#PrayForParis

For me, yesterday was another day. I woke up. I do what I’m used to do on Fridays. I hung out with some friends to celebrate the end of the week. We had dinner and we chatted. They’ve returned back home and I went to sleep. Another day gone by.

Yesterday was another day. Many people woke up. They did what they’re used to do on Fridays. They might have hung out with friends to celebrate the end of the week. They came across a group of strange people. They were killed. They couldn’t return back home and go to sleep. Not one more day can go by now for them.

This was the situation all over France yesterday when several group of terrorists scattered around Paris decided to attack different public spaces. Yesterday, the French president alleged that it was ISIS, a terrorist Islamic group, who had done it. Today, ISIS confirmed it. Moreover, the terrorist group stated that that wasn’t going to be the last attack they are going to perpetrate.

A few months ago when the situation with the “Charlie Hebdo” magazine happened, it was clear that the terrorist group became angry with the French. I know that there are approximately 200 countries in the world and I also know that there may be differences in religion, in politics, in ideologies in general, but is it fair to kill over 200 people just to make a point? When I heard about the attack, I felt devastated. Once again the terrorist group has done something outrageous and once again people died and I cannot stop thinking about “What if we are next?” Something or someone has to stop this situation. Muslims all over the world are condemning these atrocious acts of terrorism but why does this have to happen? Why a clear fanaticism over religion makes people commit murders in such a way? Religious people share the love of their God(s) so why is one God superior to the other? Is this “superior” God angry because other people don’t believe in him? I think that this is just an excuse to execute those gruesome actions. 

We can only hope and pray. Hope that this situation will change soon. Pray for all the families that have lost their dear ones. Hope for a world rid of violence and in the meantime we’ll pray... pray for paris.

What happened today.

Today is the 7^th of November… again. I was reminded by my mother of it. We were on a taxi and she said “Today is the 7^th”. We looked at each other eyes and we remained silent the rest of the way. The message was clear; I understood what “7^th of November” meant. Eight years have passed since that direful 7^th of November. So to understand the whole story, let me take you to my childhood; back when there was a happy, small and naïve Pablo sprinting down an infinite backyard next to his school in his old town Garín (Buenos Aires). Ever since I can remember, my family befriended many families from my school; and therefore, I began to have lots and lots of friends who didn’t go to my classroom but were from the school. I went to a catholic school and even though I am not much of a Christian, my family, alongside 6 other families, formed a small delightful “prayer” group. Every now and then, we would get together in one of our houses to pray the rosary. There were approximately 16 children from those 6 families, all of different ages. Cons? Not one of them was happy to be forced to pray. Pros? It lasted approximately one hour only, if not less, and after that we would get together and eat something altogether. Add the fact that we got together at around 4 o’clock and we would go back home around 12 o’clock (sometimes later) and you have around 6 hours of fun with 15 other children that you’d gladly call friends.

The infinite backyard comes into the story because it belonged to one of those families. There was an “eternal” forest, filled with trees where we would run all afternoon until we got tired. I remember (bitter sweetly) one time in which one humongous nest of bees fell on me. Imagine my face running from a swarm of infuriated bees. The memory of that event still stings me to this day, hahaha. Back to the story, the Hassan lived there (Hassan was their surname, they had no relation whatsoever with the “The Kite Runner” character). It was the biggest of all families, at the time there were Tony (Antonio) and Roxy (Roxana) with four children (Little Marcos wasn’t still in the picture), Pancho, my mother’s godson, Nico (my brother’s eternal enemy), Lucía (the shiest girl you could have met) and Pablo Ezequiel Hassan, my best friend and namesake. He would always tell my parents that they were “sooooo original” because I was two years younger than him and, therefore, my name was HIS. We would always laugh at that. In 2005, if I’m not mistaken, Roxy found out she was pregnant with Marcos, and the family decided to move to Santa Cruz. The news made most of the adults really happy, but I was devastated. My best friend was leaving town, not to come back ever again. I knew it was the best thing for them, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was heartbroken.

Slowly, things returned to their normal state. By then, I was a conflicted teenager, you couldn’t say whether I was happy, angry or sad, as most of teenagers are. A few years later, I began dating my first girlfriend, and my mind was set on other things, rather than remembering them. That is what I regret doing the most. Forgetting about them. In 2007, one of the most exciting pieces of news came to me via text message. The Hassan were coming over to spend Christmas with us. I was overjoyed by the fact that we were going to be all together again. They came and things were awkward, Pablo was a very mature teenager, but his situation there shaped him into the most excellent man, responsible and down to earth. We were all changed, but I remember him as the one that changed the most. Nevertheless, we had the best Christmas I can think of. They stayed at my place and we were 4 boys (my brother, Nico, Pablo and myself) in one bedroom and Lucía in another. Pancho and Marcos (who I was meeting for the first time) were staying with their parents, they were still very young. Imagine the mess that was my bedroom. 4 male teenagers playing video games and chatting all night long. We never ran out of energy during that week. It was, sincerely, the best time of my life. Saying goodbye to them wasn’t that difficult this time. Either they would come back the next year or my family would travel there. We would see each other again pretty soon. The last days of October of 2008, we’ve received a call from Santa Cruz. They were coming again that year. We were ecstatic again. Then the tragedy struck.

