Bucharest is, to use the well-trod witticism, a land of contradictions. The slow decay of its fabulous French-style mansions is apparent, as are the worn away bits of ornate metal gates. There is also the ubiquitous feeling of a country recovering from the heady days of Communism, and its overthrow 20 years ago, like so many countries of the Eastern European bloc.

The elaborate old buildings sit alongside unsightly housing blocs, and other modern buildings, sometimes draped in regalia of the country’s democratic party, whose symbol is two crossed hammers, akin to the sickle and axe of Communist regalia. Although now, the Communist has a negative ring, even 2 decades after the execution of the flamboyant leader Nicolae Ceausescu, who pilfered the country of billions of euro to build a massive 20-story palace termed the “People’s Palace”.

Gypsy children flit into decaying mansions built in the French style, in the heart of the city’s center. It is the land of the Roma. Predictably, hated by the rest of the population, they are a benign bunch, quietly living in unexpected corners of downtown, doing odd-jobs such as digging holes, and sweeping up park leaves at midnight. Or sitting outside of churches, begging for money.

The Onion Domes of churches, the charmingly sagging and sometimes broken power lines, even in the most affluent of neighborhoods and the monotone of ethnicity, make you realize, ‘We are not in Western Europe anymore’. If that doesn’t jolt you to this realization, then the sight of street children digging food from garbage cans, or their chain-smoking seven-year-old friends will. By now, Bucharest either seems terribly backwards, or that I am patronizing it. But to understand this city I had to leave behind all of my cultural and ethical expectations, and to accept it for what it was. The Romanians whom I befriended, all of them friendly, certainly did. They soberly told me all of their country’s problems, but did so without resignation, nor a zeal for correction. Like Romans are wont to say ‘This is Rome’, I had to remember that this is Romania.

Bucharest is one of the most beautiful cities that I have seen, and rightfully deserves the name ‘Little Paris’. Unaccustomed to tourists, it is not a very cushy place, but knowing a little Italian, French or sometimes English helps enormously. A ramble down the side streets in the heart of the city, recalls the quiet elegance of old Europe, especially after the thick night fog sets in. The old houses boast triangular domed roofs, separate attic peepholes, personalized iron-wrought gates. No two houses are the same- each has its own particular motif and colors.

The exchange rate was of the dollar to the national currency Leu- is ~3:1. Nothing beats seeing the Opera for $2.25, and splurging on elaborate dinners that would cost north of $65 back in the states, but in Bucharest come out to about $20, as well as the ridiculously loud and drunk patrons at a nearby table- who got up to sing a round with the live band- at one of the nicest restaurants in the city! Now that I’m back in Western Europe, I already miss the idiosyncrasies of Little Paris.

These pictures were taken in April in Indiana on the polluted grounds of an Exxon Valdez plant. Life had a miraculous reemergence, growing atop slag- a mixture of steel and sand- stone. It is hard as bedrock, roots cannot penetrate beneath it. The slag has been there since the turn of 18th century, so everything below it is long dead.

A couple of summers ago I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Japan for two weeks of culture, learning, fun, and freedom. What transpired easily exceeded my expectations and opened my mind. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, only that I anticipated the unexpected. I remember filling out my profile—17 years old, 4-year Japanese student, allergic to fish but partial to shellfish, a carefully chosen picture of me attached—and receiving my host sister Chihiro’s profile. I was incredibly excited on the day of travel: I was about to embark on my dream trip—a homestay with a real Japanese family in the quiet countryside. All throughout the year I thought that June couldn’t come fast enough, though when it did, it went by too fast.

During those first few days of the homestay period, when I spoke, I did so almost exclusively when I was spoken to, and with the guidance of imaginary cue cards flashing through my head to ensure I was using the polite forms of the Japanese verbs. I tiptoed around gingerly, so afraid that whatever I did would be offensive. I practically tried to be invisible.

But then, during one of those first nights, I remember sitting down for dinner to a plate of perfectly cooked scallops and smiling internally at the reality that my anxiety had deprived me of: Chihiro and her family were just as nervous as I was, and just as eager to please as I was, as shown by the fact that they had obviously studied my profile and gone through the trouble of making everything perfect down to the smallest detail, including serving my favorite foods. Those were the best scallops I have ever tasted.

I realized that I had mistaken nerves on their part for indifference, shyness for coldness, and that to continue to let that happen would be a waste of our time. I had failed to recognize their kindness, the universality of human feelings, and the fact that, usually, situations aren’t as bad as I perceive them to be.

