HAPPY NEW YEAR L'SHANAH TOVAH TO ALL MY FRIENDS IN CUBA, INDONESIA, INDIAN COUNTRY, USA, FRANCE etc

SHANA TOVA FROM MIAMI

HA OLAM, LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE SLAVES

ADON OLAM, HELP US SAVE OUR FRIENDS FROM DARKNESS  (events of this week in the Middle East and I am ashamed to say, in Sydney!)

5773 has arrived for all of us.

It is good to remember what JK had said: Many people in this world are independent but few are free.

Walked on the last day of 5772, in Miami, near the house of my sister, who was away in Jamaica.

What was I thinking?

JK, HM

My Indonesian friends, especially Pak Joe

My sister is in Jamaica. My brothers are in Portland. Kickapoo sister in Eagle Pass. Omaha relatives in Walthill. My Indian colleagues. I cannot find my mother. May be a new life in Bruselas. The Happy Girl of Asnieres.

it was a good beginning of 5773

Yes the mind can think when it is quiet, but not a mind in the Yogic Sense, but the mind is quiet when you are walking. All of a sudden you begin to notice and take pleasure in plants with beautiful flowers, the little creek with coconut trees on its bank, you have seen it many times before, but not with the same eyes.

Only when the mind is quiet that you really can observe, said JK, for the mind is sensitive to extraordinary beauty.

Good News all around.

Usain Bolt, the Jamaican Hero

The Cuban lovers are in Varadero. Sister arrives later in the evening with a mission accomplished. She had managed the world champion Jamaican athlete Usain Bolt to donate a shoe that carried him to victory in the Olympics. She would give it to the American Cancer Society, to auction off to raise funds for research. My sister is a good lady; appreciative of the excellent care she received while she was suffering from cancer.

Brother Joseph drives me to the new offices of the Immigration, very modern and very friendly and people wanting to help, I could see Barack Obama’s new America of ordinary people helping one another.

It was good to welcome 5773 in the company of my sister and her husband. After lighting the candle, saying the prayers and drinking the wine, our discussion centred around the immense value of relationships, and that we are happy that good people have chosen to keep our company. Mitakuye Oyasin, the Lakota say, we are all related, and thus are responsible for one another as well.

We had a nice dinner of spicy wild birds that sister had brought in from Jamaica with mango chutney and rice and peas.

It was late in the evening; we had just finished our dinner, when the news arrived from Bruselas. Good News.

Grateful on behalf of my friends and myself

5773 has begun well.

I, said the Man, I am a Jew.  From Marcel Aymee, France

On 24 April 1929, Einstein cabled Rabbi Herbert S. Goldstein in German: "I believe in Spinoza's God, who reveals himself in the harmony of all that exists, not in a God who concerns himself with the fate and the doings of mankind.

INDIANS SAY: POVERTY MAY BE FINE BUT MISERY IS NOT: MURAKAMI IN THE BLUE HOUSE

The alarm rang at 0630 as I was already opening my eyes. I am in the Blue House among the Omaha Indians.

Sunlit Living Room at the Blue House 

I step outside and check the temperature. 50 F, 10 C. what a change from the temperature just two days ago when it topped 97 F, 36 C!

I put on a pullover, red in colour, which had laid dormant for many years, as a reminder of a visit to Buenos Aires, walked out into the chill of the morning.

The day was just breaking.

When I reached the track, through the village still heady in its sleep, I could see a fine mist hanging over the track, as if a cloud had come down to give the earth a hug.

Neither human being nor animal  to be seen around. I began walking briskly. The trees were standing guard, gently moving to and fro, happy to wake up to yet another day. How many of the ancestors have seen the same trees? Many years ago I met a transplanted Indian from here who lived in Mediterranean splendour in the west coast of Australia, Mrs. Blackbird said: I miss my village and its trees. And I am looking at them, and thinking of the ancestors of my patients who had seen them, and the trees would still be there for their children.

As I came around the further corner, I could catch a glimpse of an early morning tender sun, trying to break through the clouds that seem to cover the eastern horizon.

It is so beautiful, I said to myself, here I am, walking along a poorly maintained walking track in a small village in the middle of nowhere of America, but in the heart of an Indian country, where a people who call themselves have lived for centuries, long before English was heard here, long before the “civilization” brought an end to their peaceful life and destroyed their spirits, their Gods and their bodies. May you all rest in peace, I said to the wind, carry this message to them. An Australian, a Jew, on the brink of another Jewish New Year, walking surrounded by peace, tranquillity and calm of nature.. far away from my other lives in other places, in other countries, and other dreams, but I am among my Indian family, among people who accept me readily.

