The PEN News around the globe and urgent message from any PEN center over this world and local news of writers in India. I believe in FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION and I use this space for this purpose. I am a stark activist of International PEN and I follow it. All the news and articles are posted here by Albert Ashok, you can mail if you have any news about writers and their troubles, struggles for posting here.Type respectable 2008 at live dot com
I am an executive member of West Bengal PEN chapter till today, but the writings that I have written here donot represent the PEN west Bengal Chapter in any way. Like other human being, I am also made of blood, flesh and emotion. Beyond this organisation, the PEN West Bengal chapter I am also an individual and I have my expressions on some on going events. So, read it as Albert Ashok's personal view and expression, I do not and never represent any writings for this organisation that I belong. I donot give any credit to the west Bengal PEN chapter. because The secretary of the organisation has other means of publication, they donot use this blog. From the beginning I have been collecting news/ information from different sources and publish here for the benefit of writers and common people, and credit goes to the source of information where from I collect it excluding my personal views.
I started this blog when I was not a member. My purpose was to project the news of The P.E.N. and its centers from West Bengal. It is very hard to face always fear and anxiety and rendering a service for greater world - Albert Ashok
The other side of Ms. Taslima Nasrin the feminist writer
Ms Nasrin has some misconception about PEN West Bengal, she is angry because Indian government could not provide adequate security for her stay in India. So, she wants a revenge and made a complain to an international organization without context and provocation on 22nd june 2009, in a time when it is very critical to West Bengal chapter of Indian PEN center for some reason. The mail is published here. This is a reply to Ms. Nasrin's mail.
It all started one day when I came to pick up an email of Taslima Nasrin from a website page of International PEN in 2008, (probably) month of May.( so far I can remember)
As my occupation is writing books and a stark defender of ‘Freedom of Expression’ it was my policy to defend and keep a vigil all the charters of UN covenant. I made many blogs where I post all the news that Article 19, IFEX, and PEN International and its centers world wide and other sources publish. I do it by my own pocket money, I could have used my time and my money enjoying my life as it is my hard earned money. I am a freelancer, I have no job guarantee, I have my family. I can give my son something he needs for his study. But I think I am doing something great for this world, like me there are many people ( in comparison, very few numbers in thousand) doing and thinking this. This is the way how the world moves. So, if you expect more how shall I give you. Be contented what you are having.
Ms. Nasrin was in problem and in trouble. International PEN had an appeal to Indian government to look into Ms. Nasrin’s Problem. Someone has to take initiatives to support or defend her cause. I stepped forward; I told my PEN members/ colleagues in West Bengal. We had a discussion as how to help her. We have no fund to start action and campaign. We decided personally we shall try our best level, influence people and do the necessary according our strength, and we did it for Ms. Taslima Nasrin.
The intellectuals in Kolkata, West Bengal, personally have defended ‘taslima’ the woman, and made speech in favour of her through different Media. Its recorded documents.
From early 1993, probably when she started attacking some persons (not the system) in media in the name of literature, from then on I had a close observation on her ( my sentiment is after all she is a writer I should defend her) like many defenders of Freedom of Expression. I have stored many important published news from different sources in my collection. From Hanifa Deen’s (an Australian author of Pakistani origin, ) ‘The crescent and the pen’ to many assorted news journals and her books. So, with out document I hardly speak.
Mr Sunil Gangopadhyay to Madam Mahasweta Devi, many came down to street to defend her. Our late president of All India PEN center, Mr Annada Shankar Roy had taken many initiatives to support Taslima in 1994, and it is a published news document. How come she says a lie to an international body! Is it a conspiracy to degrade a community and attract the attention of media, fooling all?
What you see is not the whole world, beyond your knowledge the world does exist too, it has the rest massive part. You are an ignorant, irresponsible and small creature when you make a comment what you do not know.
I sent a mail to Ms. Nasrin who is exhorting polygamy in society through interviews in media,as a feminists view, she retorted me: She replied on Saturday, 3 May, 2008
i did not know there was a PEN in west bengal. did you do anything when the west bengal government threw a writer out of the state?
(The exact mail with out editing what she sent to me)
I assured her in my mail a strong support next day.
After then I tried to keep a communication with her but she found she has no interest in us. Because this Bengal ( including Bangladesh) know her critically.
The western countries are very busy how they would expose themselves above all as a big champion of freedom of expression and Human rights, they don’t judge what they are doing in most cases.
Is there any precaution or punishment for those who abuse the rights freedom of Expression?
Do you think Freedom of Expression is for killing millions? Hurting millions? All pornography writings? Waging wars? Rioting ? Communal disharmony?
This question has arisen in me.
All I knew we want a better world. Taslima Nasrin is not matched with Salman Rushdie, We defended him for his good literature.
In early 90 when Lajja was published it was not a literary work, it is not that the fact she wrote, many criticized about her writing skill, many said it was not literature. Many individuals and organisations, the defenders of ‘Freedom of Expression’, supported many writers, reporters who were not like Ms. Taslima Nasrin.
Does she not wear the title as irresponsible, ungrateful and stupid woman when she says to International PEN ( the following mail ) :
Hi Caroline !