After that, I didn’t waste any more time. At first, the language barrier was daunting: conversations were halting, shy, hesitant, each girl embarrassed that she couldn’t articulate herself as well as she would have liked (try articulating what “gusto” means in Japanese—needless to say, I didn’t have any luck using hand motions). But we encouraged each other against giving up, and through pantomime, an electronic dictionary, and sheer force of will, we managed to connect very well. I told her my background and interests, she told me about her dreams to study sports therapy in college and that, yes, her grandmother was indeed appalled upon learning that I was allergic to fish. We enjoyed getting to know each other better; I remember showing her my high school yearbook and presenting her with an omiyage (a gift for the host), and her wanting to take puri-kura with me (those candids you take in a photo booth with friends). So the conversations got smoother, and although both of us still suffered from nervousness, I could see that there was no real reason for it. I was touched when she gave me a friendship bracelet, and when I returned to California, I mailed her a letter with a homemade bracelet in return.

At times, Japan was oddly surreal: here I was, physically and mentally miles away from my normal, everyday life. The experience was nothing short of exhilarating and liberating because of the mixture of emotions I underwent. The trip gave me a heightened sense of awareness through a perfectly formulated cocktail of adventure, independence, validation, and self-gratification. I was so proud to be able to interact with people, or even to recognize the words on signs and packaging—what I had learned was relevant and I could see my knowledge “working” before my eyes.

Trying to communicate with the Japanese people—even if I know my host sister must have been merciful and only pretended to understand me at times, bless her—was especially satisfying after seeing the eventual, relieved smile and spark of recognition in my listener’s eyes, knowing then that I had successfully tapped into someone else’s understanding. Even when I got frustrated, I realized that disappointment had no place in this journey and would only spoil the memories of this time for later. I understood that it was all a matter of taking advantage of the moment. Traveling and interacting with people native to places I admire creates a sort of “culture shock” for me that forces me out of my comfort zone so much that I get a singular, sensational, significant experience in return.

INTERVIEW
Q. In simple terms, what is the definition of rape in Pakistan?
A man is said to commit rape who has sexual intercourse with a women under circumstances falling under any of the five following description:
• Against her will.
• Without her consent.
• With her consent, when the consent has been obtained by putting her in fear of death or hurt.
• With her consent, when the man knows that he is not married to her [while] she believes herself to be married.
• With or without her consent, when she is under sixteen years of age.
*Note that the Minister has not mentioned the rape of men in this definition at all.

Q. What are you working on related to rape, in your capacity as Minister? Are there any strong projects in the pipeline?
As regards to my self as Minister of Women Development, we are working on the mandated as well as the national focal machinery to proactively take initiatives, for women’s empowerment in the country is extremely challenging. The Women Development Department is committed to work towards the protection, advancement, development and empowerment of women in all spheres. The Department, despite being constrained by many challenges is currently focusing on several key areas that are central to gender equality. These include social protection, legislation/policy initiatives, administrative/institutional restructuring, training and empowerment, and establishment of interdepartmental, inter-ministerial and NGO/CSO’s.

Question: What is the sentence for someone convicted of rape?
Whoever commits rape shall be punished with death or imprisonment [for a term] which shall not be less then ten years or more then twenty-five years and shall also be liable to fine.

When rape is committed by two or more persons in furtherance of common intention of all, each of such person shall be punished with death or imprisonment for life.

Q. Many rape cases go unregistered because of social notions. How can we, as a society, overcome these mindset barriers? What is your stance on the social taboo that is created for a rape victim, and do you think that rape reform is necessary?
A very large number of people do not want to get registered the case of rape committed against their female relative. In a conservative society, rape of a girl brings a bad name to the girl. It becomes a matter of shame not only for the victim but also for her entire family. She will find it difficult to move in society or even go to her friends and relatives; parents will find it move or less impossible to get her married. She becomes a social out cast.

Perhaps out of 100 rapes, barely 10 are reported as FIRs. And the conviction of rape being less than 10%, THERE IS HARDLY ONE RAPIST OUT OF 100 WHO GETS CONVICTED. And the trial also takes several years.

Therefore, law for rape is there, but with 1% conviction, one can say that the law is there but not implemented.

