Asking for A Friend: Do you Trust in Science? Or Nature?

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For two years now, we have faced an unexpected, unknown monster. COVID and its various forms have surprised and challenged all of us. Each of our lives is reeling from different interactions from the novel pandemic. In April 2020, the American Embassy sent a chilling email to Americans living in Japan. They suggested Americans leave the country immediately or hunker down for some indefinite period.

Initially, I chose to stay in Japan. My life in Tokyo was clean, low-tension, and bike-friendly; an excellent place to lay low. In Japan, ex-pats left, social life dried up, and the calendar became riddled with canceled events. New strands & COVID scares kept people home. I found new hobbies and took long, solo walks. As time wore on, the discomforts in my Tokyo life grew, as did a longing to see my family. In the early summer of 2021, when shots were available for Tokyo residents, I urgently took my first vaccine. Pre-Olympics, at least half of Tokyo was still unvaccinated. By August 2021, I was ready to face and see a different world. When I left Tokyo, I naively expected last summer to be the end of this conundrum.

Sunsetting

Hawaiian Shocks

Before heading back to the continental USA, I wanted to prepare myself for reverse culture shock and thought stopping here on the Big Island of Hawaii would help. Instead, when I first arrived in August 2021, I got a new culture shock. So many stores and restaurants here seemed oblivious to COVID. I went into a south island coffee shop with some acquaintances and nearly had a panic when I noticed no one was masked. I ended up stepping outside to keep my cool. Later on that first trip, we drove through Hilo where I saw a city block of anti-vaxxers holding demonstrations.

The few times I engaged in honest conversations with COVID deniers, I saw Swiss-cheese logic in place for the fundamentals of reasoning. For the sanctity of my surroundings, I did not push for agreements. Instead, I just started listening. In trying to understand and know this place, I noticed an aversion to the mainland. People moved to this remote island to find a place that is not America, but still is technically in America. I see a distrust of the government, disdain for nosy neighbors, and a strange disregard for science. Here, the appreciation for science is limited to the bounties of fruits in nature. This part of Hawaii island, the Kau region, also has an outsized share of poverty, hunger, and homelessness.

This island gave me an actual culture shock. A few words, overheard from my time here: —Why should I pay the DMV $200 to register my car? — I pay for snacks with my EBT, but will pay cash for the beers. — Let me advise you on cars, but I don’t believe anyone’s expertise on anything else.

Mask, eh?

Team Science?

Growing up in a family of doctors, I take a different attitude towards expertise—especially medicine. My mother, raising two children, returned to school to get credentialed to continue practicing medicine in Georgia. My sister and I were lucky. For minor coughs and fevers, our doctor-Mom could fix us up without visiting the clinic. Did the rest of the world forget that modern medicine has reduced human suffering, increased our lifespan, and sometimes improved the quality of that lifespan?

But, of course, American medical treatment is costly, bloated, and skewed towards a defensive practice of medicine. Perhaps the companion to our medical industry, the pharmaceuticals eroded some trust after all those ads suggesting you nudge your doctor into a prescription. After working towards better health in my own life, I hear the loudest and most extreme anti-vax voices growing in adherents from the sheer rage. I get the rage (there is so much to rage about: voting rights, a social safety net, women’s issues, climate change, to name a few), but I also have a certain respect for biology.

How Does This Even Work?

Nonetheless, our general knowledge of science is relatively low for an increasingly technologized world. Unsurprisingly, our health is poor, and as a country, we have suffered an enormous loss of life in the last two years. Ironically, the country still has to import doctors, engineers, and scientists to keep our high-tech industry competitive. Our attachment to the luxuries of technology only matches our distrust of science here.   At this moment, we can re-examine our lives. I love the audacity of Naomi Klein’s perspective in the Shock Doctrine. Can we use this moment to learn how we might re-align priorities? How about education, health care, and genuine housing equality. These factors undermining general public health come from poor public education, a distrust for science, and a disrespect for the government. The anti-vacciners seem to be right at this subset.

Letter to A Struggling Spirit

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I am writing this letter to my cousin. Her mother died in January 2021. Her sister went into a coma in April. And now she herself has been admitted to the hospital for COVID complications. I am sharing here because I think many other people may be suffering in Spirit.