I just cant resist myself to inform you that during my stay in Kolkata, (West Bengal, India) the government of West Bengal banned my book called 'Dwikhandito', a several fatwa was issued against me by the Muslim fundamentalists, they set price on my head, i was physically attacked by the fanatics, I was forced to live under house arrest by the the government, after a violent protest against my stay in Kolkata I was bundled out of Kolkata which was my home for 4 years ( 2004-2007), I was again forced to live in solitary confinement in Delhi, and finally I was thrown out of India by the Indian government. A writer, because of her writings, and because of her views that are different than the extremists has been banished, banned and blacklisted in the ''largest democracy'', and PEN kolkata did not do anything to protest against the fatwas, or attacks or harassment.
I don't think PEN is at all a known organisation in Kolkata.
I am now having a nomadic existence in the West, living out of a suitcase. My home is still in Kolkata, and I am not allowed to return to my home.
I hope you will try to find some efficient writers to be involved in PEN kolkata who can support the persecuted writers.
Best,
Taslima
Because of PEN centers she is enjoying a VIP status, (she has exploited a lot people’s sentiment, we become emotional easily and illogically sometime!)
Ms. Taslima Nasrin is Bangladeshi national, she has lived there all her life,Bangladesh has a PEN centers of International PEN, did she ever complain against the center to International PEN or somewhere else because it could not provide security? Or is she taking revenge that we could not do adequate arrangement for her shelter in India?So far I know Indian government has extended her Visa, but she is free to speak a lie.
Or Is she exercising her freedom of expression this way? Or does she think it is a way to earn more dollar and live in news? Sometimes artists and writers do this intentionally its a trend to live in news.
Do feminists think it is her expression of feminism?
By the comment above she made, she did not insulted only the Bengal in India, the Bangladesh also will feel insulted and appreciate what a ungrateful genius it has brought forth.
Every one in a country is not a evil. Most people are good and can be trusted.
Stop Ms. Nasrin, commenting untrue and lies. You are creating a hostile environment in Bengal. If possible please, co operate us, to help the dissidents and persecuted writers. We, who defend you don’t discourage us, don’t steal our ground beneath our feet to stand for Freedom of Expression. This is our self willed service not by the fund of any generous or philanthropic organization. And West Bengal PEN chapter always a follower of International PEN, It works according its own strength.
Your comment the Bengal will keep as a treasure and remember you for ever.
I don’t think doing this you will earn more from the ignorant westerners.
Your comment has put us in an embarrassing position, it gave us pain and deep wound as a reward and in face of our hard working voluntary service. The damage you have done to us you can never restore.
We request the government of Bangladesh where she was born to treat her properly and secure her living, and Ms Taslima should return to her homeland where she can fight her cause and mission. We wish herthe best.
I have studied Ms. Taslima Nasrin’s a few years ( 1993 to 2009), I can not resist to tell all about her rise and western countries should know her well so that she will get more comfort all over the world. I shall post it with in few weeks. Promise.
------------------------- Siobhan Dowd wins Carnegie Medal
June 26, 2009Siobhan Dowd, much missed PEN member and a leading force in the establishment of our Readers and Writer programme, has been awarded the Carnegie Medal for her posthumously published novel Bog Child. A full report on Siobhan's triumph and the award can be found on the Guardian website. source:
Carnegie medal posthumously awarded to Siobhan Dowd
Siobhan Dowd's Bog Child, finished three months before her death from cancer, has taken the Carnegie medal for children's literature and made Dowd its first posthumous winner
A novel completed just three months before she died made Siobhan Dowd today the first ever posthumous winner of the most prestigious prize in children's literature, the Carnegie medal.
Bog Child, the story of a teenage boy who finds the body of a child in an Irish bog, was finished by Dowd in May 2007. She died of cancer that August at the age of 47, having only turned to writing in 2003. In just four short years, she penned four children's books: her first, A Swift Pure Cry, was also shortlisted for the Carnegie.
"It's infuriating that she didn't start writing earlier, that she couldn't go on. We've lost one of our great new voices, and they don't come along that often, not at Siobhan's standards," said her publisher and editor, David Fickling, who accepted the Carnegie medal on her behalf this lunchtime. "Bog Child was written with great intensity, when Siobhan was at the height of her powers, all the while being very ill ... You get to the end and are uplifted, and that's what she was like in person, too. She buoyed you up."
The book is "an absolutely astonishing piece of writing", said the librarian Joy Court, chair of the judging panel (the Carnegie medal winner is selected by 13 librarians from around the UK). "To be able to write like that when she was going through what she was going through is just astonishing – the sheer beauty of the language, the descriptions of the environment; she has such an amazing sense of place."
Bog Child intertwines two stories: that of the 16-year-old Fergus, who discovers the child in the bog in 1981 and thinks she has been murdered by the IRA, and that of the bog child, Mel, who turns out to have lived 2,000 years ago during the iron age. Fergus smuggles packages across the Northern Ireland border each day, believing them to contain semtex, while his brother goes on hunger strike in prison in an attempt to free Northern Ireland from "the misery of it. The mourning and the weeping. The vale of tears." Dowd's command of language is "extraordinary", said Fickling, as in her description of Mel's death: "Silver light fizzed and shot apart. Love fell in particles, like snow."
