.

“I am done being terrorized,” one young man wrote to me. “My stepdad didn’t march and organize in the Chicano movement for our generation to live in fear.”

And while I think the news media should do better to contextualize the El Paso attack as a toxic brew of American gun culture and hatred of Latinos, there has been a lot of good coverage, too. Univision preempted its programming with a prime-time special by Jorge Ramos and Patricia Janiot titled “Hispanics in the Crosshairs,” and Telemundo’s José Díaz-Balart interviewed El Paso victims from the hospital, sharing Spanish-language texts exchanged between a mother and her daughter. Cassandra Jaramillo and Alfredo Corchado of theDallas Morning Newsfiled big-hearted stories from El Paso that centered on local heroes and spotlighted the community’s pain, and theLos Angeles Timesreporters Esmeralda Bermudez, Paloma Esquivel and Cindy Carcamo elevated the voices of Latino residents and grappled with the Trump factor. CNN’s Nicole Chavez covered how “Walmart united Americans and Mexicans in El Paso for decades” and the network’s Nick Valencia convened a round table of Hispanics from El Paso about “The Impact of Trump’s Rhetoric on Hispanic Americans.” For the “CBS Evening News,” Manuel Bojorquez spoke to a roundtable of El Paso Latinos, one of whom said Trump “has been poisoning so many people with his words and targeting us Latinos when all we do is work.”

I believe in and am still awed by the power of journalism, of documenting people’s stories so better-informed citizens can rally around their neighbors and cast out the ignorance that led to this shameful stain on our country’s history. As one person, who came to the country legally at the age of 19, wrote to me, the pain is relatively recent, but there is an antidote.

“It is really the last few months that I feel not wanted by my fellow Americans and it hurts,” she wrote. “It hurts because we contribute to the economy, to the food and the culture. I know the vast majority of Americans do not feel this way about us, but we will need you to speak up.”

#About #Foreign #Politics #wrong

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