| The not so forgotten art of foot binding | 2:27 PM |
I just recently finished Rice Bowl Women, a collection of short stories from China and Japan as early as the 600s which, of course, includes stories of foot binding. Coincidentally, I had dinner at a friend's house recently and she was telling us a story about her Chinese friend -- a strong independent girl. Her grandmother had her feet bound (in my ignorance I hadn't realized foot binding happened as recently as the 1930's). One day, this young woman had her feet up in plain view and her father said to her, "Who's going to marry you with those giant feet!"
Everyone knows that the ideal of beauty is varied and diverse, but it seems to me that the idolization of these tiny, little feet must not have extended to the naked foot. If you do a Google images search on foot binding, you'll find actual photos of feet that were bound. I have a hard time imagining men found those deformed feet sexy. Surely men only appreciated the foot when clothed in elaborately embroidered litle shoes, no? But shoed or unshoed, the little feet were adored -- and apparently, that adoration hasn't been completely forgotten.
| Carnival | 11:32 AM |
Today's Shrove Tuesday (aka Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday) -- the last day of feasting before Ash Wednesday and the start of the forty days of Lent. Which you all probably know, but did you know the etymology of the word Carnival? It comes from two Latin words caro, carnis and vale -- farewell to meat (Lent is supposed to be 40 days of penitence and fasting).
| Americans Leave Haiti | 5:05 PM |
I've been keeping an eye on Haiti news lately because it's been on the front pages every day recently. Americans are being urged to leave Haiti as tension and violence between pro- and anti-Aristide groups increase. I spent 10 days there as a teenager and somehow that small country has planted roots in my heart. Even when I went there (with a church youth group) Haiti was a volatile country -- not a place highly recommended for travelling.
What I remember from my short visit to Haiti: sleeping under mosquito netting in a large room with other girls listening late at night to the drums beating and the chanting of voodoo ceremonies. Coming home and thinking I had scabies (just a heat rash). A tour of a small voodoo hut - a dead chicken and a small goat hanging from the ceiling. A beautiful dark skinned girl who made a lunch with tiny fish for me. Fear of the rumors that Haitians get violent and angry when photographed. The smell of Port Au Prince.
At fourteen, I was deeply religious and was frightened by this thing called voodoo. Older, I was enthralled by it. Haiti planted roots because it was a real source of my imaginative curiosities -- my religious grapplings and experimentation. Because at one time the supernatural was immensely seductive -- the magic of voodoo and witchcraft, just like prayers, except prayers were mundane because I grew up with prayers - dead chickens and goat's blood -- that was new, exotic, and sensual in a way that inaudible words could never be.
I could never fully believe, but at one time I felt a great deal of enthusiasm for such colorful subject matter.
But going back to Haiti...it's a country that seems plagued by militant violence -- even now in a democratic environment, it's been unable to shake itself free of scandal and corruption. It's one of the poorest countries in the Western hemisphere. It's in continual political turmoil. It fuels our imaginations plenty, but not enough our hearts.