Dowd spent 20 years as a human-rights campaigner for PEN in England and New York before she turned to writing in 2003. "All that looking after other writers must have been preparation for writing," said Fickling. "There's a lovely letter which she wrote to her mother, where she said: 'I must get on with writing, I mustn't be modest any more.'" He recalled a conversation with Dowd on Waterloo footbridge, when he asked if she had started writing because she had cancer. "She said: 'Absolutely not. It's more of a hindrance than a spur.'" Her husband has said she "needed to experience life first in order to write to the standard she aspired to".
Dowd lived to see her first two books published, and to see her first, A Swift Pure Cry, win the Eilís Dillon award for a first-time children's author, writing on her blog at the time that it was "very precious to me, my first ever award". Her second novel, The London Eye Mystery, planned as the first in a series, won her the major Irish children's fiction prize, the Bisto award, which she also picked up last month, for the second year running, for Bog Child.
She's been "sweeping the board" where literary prizes are concerned, said Fickling, but winning the Carnegie would have been "very special" to her because it is organised by librarians who spend their days helping children find a way to read, a cause very close to her heart. She believed that "if a child can read, they can think, and if a child can think they are free", and in the few days before she died she set up the Siobhan Dowd Trust, which helps to bring books to disadvantaged children and to which her book royalties and prizewinnings go. "She was intensely practical, not airy-fairy or sentimental in any way," said Fickling. He added she would have been "overjoyed" to win the Carnegie, but would have found it "a terror" being on the seven-strong shortlist with the likes of Frank Cottrell Boyce, Eoin Colfer and Patrick Ness.
The Carnegie medal comes with no prize money but much prestige: in its 72-year history, it has been won by authors including Elizabeth Goudge, CS Lewis, Philip Pullman and Noel Streatfeild.
This morning's award ceremony also saw the 27-year-old illustrator Catherine Rayner win the Kate Greenaway medal for children's book illustration for her second title, Harris Finds His Feet. The book, inspired by an encounter in the wild with a hare and by Rayner's own large feet, follows the story of a small hare learning to hop with oversized paws. Court said the creation of Harris was "a triumph, from the way he moves and his expressions to his velvety fur". Rayner wins £5,000, and joins a distinguished list of former winners of the 50-year-old prize including Shirley Hughes, Raymond Briggs and Quentin Blake.
'For anyone who believes that words can help us chart a path, PEN International is essential reading' Alberto Manguel
'Reading in the pages of PEN International we celebrate not just our differences but also our common humanity and universal values' Azar Nafisi
PEN International addresses a global audience and features original work by contemporary writers from around the world.
Founded in 1950, the magazine was originally a compendium of reviews of world literature entitled ‘Bulletin of Selected Books'. Over the years, it was expanded to include articles, stories and poems either contributed directly or reprinted from other publications.
The magazine is read by the 144 PEN Centres in 102 countries, as well as readers all over the world.
In 2007, PEN International was relaunched with the ‘Context:' series, featuring a new design, a dedicated editor and special guest writers. ‘Context:' showcases writing from different regions of the world with the express goal of introducing the work of new and established writers to each other and to readers everywhere. It has so far covered Africa and the Middle East. ‘Context: Latin America' will appear in autumn 2008 and ‘Context: Asia/Pacific' in 2009. A special issue will be published in spring 2008 called ‘The Writer Next Door', and will be dedicated to International PEN's annual literary theme of the same name.
Contributors to PEN International have included Adonis, Margaret Atwood, Karel Capek, Siobhan Dowd, Nawal El-Saadawi, Moris Farhi, Antonia Fraser, Nadine Gordimer, Günter Grass, Han Suyin, Liu Hongbin, Chenjerai Hove, Alberto Manguel, Salim Matar, Ngugi wa Thiong'o, Ben Okri, Moniro Ravanipour, Salman Rushdie, Wole Soyinka, Hilary Spurling and many others. Previous editors have included Alexandre Blokh and Per Wästberg.
PEN International is supported by UNESCO, the Sigrid Rausing Trust, Bloomberg and an anonymous donor.
Volume 59, No. 1, Spring/Summer 2009 The magazine of International PEN
Le magazine de PEN International
La revista de PEN Internacional
Editor’s Note
Welcome to ‘Heaven and Earth’.
The theme of this issue takes its inspiration from International PEN’s second
annual Free the Word! festival of world literature in London, with which it coincides.
We have asked our contributors to respond to this theme in a personal way, and
the results hint at an almost infinite range of cultural perspectives.
Take our special guest writers, both of whom appear at the festival. Each has
taken ‘Earth’ as synonymous with that other possible antonym for ‘Heaven’: fearless
truth-teller Lydia Cacho of Mexico reports on her encounters during a recent trip
to Cambodia with people who have lived through the kind of hell that human
beings seem all to adept at inflicting on their fellows; Petina Gappah of Zimbabwe
imagines the lives of a young family who have made their way from hellish
circumstances to a better place – only to discover that ‘better’ is relative.
