New Blog - retiring this one

My sister has generously and expertly given me my own domain name and set up my blog there, enhanced security for the African continent and all. http://www.greatzane.org/ Give it a whirl!

The Value of a Thing....

This story revolves around the card game Yugioh and my son's love of the overall artistry behind the game. He attended an all-day "sneak peak" tournament yesterday, which is really the marketing genius of the Konami folks to continue the obsession with the release of new cards all the time. In this scenario, the retailers set up an all-day format where the new series of cards are released and the players, for an enhanced $20 entry fee, get a random set of cards from the new series and duel one another with whichever cards they are lucky enough to randomly get. Guled decides that since this may be the last time he will get to enjoy one of these "sneak peeks", he's going all day. Some of these cards are quite collectible, however, and I asked him if he did his research online to find out what cards are the potentially most valuable. He had not, and so we came up with a texting system whereby I would drop everything and research any cards he asked me to so that he would not trade away a particularly valuable card without knowing. Fast forward many hours to 8:30 pm pick up time - as he is placing his backpack and other items in the car, he tells me it was one of the most enjoyable and valuable times he's ever had at a sneak peek, and that FINALLY he pulled the important card of the new series... the valuable "Neo Galaxy-eyes Photon Dragon." Yup, the big kahuna. And do you know what he did with this $40 card? He did what anyone who is Guled would do.... he gave it to someone. I sucked wind when he told me this, and he responded that he knew what I was thinking..... but something changed because as I am both sucking wind and realizing his hard-earned money can go to whatever he wants it to, he is telling me that he made a new friend. I'm having to stop the internal mental wheels and absorb what he was saying... he made a new friend, and that is more valuable to him than the $40 card that would alone have recouped his expenses for the tournament. Wow. I was ashamed that I was thinking he had done a stupid thing, but more ashamed that I didn't realize just how important people are to this boy. He is all beaming and happy and I "get" it and enjoy the moment with him and tell him how proud I am of him. THEN do you know what that boy tells me? He tells me that he is pretty sure that because he gave that card to that guy, he pulled the second copy of that same valuable card during phase II, only it was what they call the 'rare' version that was going for more $$ and yes he gave THAT one to the guy, got back the original one.... and then he won the famed series duel mat, a very coveted item amongst the group. He says he is pretty sure he got all that because he did the right thing and shared. Karma and all. I'm thinking he's probably right!

Sark

I think this woman 'gets' it. Need I say more....

“Why Dream?

Life is a difficult assignment. We are fragile creatures, expected to function at high rates of speed, and asked to accomplish great and small things each day. These daily activities take enormous amounts of energy. Most things are out of our control. We are surrounded by danger, frustration, grief, and insanity as well as love, hope, ecstasy, and wonder. Being fully human is an exercise in humility, suffering, grace, and great humor. Things and people all around us die, get broken, or are lost. There is no safety or guarantees.

The way to accomplish the assignment of truly living is to engage fully, richly, and deeply in the living of your dreams. We are made to dream and to live those dreams.”

― SARK,

Make Your Creative Dreams Real: A Plan for Procrastinators, Perfectionists, Busy People, and People Who Would Really Rather Sleep All Day

The 360 on Kony2012

Ugandans React With Anger To Kony Video - Al Jazeera

Because I am an eternal skeptic by nature and design, I immediately felt the internal brakes hit when the Kony2012 campaign hit Facebook and proceeded to "go viral". Well, honestly, ANYTHING that hits Facebook procures that kind of reaction out of me. In furtherance of the education of one 12 year old, 1/2 African child, we read the CNN news article, he watched the entire video, and we endured the expected and intensely emotional response and need to "do something, Mom."

Ah, now the moment of true education: "Son, find even one story on the internet that you feel like balances out your strong emotional response to what you just saw. Oh, and while you are at it, perhaps research a few facts where possible and contact your dad. You can use my cell phone to text him if you like." And so, reluctantly, he did so on both fronts.

We gathered information, added what appeared to be some facts to the mix, and an amazing thing happened - the strong emotions began to give way and a couple of important things happened. He learned from his well-read and politically savvy dad that Kony has been long gone and that the atrocities discussed were ignored largely by the entire world back when they happened. He learned that Kony began with a somewhat familiar religious/conservative agenda... one he sees in this country quite often in fact. He learned that Kony had gone into other countries and there were few followers left. He learned that the northern Ugandans had no flippin' idea what was going on with this campaign that was about THEM.

Even more amazingly, as the facts tempered the strong emotion in the boy, a new emotion arose, one of anger at having his Kony anger tempered. He liked believing the story of a bad guy and that the world's people could come together and DO SOMETHING to save and protect and make better.

True to form, Al Jazeera (probably facing the same skeptical response I had), dug a little more deeply and has produced a video and story to give a more full and timely Kony picture. The Ugandans are offended at the exposure and media attention Kony and his visage are getting. In the video, Leo Odongo, a Ugandan who attended the screening of the film, explained how he felt by suggesting that if people were selling Osama Bin Laden t-shirts and other memorabilia with his photo on it to "raise awareness, Americans would find that highly offensive. He goes on:

"If people in those countries care about us, they will not wear t-shirts with pictures of Joseph Kony for any reason. That would celebrate our suffering." Leo Odongo supports that campaign for Kony's arrest, but finds the methods highly offensive. Turns out all the Ugandans who attended a screening of the film reacted in like manner.

And consistent with my bend to make certain my son has a well-rounded intellectual and analytical base, I learned another very valuable lesson. Our kids need something to believe in and feel passionate about (prepositions intentionally dangling), and they need to be able to DO SOMETHING about what they feel.