Wíbthahoⁿ.
I thank you.

When I rounded the corner for the fourth time, I could feel my fingers curling up against the cold, by the fifth, my toes were revolting against the cold which has seeped through.

I thought of Haruki Murakami, who said: Pain is natural, suffering is optional..

Murakami Haruki 

I am here to relieve the suffering of this tribe of Indians with whom my life became intertwined many moons ago. I remember my first Indian teacher telling me, we are used to poverty, it is the misery that we object to.

My role during my days among the Indians to relieve as much or as little as I can or possible that suffering, as a doctor, using tools I have learned as a cultural anthropologist. To share my knowledge, much of which they had taught me, with them, also to talk about inner freedom and the liberty from fear which brought me to work among the Indians, rather than in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia. Recognition for your work does not matter when you are not looking for it.

While walking, one thinks of those who has influenced your life and who indirectly brought you to this corner of the middle of nowhere, where the Indians have lived for centuries. Jiddu/JK had arrived very early in my life, introduced by one of my many informal teachers. I had taken an instinctive liking for his way of talking and thinking, and today I think of this, thanking him: any form of ambition, spiritual or mundane, breeds anxiety, fear; therefore ambition does not help to bring about a mind that is clear, simple, direct, and hence intelligent.

Feeling the cold, I return to the Blue House, eager to get to the clinic. When I reached there, two young students, pristine as the sky they live under were waiting. The colleague who directs patient traffic to me kindly allowed me extra time so that I could talk about the beauty of working, in a culturally sensitive way, among the ancient peoples of this world.

It turned out to be a good day. 13 september 2012.

Now to get ready for the trip to Miami and enjoy the affections there ..

ATTIRE FOR WORK.. NOTES FROM THE INDIAN COUNTRY

Attire for Work, notes from the Indian Country

I am at work.

I am a Consultant Physician, specializing in Endocrinology, and work with the Indigenous peoples of this world. Today I am at the Clinic of the Winnebago Indians who live in this small sliver of a land in the north-eastern part of Nebraska, USA.

Eugene Delacroix had noted, it is the relief of pain that you are remembered by, not the pleasures shared. There are always many to share your pleasures but very few to share your pain.

Perhaps that is why Medicine as a profession is so attractive, to get to know another human being at another level than ordinary and then offer to help them and even bring a little relief.

AT WORK AMONG THE HOCANK INDIANS 

 I took my final examinations at a London Hospital. I appeared looking fresh with a new hair cut and my new suit from Marks and Spencer. The examiner had a kind face, and it was Professor Brookes and the case to be discussed was a patient suffering from Crohn’s Disease, she told me so. I waited for an opportune moment during the interrogation by Prof. Brookes and piped in, Dr Burrill Crohn who described the disease practised Medicine at Mt Sinai Hospital in New York well into his nineties! Professor Brookes was, more than anything surprised, that someone from Australia knew this, he smiled and congratulated me, and said: there would be no more questions for you, you have passed.

I remember that buoyant feeling on the escalator at Holborn Station. I occasionally renact the scene when in London (the Cuban Embassy is nearby) and still can feel that ebullience. It was a Thursday in January, cold but with the rare sunshine. Tuesday morning I reported for duty as an Intern at a teaching hospital in Melbourne, Australia to begin my pleasant career in Medicine.

I was very often chastised by consultants for my way of dressing, since I never wore a tie and always had very colourful shirts and had grown my hair long. On graduation from my Internship, I was called in to see the superindent of the hospital, a kind matronly lady who said: Dr, we are satisfied with your performance but I wished you had dressed more formally. I told her, Dr, if even a single patient had complained that my attire was not suitable I will come back wearing a tie and a coat..

American Indians do not like uniforms, in the hospital I see, the men and woman, white and black alike, wearing uniforms of the armed services (auxillary). It is people in uniform who did us so much damage, I remember an elder telling me.

So you see me at the Specialty Clinic at an Indian Tribal Health Centre. I am wearing a tribal jacket, made by the Hmong of North Vietnam, I have a silk scarf made by the abused women being rehabilitated at NGO Nyemo in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I have a silver bangle at least one hundred years old from Rajasthan, my hair is longish but not as long as it used to be when the Indians loved to braid them.

In many years of working with the Indians, not a single Indian has complained about my attire. I am so glad I am not in Private Practice where I may be forced to wear clothes not of my taste or discretion.