It’s not all infernal, of course. Jack Waveney’s narrator flies above Peru’s Nasca
Lines and vividly senses the Great Mystery; there is a numinous quality, too,
in Rebecca O’Connor’s tiny poem rooted in the material world.
Most of the writers in this issue grapple with the realities confronting us
in between Heaven and Earth: Azar Nafisi (also appearing at Free the Word!)
remembers a girl’s striking moment of independent thought under an authoritarian
theocracy; Kachi Ozumba’s hapless Nigerian pastor comes down to Earth from hislofty sense of self at the hands of canny, corrupt policemen; Jason Mooreland takes
a thoughtful look at a troubling trend in education and wonders which way it
will lead us.
For some, the ‘earthier’ elements of our existence take centre-stage: Florian
Zeller (another festival guest) gives us a cynical, desperate traveller who views
sexual encounters strictly in terms of ‘exchange rates’, and Encarna Cabello’s
young North African couple discover the erotic potential of a common garment.
The Earth as a planet harbouring ferocious power features as well, in a poem
by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih (appearing at Free the Word! as well) that considers
the aftermath of the tsunami of 2004, and in a story by Élise Gruau set on Stromboli,
that Aeolian island in thrall to its volcano.
Heaven and Earth: sooner or later we must each of us come to terms with either
one, or both. We hope the writing in this issue can provide some sustenance for
virginity ensured the safety of the city. It took just a single detour by one of them
to turn stability into chaos. When that happened, there were meticulous rituals
in place to purge the curse and restore hope: failed Vestals were buried alive in an
underground chamber, and it was left to Vesta, the goddess they served, to decide
whether they lived or died.
2
For minor offences, a Vestal risked being scourged in private by Rome’s highest
priest, the Pontifex Maximus.
3
But a Vestal’s violation of her vow of chastity was
a public curse. All participated in the expiation. Immediately after her conviction,
the guilty priestess was flogged and then bound in thick cloth to muffle her
lamentations. Churning like a larva, she was put on a litter bed and carried through
the Forum. Thousands watched in tearful silence as she passed. ‘No other spectacle
is more appalling,’ wrote Plutarch of such sights, ‘nor does any other day bring more
gloom to the city than this.’
4
The crowd’s sombre mood came not from the woman’s
imminent death – gory public executions were common enough – but from terror
at what might result from the Vestal’s loss of virginity.
The procession ended near the Colline Gate, just inside one of the city’s walls,
where the burial chamber awaited. The room was supplied with furniture, a lamp
and bits of food, milk and oil. The Vestal was unfastened from her coverings except
for a veil over her face. As her soiled body stood in the wind, an object of grief and
scorn, the Pontifex Maximus stretched his hands toward heaven, muttered some
prayers and then sent her down into the hole. As soon as she was underground,
attendants sealed the room with stones and spread earth around it so that no traces
of it, or her, remained.
Technically, this was not an execution. No one shouldered the responsibility
of killing a Vestal, even a guilty one. The few provisions supplied to the accused
priestess absolved the priests for her death and gave Vesta the opportunity to hand
down the ultimate ruling. If the Vestal was, in fact, found by the goddess to have
broken her chastity vow, Vesta rebalanced the celestial scales by letting her starve
and suffocate. If she was innocent, Vesta could lift her up and restore her. Of theten or so Vestal virgins who endured this process over seven centuries, none was
resurrected. Their guilt was confirmed beyond doubt and Rome was saved, at least
until the next Vestal misbehaved.
Only girls between six and ten years old who were deemed perfect in all
respects were eligible for service in Vesta’s temple. No marks, lisps or other defects
were allowed. Both parents had to be alive and married, with no divorce, scandal or
slave blood clouding their lineage. Selected girls underwent an elaborate initiation
process that put them in service to Vesta and Rome and no one else. All Roman
women belonged to one man or another, but not the Vestals. They alone were free
from male control, because they were the sisters, daughters and wives of the city
itself. They were taken from their homes to Vesta’s temple in the Forum, where
they lived for at least thirty years.
5
Vesta was the goddess of the hearth, and of the
Earth itself.
6 The perpetual flame that burned in the Atrium Vestae was the fulcrum
of Roman life. Just as early Rome’s daughters tended the flames of their families’homes, the Vestals kept Rome’s fire alive. They also maintained a storehouse
of holy substances and took care of dozens of other ritual duties.
7
For that, the
priestesses received extraordinary privileges. They were allotted prime seats at the
theatre and at gladiatorial games, and rode in ornate carriages with bodyguards to
move people out of their way. Even consuls had to step aside. If, during their travels
around town, they encountered a criminal about to be executed, the man’s life was
spared. (However, anyone with the nerve to pass under a Vestal’s carriage would
be killed.) When Vestals died, they were among the very few inhabitants of Rome
whose burial was permitted within the city’s sacred precincts.
8
Most Vestals kept their bodies and reputations intact. There were precautions
in place to prevent temptation (their temple was closed to all men at night, even
doctors), but it was inevitable that some would fail. When a Vestal had sex, the
crime was incestum – an offence that incorporated incest (all Roman men were
their family) and sexual defilement. Because that loss of virginity was a direct
assault on the state, calamities were often blamed on Vestal incestum. In what
seemed like an instant, they transformed from high priestesses to monstrous
scapegoats.
