Saturday, February 18, 2012

Whitney E. Houston . 1963-2012

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I hope Whitney is in a better place now, but I also hope she can see this I am seeing right now. Her memorial service. Her life, through her songs, touched mine at times and it made a difference. And it did so to so many in so many ways, deep, meaningful ways... Listening to the testimonials in speech and song at her service, witnessing the feelings overflow in a way only possible in the New Hope baptist church where her voice was born to the world, so intense and respectful and solemn... It makes the true extent of this loss dawn on me as it dawns on millions of people all over the world who share the same kind of bond with Whitney, regardless of its form.

I hope Whitney is in a better place now. And over there, wherever it may be, her voice will still sound good enough, like Kevin just said. And it still sounds good enough for me right here, and always will. To those trying to diminish her life, her accomplishments and that voice, even as her body lies on the floor of that church, I just say shut up and show some respect. I promise you when your turn comes to lie on some floor somewhere, waiting to be turn to dust, you won't have to worry about people diminishing you.

Rest in peace, Whitney Elizabeth Houston. You will be missed.
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Thursday, February 16, 2012

Old news...

Yeah, yeah... One leaves the house unattended for a little while and when you come back lo and behold the landlord came over and redecorated it... (sigh)
So one more time, here we go. And it's not like it didn't need remodelling but, hey; I live here. I will do it.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Monday, May 9, 2011

In a nutshell...

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Shadow, shadow on the wall...

Yesterday was Mother's Day - to my mother, in Portugal, it has always been on December 8, now it's any given first Sunday of May and they call it "mothers day" - emphasis on the plural - we had a saying in Portugal that went "Mom there's only one!" but apparently not anymore - and a week ago a SEAL team killed Osama Bin Laden but none of this makes us forget the crisis; here, as in Portugal, the long and slow but relentless march towards social-corporatism goes on. Bye-bye socialism, bye-bye capitalism... I must admit that transforming with a single stroke all of the middle class - liberal or conservative - into ideological orphans is brilliant but anyway... Moving on.
The hummingbirds are back, the ground is ready for one more tomato plantation, the trees regain their spring splendor, the cat is accepting well the old lady dog that will stay with us for a while, the "boat" glides smoothly with a new set of Michelin and, finally, the Sun is shinning and it's hot out - yes because, this year, the snow shovels and salt buckets only returned to the basement in mid April.
In a nutshell, life goes on... As does the fight.
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Thursday, June 25, 2009

Monday, June 22, 2009

Neda is her name.

neda

Neda Agha-Soltan (Persian: ندا آقا سلطان - Nedā Āġā-Soltān; born 1982, died June 20, 2009)

The images of Neda's murder are still on my mind. I believe they always will be. Like the image of Mohammed al-Durrah, the 12 years old boy shot with his father during the 2000 intifada in Gaza. Unlike the tank man image taken by Jeff Widener in Tiananmen square in 1989, Neda and Mohammed's images show the death of completely innocent people, that were killed just because they were there. They were not standing in front of a tank. They were just on the street, the day they died.

Neda Agha-Soltan was not throwing rocks at the Basiji or shouting against the Ayatollahs' regime; she wasn't even near a group of protesters doing those things. She was a woman walking on the street, coming from or going to a demonstration against the government that oppresses her people, a right granted to citizens by the Iranian constitution. Yet, she was singled out and shot in cold blood as she was walking peacefully, in what is a clear sign of the true nature of the Iranian regime: fascism.

She was a woman in Iran. A woman that like so many others in so many different ways aspired for change. She, like so many other women in Iran, was given new hope by the movement on the streets of Tehran, Esfahan, Tabriz, Kerman, spreading like fire through dry grassland. This makes her death a much greater symbol for those seeking freedom, for true freedom means human dignity and you can't have human dignity when basic human rights are being suppressed. She became a martyr in a greater cause, much greater than other causes that feed from martyrdom. She died not on the barricades, not on the front lines of this struggle, but peacefully walking the street; she died because she dared not being free but dream of freedom.

The fascist beasts that murdered Neda, like all fascist beasts everywhere, have not learnt that dreams are impossible to kill. But they try. They try with all their might and all their means. They shall not succeed. And yet, even as I write these words, outside of Iran the fear of this spreading fire grows. The role of Twitter, YouTube and Facebook in the Iranian revolt is downplayed more and more; the control freaks in power try to adjust, to understand how this is possible and how to manipulate and block the truth in this new age of information; the opinion makers desperately gasp in a world where opinion is no longer exclusive and at long last the word came to triumph over the sword; the false prophets of democracy shout and spout their bile without shame to try and stop this debacle looking as if they cherish the very things they despise; now they shed fake tears for Neda, when the world knows how many innocents like her they killed before. To free them, of course. Shameless.

I truly hope, like many many others, that Neda's death, and the deaths of hundreds of other Iranians, was not in vain. I truly hope the people of Iran can at long last win their freedom and embrace true democracy, parting ways with religion as a society and entering the modern world, keeping their true faith an individual right. I truly hope the rest of us finally learn how to respect them and help them achieve these goals, and at last stop thinking how this change can be made profitable and serve interests other than those of the Iranian people. In a world in turmoil, the revolting Iranians are heroes. Lets us always remember Neda, but let us never forget those left fighting for what she hoped for and will never have. And above all, let us make sure they will have it. For themselves.

Inch'Allah.


My thanks to Navid Aghabakhshi for helping me with the correct Farsi spelling of Neda shown in the image above. Khayli mamnoon.

[simulpost001/09: here in portuguese (in A Sombra)]
neda