It was 6 o’clock the morning of the 7^th of November. It was a Friday; we were finishing the week. My alarm clock rang and I turned it off and started to get dressed. I heard my mother crying in the other room, and when I went she was sitting down on her bed and I asked what had happened. She said the words I wasn’t expecting to listen. I wasn’t prepared. “The Hassan are dead. All of them”. There was a big fire due to a malfunction in the oven, the reports had said. The fire engulfed the cosy home of that family. Tony, the father, was the only survivor, and he was in a coma for almost a month. He jumped from the first floor and ended up heavily wounded in a hospital. No one could save the rest of them. Roxana was 37. Pablo was 17 years old. Lucía was 15. Nico was 13. Pancho was 4 and Marcos was just about to be 1-year-old. I didn’t want to stay at home that day. I went to school, seeking comfort on my friends’ words. Up to this day, I haven’t shed a tear because of them. I don’t know why… I should, but I never could.

I know that this entry is a little bit longer than usual, but I wanted to talk about them. They were a big part of my life. All of them. Although I kind of know that they are “in a better place”, I still don’t get how the God we had been praying to for years didn’t save them. It was unfair. They had their whole lives ahead of them. Tony lost his entire family; his wife and 5 children were gone in just seconds. It hurts a lot. It still does, but I know that they are okay. They weren’t supposed to undergo the cruelties of this world we live in. I know that wherever they are now, they are looking after Tony and giving him the strength he needs to go on. I am not sad anymore; I’m okay. They were the best family I met. They ARE the best family I will ever meet. Even they are not here anymore, they will always be with us in our hearts and someday we will all meet again and run around the infinite forest again. There will never be another 7^th of November again.

Paradoxes

These past two weeks have been hell on earth to me… I ran between work, university and my personal problems; I didn’t have any time to do anything at all. I feel like being overcrowded with work and study and I don’t have any more time to even talk to my friends and this situation has been taken the worst of me during this time. I think that I don’t have enough time to fulfil my obligations and I’m falling behind with the things that I have to do. Somehow this situation has been dragging me down the whole time, but today there was something that in a way cheered me up.

A few months ago, it was announced that one of my favourite bands “Las Pastillas del Abuelo” was going to come again to San Luis to present their new album called “Paradojas”. It will be the first show of their tour and they will present the album HERE, and with every ticket you will have a copy of the album. I have the privilege of having the 12^th ticket to be there and I’m going to go with my best friend the 31^st of October and watch them as closely as I did the previous three times I went to see them. So as of now you can think, and you will be absolutely correct, that I’m quite excited to go and see them.

Today, the 23^rd of October, the album is now available in stores, and I already downloaded it fully and I’m listening to it while I write this entry. I feel the joy running through my veins. Even if these weeks had been hell to me, the music sets me free and I enjoy listening to the lyrics and the rhythm. It takes me back; back when I was this little child playing in an imaginary world, far away from this real world… filled with rage, sadness, death… Their music, like music from many other bands, transports me to a different world, one in which I don’t have to worry about anything. This music makes me realise that there are many things in this world that are better than those pessimistic feelings that fill our world. Music is one of my anchors to earth, but most of all, it’s what made me overcome these two weeks.

What defines you?

"Privato di un'ala,

L'uccellino ha chiuso gli occhi in silenzio.

La sofferenza è svanita lontano:

Ora l'uccellino non piange più."
Byakumu no mayu (ricordando il passato) - Akiko Shikata

#Don't stay in school

Today I’ll be talking about a Boyinaband and you might be thinking “Hey, Pablo, isn’t it “Boy In A Band”? Why did you write it all together?” Well, that is because Boyinaband is the name of a YouTube channel which 8 months ago uploaded a humongous controversial video called “Don’t stay in school”. I’m leaving the video so you can watch it right away before reading my reaction to it. I don’t want to influence you, so watch it and let your imagination run wild.

 I saw this video a couple of weeks ago, in another YouTube channel called “REACT” (which I highly recommend you). In that episode, The Fine Bros (The owners of the channel) made Parents react to this video. I highly suggest that you also watch it if you are interested. Their reactions give a clear insight of how a parent sees education in general because they were students and now they have children studying. The video of the reactions is the following one:

 I have to say that at first I thought “Okay, this dude is totally right! I agree with every word he said” But when he uttered the final phrase “Don’t stay in school” I said “Okay, let’s go back and analyse everything”. I continued watching and what he preaches is that those “useless” subjects shouldn’t stay in school, not that children should quit studying.