The very fact of Rome’s troubles was taken as proof of Vestal unchastity.
In 483 BC, the city was at war with the Volsci and the Veii. Rome’s superior
resources should have permitted it to make short work of these enemies, but Rome
was wasting its advantages on internal struggles. To make matters worse, there
were daily heavenly prodigies showing the gods’ anger and portending disaster.
The city was in a panic. Its priests could not figure out what was causing the
problems, even after consulting animal entrails and bird flight patterns. They thenconcluded that a Vestal was misbehaving. ‘These terrors finally resulted in the
Vestal virgin Oppia being condemned for incestum and executed,’ wrote Livy.
9
In 215 BC, in the alarm over Rome’s loss of 50,000 men to Hannibal at the Battle
of Cannae, the Vestals Opimia and Floronia were found guilty of incestum. One of
them was buried alive; the other was allowed to commit suicide. A century later,
after the destruction of the army of Marcus Porcius Cato in Thrace, three Vestals
were put on trial for conduct more fitting to prostitutes than professional virgins.
‘Three had known men at the same time,’ wrote Cassius Dio.‘Of these, Marcia had
acted by herself, granting favours to one single knight … Aemilia and Licina, on theother hand, had a multitude of lovers and carried on their wanton behaviour with
each other’s help.’
10
If that was not bad enough, the fire in Vesta’s temple began to sputter out on
its own – a sure sign of Vestal misconduct – and a bolt of lightning killed a noble
girl on her horse, leaving her dress hiked up above her waist.
11
At first, only the Vestal
Marcia was found guilty, but the public’s thirst for a clear remedy for all this trouble
was too strong for a single verdict to stand. A second trial was convened, and the
other two Vestals convicted. All three were buried alive.
Vestals were sometimes prosecuted in the absence of a calamity. Emperor
Domitian’s moral reforms were punctuated by trials against Vestals for incestum.
12
The chief Vestal, Cornelia, was buried alive in 83 AD, but did not go down quietly:
‘Is it possible?’ she demanded of Domitian as he watched her being led to the
hole. ‘Does Caesar think that I have been unchaste, when he has conquered and
triumphed while I have been performing the rites?’
13
In other words, how dare
Domitian accuse her when he has enjoyed good fortune? But he did anyway.
Some Vestals were able to acquit themselves at trial with impressive feats of
magic. The priestess Tuccia was charged, in 230 BC, with giving away her virginity
based on one man’s accusation. Calling Vesta to her aid, she led a crowd to the
TiberRiver, where she pulled up a quantity of water with a sieve. To everyone’s
amazement, the water did not drain out of the holes. She took it back to the Forum,
where she dumped the river water onto the feet of her judges. Her life was spared,
and her accuser was never heard from again.
14
Another time, after the sacred fire
went out on the Vestal Aemilia’s watch, the priests enquired as to whether she had
been entertaining men. In the presence of everyone, she cried out:
O Vesta, guardian of the Romans’ city, if, during the space of nearly thirty years,
I have performed the sacred offices in a holy and proper manner, keeping a pure
mind and a chaste body, manifest yourself in my defence and assist me and do
not suffer your priestess to die the most miserable of all deaths; but if I have
been guilty of any impious deed, let my punishment expiate the guilt of the city.
She then threw a piece of her clothing on the cold altar where the fire had burned.
Instantly, a flame burst through the linen. With that, the city was safe again, and
Aemilia cleared.
15
The Vestal college lasted for about a millennium, until the fire was put out
forever and the order disbanded in the fourth century AD by the Christian emperor
Theodosius. Judging by Rome’s long run, the priestesses mostly protected the people
well by keeping the sacred fire lit and men out of their beds. In a sex-soaked culture
in which aristocratic women tried to register as prostitutes, the Vestals’ untouched
genitals were a guarantee of Rome’s long life.
(Unpublished, 2009)
1Holt Parker, ‘Why Were the Vestals Virgins?’, American Journal of Philology,
vol. 124, no. 4 (2004), p. 568.
2Sarah B. Pomeroy, Goddess, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical
Antiquity (Dorset, 1975), p. 211; see also Plutarch, Roman Questions
(Loeb Classical Lib. 1936, Frank Cole Babbit, tr.), ch. 96.
3Plutarch, Life of Numa Pompilius (Loeb Classical Lib. 1914, Bernadotte Perrin, tr.),
ch. 10.
4Ibid., see also Dionysus of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities (Loeb Classical Lib.
1937, Earnest Cary, tr.), Book II, ch. 67.
5Plutarch, Life of Numa Pompilius, ch. 10. It seems that many Vestals stayed
longer than the required three decades, however, as they had bad luck with
their marriages after laying down their sacred offices.
6Robin Lorsch Wildfang, Rome’s Vestal Virgins: A Study of Rome’s Vestal
Priestesses in the Late Republic and Early Empire (Routledge 2006), pp. 6–60;
see also Dionysus of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, Book II, ch. 66: ‘And they
regard the fire as consecrated to Vesta because that goddess, being the Earth
and occupying the central place in the universe, kindles the celestial fires from
herself.’
