Pirates of the Indian Ocean

Skipping the singleness topic for a brief look at something completely different:

Bizarre as it seems, I have good reason to take note of the steady trickle of news involving Somali pirates. A week ago I passed through Denmark as news broke about a pirate attack in which seven Danish citizens were taken hostage. Among them a family with three teenagers. None of the articles I read quite portrayed my own first reaction to this, which can be summarized as:

What. The. Feck.

And more specifically: WHY. THE. FECK?!

Why the frack, why-y-y-y-y-y? Why do people sail their yachts in this region? I’ve asked myself this hearing of middle-aged couples getting themselves kidnapped; I ask it ten times louder when families with children sail this route. Isn’t it a tad irresponsible to take kids sailing in the north-western Indian Ocean these days? Not just because of what you might put your kids through – trauma even if you all come through safe and sound, plus piffling details like risking their lives, or risking them becoming orphaned. But spare a thought for the people who have to patrol the area, who have to go negotiate your release and (hopefully) get you home... My main concern, though, is that you sponsor a growing criminal enterprise. Ransom money feeds straight into the piracy industry, increasing its power, giving them the (a) incentive and (b) means to keep going and to expand their hunting ground.

Aren’t pirates enough of a safety and economic issue for the maritime world* without pleasure sailors adding to the problem? Why should a little yacht venture where big ships fear to tread?  The amateur sailor contribution to pirate income may be a mere drop in the (Indian) Ocean - but it is an avoidable drop. There are enough people who have work-related reasons to enter [with trepidation] into the piracy high-risk zone; or want to but are forced to avoid it. Like seamen on commercial freighters. Or fishermen. Or scientists.

Not only big companies with valuable cargo or rich Westerners are targets of pirate attacks. Last year I heard radio interviews with poor Indian fishermen who had been kidnapped. And with their wives: what went through their minds during the months when their husbands were gone and they didn't know if they would ever get their loved ones – and their main source of income – back...

So when people take their rosy-cheeked teenagers for adventurous voyages via the Gulf of Aden, and they get taken hostage, and some hundred thousand euros are paid in ransom, and this keeps the engines of the Somali piracy venture running for some additional hundreds of nautical miles, it ultimately affects other innocent people who get their livelihood from that ocean!

I'm not saying "let them rot" or "let them die" - once someone’s kidnapped of course the prime objective should be to get them home, alive and healthy. Stupidity is not punishable by law in our countries; certainly not by capital punishment. But if you plan a sailing holiday: please, SKIP the Gulf of bloody Aden!



Update: Since I wrote this, there has been an attempt at freeing the Danish family; 3 pirates and 8 soldiers killed...

*>700 people currently held hostage!

Prologue: The lady doth protest too much

Soon I'm finally going to get on to a topic that was one of the initial inspirations that made me feel like I might one day have to start a blog, because I had so much on my mind, so many bees in my bonnet... This risks becoming a long-winded story, so we might have to split it into multiple parts. So, this whole post is just the preamble!

Background: A long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away, there was once a discussion about singleness. Here's a simplified version of that story as I see it. A group of singles were talking between themselves, saying "we're happy being singles. We're fed up with being told that you're somehow incomplete if you're not part of a couple". Certain couples heard this and barged in, smooching ostentatiously. Singles booed and chased them out. Some coupled-up people heard this and said "hey, if you're so happy being single then why do you get so upset about happy couples? In reality, this probably means you're not happy at all!"

Now, first of all it's worth pointing out that the smooching couple did so jokingly, and the singles reacted in like manner. Both the provocation and the protest were really in good humour. But in the ensuing discussion there were a few points that one might think a little bit more seriously about. If so inclined. I feel like I want to write about the topic of being a happy single. What does it mean? Is it possible to be one? If it is, why would a happy single object to people snogging in his face*, as it were... And other related topics that might come up along the way.

Exciting, isn't it?


*Actually, this isn't really the issue. I just couldn't resist writing the phrase "snogging in his face". Also, it should of course read "his/her face". Anyway, there are couples who also aren't particularly fond of witnessing other people's PDAs [Public Displays of Affection]. So it's not really about the snogging at all...