As a society and especially as an Islamic Society, it is absolutely essential to take the following actions to provide justice to rape victims:
• We must as a society, condemn in very strong teams, this heinous crime perpetrated against women and girls and express our support for the victims and their families.

• In discussion programs on T.V. and Radio and also in seminars, religious leaders and scholars should be invited to give their views on this crime and for their support for the victims and their families.

• It will greatly help the victims and their families if the Imams in their Friday Khutbas (sermons) condemn the rapist and the crime in very strong terms and come out in support of the victims and their families. The Imams have great influence on people in their areas and their views in favor of the victim and their families will greatly help in changing the mindset of the people in their areas.

• Political parties should include in their manifestos, their resolve to help the victims and their families to continue their lives without being made out cast in their localities.

• Civil Society Organizations should come out aggressively in support of the victims and condemnation of the culprit.

• In police stations, there should be separate women sections with female police staff to deal with criminal complaints of women.

• Media should be [encouraged] to play a leading role in changing the mindset of people through discussion, talks with political religious and civil society leaders, and also through dramas and plays.

• Ministers, Parliamentarians, religious leaders, civil society Organizations and local leaders should visit the homes of the victims expressing their whole hearted support for the victims and their families and helping them to adjust themselves in the changed circumstances.

• FIRS of rapes should be promptly registered and trained and educated police officers should investigate the crime and present ‘chalans’ in courts at the earliest.

• The Chief Justice may be requested to get the rape cases disposed off within a month or two with day-to-day hearing.

• There should be victims and her family’s protection programs so that the offenders do not intimate them.

Q. What are the immediate resources the government offers to rape victims?
Victims [can refer to] the revolving fund for the release of female and juvenile prisoners through payment of fines, bail sureties and transportation. [Also, as per President's directives], a revolving fund for Rs. 20.00 million has been established in the Women Development Department for providing legal assistance to poor women pursuing their petitions of defending themselves in courts. [They are] defended free of charges by lady lawyers engaged by the Government.

The effectiveness of Rape law in Pakistan is evident by the Minister’s responses and she herself admits that there are severe problems with implementation. However, the country has seen worse – the present situation is a far cry from the controversial Hudood Ordinance of 1979, in which rape victims had to provide four male witnesses to the crime.

Therefore, although there is still a long way to go before rape victims can feel protected judicially, the steps being taken seem to be in the right direction.

The police act as de facto immigration officials- they are allowed to stop any foreigner on site and demand to see their passport. If you’re unlucky enough to have left yours in the hotel, you’re headed for an unpleasant visit to the station. Where you will be yelled at in rapid Italian, and may be bullied into signing unintelligible papers proclaiming your guilt. However this scenario is not very commonplace, and happens to only a handful of internationals. I’m still hedging my bets.

It would seem that from its intimidating police force, and the power vested in them, that Rome and ultimately Italy is an oxymoron of an industrialized country with severely scaled back liberties. However its staggering liberties for free speech also struck me in my first days in the city. In the heart of the city a Communist protest -albeit small- took place, lined by artists selling overpriced drawings to gullible tourists, and gorgeous old buildings.

One of the police forces that I have become fond of is the Carabinieri, or the military police. Some of my Carabinieri acquaintances complain that they cannot stop certain people because they will be accused of racism. Such is the consciousness and fear of being labeled racist among the Italians that I met- that they will profess their innocence for extended periods. This is at least one parallel to America- as the Henry Louis Gates Jr incident fades fast from popular memory.

While Rome is different from the rest of Italy, as New York is as different from the rest of the U.S., Romans don’t feel overburdened by its ubiquitous police. They simply dismiss it as ‘good for safety’. Its tolerance for Communists- something unimaginable in America, and the seemingly anti-racist public sentiments draws it inevitably into the industrialized pocket of the world, even if it may seem over-policed. They all register as Italy’s charming idiosyncrasies.

Guinea’s coup occurred immediately after the death of the country’s aged president, Lansana Conté. Conté clung to power for 24 years, unable to rid the country of the devastating cycle of poverty created by the country’s first president Ahmed Sékou Torré. Conté ruled the country despotically. He and his cronies further drained the country of its resources.

It is well known fact within Guinea that his eldest son was a drug dealer. Rosine Snook, who lived in Guinea at the time of the coup, remembers the president’s son. “You could hear the planes coming during the night, bringing the drugs. Since he was the president’s son no one could talk about it.” The drugs came from Columbia; Africa is a transit point for South American drugs bound for the trade in Europe. On the heels of Conte’s death, his son was arrested for his illegal activities. He had previously eluded arrest and could be seen riding through the streets of Conakry in his BMW, on his way to the city’s expensive, foreign restaurants.