7Wildfang, pp. 16–17. The Vestals were involved in other practices that seem
incompatible with virginity, e.g. agricultural and fertility rituals such as
the Fordicidia rites, in which a Vestal burned a fetus torn from an unfortunate
pregnant cow; see also Pomeroy, p. 211, and Mary Beard, ‘The Sexual Status of
Vestal Virgins’, Journal of Roman Studies, vol. 70, p. 13 (1980). The Vestals’
chastity throughout their fertile years gave them ‘stored up, potential
procreative power’ (Beard, p. 15).
8Parker, p. 568; O. F. Robinson, Ancient Rome: City Planning and Administration
(Routledge 1994), p. 124.
9Livy, History of Rome (Dutton 1912, Rev. Canon Roberts, tr.), ch. 2.42.
10Cassius Dio, Roman History (Loeb Classical Lib. 1925, Earnest Cary, tr.) ch. 26.87.
11Wildfang, pp. 93–4.
12Cassius Dio, Roman History, ch. 67.3; The Letters of the Younger Pliny (Penguin
1963, Betty Radice, tr.), pp. 118–19; Brian W. Jones, The Emperor Domitian
(Routledge 1992), pp. 101–2.
13Pliny, Letters, 43.
14Dionysus of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, Book II, ch. 69.
15Ibid., ch. 68.
Natalia Smirnova
Gas
look, we intend to croak. but we will just
live on. and on and on and on
and on, wrinkle-free, in a tiny flat
where there is no heating, only gas
where coffee grows old and grows cold
within two minutes. not like in ukraine,
of course – we’ve got some gas – but heating,
there’s neither heating nor even water
that could flood the place, flood it, no,
if only we could have our flood, or blood
but there’s no flood, no wrinkles, no poison
with which to croak and no home to live at
or leave. but there’s gas, at least.
god bless ukraine. oh please let there be gas.
Translated from the Russian by the author
Kachi A. Ozumba
THE POLICE IS YOUR FRIEND
Nduka was determined not to leave the Ikeja police station without his police
report. He waited at the counter, his gaze fixed on a poster on the opposite wall.
Although he had seen the poster many times before, it never failed to arrest his
attention. It depicted a policeman smiling broadly and benignly; radiating beneath
it was the caption: THE POLICE IS YOUR FRIEND.
A policeman emerged from the door behind the counter. His black uniform bore
the two red stripes of a corporal. Leaning on the grimy wooden counter, he asked:
‘Good morning, sir, can I help you?’
‘Yes, I’m Pastor Nduka Obi, and I’ll like to see Sergeant Bello.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, the sergeant is not around at the moment. Is there anyway I can
be of help?’
For a mere corporal, the policeman’s English was flawless, Nduka thought: his
tone was polite, his manners polished. Although this was his third time at the
station that week, Nduka could not help being reminded that the corporal before
him was not a semi-illiterate, as was so often the case in years past. A government
policy a few years back had pegged the minimum qualification for recruitment
into the police force at a National Diploma. This was to help stem corruption and
make the force friendlier.
‘Yes. He’s the one handling my case. I lost my passport two weeks ago, and I
need a police report to obtain a new one, which I will need for my trip to the UK in
a month’s time. The report has already been written since my first visit. All that has
been holding it is the Divisional Police Officer’s stamp. I need it to apply for my visa,
and I’m already running late.’
‘You say the report has been written since your first visit; how come you have
not collected it since then?’
‘On the first visit, I was told the DPO was not around; on the second, I was told
he needed time to study the document; on the third, I was told the document had
been signed and only the stamping by the DPO remained, and they were looking
for both the DPO and the stamp. Please, corporal, I hope I won’t leave here today
without it.’
The corporal smiled, but it was a tight-lipped smile, and the pastor felt there
was something incongruous about it. He could not tell whether it was born of
sympathy or mockery.
‘I really apologise for the delay so far. But you know how life is: nothing is
predictable. Anything can crop up at any time to cause a delay. But if you’re
determined, then your determination will move mountains – and you’ll get your
report today.’ The corporal smiled again, glad to show the pastor that he knewsomething of the Bible.
‘Of course I’m determined to get it today,’ the pastor answered, irritation
seeping into his voice. ‘I’ve been determined to get it since the first day.’
‘Okay, I’ll see the DPO about it right away. Won’t you like to send your regards?’
‘I don’t even know him,’ Nduka said. ‘Well, tell him a law-abiding citizen sends
his regards.’
The corporal hesitated, staring for some time at Nduka, then turned and
disappeared through the door. Moments later he reappeared, shaking his head.
‘The DPO has yet to reach your file. He has so many files to attend to, those of
people who came before you. We operate on a first-come, first-served basis, so
please exercise some patience.’
A red curtain fell over the pastor’s eyes, making them bloodshot. His voice rose
an octave: ‘What … what nonsense is this? Do I have to pass through the eye of a
needle just to collect a common police report? You people are –’ He caught himself
back from swearing. Be angry but do not sin, he cautioned himself, quoting the
Bible.
The corporal must have taken pity on him. ‘But, sir, why are you making things
so difficult for yourself? Have you not got the message? All that stands between
you and your report is just an express-service mobilisation fee of a mere two
hundred naira!’
