Pete’s Pond

Pete’s Pond

The mama elephant stands at the pond’s edge, sucks up water in her vacuum cleaner hose-nose, then flings the water over the baby standing next to her. Over and over she repeats—suck, fling, suck, fling. Finally, the baby dips its nose into the water, sucks up a trunk full, and flings the water over its back. Lesson completed.

This little scene, hypnotizing to watch, is just one of the fabulous encounters you can have with African wildlife, courtesy of a National Geographic Society website. Go to http://www9.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/wildcamafrica/wildcam.html and you’ll be transported to “Pete’s Pond.” Pete’s Pond is in Botswana, and luckily for Internet users, has been outfitted with camera, microphone, satellite hook-up and whatever else it takes for round-the-clock viewing of one special spot in the African wild. Volunteers man the camera during most of the daylight (in Africa) hours, and the camera works remotely at night. (Just remember that Botswana time is six hours ahead of Eastern Daylight Time.) The camera pans, tilts, and zooms in on elephants, zebras, warthogs, guinea fowl, lions, elands, kudus, birds of all kinds and much more, including a crocodile named “Fatty.” The anthropomorphic names are given to certain distinctive animals by the viewing devotees who make postings to the blog on the website.

In addition to the usual chit-chat, bloggers also ask and receive answers to technical questions about the equipment, about the wildlife they are viewing, and about the volunteers and the Pete’s Pond program. Some have posted photographs of the animals at their own websites. The excitement and appreciation of the viewers comes through by even a casual perusal of the postings. Some claim that they aren’t getting enough sleep any more because they stay up to watch the animals come to the water hole in early morning!

Treat yourself. Go. Watch. Enjoy.

Dubai Medical College for Girls

Dubai Medical College for Girls

Dubai Medical College for Girls. Not “for Women.” For “Girls.” Right away I had at least a microchip on my shoulder, even though when asked I had immediately agreed to visit the place as part of an accreditation team.

The mission of the College, according to the Founder, His Excellency Sheik Saeed something something something Lootah, is to prepare girls to be physicians for the country, especially for the females of the country and at the same time to prepare them for their important role as nurturers of the next generation, all the while preserving and promoting Islamic and Arabic culture. Thus their requirement for head and arm and leg covering and the restrictions on leaving the campus without a proper chaperone, amongst other things.

Well, OK. It was shades of being a college freshman in the late ‘50’s when we couldn’t wear pants on campus and had to be in by eleven, except on weekends, and had to sign out to go home and no boys in the bedrooms. But this is almost 50 years later, and by now in this country we’ve had Roe v. Wade, and birth control pills, and women moving into male occupations, and very nearly an Equal Rights Amendment.

But, you know, when I got there and I met the Dubai Medical College girls, I backed off my high horse, at least a little bit.

For one thing, they ARE girls. They aren’t yet women, or even young women. Although I did meet female physicians who were graduates of the College and who were very capable, articulate, and confident, so somehow, somewhere, they do grow up.

But these medical students were GIRLS. Giggly girls, Sweet girls. Innocent girls. Full of enthusiasm and sincerity and wide-eyed gaity. About like 10 year olds in our culture, before American girls have become Brittany Speared, tattoed, pierced, and made up like madams.

And you know something else? I think they should keep the name Dubai Medical College for Girls. It’s a perfect description.

Joe Allen

Joe Allen

“We ruined him, you know, we all did. We spoiled him rotten.”

“Him” was Joe Allen, always called by both first and last names, never just Joe. He was Larry’s cousin, just a few years older than Larry himself. “We” was Larry’s mother, along with her sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews. Joe Allen had been born a year after his oldest brother died of pneumonia at age 19. The oldest boy—a straight “A” student at a prestigious college, a good boy. Joe Allen was his replacement.

“Joe Allen was so pretty when he was little—those blue eyes and blond curls—the neighbors used to come and ask to borrow him for the afternoon,” Larry’s mother said. “And he played football for Bear Bryant at Alabama, you know.”

With all that attention and adulation, it was hard for Joe Allen to be just a regular Joe who had a regular job and regular hours. Maybe that’s why he wound up as a Dade County cop. His beat was keeping tabs on Mafia guys, mostly parolees, who would blow into Miami for a few days of fun at hotels on the Beach, and at strip joints, and illegal card games, and who knows what. And Joe Allen was right there with them. Out ‘till dawn, liquored up, dealing in dope and fenced goods and hot ladies. He flamed out, of course, and died in his fifties, long before Larry’s mother died.

“It’s such a shame,” she said. “But we ruined him. We all did.”

An American’s View of the UAE

An American’s View of the UAE

You can tell the UAE is one of the big oil-producing countries. The gas is cheap, cheap, cheap, even though they’ve raised the price twice in two years. Gas-guzzling cars are everywhere—not SUVs like here, but the most powerful, least fuel efficient motor in every car. Big Mercedes, big BMWs, big Chevys, big Buicks, Hummers.

And lights illuminating almost every building at night. Adding to the lights are the construction lights used to keep construction going twenty-four hours a day. And every empty lot is under construction. At night the country is surely visible to the Space Station. There are few stars in the sky in Dubai. Even the moon seems dim. But the skyline is brilliant.

The amount of expensive stuff for sale is mind-boggling, jewelry in particular. And yet you don’t see much jewelry flaunted by the Emirati, the nationals.

What you do see is that humans must have a gene for self-decoration. In the UAE, where the Emirati usually dress fairly traditionally—men in white gown with headdress and sandals—you see a lot of Rolex watches peeking out from those long sleeves. And the women who wear the traditional black gown with head scarf and sometimes a veil, also often wear the sexiest shoes you’ve ever seen. Lots of heels, bejeweled sandals, designer fashions.

To me, the most memorable statement was made by the traditionally-garbed wife who passed by me walking deferentially with her husband, and with every step exposing for all to see her bright red manicured toenails.

It gives me a lot of insight into how, in other cultures, you see tattoos and body piercings.