Several weeks before Conte’s death, Rosine remembers several strange occurrences. “We kept hearing rumors that the president had been shot. And those others close to him had also been shot. Nothing was verified by the news, or even mentioned.” Compounding the mystery of the country’s leadership, Rosine and her daughter remember an event they witnessed that has never been resolved. They were sitting on the balcony of their house when several cars that had been racing down the street screeched to a halt in front of a nearby hospital. Military men emerged in black uniforms. They extracted a man covered in bloody bandages and rushed him into the hospital. The men left immediately, clearly not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Neither Rosine nor anyone else ever found out if the injured person was one of the president’s men, his enemy, or his fate. It was this same air of uncertainty, which spilled into the coup itself. The coup occurred a couple weeks afterward.

Mere minutes after Conte’s death, Capt. Moussa Dadis Camara declared himself military dictator. During this chaos, Rosine remembers the riots in the streets, strict curfews and blocked roads. There was nothing on the TV or radio about the dramatic events transpiring in the country. The most that the state TV said was, “roads are blocked in this area, so avoid [them].” ‘Blocked roads’ became code words for disturbances, shooting and even death. Most people stayed in the house for safety. But even houses were not safe. Stray bullets, from soldiers shooting in the air, landed in some people’s homes.

A true reflection of the chaos, the street in front of Rosine’s house— normally bustling with embassy workers and schoolchildren playing soccer— was now barren. She and her daughter tried leaving the house to buy eggs and they encountered no one. Her daughter Jessica remembers the scene. “We walked until we reached the main road. We saw 10 pickup trucks passing by filled with soldiers, each armed with a long, automatic gun. All had their guns pointed out window as if about to shoot…” This coup brought back painful memories of the last coup in 1984 when Conté had seized power. The populace remembers the widespread violence, rapes and burning of cars.

Camara’s declaration as dictator did little to ease the minds of people. Still, calm was eventually restored to the country. For months after he assumed rule, many people wondered what direction he planned to take the country in. On September 28th, 2009, nine months after Camara declared himself dictator, a group of Guineans gathered at a stadium in Conakry to find out what was happening with country’s leadership. They had been invited to the stadium to find learn about the country’s new direction.

Protesters gathered, prepared to tell the dictator that he should step down. Prompt and in formation, the military opened fire on the crowd, killing those trying to escape the stadium. Rosine’s friend managed to survive. He recounts the horror. “They were raping women and burying bodies to hide them.”

Official counts of the dead diverge. The Guinean government at the time claimed only 87 had been killed. However international and informal civilian reports in Guinea pin the number in the hundreds.

Just as it seemed that things could never improve in Guinea, the American and French governments threatened to take away all forms of aid, a dire blow to this impoverished country, which relies on foreign aid as half its annual income. It was this, as well as a foiled assassination attempt on Camara, which persuaded him to cede power. Recovering from gunshot wounds to the head, he announced that he would go into exile. Two months ago, in February the country was finally handed over to civilian hands, for the first time in its history. Jean-Marié Doré is a beacon of hope for this country; he has promised that democratic elections will soon take place. Doré is also one of the lucky few that escaped the stadium shoot-out that claimed the lives of many of his countrymen.

Fear and uncertainty defined this coup, as well as the weeks leading up to it. From the moment of its independence from France in 1958 it has officially been listed as a democracy, while its reality has been far from it. The country’s convoluted political landscape highlights the moralisms of wanting to mend a country’s government. This desire runs up against the importance of respecting a nation’s sovereignty. At what point does this truism of sovereignty fall away? In the end, it was the severe international sanctions that persuaded Camara to abdicate his power.

In the aftermath of the coup, Rosine remembers the people who have died in the struggle for a democratic Guinean rule. Although she is not Guinean herself, she knew several Guineans embedded in the struggle. Many of them have died under mysterious circumstances. She remembers one government friend who was hiding from the military during the coup. “He tried to stop corruption. He represented change.” The man went into hiding during the coup while soldiers hunted for him. They even beat his brother in an attempt to uncover his whereabouts. Her friend eventually died anyway.

“African stories are complicated,” she said. “You can’t talk about the dead, [you can only] just go home and cry.”