Nduka’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘What exactly are you saying?’ he asked.
‘Are you suggesting that I give a bribe in order to collect my police report?’
He pointed to a poster on the wall to his right. ‘I’m sure you can read this!’The poster bore the bold caption:
DO NOT GIVE BRIBE
IT IS ILLEGAL
‘Of course I can,’ replied the policeman. He gestured at another poster behind the
pastor. ‘I hope you have also read that one.’ It had an even bolder caption:
HELP THE POLICE TO
HELP YOU
‘I’m not asking for a bribe,’ the policeman said, ‘but that you help us to help you.’
‘I want to see your DPO right away,’ Nduka said. His anger had given way to a
zealous determination to fight corruption.
‘Sir, I’ll advise you to stick with me. Just pay the two hundred-naira mobilisation
fee and you’ll get your report. The higher you go, the higher the amount that will
be demanded of you.’
‘Will you take me to your DPO right now, or do you want me to find my way
there?’
‘Well, if that’s your wish …’
The corporal led Nduka into a dim hallway with several doors. He tapped on the
last door, on which a sign was affixed that read: DIVISIONAL POLICE OFFICER (DPO);
then he ushered Nduka in.
It was a small cluttered office. The DPO sat behind an enormous desk strewnwith files and papers. A miniature national flag sat between two plaques on the
table. On one of the plaques was engraved the name ‘Owonikoko J. A., B.Sc. M.Sc.’.
On the other was perhaps the man’s personal motto: Heaven helps those who
know how to help themselves.
The DPO lifted his face, frowning with irritation.
‘Good day DPO Owonikoko,’ Nduka began. ‘I have a problem.’
‘You have your problems, I have my problems, everyone has his problems,’
the DPO replied. He returned his gaze to the files before him.
This not-so-subtle message was not lost on Nduka: How can you persuade
me to abandon my problems and help you with yours? Blood raced through
the pastor’s veins, and his lips trembled. He nearly screamed his reply: ‘Well, my
problem now is that if I do not walk out of this station today with my police report,
the evils of this station shall be all over tomorrow’s papers!’
The DPO looked up sharply. He ran an appraising eye over this new-generation
pastor before him, taking in his Piaget wristwatch and Gucci shoes, the expensive
cut of his suit. A huge smile replaced his frown. Once again, Nduka felt odd about
the smile. It was indulgent – as though the man could see through his bluff. But
there was still something else hidden in its wide expanse, something the pastor
could not place his finger on.
The DPO waved Nduka to a seat and said: ‘Please calm down, and sit down.’
The corporal eased himself out of the office as Nduka sat, shutting the door quietly
behind him. ‘You are?’
‘Pastor Nduka Obi of the Mighty Faith Ministries.’
‘Oh, that’s the one located along the Lagos–Ibadan expressway, isn’t it?’
The pastor nodded.
‘Hmm! So you people are the ones building that gigantic church, eh? Great.
How can I help you?’
Nduka took a deep breath. ‘For over two weeks now,’ he said, ‘I’ve been trying
to collect a simple police report with which I may apply for the replacement of my
missing passport. You see, I have to be in the United Kingdom next month. I need
the report urgently so that I can obtain a new passport and apply for a visa.
Now your corporal is telling me I have to give a bribe before I can collect it.’
The DPO sprang from his seat and went over to the door, quickly. ‘Corporal!’
he bellowed. ‘Corporal!’
The corporal appeared promptly.
‘Did you ask this righteous gentleman for a bribe?’
‘Bribe?’ the corporal said, shocked. ‘No, sir. I only asked him for the usual express-
service mobilisation fee of two hundred naira, sir.’
‘Two hundred naira?’ the DPO barked. ‘Since when did the mobilisation fee
become two hundred naira? It’s five hundred! Something must be wrong with you.
Are you sure you were not planning to pocket the money?’
‘No, sir. I would have placed it into the coffers of the station and had it duly
receipted.’
‘Okay, you can go now. I’ll see you about it later.’
Nduka’s heart sank as he watched the whole exchange.
‘You see,’ began the DPO as he came round to his seat, now smiling benignly.
‘We have to collect such fees when someone wants us to jump the usual process and give him what amounts to an express service. It’s our policy, and you willfind the same everywhere, even in the presidency. Such fees help us in running
the station. You know as well as I do that in this country one cannot rely entirely
on the government.’
‘My report has already been delayed for over a week, and you’re still talking of
express service!’ The pastor’s voice was losing something of its crusader’s fervour.
‘You would appreciate the express nature of the service if you knew the
enormous number of reports and complaints we receive daily. Some have waited
months, indeed years, to collect a common police report. We try our best, but we
can only do so much …’ The DPO broke off, spreading his hands in a gesture of
helplessness.
‘And you’re asking for what you call a “mobilisation fee”, which you know as
well as I do is only a euphemism for a bribe.’
‘Bribe? No!’ The DPO shook his head, apparently hurt. ‘How can you say that?
Even the good Lord demands some mobilisation fee for the work He does for us.
