Saturday, October 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Teleny attends the Republican National Convention in the Twin Cities to witness the end of a shameful era
White men in suits arrived in cars whose heavy tred will bankrupt our children's future. Indifference is easy with your eyes closed.
The unwashed anarchists with their street theatre protests are kept at bay by cops shouting orders.'Non-lethal' pepper spray and tazers remind the angry crowd who is in charge, who is on the payroll.
Middle America gathers impotent and boring on legislative lawns, Greek columns stand witness to their tired cries of 'NO MORE WAR'. No one is listening; it's Sunday and the only people in the building are cleaning carpets on minimum wage.
Many people are mad at the Repubicans. Some are just plain mad. The Westboro Baptist Church stand in a clump preaching their hilarious parody of medieval morality.
Fences and clones with earpieces welcome us into sanctuary where security scans for bombs and sharp shouts remind us that though we have press passes, no one is really welcome but the GOP at the RNC.
Starbucks quenches my thirst. I think of the anarchists whose cheerful song had me dancing in the streets. What would they think of me now as I sip my $5 iced tea, inside the lines?
As we leave, police wrestle boys from bicycles as the order goes out: no more disorder. The angry people must be stopped. Journalists arrested, I keep my distance. I fly to Canada tomorrow and I don't want to miss my flight.
The unwashed anarchists with their street theatre protests are kept at bay by cops shouting orders.'Non-lethal' pepper spray and tazers remind the angry crowd who is in charge, who is on the payroll.
Middle America gathers impotent and boring on legislative lawns, Greek columns stand witness to their tired cries of 'NO MORE WAR'. No one is listening; it's Sunday and the only people in the building are cleaning carpets on minimum wage.
Many people are mad at the Repubicans. Some are just plain mad. The Westboro Baptist Church stand in a clump preaching their hilarious parody of medieval morality.
Fences and clones with earpieces welcome us into sanctuary where security scans for bombs and sharp shouts remind us that though we have press passes, no one is really welcome but the GOP at the RNC.
Starbucks quenches my thirst. I think of the anarchists whose cheerful song had me dancing in the streets. What would they think of me now as I sip my $5 iced tea, inside the lines?
As we leave, police wrestle boys from bicycles as the order goes out: no more disorder. The angry people must be stopped. Journalists arrested, I keep my distance. I fly to Canada tomorrow and I don't want to miss my flight.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Place of Refuge
Pre-European Hawaiian culture was ruled by a strict set of moral codes called "kapu (taboo)". Those who broke the codes - by, for example, treading on the shadow of a chief - could expect a summary execution for their transgression, unless they were swift and strong enough to escape to a place of refuge.
Pu'uhonua o Honaunau - the place of refuge at Honaunau - is surrounded on two sides by a high dry stone wall, and on the other by shark infested water.
Hawaii's ruling class were overthrown by the American and European "Committee of Safety" in 1893 and Hawaii became a territory of the United States in 1896, and a state in 1959.
Today the rights of Hawaiians suspected of criminal activities are protected by the American Constitution. In particular the Fifth Amendment states that "no person shall be held to answer for a capital or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury...." and the Eighth Amendment that no "cruel of unusual punishment [shall be] inflicted.
These rules of course do not apply to anyone labelled a "terrorist" by a Republican administration.
Land of the free indeed.
Amnesty International USA
Pu'uhonua o Honaunau - the place of refuge at Honaunau - is surrounded on two sides by a high dry stone wall, and on the other by shark infested water.
Hawaii's ruling class were overthrown by the American and European "Committee of Safety" in 1893 and Hawaii became a territory of the United States in 1896, and a state in 1959.
Today the rights of Hawaiians suspected of criminal activities are protected by the American Constitution. In particular the Fifth Amendment states that "no person shall be held to answer for a capital or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury...." and the Eighth Amendment that no "cruel of unusual punishment [shall be] inflicted.
These rules of course do not apply to anyone labelled a "terrorist" by a Republican administration.
Land of the free indeed.
