On guns and things

I have been pondering, over the past week, on the mass shooting in Arizona recently, when a man named Jared Loughner opened fire with a semi-automatic weapon outside a Safeways supermarket, hitting 19 people and killing six. Naturally there have been enormous outpourings of grief for the victims, who included a nine-year-old girl, as well as instant and vicious political sniping, mostly from the left, accusing the right of inciting violence through political rhetoric. The Major and I first heard the news in Detroit airport, where we landed after an 11-hour flight from Chicago. A marked contrast to the hustle and bustle of Sao Paulo international airport, our first thoughts were of how civilised a country America was, until we heard about Loughner's rampage, and Sarah Palin's crosshair targeting of key Democrats on her website, and instant political vitriol immediately spewing forth.

I still do not understand, however, how a country which is supposedly the world's leading superpower can still allow its states to licence guns so freely. The Second Amendment is one thing: I don't agree with it, but can understand the history behind it, and why people support the right to bear arms. What I cannot understand it why this right is not accompanied by the most stringent regulations. Guns are designed to kill: surely to own a gun, one should be subject to the most rigorous checks to ensure the maximum safety in doing so? Arizona passed a law last year which allowed people to carry concealed weapons without a permit - why, in heaven's name? Why does one need to carry a concealed weapon in the first place? And why should one be allowed to carry an automatic weapon capable of firing off multiple rounds in one go?

It reminded me of when I was in Arizona over the summer, as part of the Ford Fiesta world tour. My first tour activity took place at Scottsdale Gun Club, America's largest public indoor shooting range. I'd literally just got off the plane, it was about 7.30am, and I was being handed an array of lethal weapons to fire. They included a Smith & Wesson 500, a Heckler & Koch MP5, an old-school AK 47 and a full-on, military-style M249 SAW, which came with a belt of bullets and which you had to lie down on the ground to fire. I hated it. The adrenaline that surged through my body made me feel sick; I hated the smell and the kick of the gun against my shoulder and the fact that the targets we were shooting were shaped like people. Even more disturbing was, when we had all had a go, the way the gun club staff enthusiastically took up position to blast off the rounds that we hadn't finished. They took such pleasure in it.

But I could see how that could happen. I could see how the adrenaline could become addictive, how hitting the bullseye could be a thrill, how it could make you feel really hard, and cool. Which is what makes me even more worried: if we, as human beings, have the capacity to enjoy shooting things so much, surely we should be saved from ourselves when it comes to regulating our ability to do so? Perhaps I will be derided as a namby-pamby, nanny-state fan who could be accused of not taking ones' rights seriously, but it's not me I'm worried about - it's all those nutters out there who can, because of these so-called rights, get their hands on a gun and use it on real live people. What about those people's own rights to life? Oh dear, it all gets a bit complicated, but I guess Time magazine summed it up best: surely something is awry when we live in a place where you can't take a bottle of shampoo in your bag on a plane, but you can quite easily buy a gun and use it to go and kill someone.

Rich v Poor in Rio

Yesterday I met a man called Rambo who lives in a cave. Well, I said I met him, I really just said hello and shook his hand.

The Major and I were on a tour of a favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. These unplanned sprawls of habitation are greatly feared in big Brazilian cities, because they are controlled by drug lords, they are where the poor people live, and they have bad and scary reputations - go into a favela and you won't come out alive, etc.

Except it turns out they're not all like that. Certainly the one we were in wasn't. It is called Rochinha, and is home to the largest number of favela dwellers in Rio - 300,000 people packed into 54,000 houses, some little more than shacks, perched on a hillside overlooking (of course) one of the most expensive pieces of Rio real estate. We spent about three hours walking around it with our guide, a half Brazilian, half American man who was born and raised in the favela and loves it with all his heart, so much so that he has tattoos of it all over his body.

It was most enlightening. Like any good tourist, we had bought the Lonely Planet guide to South America before embarking on our month-long trip around Argentina and Brazil, and had been warned to keep our valuables closely about us while in Rio and to never ever venture unaccompanied into a favela. But actually, all the people we met were lovely - friendly individuals, all of whom loved living in this close-knit community where people look out for one another and know each other by name. To be sure, we spotted occasional shadowy figures patrolling balconies - the drug boys who were keeping lookout from their patch, but according to our guide, the live and let live mentality of Rochinha means that, as long as people don't steal, kill or abuse, everyone will be fine. And it seemed that this was the case. We met one man, a German, who has lived there for 12 years, and never locks his house or his car. And of course we met Rambo, a rugged hairy type who lives on the edge of the favela in his cave on the hillside, and prefers to keep it simple.