New beginning

Happy new year! It's still fairly new, you know. There's still time to do (almost) all those things we might have been thinking, as we stood there with the prickling of champagne still in our noses, while the bells were ringing and thousands of birds were falling dead from the skies possibly frightened to death by fireworks*, "this year I'll..."

For me the year started out rather oddly, with experiences even in the very first day of the year ranging from what I hope I won't have to do again anytime soon - or preferably ever again - to what I hope there'll me much more of. As for the less good of the two, it would be tempting to say that at least with such a bad start to the year, things can only get better. I'm not quite stupid or naive or spoilt enough to think that, though; sometimes, unfortunately, you might think you've hit rock bottom only to find that this was merely a soft, sedimentary rock which crumbles beneath you and leaves you tumbling head-first towards the real granite floor... But let's hope that's not the case here. What we can say for sure is that there's room for improvement - do you hear that, 2011? Let's make a deal, dear year, I'll do my best if you do yours. Let's see where we can get from here, upwards & onwards!



...and the above was written on the 11 January and not posted until now. Sorry! Is the year still new-ish? In that case a make a new-ish year resolution right now: I'm going to post more regularly and frequently in this blog. Let's say at least once a week! (ooh, that's a bold undertaking, but I'm all for bold undertakings, so here goes)

Technical Woman and The Curse of the Bike Lights

Ok, let's just drop the theme of Last Christmas for now, shall we? Here's something more up to date: with my last post, about me being all Technical Woman and so on, I very nearly jinxed the hell out of my supposed technical mojo... Only days later, the front light batteries of my new(ish) bike went flat. I had to cycle home in the dark - and by dark I mean pitch dark, countryside winternight dark; you might as well cycle with your eyes closed. Luckily in this country, they have separate bike paths, very good road surfaces (including on the bike path) and the roads are as straight as [for wittiness points, I wish I could insert the name of someone famously extremely straight here, but then there'd probably be some kind of big coming-out scandal the next day and the point would be completely lost]... well, basically, they're completely straight. The Pope?  So it wasn't quite as mortally dangerous as it would be anywhere else, to cycle blindly; nevertheless, not exactly a desirable situation. I got home safely, but slowly, and then blithely forgot about the whole thing until the next evening, when again I had to cycle home without lights!

On the third day, I cycled to work and as my morning coffeebreak entertainment I went and asked one of the techs at work for a Phillips screwdriver. It's a piffling little detail, but I do prefer asking for, say, a Phillips screwdriver (if that's what I need) rather than "the one with like a little cross on it" -- Anyway, I got it, and I unscrewed the two screws I had noticed that appeared to hold the light together. Some of those bike lights you can simply flick off the cover by hand, you know, which can be handy - until after a bit of wear and tear you can simply flick off the cover by riding over a tiny bump in the road, at which point it's not that handy anymore. Now, the problem was the opposite: the screws were gone and according to my theory, the light should now open to reveal its ailing batteries. Only it didn't open. The piece of plastic that looked like it should lift off didn't lift, and another piece that as an alternative looked like it might have been meant to slide out, didn't slide out. Even with a fair bit of jiggling, tweaking and pulling, and some poking along joins with a screwdriver (a common flat blade or slotted screwdriver now, not a Phillips!), nothing opened.

In great frustration I went and sent an email to a good friend who happens to ride the exact same bike as I have (it's her boyfriend's bike) to ask her how it's done. Her reply: her bf changes the batteries. But she would ask him how... That evening she and I had company home on our identical bikes - very handy for me, since her lights still worked. On the way, she was saying how she was quite happy to let a guy do that kind of task for her - men need a reason for being, she said lightly. And this would be it, I suppose. Normally about as confrontational as a wet paper bag, in this conversation I suddenly found myself saying (out loud, which is the remarkable part) "No, no, no, I don't agree with that at all! Not at all!"

