Flash Nonfiction: 1 minute read:

This morning at 7:45am while walking my bulldog, Hank, I saw a young man playing with his puppy in an open field. The puppy was teasing the man, running away with that awkward puppy gait. I smiled to myself, remembering Hank doing the same thing five years ago.

When the man caught up to the puppy he grabbed its collar, shoved it to the ground, and began smacking the puppy across the face.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” I yelled. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER! DON’T HIT YOUR DOG YOU-“

“FUCK YOU ASSHOLE. LEAVE ME ALONE. THIS DOG IS GONNA BE A FIGHTER.” He scooped up his puppy and started to walk out of the field. I ran after him, blind with rage and yelling, uncertain of how to handle the situation. The man climbed some stairs, and while we shouted back and forth I heard him yell, “I’M TIRED OF WHITE PEOPLE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT RACE. IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU AND ME. IT’S ABOUT YOUR DOG.”

“FUCK YOU. I’M GONNA RAISE MY DOG HOW I-” Then something inside of me cracked. I realized the situation at this moment was futile. My anger was for myself. Even if I could get this puppy away from this man, he’d find another one to beat. And the more I lashed out at this man, the more he would hurt his dog.

“Please. It’s not about you and me. It’s about your dog.”

“I WILL DO WHATEVER I FUCKING-” I started to beg with him.

“Please. Beat the shit out of me. Come over here and punch me in the face. I won’t fight back. I don’t care. Just don’t hurt your dog. Please. Don’t hurt your dog.” The man was at the top of the stairs.

“Just don’t hurt your dog. Hurt me. Not the dog.” He started to walk away. Then I found myself saying something I had never said before.

“Please. Don’t hurt your dog. God Bless.” The man paused, turned, then yelled back in an awkward, cracking tone, “THANK YOU,” and walked away. At the bottom of the stairs I realized I was shaking. This man would most likely keep beating his dog. There was nothing more I could do. There was such cruelty in the world. I felt fed up and finished with the world. I looked down at Hank, who was licking my leg and looking forward to the rest of his walk. “C’mon Hank, let’s go home.” I burst into tears. I wept for the next fifteen minutes on the walk back, letting Hank leisurely sniff wherever he wanted. In my apartment I wrote down what I remembered. Writing was something I could do.

Author’s Notes: A 311 service request has been filled out and the N.Y.P.D. has been contacted.

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Published by Popula on November 5th, 2018

1 minute read, click on the blue button below

Or scroll down for the 4th draft (1.5 minute read) because I have difficultly letting things go.

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Being a journalism student in Paris is an endless cycle of croissants, cigarettes, café, and crossing old bridges to drink cheap champagne with my classmates. No, I’m joking, it’s not all fun and games, but living as an ex-patriot journalist for the past five months has been one of the most fulfilling and self-reflective periods of my life.

I live in Fontenay-sois-Bois, an eastern suburb of Paris, which is two stops on the RER train from the east side of the city and a 40-minute commute to my school, Sciences Po. The center of the small town is surprisingly multicultural, with Moroccan, Turkish, Indian, and Japanese restaurants next to numerous boulangeries and a church, Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, that was founded in the 7^th century. On this morning I showered, read some newspapers online, then left my apartment.

For breakfast I stopped at one of the boulangeries in town, which is what I would consider French’s equivalent of an American diner. I ordered an expresso and a croissant that is crispy on the outside, freshly baked, tastes lightly buttered, and is delicious.

Leaving the boulangerie on my way to the RER train I passed the Librairie Mot à Mot bookstore, which is again surprisingly large given how small the town is. I’ve found that France has a stronger reading culture than the United States. I thought about how a contributing factor to the reading culture is probably due to Jack Lang, a French politician. He created a law in 1981 which enforced a minimum sale price for books to save independent bookstores. Now it’s known as the anti-amazon law. In Paris, a bookstore recently opened called Ici/Here that’s 500 square meters, the largest independent bookstore in Paris. In the past ten years 40 million euros have been invested by Semeast, a mixed economy company of the City of Paris, to buy back the leases of fifty distressed bookstores. But I digress because as a journalism student my mind is usually on bookstores and the publishing world because that is the topic for my longform journalism class.

It was a Wednesday, so I arrived at Sciences Po at 9 a.m. for my Longform class with Frederic Filloux, who created the Monday Note, a business newsletter on the economics of digital media. The class structure isn’t very different from journalism classes I had taken in the past, except the topics for each student are different, of course, because they’re French. My classmates are from Germany, Japan, Cuba, Italy, England, France, Taiwan, and more. We discussed articles that were assigned by Filloux, their style, tone, details we liked or disliked, or the reporting behind the piece. Then we each gave the class updates on our longform assignment, a 5000 word piece that is due at the end of the semester.

After my class I had thirty minutes for lunch, which is unusual for France since I thought the culture highly values taking the time for meals and not letting work interfere with life. I walked to a boulangerie nearby and eat a baguette on the go.