Remember it is the guys and gals in suits that brought us into this economic crisis, by relentlessly stealing from the organization and society!

SHANAH TOVAH TO OUR BRETHREN IN IRAN

SHANA TOVAH TO OUR BRETHREN IN IRAN

This is the last Shabbat before the Jewish New Year 5773.

I had two pieces of news. One about a Jewish Driver in Teheran and about a Persian dish called, Mast-o-Khiar, with a recipe on how to make it.

I happened to be in Omaha, Nebraska waiting for a flight to go to Miami, Florida. My brothers Eliyahu and Itzhak and their families would be spending the Erev Rosh Hashona at the home of an Iranian Jewish family in Portland, Oregon.

This gentleman from Teheran who is Jewish is the kind and generous and gentle is the driver of the bus that takes the workers of a government factory from Teheran to other places. I wanted to wish him and his family and his friends a Happy Jewish New Year. Even though we may never meet him or other Jews who are living in Iran, it is good to let them know that their brothers will not forget about them.

MOST-O-KHIAR

Most of the North Indian food or some cuisine termed Moghlai have Persian origin but spiced up in the subcontinent. It is obvious when you are having some princely cuisine such as Awadi. Each time I taste something new from Iran, I am reminded of their sweeter or spicier cousins, and Mast-o-Khiar was no exception.

A yogurt and cucumber dip with pungency added to it, is a cousin or the origin of North Indian Raita, only the Raita is sweeter and a little spicier.

Suddenly it occurred to me, one of the few Persian Restaurants in this part of the world is in Omaha, why not go there, on this Shabbat night.

As I walked in, the owner, Ahmad, after whom the resto is named was sitting outside with some friends smoking a cigar, welcomed me warmly. I told him: I would like

Most-o-khiar

Dolmeh

Doorg

He said, sit down and I will prepare them for you and disappeared into the kitchen.

DOLMEH

DOOG

THE JOVIAL AHMAD, OWNER OF AHMAD'S
PERSIAN CUISINE IN OLD MARKET IN
OMAHA, NEBRASKA 

Doorg is another yogurt based Persian Drink that has demonstrated health benefits. In fact, a paper was presented at a scientific meeting recently and I was in touch with the principal author of the research.

PERSIAN YOGURT DRINK IS WINNINGDoogh May Lower Heart Disease in DiabeticsDrinking vitamin D-fortified doogh, a Persian yogurt drink, each day may lower risk of heart disease for type 2 diabetics, find researchers in Iran. Doogh improves inflammatory markers in type 2 diabetics, plus the extra calcium adds further anti-inflammatory benefits, notes the study to be published in Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism. Researchers say that the vitamin D-fortified drink decreased highly sensitive C-reactive protein, which has a role in inflammation."Our study showed for the first time that adiponectin, a substance secreted by fat tissue that has an anti-inflammatory effect, increased when calcium and vitamin D-fortified doogh was consumed," says lead author Tirang Neyestani, PhD.

Dr N, who was visiting Toronto when I got in touch with him, said that the yogurt in North America has a distinct taste and is very different from the Yogurt in Iran.

Do you know the reason?

I went into a store in Omaha, looked at the Yogurt being sold in the “health” section; it had Corn Starch added to it. I am sure the ill effects of modified cornstarch would swallow up any health benefit of American Yogurt. So if you wish to make, most-o-khiar or raita or doog, please make sure that the ingredients are safe and chemical free.

The night was falling; the street was busy with people out on the town before the cold nights step in these parts.

I sat under the lamps, slowly enjoying these new tastes, reading JK on Culture.

And thinking of my mischpochah…all over the world - בכל רחבי העולם‎

May they always enjoy the thirst for Freedom and Curiosity, which separates us from other nations.

And to those gathered in Portland in the Iranian Jewish home, also the Jewish driver from Teheran… it is good to say thanks.

(here is a little story,arrived from Iran, I  dedicate this  to Betty and her husband and her mischpochah in Portland)
SHAHAB factory is an old factory founded by a Jewish Engineer named Mr Khoramabadi. "When LG was a small shop, SHAHAB was a factory." this is what Mr Khoramabadi used to say. After 1979 revolution, the government took control of all the factories saying that the great deal of money the factories obtain is for all of people. Most of factory owners emigrated abroad, but Mr Khoraabadi remained in Iran; although all his children emigrated abroad. 

He used to came to work even till 10 to 15 years ago. But, he wasn't managing, he only used to go to the laboratory, and work with R&D engineers. 

I guess the driver was hired at that time, and up to now he works here.