However, what she said was exactly what I needed to hear. Because when I got home, my mood was such that I was going to change those batteries or die trying! And since I'm still here, writing... No, ok, in reality my mood was more like I was going to change those batteries or rip the stupid bloody bike lights to pieces trying, because if I was going to have to ask a man for help then I might as well give him a real "reason for being"! And lo and behold - 'all' you needed to do, after unscrewing those screws, was to take a large kitchen knife (the slit is too tight for a screwdriver) and apply excessive force, and pop goes the lid! I immediately sent my friend a triumphant sms: Frauenpower!

A Christmas Carol – Part III. I wonder as I wander.

 In my last post, we learned that women are less technical but more intelligent than men. Still, I was not happy. To understand why, let me take you back to that enchanted (?) Christmas night. Setting: In a place far, far away, a group of people had gathered to do scientific field work instead of spending Christmas with their loved ones… On a garden path outside a luxurious hotel, I wandered aimlessly while I wondered: What the heck is the point anyway?!

1. Apparently, women should be having babies.

2. Apparently, I do a good job cleaning, because of my natural female instinct*.

3. During this trip, I pretty much did a man’s job. Literally. Because the technician who often goes on this kind of trip wasn’t there, I was responsible for the tasks that he’d normally do. That guy has the advantage not just of being male (?), but also of having more than my whole lifetime of working experience; and of working specifically with technical issues and instruments. Even if I stay in this field and work for as many years as he has worked in this workplace, I would have that many decades of “doing science”, whereas he has that much experience of “technical science support”. Not the same thing. But still, since he wasn’t there, I did the job and (as far as we know) it seemed to work out pretty well. Heck, if I had a man’s self-confidence I might even say that I think I did a pretty good job! This doesn’t stop anyone from spending half the evening talking about how women aren’t technical. Hellooooo! I did X’s job! I’m half his age! I’m a scientist not a technician! I have neither 30 years of experience nor a technical training background to “make up for” being a female! Doesn’t this make me living proof that women can be at least a little bit technical? No, silly girl, of course it doesn’t, because one woman (and another one, and another one) can be an exception to the rule. And besides, perhaps you’re not a real woman anyway**. You know, the kind who has babies before 30… 

Yet again, the length of the post has just about reached my pain threshold (it’s a bit lower, you know, since I’m a woman. Or should it be higher, for that reason?) so yet again I bid you goodbye, and I will try to conclude the Christmas tale before next Christmas… look out for the next post!

* Rendering my years of third level education, scientific training and experience rather useless? More interesting, though, is how this natural instinct never seems to kick in at home... ask anyone who's shared a house, a hotel room or an office with me about my innate tidiness. (You'll probably be rewarded with some blank stares, or possibly fits of hysterical laughter.)

**Let me quickly point out that noone voiced this view at our Christmas dinner table. Neither about me personally nor in a general sense. I think anyone present there would only ever go so far as to saying “women are less technical in general, but of course there are exceptions” – which is of course an enormous lot better than “if a woman is technical, she’s not a real woman”. However, I think that while there's a long way between the first and the second statement, the slope between them is somewhat slippery. If you accept the first – which, to some extent, I sometimes find myself doing – then you have to watch out not to fall into the trap of believing the second. Exaggerated? Logical?

A Christmas Carol – Part II

In my last post, we learned from my boss how (1) women should have children before they’re 30, (2) women are good at cleaning, (3) it’s great that men and women have different traditional roles.You might be asking yourself at this point: Why would these harmless, obvious statements tip one female scientist over the edge to commit the ultimately aggressive/insane/pointless act of starting a whining blog?? Let us continue the tale. Setting: In a place far, far away, a group of people had gathered to do scientific field work instead of spending Christmas with their loved ones…

During Christmas dinner, the discussion turned to the ‘fact’ that women are less technical than men. Different suggestions were put forward as to why; nature vs. nurture, etc, but the basic ‘truth’ was never disputed; that women are less skilled and interested in technical things than men. Over the course of this discussion I started laying out my point of view rather passionately while resorting (probably annoyingly) to “studies-have-shown” type argumentation more often than anecdotal evidence regarding my granddaughters* or girls who have done internships in my workshop**, at which point the whole conversation apparently got “too serious” or something. We moved on [or at least I read the facial expressions, got the hint, and shut up – or rather kept my input to a polite minimum – for the rest of the evening], but not before my boss*** had expressed his belief that “women are intelligent. Often more intelligent than men.”