My next class is Video Features with Zachary Fox, which is similar to longform but uses video. We watched each others’ projects and gave feedback. We also watched professional video pieces and discussed what could be improved and what we could learn. Unlike longform, each student creates two video projects for the semester. My first project was on a homeless shelter called Valgiros, which is a place where homeless people live with citizens who have never been homeless, in order to help those who have struggled on the streets gradually transition back into society. The piece centered around a man with alcoholism named Youri who has cancer. My next piece, which is still in the works, is on how France helps people with mental disabilities, and the programs that are available.

After Video class, which goes until 2:30 p.m., I ran down the St. Germain Boulevard to my French class on the other side of campus which started at 2:45pm. This is the first French class I’ve taken in my life. It’s an A2/basic level, but the teacher speaks in French in the entire time, which I like. I’ve become aware how the French language is much more vague and “flowing” than English. I feel like this characteristic can be summed up with the phrase “c’est pas grave,” or “it’s not a big deal.” Never have I been more conscious of how “direct” and “overly-intense” I am than when I first moved to France. I realized Americans can often “get the job done,” but we also destroy things (the environment, our sense of well-being) in the process.

After my French class I walked around the neighborhood and admired the buildings. Being in classes all day caused me to feel a little stir crazy, so it was nice to walk around and get some fresh air. For the past five years I lived in New York City, where a NYC taxi driver once told me, “New York is the beating heart of the world.” But Paris has a more subtle, quiet, and mysterious beauty. The buildings in Paris have ornate moldings and small balconies, soft colored stones, intricate sculptures, and large windows that all seem superfluous compared to the soaring lines of New York City’s skyscrapers. But there’s an elegance and a sophistication in Paris that I never felt in New York. Perhaps it’s the deeper history, or the steady influence of French culture, with its emphasis on style and originality.

After walking around for an hour or two I headed home. Upon arriving in my apartment I listened to France 24 on the radio and sent emails. My work requires constant article pitching, interview requests, online research, and internet digging.  Sitting in front of the computer for hours sending emails into the void isn’t very glorious. But for me, it’s worth it.

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Project for my Video 1 Class. I have a long way to go:

Published by Worldcrunch.com on September 4th, 2018

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“The Importance of Failure”

Co-authored piece published in The Freeman Magazine then re-published in FEE (Foundation for Economic Freedom) October 26th, 2011. Presented at APEE (Association of Private Enterprise Education) in spring of 2012 at “Best of the Freeman” panel.

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***Rough Draft In Progress, Come Back Later

Before the elections in Bosnia this past October, the capital of Sarajevo was full of hundreds of billboards advertising politicians who were running for office. These politicians were running for three presidential seats in what is, arguably, the world’s most complicated democracy:

In a country that is struggling economically, that experienced the worst genocide since World War II twenty years ago, politics is one of the only place where people can find jobs and security.

“The most secure job is with the government,” says Danijela Mehic, who was born and raised in Sarajevo and gives tours to foreigners, “The only way to make a change in life is to join a political party.”

But despite the political power and gridlock, the city is attempting to become a tourist destination and to is trying to improve economically, moving on from the ethnic-cleansing nightmare of the Bosnia War.

“Last year we had four times more visitors than ever,” says Danijela Mehic, “This year there’s even more. And every year we put out the red carpet for the Sarajevo film festival.”

In Sarajevo today, contrary to the lingering worn-torn perspectives of most Westerners, you can find Irish pubs, luxury brand stores, outdoor cafes, a Vapiano, virtual reality booths, bustling restaurants, etc.:

Youth (teenagers born after The Bosnian war) in a Sarajevo hookah cafe, smoking and drinking Coca Cola.

“In school we go on friend trips to the Catholic Church, to the Synagogue, and to the Mosque. We study different religions,” says Emina Ivazouié

“In school we study the dates of the war, the governmental system, but not the details of the war itself. Because there are three different opinions.” says Dledina Ivazouié

*Emina and Deledia are muslim sisters (mother is a muslim) who don’t wear the hijab because “We like our hair.”

“Our parents say we’re lucky. But if you’re young or under 18, it is difficult to find a job.” says Ali Ljuštaku, who plays guitar in his father’s band.

“Most families here are mixed.” -Ali

*

R (Melika Borovina): The only thing missing here is jobs. We’re not that developed compared to the rest of the world.”

W: (Amna Maudžo) “I think there’s still a lot of tension because of the war. I want to go abroad after school.”

R: I’m okay with being friends from different groups. But parents still say things like, “Serbs cannot be trusted,” and I’m sure they think the same thing about us.

R: Culture here is like a a meeting of cultures. It’s mixed here. You can really see everything.

[In Sarajevo it is possible to stand in one place and see a Roman Catholic Church, a mosque, and an Orthodox Church…I have pics]

R: We don’t express our nationality on the streets, but we hear it on the news, and see it in the papers.

R: I love this country. But I don’t think change will happen anytime soon. We get promises, but nothing in return.

R: The Dayton agreement causes a lot of things not to be changed.