It's not all idyllic of course. By and large, people live in favelas because they can't afford to live anywhere else - they are the maids, the housekeepers, the cleaners for the rich, earning R700-ish a month - a fairly pitiful sum and certainly not enough to rent a house in a proper planned area of the city. As our guide pointed out, if you tore down the favelas, Rio would grind to a halt, because the people who live here are the ones who keep everything ticking. The educational prospects are poor there, the majority of children don't end up at university and sadly, many of them turn to the drugs trade because they can earn more that way - although, thanks to an informal agreement with the police, it means they can never then leave the favela, because once they do they will be arrested.

It made us both think. Of how lucky we are to have enough money to go on adventurous holidays, to live in a nice house, to drive a nice car, to be able to educate our children well. But also of, how in many ways, we are spiritually the poorer for it - we don't have the same relationship with our neighbours, we get hung up on our possessions and whether we have the latest clothes and whether our thighs are too fat. For a brief moment, the Major and I contemplated coming there to live for a while, to engage with the people around us, to learn the language, to see if we could get by. But then we returned to our cosy little guesthouse perched in pretty Santa Teresa with lovely houses all around and weakly, foolishly agreed that we might not be able to manage it after all. A shaming thought, especially after meeting Rambo.

Mind the bump

Readers of my regular blog for the Lady magazine will know that I have prostrated myself upon the altar of the would-be family planners and am expecting a baby, due in April. Thus far, all has been well - no morning sickness, fatigue or any of the other discomforts that one is warned about. In fact, up until now I have pretty much been able to pretend I am not pregnant at all, as my 'bump' has just looked like the effects of eating a little too much. Now, however, it is starting to protrude - a fact that was made painfully obvious to me the other evening.
The Major and I were attending a Christmas extravaganza, and decided to fortify ourselves with caffeine beforehand. We bought our coffees, and were making polite conversation with the lady at the till, when she said, "so, you're expecting a baby."
We exchanged surprised glances and agreed that this was so.
It was most odd. I have grown so used to telling people I am pregnant and them expressing surprise and disbelief that this new evidence of my impending motherhood, despite being a natural process (pregnancy=bump after all) has come as a bit of a shock.
Now I am gearing myself up for yet more conversations centred around my stomach. I have been warned to expect random touching by strangers, comments as to the sex (we have decided not to find out) and unsolicited advice. Fine. But be warned, if anyone tries to stroke my belly without asking first, there will be hell to pay.

On parading

Last Thursday was Veteran's Day, aka Remembrance Day, and there was a parade in Leavenworth. Naturally we went along to see what was happening.
I think, retrospectively, the key word was probably involvement. I don't know how many people were watching the parade, but I'm pretty sure more people were in it than observing. There were the army types in their uniforms, followed by the ROTC (junior army, scarily young some of them), then the Brownies and the Scouts and the Veterans of Foreign Wars, and the Mayor and the State Representative, then more Scouts, then the high school Marching Band, complete with cheerleaders, then more Scouts, then more veterans, then a couple of random people driving old cars, then some more cars with fat people waving from inside, then some more veterans, on a truck this time, then a helicopter being towed along on a float, then a Masonic Lodge or two, then the Daughters of Job (junior masons), more veterans, some horses and finally the Fort Leavenworth Hunt. The whole thing went on for several hours, in the cold, with lots of people waving and occasional cheers.
What amused me most was the homespun-ness of it all and also the number of people who felt the need to parade in cars. Surely the point of a parade is to sally forth on foot? Or perhaps on a float or maybe a horse, but just to drive very slowly, waving? It didn't seem very parade-like behaviour.
I also missed the solemness of the British remembrance spectacle, with its people in mourning colours wearing poppies and serious expressions, and the last post and the two minutes silence. Veterans Day here is much more of a celebration, and a chance for everyone to get stuck in. Apparently Armed Forces Day is the more solemn occasion here.
Nevertheless, the whole thing provided an amusing spectacle, and then we were able to go and warm up with beers and fajitas in the High Noon Saloon, which is always fun. Do post further thoughts on the nature of parading...

