love, life, school and coffee.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Things from Africa

"I won't say a word, because I know they won't understand. They won't understand that it's about the man beside you."

Having just come back from a "once in a lifetime trip" to Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa, the above quote keeps floating in my mind. The trip really was something priceless and indescribable. We worked hard for the trip, putting in hours of training, working with various people in areas of sponsorship, authorities from the Singapore Boys Home and those from the school. The very fact that we were there for the trip after so many setbacks added a surreal air to the whirlwind adventure.


The really sad thing about going for these adventures is how personal they are. Sure, you go with loads of friends you love. Sure, you come back and tell everyone how the trip was beyond your wildest dreams. But ultimately, no one will understand truly how you felt. Nothing in words will truly emulate the elation, the euphoria, the tears, sweat and blood. No one else around you will remember how exactly the rock felt under your boot that day, nor can you sufficiently explain it with enough detail to allow anyone else to imagine that sensation.

It's just as Hoot says in one of the closing scenes of Black Hawk Down. No one else would understand unless they experienced it themselves. The thing is, even if and when they do experience it, their experience will be their own, and will differ from yours. What we had on the mountain, it's ours to keep and treasure, something no one else can put their name on.

Unfortunately, the other sad part is when you start losing out the clarity of these experiences. The big events you'd always remember, because they're etched in your memory. But the little things like how gently the wind caressed your face, how much your foot tilted in the scree - the little things that just added on to the richness of the experience - these things are rarely remembered in great detail. And before you know it, all the wonder of the adventure is lost as the memory loses its flavour.

I was talking to my friend about how I dread losing my sense of wonder I had on the mountain because I'm beginning to forget how the little things felt while I was there. The friend replied in her usual optimistic self that all I had to do was close my eyes and allow my memories to take me back there. I might not remember all the little details, but some might still pop up. And as long as that keeps my wonder alive, it is good enough.

Something else I got from the mountain is the forging of new friendships. While this isn't an exclusive treasure chest, at least this is something I can further work upon. Unlike the memories which might fade away with time, I can strengthen friendships. Our shared experience on the mountain, while different to each individual, gives us a common identity - so priceless in forging us together.

Thanks for everything, Africa! -Jimmy

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Colour My World

At first glance, the primary thought process in this post might seem very amateurish. Very kindergarden kid-ish. Downright duh, in fact. But bear with me, okay? (Bleah, it's my blog, so you read it if you're interested, or you move on.)

Colour. Isn't it a wonderful thing? Have you ever once stopped in mid-day, just to observe the myriad of colours we have in our world? Like how the SBS buses spew out black smoke which is just a hue different from the asphalt road? Like how the pinkish clouds at night turn a menacing orangy when it threatens to rain? Can you imagine a world without colour? Would be pretty sad, huh?

Scientifically, (boring lecture coming up) light from the sun can be broken into 7 colours. White light is then reflected off any coloured surface, which absorbs all the colours and only reflects its own colour. While you only see 7 main colours in a rainbow or prism, you're looking at a difference in wavelengths ranging hundreds of thousands of nanometres. Pluck a wavelength band, and you get a colour. Pluck another band just off by a few nanometres, and the hue is already different. Fascinating.

Colour is a large aspect in peoples' lives. You choose a model of car and its colour. You pair outfits by their colour. Red marks in your report card are bad. Red flags, white flags, yellow card, green light. Colour is such a large part of our lives and is actually one of the easiest ways to categorise things.

People love to categorise. It's one of the things that our higher intellect allows for. With the study of science, humans can collect data about the world around us through observation and postulation. With languages, humans can write about the data, the phenomena and pass it on to others. Generation after generation, new facts are written, old ones are updated and obsolete ones are noted for reference. So how do we deal with all this information? We take it down and categorise them. The human mind works through connections. Found out something new? Categorise it such that it links with something you already know. Want to recall that something new you just learnt? Link through what you know to that particular fact.

Since colour is such a large part of our lives, it becomes one of the major categories to link items to. Colours provide humans one of the most rapid paths through the thinking process too. Take the traffic lights for instance. What if we had used words instead of colours for traffic signals? Our brain would require more time to process the word, what it means and what the respective action should be. However, colours do not have to go through the word processing section of the brain which is probably one of the most time consuming steps in the process.

Since colour is so much a part of categorisation and human life, it is only natural that skin colour becomes another way to categorise humans. Based on skin colour, a person can do an immediate assessment of the other party's racial/ethnic background. Of course, this initial assessment might prove to be wrong, but it is a helpful first gauge. In my opinion, this categorisation by skin colour is not wrong, biologically, morally or ethically.

How it becomes wrong is when people attach connotations or "meanings" to this colour categorisation. And this is the root of discrimination. (Random thought: Notice how discriminate shares "-crim-" with incriminate and criminal.) The belief that just because one's skin is this colour makes him more intelligent, or more morally upright. Or that this colour means that you're lazy. Or calculative, or just God-forsaken (and thus have to be treated as underlings). It's snobbish. It's stupid. It's downright childish. And yet so amazingly fascinating.

How many lives have been lost due to this kind of thought process? How many people have had to endure suffering? How many more are still suffering? Is there a way that this could end? As always, I don't have a real answer. It is not within my bounds as a normal human to have all the answers. But just for you dear readers, think about it. I trust you guys are mature enough to figure out the root of this problem. I trust you guys are sensible enough to do what is right, based on what is within you. Because under everything, I believe that all humans are good. (And smart. And can appreciate colour.) -Jimmy