Amnesty International USA
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Mauna Loa
Hawaii's Big Island is made five separate shield volcanoes which exude thick gloopy lava in overlapping flows. Two of them - Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa dominate the island of Hawai'i with their sister eruptions. The taller of the two - Mauna Kea - is in a post-shield stage, with historic eruptions covering the peak with cinder cones. The larger of the two - Mauna Loa - stands a few meter's shy of Mauna Kea, but eclipses her majesty with a massive 75,000 cubic kilometers of rocky mass - the largest volcano in the world.
With shallow sloping sides that rise from sea level to over 4000 meters, hiking up Mauna Loa is a long slow three-four day slog though a hellish world of lava fields and ever thinning air.
Not for the faint-hearted.
I started my adventure with a drive up the Mauna Loa Strip Road to the Look Out carpark. At 2000 meters high, the forest is still thick with trees and the first few hundred meter's of the trail are shaded and cool. Pretty soon, however, the trees give way to a bleak and rocky landscape of seemingly endless lava. Red. Black. Yellow and Green.
After a steady but shallow climb for 12 kilometers, sits the Red Hill Hut. At 3000 meters above sea level, the air is markedly thin, and I stopped for the night to aclimatise my body. A breathless and fitful sleep - waking occasionally to fill my lungs with air.
The next day I woke at dawn to a gulp of green tea and a bowl of porridge to start to longest, hardest day of my life. 20 kilometers to climb 1000 meters wouldn't be much at sea level - but at this altitude, every step is a chore.
At 3900m the track crests the edge of the rim and decends into the caldera across a sixty year old lava flow. The cairns, clearly visible across this flat plane of shiny black lava lead the walker past the dramatic Lua Poholo - an enormous hole, once over brimming with hot lava.
Eleven hours after setting out, with heavy steps and gasping lungs, I finally reached the Mauna Loa Cabin. Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mokuaweoweo Caldera, I fell into bed for a even more restless sleep as I switched back and forth between my body's competing needs for rest and oxygen.
The next day I woke late and fixed my camping stove which had been spluttering the night before. I stood in wonder at the edge of the cliff, staring down into a lost lake of black rock. The sun was high and hurt my eyes as I read my book by Carl Jung on dreams and meaning. The air was rice paper thin and my brain throbbed. The hut - squeezed between two opposing worlds of blue heavens and black rock - was a homely refuge against the brutal pure elements of earth.
I found a bottle of whiskey in the cabin and decided to spend the day dancing naked in this place of undeniable magic.
With shallow sloping sides that rise from sea level to over 4000 meters, hiking up Mauna Loa is a long slow three-four day slog though a hellish world of lava fields and ever thinning air.
Not for the faint-hearted.
I started my adventure with a drive up the Mauna Loa Strip Road to the Look Out carpark. At 2000 meters high, the forest is still thick with trees and the first few hundred meter's of the trail are shaded and cool. Pretty soon, however, the trees give way to a bleak and rocky landscape of seemingly endless lava. Red. Black. Yellow and Green.
After a steady but shallow climb for 12 kilometers, sits the Red Hill Hut. At 3000 meters above sea level, the air is markedly thin, and I stopped for the night to aclimatise my body. A breathless and fitful sleep - waking occasionally to fill my lungs with air.
The next day I woke at dawn to a gulp of green tea and a bowl of porridge to start to longest, hardest day of my life. 20 kilometers to climb 1000 meters wouldn't be much at sea level - but at this altitude, every step is a chore.
At 3900m the track crests the edge of the rim and decends into the caldera across a sixty year old lava flow. The cairns, clearly visible across this flat plane of shiny black lava lead the walker past the dramatic Lua Poholo - an enormous hole, once over brimming with hot lava.
Eleven hours after setting out, with heavy steps and gasping lungs, I finally reached the Mauna Loa Cabin. Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mokuaweoweo Caldera, I fell into bed for a even more restless sleep as I switched back and forth between my body's competing needs for rest and oxygen.
The next day I woke late and fixed my camping stove which had been spluttering the night before. I stood in wonder at the edge of the cliff, staring down into a lost lake of black rock. The sun was high and hurt my eyes as I read my book by Carl Jung on dreams and meaning. The air was rice paper thin and my brain throbbed. The hut - squeezed between two opposing worlds of blue heavens and black rock - was a homely refuge against the brutal pure elements of earth.
I found a bottle of whiskey in the cabin and decided to spend the day dancing naked in this place of undeniable magic.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
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