Dyed in the Red

Today I woke up to a state that is completely controlled by the Republican party. GOP candidates have taken all the major seats in Kansas, from the US Senate seat to the various house districts.
When I got to the University this morning, most of my colleagues were sunk into deep gloom at the news. Although, as one of them pointed out, at least now nobody can blame the Democrats when things go wrong. And we all took comfort from the fact that, while Kansas might now be dyed deep red, at least Sharron Angle, the Tea Party candidate in Nevada who referred darkly to citizens making use of their Second Amendment rights, wa beaten by Harry Reid, the longstanding Democratic incumbent.
Nevertheless, it seems strange, in a state that is largely blue collar, working class or agricultural, that so many people vote to the right. After all, the Democrats are ostensibly the party of this demographic, and their policies reflect the desire to help those less well off, with healthcare reform, tax cuts and so on.
But Kansans also like to be left alone, and don't like the thought of their actions being controlled by Washington, hence their love of 'no more big government'. As Sam Brownback, the new Republican governor of Kansas put it, "no more Obama way; now to the Kansan way" - whatever that means.
I've basically realised I can't talk about politics any more, unless I am in the liberal oasis of the KU environs. This was perfectly illustrated by a conversation with a friend the other evening, who describes himself as a "libertarian" and says that if government backed off, we'd all be in a better place.
The irony is, he works for the US Army, perhaps the biggest government-controlled machine out there. The base budget for defence spending in America currently stands at $533.8 billion. Adding spending on "overseas contingency operations" brings the sum to $663.8 billion. That's 19% of the entire federal budget. In fact, it's one of the biggest single expenditures of the US government. Surely reducing government involvement would have to involve cutting defence spending somehow - and then where would all these libertarians be?

Leaves and things

I drove past a man today who was blowing leaves off his drive with one of those electric leaf-blowing things - the ones that look like vacuum cleaners but blow instead of suck. Anyway, he would patiently blow a pile of leaves off his driveway into a neat little pile - but the problem was, it was a windy day, and no sooner had he blown his pile into place than the wind would come and mess it all up. I never actually saw him do anything with the leaves, apart from push them around with his blowy thing. Meanwhile more leaves were coming down from the trees all the time because, as I said, it was a windy day. Apparently one of these leaf blower things emits as much energy in one year as 80 cars. Do these people have nothing better to do all day than blow leaves around and pollute the atmosphere while they're doing it? (and I know, I was driving a car when I saw him) Such is life in the suburbs of America.

Psychotic American Politics

A colleague said to me this morning, "I wish our right-wingers were more like British Tories." He has a point. Whether you're a fan of Cameron and his government or not, we remain relatively liberal in our politics in England - we may be carrying out one of the biggest slash and burn exercises in public sector jobs for a long time but our government and its acolytes does not exhort people to turn to guns to protect themselves, or rail publicly against homosexuality, or denounce those of the Jewish faith as "the antichrist".

Sadly this is not the case in America. The papers and airwaves have been full, recently, of the crazy things that politicians do to get themselves elected, in the run-up to the American midterms, where election fever has once again swept the country. Most of the press has focused on those extreme right-wing individuals who do and say ever-crazier things in the name of politics.

Take for example Carl Paladino, who is gunning for New York governor. He's the one who circulated an email with a photo of an African tribal ritual captioned 'Obama Inauguration Rehearsal'and who has attacked gays for supposedly brainwashing children. Or how about Christine O'Donnell, the Tea Party favourite in Delaware, who doesn't appear to realise that church and state are separate in the US, or another Tea Partier, Sharron Angle, the Nevada candidate, proposing that citizens consider "Second Amendment remedies" to "protect themselves against a tyrannical government." And let's not even get started on Sarah Palin.

OK, so these are extreme examples, but these are ELECTED people, for goodness sake. I read something recently which pointed out that the British public, for all its ostensible stupidity at times, is not completely without savvy when choosing its politicans. Most know which candidate is going to best for their constituency, and elect people who, on the whole, do an OK job. Admittedly we're in one of the worst recessions for decades, thanks largely to the last government, but let's face it, we all like to borrow money cheaply and spend beyond our means - it wasn't just them doing it.

But that's enough defence of Gordon Brown et al, the point is, deluded though they may have been, they weren't (I think), actual psychos. In America, most politicans seem to have a dangerously psychotic streak. At least that's what it appears every time I switch on the radio or the TV, where I see would-be leaders denouncing their opponents strategy, character and moral standing with all the dignity of a bully in a playground. It disgusts me - but what disgusts me more is that people are taken in by it - indeed they lap it up. Frank Rich (from whom I confess I stole many of the examples in this article) has written a very interesting piece on the whole thing in the New York Times, which you can read here. He says it better than I, but one thing Rich and I appear to agree on wholeheartedly: America is on a dangerous path if it continues in this way. Goodness knows what will happen next.