Lana Prlić, youngest member of Bosnian Parliament, born during the war, mother is Muslim and father is Catholic (they raised me in the way to have knowledge about each religion and tradition and to choose by myself what I what to be. And I choose to respect everything and everyone and to be atheist.”) —-perhaps Q and A?

I became political active when I was 17 and still in high school. Why?
Because I wanted to change something, I wanted to make society in my
town Mostar more healthy without borders that are made by those who
enjoy luxurious life for over two decades based on divided society. Because
Mostar and Bosnia and Herzegovina are multicultural. SDP was my
choice [political party] because tradition, history, program of this party had the most
similarities to the way I was raised, to respect everyone, do not judge and
divide people only on the criteria are the good or bad ones. I did not want
to give up my country, because that is the country where my parents are,
my friends and all memories. I want to fight for next generations, because
generations of my grandparents barely survive due to low pensions (cca. 100
euros minimum), generations of my parents lost their youth in the war, and
my generation lost childhood explaining ourselves are we bosniaks, serbs, or
croats why today my generation is leaving. For the record, in the last 4
years 5% (80,000) of population of B&H left this country.

A:The biggest issue is that youth do not vote and if we add to it fact that elders
mostly vote we can conclude that this country is ran by older generations.
Youths have a power to change power every elections and they do not use it
because of the complicated system and political culture that presented politics
to youths in B&H as something non changeable. But they can change it, SDP is an example how youths can change help and recover party, I am sure that they
can do it with the country as well but they need opportunity. At the other
hand, youths today are involve in many NGOs, and others but unfortunately
mainly they see political party as the way of employment, and again for it
political culture is the main cause.

Obviously Bosnia is the phenomena country where with the less of 4 million people
we do have three presidents, of each ethnic group and mostly they represent
party interests not state interest. From 2014-2018 we had 3 presidents and non
of them made decisions in Bosnia and Herzegovina. One of the Presidents on his
meeting do not even play on hymn of Bosnia and Herzegovina. I will repeat
again you cannot represent country which you do not feel yours. We need
people in Presidency which will represent every each citizen of Bosnia and
Herzegovina no matter their ethnic group, because Presidency is the mirror of
our country and clearly in the last 4 years it was broken.

Dayton Agreement had a goal to establish peace here, and that is the most
important thing. But DPA put this country in the hands of few families which
run nationalists parties, this country cannot function and cannot be healthy if
people here are divided in the constitution in the core of political and social
system. Bosnia and Herzegovina should be country of all its citizens no matter
where they live. DPA is discriminatory, by that education system as well,
electoral system as well. What we can expect from the country in which
constitution is discriminatory? How to develop? How to solve life issues, when
on every issue which is not in interest of nationalist parties they have right on
national vital interest or ethnical veto? It is clear that DPA was an experiment
and it failed together with the holders of its, OHR.

This country should be country of all its citizens led by
those who feel this country as its own, by those who listen people and do have
responsibility towards them, led by people who found life issues way ahead
national issues. Nationalist’s countries are mostly poor countries, and
unfortunately Bosnia is every year on the bottom of every list. This country
need rehab and I hope at Sunday my party will get a chance to make B&H
country for all together with our candidate for the presidency Denis Becirovic
who we represent every each people in this country no matter its name,
religion or ethnicity. My biggest wish is to make country where people will
come and youths return from Western countries, so parents do not longer speak
with their kids by Skype or see them only during the holidays.

Boriša Falatar….ran for president, but lost. Waiting on his response to my second email…

His father died when he was 8, his grandfather was in the concentration camps. When Borisa was 16 the Bosnian War started on April 5th, he was at a sleepover with a friend when his friend’s father woke him up and said, “Sarajevo is occupied.” They went to the protests. 

“At first, the war was super boring.” But nobody could go out. Everybody was in shelters. He was watching movies. No electricity. “You don’t think it’s dangerous.”

Danijeja (tour guide) spent 3 months underground. She can’t go to the Bosnian War museum because it fills her with pain. She married during the war and had a child…”a way to have something behind yourself.”

Boris’s paternal grandfather is Croatian. His paternal grandmother is Serbian. His mother is muslim. He grew up in a Jewish community. The war for me was: what the hell is happening? Different parts of my family are being blamed. Who am I?

Mother was shot and killed during the war when he was 18.

Worked for the U.N. as an interpreter.

I never settled in one place in my life. Bosnia is my home. Lost 5% of the population in the last 4 years. People live with photos of their children.

1.5 years ago he traveled around Bosnia, spoke to activists. There’s not unifying force.

All the presidents here are like Trump. Bt they never achieve anything. We have three Trumps.

It’s difficult to get media attention. Peace-loving Ghandi doesn’t make headlines. “Love each other,” isn’t clickable.

“Screw you assholes!” that is clickable.

My mission isn’t all about getting elected. It’s about healing the wounds of this country.

No country is as diverse as Bosnia.

When Europe was killing itself 500 years ago, we were living together.

Politicians here scare you with the worst possible option. Entrench yourself in a political party or the other will win.

Despite Bosnia’s difficulties and political in-fighting, there are those who are working towards a better future, and a youth that is open to acceptance and moving forward.