Please correct me if I’m wrong, but my pastor says it is written in the Scriptures
that the Lord demands one-tenth of our earnings – what the Scriptures call tithes,
and what you collect, un-taxed, as offertory in your churches.’
The pastor opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
‘It’s really no different here,’ said the DPO.
Nduka suddenly felt tired. He glanced at his watch. He felt like running out
of the station. The atmosphere was beginning to choke him.
‘You have to understand that we cannot be partial in the way we apply our
policy here,’ the DPO began again. ‘So, just release the funds and I’ll personally
see to it that you get your report immediately.’
Slowly, Nduka reached into his trouser pocket and retrieved a five-hundred
naira note.
Lord, please forgive me if I’m committing a sin, he prayed silently.
But you’re only giving to Caesar what is Caesar’s, another voice whispered.
Nduka was about to banish it as the voice of Satan, but hesitated. He filed it away
in his mind. He would examine the idea later; there might be some truth in it.
He handed the money to the officer across the table.
International PEN is outraged by the charges brought against Liu Xiaobo
World Writers‘ Association outraged by the charges brought against Liu Xiaobo,dissident writer and former President of the Independent Chinese PEN Centre.
29 June 2009
Before you enter the grave Don't forget to write me with your ashes Do not forget to leave your address in the nether world
From a poem by Liu Xiaobo.
International PEN, the world association of writers, is outraged by the charges of ‘incitement to subversion of state power' brought against prominent dissident writer Liu Xiaobo, former President and Board member of Independent Chinese PEN Centre, on 23 June 2009. Liu Xiaobo was arrested on 8 December 2008 for his role in publishing Charter 08, a document calling for political reform and human rights. Many other signatories of the Charter have been harassed or briefly detained, and there are growing concerns about reports that other members of Independent Chinese PEN Centre based in the P.R.China have been under increased pressure in recent days.
According to PEN’s information, police from the Beijing Public Security Bureau (PSB) National Security Unit delivered Liu Xiaobo's formal arrest notice dated June 23 to his wife, Liu Xia, on 24 June 2009. According to the official Xinhua news agency, he is accused of ‘spreading rumours and defaming the government, aimed at subversion of the state and overthrowing the socialism system in recent years'. The charge carries a maximum five-year prison sentence, and is believed to be based on his endorsement of Charter 08 and over twenty articles published between 2001-2008. He is said to have confessed to the charges against him.
After his arrest on 8 December 2008, Liu Xiaobo was held under ‘residential surveillance', a form of pre-trial detention, at an undisclosed location in Beijing, without access to his lawyer. He was allowed only two family visits throughout his six-month detention, in January and in March, and was held in a windowless room without any outdoor time. His lawyer Mo Shaoping has been barred from representing Liu due to his endorsement of Charter 08, therefore two other members of Mo’s law firm have been nominated to represent him. Liu Xiaobo was reportedly transferred to the Public Security Bureau (PSB) Detention Centre in Douge Zhuang, Beijing, on 23 June 2009, where he reports “an improvement” in his conditions since he now has regular outdoor time and five detainees in his cell with whom he can talk. He was allowed to meet with his lawyers on 26 June 2009.
Liu Xiaobo is among a large number of dissidents to have been detained or harassed since December 2008 after issuing an open letter calling on the National People's Congress Standing Committee to ratify the International Covenant of Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and launching Charter 08, a declaration calling for political reforms and human rights published on 9 December 2008. These activities were part of campaigns to commemorate the 60th Anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (10 December), and were initially signed by over 300 scholars, journalists, freelance writers and activists and now have over 8000 signatories from throughout China.
Liu Xiaobo first received support from PEN 20 years ago, when, in 1989, he was one of a group of writers and intellectuals given the label the “Black Hands of Beijing” by the government, and arrested for their part in the Tiananmen Square protests. Liu has since spent a total of five years in prison, including a three year sentence passed in 1996, and he has suffered frequent short arrests, harassment and censorship. He is among over forty writers detained today in the People's Republic of China for the peaceful expression of their opinions. International PEN demands the immediate and unconditional release of dissident writer Liu Xiaobo and all those detained in China for the peaceful exercise of their opinions, in accordance with Article 19 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, to which China is a signatory.
On behalf of the Board of International PEN
Jirí Gruša - International President
Eugene Schoulgin - International Secretary
Karin Clark – Writers in Prison Committee Chair
Vice-Presidents of International PEN
Margaret Atwood
J. M. Coetzee
Moris Farhi
Nadine Gordimer
Gloria Guardia
Lucina Kathman
Kata Kulavkova
Joanne Leedom-Ackerman
Mario Vargas Llosa
Per Wästberg
For further information please contact Cathy McCann at International PEN Writers in Prison Committee, Brownlow House, 50/51 High Holborn, London WC1V 6ER, Tel.+ 44 (0) 20 7405 0338, Fax: +44 (0) 20 7405 0339, email: cathy.mccann@internationalpen.org.uk
On behalf of All India PEN center, West Bengal expresses our solidarity with all the chinese detained writers and demand unconditional release of detained writers along with International PEN.
Albert Ashok Editor: The west bengal review
Executive Member: The west bengal PEN chapter of All India PEN center
Related links:
our earlier posts on chinese detained writers