To my cousin, my favorite, Shelina,
I have tried many times to write you this letter. And have failed at least three other
times. Today, I am compelled to share here my heart with you.
Early on in our lives, I sensed a feeling of kindred Spirit with you. We both like nature.
We enjoyed smelling flowers together, and we photographed beautiful vistas on family
adventures. Remember the volcano and then the beach in Costa Rica? Occasionally,
we both overate good desi food, like those indulgent chai times with samosas and
jugu cake. We shared the giggles when my Dad, your uncle, got grumpy about my use
of ‘bad’ words. We shared skeptical glances when someone dared to tell us “No.” Since
then, I have known that you and I can play in the realm of Spirit. We share a “joie de
vivre,” what the French call the joy of living.

A beach time


Now, you are in the hospital. You have more ailments than I could name or understand.
I only know that you and I share the Hassanali blood. Our propensity for stubbornness,
determination, and appetite have genetic roots in an ancestor neither one of us knew.
Perhaps there is also some tinge of past trauma that lives on in that blood. This trauma,
at times, trickles into our lives with dark symptoms when our Spirit has grown dull.
I know that your whole life has been difficult. You grew up without a father. Through
determination and bravery, you have worked for so long to support your mother and
sister. The last few months have been even harder.


Suddenly losing your Mom was devastating for you. It was tough because you
called the ambulance for her, and then you could not see her as she left this
earthly place. The pandemic has created many problems. And for you, this twist has
kept you from your mother in her last moments. All of this is so incredibly painful to see
and know, even from so far.


Losing Gulibai is still harder as you have been trying for so long to find a way to live
your own life. Now, you feel guilt and depression for wanting to make your own life. I
know, now, that the situation has only gotten worse. Rifat, your sister, my cousin, has
fallen into a coma. The earth has been shaking this past year. And now it seems that
the sky has fallen in.


As you lie in bed today, I want to write to you and remind you that your body is not your
cage. Your truth goes beyond what the doctors say you are suffering; you are more than the names of diseases, diagnoses, and speculations.


You are not limited by your body. Nor are you even limited by the Narrative of your life.
What do I mean by that? You have done so much for other women, for your sister, and
for your mother. But, the story of your struggles does not have to be your only story. All of
this past has been full of difficulty. I know myself. I have watched you struggle from afar. I, too, know this struggle from life. But, I also know more about you. I have seen when your tenacity and Spirit shine through your life situation with my own eyes.


Your caring heart and creative imagination gave you the courage to run as a green
party candidate in oil-slick Alberta! Your union work helped support other social
workers. Your zest for life took you on adventures in Bali, Mexico, Tanzania, Turkey,
among many others.


Our few days in Portugal still fill me with joy. The memories of the tram ride to the beach near Porto, seeing underground cellars full of wine, and our silly photoshoots are fresh in my mind.

In none of these moments did your body nor your story hold you back. All that trauma
going on in you, around you, that is part of you. But, only a part. I hope a smaller and
smaller part slowly. We can cast off the darkness carried on in our ancestry. We are
more than that trauma. I know you have this in you; I have seen the spirit shine in you.
I see inside of you that Spirit. That part of you that cackles with joy. Your capacity to see
beauty in nature, to laugh at absurd jokes, and to find serenity in the third-world
landscapes you have enjoyed.

Your hospital room, with doctors and nurses buzzing about, is all focused on your
illness. They may make it difficult to see that Spirit; it may be a bit blurry. Yet, with all of this
drama going on, and your body weighing you down, that Spirit is still in there. It is there
waiting to soar again.


That Spirit inside of you that wants to live its own truth. It wants you to remember those
moments of bravery and those indulgences of joy. My hope for you is that you will put
that Spirit first. I wish it would lead you and your body from your sickbed. I will be here
waiting to meet that Spirit again.


With Love,
Your Sister in Spirit and Cousin in Life,
Sabrina

  • Fans of James Baldwin will recognize his style from “My Dungeon Shook.”

 

A Time for Pining

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Seaside Vista

In reflection, that last trip before COVID lockdowns took effect feels even sweeter. In reminiscing about travel, I find a new way to enjoy the trips I have taken.

An Italian vacation, with a lover in tow, a dream come true! Driving from Naples to Sicily, taking a few days in scenic stops along the way feels a bit like peeling an orange. Holding this beautiful fruit, and digging my nails into it, and letting juices seep out. In this way, slowly, I ate through Italy’s coast.

I was lucky to get to Italy in February 2020. I was even luckier to be able to leave. I was in disbelief during the first three days of the official lockdown in Milan. I did not anticipate that this would happen all over the world.

Entering Japan on March 11 was the first time, I was grateful for bureaucracy. I got to return to my life in Tokyo while the doors, gates, and borders slammed shut.