I’ve been in both sides as well, but in a different way; I was a student (and I still am, we never finish studying, right?) and now I’m the teacher.  As a student, sometimes I questioned the contents but secretly; I’ve always been a good student and I've never complained about anything (now I complain a lot in the Institute, LOL) but you have to be a lot older and wiser to start thinking about the usefulness of the contents we are taught. A recurrent joke between students is “What is the purpose of learning equations, if we are not going to use equations when we go to buy vegetables?” and they are totally correct about it; what is the use of equations in real life? Why is it important to learn facts about our history or to know the surface of the country? This is a very clear problem we as teachers (and not only English teachers) have to face: “The meaningfulness of the content we teach”. The video caused uproar because the message was misunderstood, but at the same time it raised the question of what teachers are teaching and how. Why are these contents becoming irrelevant in our society?

I think the answer to these questions lies in our actions. We have to ask ourselves: “What is the purpose behind learning for example, present simple? The teacher should give a clear purpose to EVERYTHING he/she teaches. Otherwise students do not know why they are learning that. But I also believe, as the Boyinaband, that we, as a society, should revise the curriculum of schools. What are we teaching? How are we teaching it? Why is it relevant? Students, and speaking about adolescents, are not interested in learning about biology or history. They are one step from going into this crazy world of social problems, politics, having to work to feed the family and they don’t know how. They are not trained to go outside and be citizens in this cruel society that will probably devour them (not literally). They are not prepared. I wasn’t prepared… and now I struggle to learn about how society works. I have no idea about taxes, about economy in general. I have no idea how to shop food for my family. I don’t know what things I can do in a bank. I don’t know how medical insurances work. I don’t know anything. And I believe that’s partially the school’s curriculum fault. I want to finish quoting a teacher that last Friday gave us a workshop and she told us a very interesting phrase to analyse and consider. She said that we have a 19^th century school curriculum, with 20^th century teachers, and 21^st century students. I think we should seriously reconsider what we are teaching and what we are learning as soon as possible.

"The Good Die Young"

There’s the everlasting rumour that Canada is the country were nice people live; they don’t fight and they are at peace with every single person on this planet; their politeness doesn’t have an ending. At least that’s the stereotype that’s present in shows like South Park or Family Guy. It wasn’t until some weeks ago that that stereotype has been debunked in all senses in my head. Canada’s government did not allow any war refugees to enter their country. Canada did not allow a small boat with a numerous crew that had among its passengers little 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi. Maybe his name is not quite familiar to you, but I will say that for sure you have seen the following picture:

Picture taken by Nilüfer Demir on the 2nd September, 2015

Yes, that is Aylan Kurdi. The little Kurdish boy that drowned in the sea and was photographed after he washed ashore lifeless. The first time I watched the picture I did not understand it at all. To me, it was just a small boy sleeping on the sand. It was then that I read the different captions below the picture. Still, I did not quite get what the situation was about. The facts that I knew were that there was a war somewhere and that a boy had died because of it. On that specific day, my Facebook page filled with the same picture and many times with some slight changes (wings added, the image drawn instead of photographed, etc). On that specific day, I checked my Facebook page as little as possible. Every time I saw the poor little boy lying there on the beach, something inside of me shattered. I couldn’t stand the sight of such a situation. I really felt horrible; I mean, I didn’t even know that little boy and I still felt terrible at the idea of him being dead.

His family was searching for a place to be safer than their hometown, Kurdistan, which is under an ongoing war not due to its participation in it but because of its proximity to the countries which are actually in war (Syria, Turkey, etc). To be truly honest, I’ve been reading some articles and watching some videos and still I don’t quite get who is fighting who and why. I came across this short video which enlightened me on some basic aspects of this war and I wanted to share it.

I had never been interested in politics and that kind of affairs and I think I’ll never be and there lies my biggest mistake. That family died because of the war; that family died searching for hope; that family died, simply as that. The only one that survived is Aylan’s father, Abdullah. Imagine being a father and in just seconds you lose your wife, and your two little sons. That’s what’s making me despair. The despair he felt; the despair my father could have felt in his position; the despair I could feel in the near future if we are under a war. And my biggest mistake is not becoming involved in those affairs. All people need a voice. All people need to be respected. All people need to be free to speak their minds.

War is not the solution to anything and the Syrian conflict is nothing new nowadays; it has been going for many years. This is because of a “so-called” democratic government. War needs to stop. War REALLY needs to stop. Searching for information I came across a very accurate quote, by Bertrand Russell, I wanted to share.

Innocent people are dying because of war and we are sitting here doing nothing. That is where we, as human beings, can make the change. We need to create a sense of consciousness on the matter to begin making small changes that will lead our world to being a better place for me, for my family, for Argentina, for every country out there, for us human beings, for Aylan Kurdi.