I was quite relieved when the Christmas dinner was finished so that I could wander away on a garden path and be alone for a few minutes. In those few minutes, dear reader, I must confess that a tear**** or two rolled down my cheek. What the hell, you may wonder, is her problem? Dear reader, my problem was this:

I am a woman. Over 30. Without kids. Who lives abroad since many years. Who only gets to go home to see my family maybe twice a year. Who just spent Christmas on a different continent, instead of at home. Who generally works her ass off throughout the year. The amount of work I do all along and my preparedness to give up important family holidays are a measure of my interest in and commitment to my work. Which happens to be a fairly technical, and not traditionally female, line of work. Now you’re telling me that

1. Apparently I have my priorities all wrong: I should be off reproducing. Women should have children before they’re 30. Ergo, I’m overdue. What am I even doing here?

2. After all the years I spent in university and the thousands of euros in student loan debts I’ve run up, after the blood, sweat and tears (not to mention my fertile years) spent getting my PhD, the main role that I fulfill is to tidy up. Which is something I didn’t even have to learn, it comes naturally to me, because women are good at cleaning.

There’s more, but in the interest of keeping this to a readable length I bid you good day, and leave the rest for the next post!

*possibly because I have no granddaughters; in fact, not even daughters

**possibly because I have no workshop

***somewhat under the influence

****Let’s not get started on the topic of crying – that’s for another post.

A Christmas Carol, Part I

This is a little something in several parts that I wrote last Christmas. It is hence almost a year old, but not previously published, and perhaps it’s a good time right now – to get into advent mood... On the other hand, when I look at this now through a filter of time, my ire has largely abated. So let’s just call this a visit from the Ghost of Christmases Past!

A Christmas Carol – Part I

Here’s an account of my Christmas 2009, and the events, people and comments that inspired me to start a blog. Setting: In a place far, far away, a group of people had gathered to do scientific field work instead of spending Christmas with their loved ones…

One little teeny-weeny irksome detail was the way my boss mentioned several times that women should have children before they’re 30. Sure, it’s common knowledge that your chances of getting pregnant at all, and in particular your chances of safely delivering a healthy baby, are strongly linked to age. And sure, draw the line at 30 if you want – I’m not sure that’s the official health advice (it’s fairly common these days to have kids after 30) but you probably have a point. Still, I thought the first time he mentioned this might be a bit of a gaffe – considering he was in the presence of a woman of 30+ with no children. But he kept coming back to this; it’s obviously a pretty strongly held view of his.

The second little thing, that really got to me, was the comment one evening that it was so nice to be doing fieldwork with me and [OtherYoungWoman] because we were doing a lot of cleaning. The boss had noticed how we spent some time every evening tidying up, making everything seatight, and we always knew where everything was. This cleaning and tidying business is apparently a girly thing, and he thoroughly approved (while slightly amused, it seemed); “I’m quite traditional. I believe in different roles for men and women.”

Funny. I was taught early on in my seagoing days that you need to stow things well, make sure things are safe, and not leave things lying around in a mess. This I was told by seasoned (male) sailors, but I’ve also learned it by practical experience, since I’ve spent most of my time at sea in areas where the weather is generally fairly rough and where bad things happen to your stuff if you don’t lash it down properly before you go to bed. Girly?

Well, I’m not a sailing person – the boss is the yachtsman! – but I seem to recall hearing this as a general piece of boating advice from more than one source: don’t leave things lying around (because they’ll go flying)… You hear these stories of old sailors and how neat they keep everything --- well, that proves to you that seamen everywhere, perhaps contrary to common belief, are really well in touch with their female side!

And with this encouraging thought, I’ll let this post come to an end, and continue my ranting in …  The Next Post!