This news article talking to real live Ugandans isn't going “viral” on Facebook. In fact, I do not even see it posted. Things that make ya’ go “hum….” A few of the comments at the bottom of the story pretty much tell it all... and not one appears to be from a genuine Ugandan at the time of this posting. Go figure.

L'odeur de l'eau de lac.... the Scent of the Lake

I spent what turned out to be an impulsive weekend with my long-time friend Lydia, thanks to the raging winds in the Rockies and my previous visit to Kenya. I had been fortunate to check off a flurry of "bucket list" items right before I left for Kenya, leaving a new number one!

Nederland, Colorado hosts something called "Frozen Dead Guy Days" each year to raise money in the interest of one cryogenically preserved dude named "Bredo." For the moderately intrigued, you can check out the website quickly at Frozen Dead Guy Daze. The fickle Colorado weather sent raging and destructive winds down the eastern slopes on Saturday's event day, so the Dead Guy festival folks had to reschedule a number of events involving the outdoors.

The various outdoor festival activities include a hearse parade, ice turkey bowling, coffin races replete with thematic costumes, and of course the Polar Plunge. It was the Polar Plunge that interested us. Yes, that frozen lake and ocean jumping that brings crazy folks out in bathing suits to the water's edge in the dead of winter.

Lydia has wanted to freeze her proverbial "arse" off for some time but being a single mother and businesswoman, kept missing any local events for one reason or another. So, in a coversation a few days ago, she mentioned this in relation to Frozen Dead Guy Days in Nederland and to our surprise, the moment presented itself. Carpe Diem and we did. My friend Marla, a now seasoned plunger, and I played "arse freezing" support and videographers. I captured a few photos from the video footage before the battery died, and posted them on Facebook. It is in response to these photos, and one in particular that just felt "right" for a Facebook profile picture, that Lydia writes:

"I love it that you knew that... interesting! . . . When I showered last night, two things occurred to me...There was a lot more dirt on me than I expected and I was sad to smell the lake go..."

Those words, "I was sad to smell the lake go..." brought about a visceral response, not because I chose NOT to jump, and not because we all froze in those icy winds anyway, though not as fully as Lyd did. It occurred to me that our "bucket list" items linger in the senses beyond the moments of fulfillment. Those sensory moments are... well, simply everything.

The video will be released at some point. In the meantime, you will have to imagine the crisp, clean scent of the alpine lake, the frozen mineral smell of the mud, momentarily thawed for a plunge in honor of a dead guy whose remains are preserved by the same freeze. The sensorial memory is stamped in my brain and will travel with me wherever I go, including warm Africa.

And Lydia, for the written record, two things also occurred to me as I read your note this morning: First, there is great fulfillment in helping people achieve their "moments"; and second, I wonder if you realize that I too got to check off my number one bucket list item?!

Frozen Dead Guy Daze

The event remains to be fully realized this Sunday. My friend Lydia has it in her head and thus on her bucket list that she wants to polar plunge before her time on this earth expires. I'm not predisposed but I'll be happy to photograph the event, if only the event happens. Winds upwards of 70 mph yesterday caused the warming tent's demise, as did it the beer tent, music tent and a few other tents. The paramedics apparently put the kabash on the polar plunge yesterday.

The celebration of Bredo's frozen head and/or thoracic region etc. remains a long-standing tradition with the more temperature-resistant crowd, and we shall hope all goes well today with Lydia. I will have the video camera and shouldn't have much of a problem! Check out the craziness...
Frozen Dead Guy Days

When you Reach the End of your Rope.....

“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on!” ~ Thomas Jefferson

One of Guled's teachers sent a weekly newsletter with this great quote. Validity undetermined by me, I find it timely and invaluable anyway as some of us moms who have taken on the education role of our children find frustrations abounding.

So, in honor of my friend TB and her younglings, we share some good ol' Founding Father wisdom and take a break outdoors on this fine leap day to suck up the Colorado sunshine!

THE UNPOPULAR BUT POTENTIALLY NECESSARY VIEW

The quote at the end is worth reading if nothing else. History purportedly helps us to come face-to-face with our humanity, perhaps in the hopes that we may replicate that which in hindsight was “good”, and even predict and thus avoid that which we have determined is “bad.”

Thanks to my former husband/current friend, I know of a news outlet called Al-Jazeera. I have partaken of Al-Jazeera as access allows for some years now, simply for the fresh view and unique story priority they present. Case in point: the Oscars is not headlining their front page. Al-Jazeera is winning awards and becoming more widely known, however, the streaming newscast (similar to CNN 24 hour) is not permitted on American television at this time.

To cut to the chase, I have just read an article in Al-Jazeera English online for Monday February 27, 2012. I am concerned that we are living this very day, today, a moment in history that our children will study in hindsight, a moment where an entire “race” or “group” of people was targeted for the acts of a few, and "oh how awful," and "we will not ever let that happen in our time." I recall saying that as a young 5th grade student while watching a subtitled movie about Hitler called something like Night and Fog.

I also recall in history times where entire groups were targeted as “bad”, on more than one occasion in fact and repetitively over centuries. Do you? Does your own recall allow you to remember when entire groups of people were targeted and subsequently watched, controlled (using the law and/or the military), imprisoned, removed, and even eradicated just because they had a belief system that frightened the power majority, and the power majority made certain that the masses became afraid and moved towards mob rule? The group ate differently, spoke different languages, danced and dressed differently, saw God differently, and perhaps lived in a different kind of society? Because they represented the thing to be feared, they had to be stopped ….. to save everyone else you see.

The article, "Documents expose NYPD 'mosque crawlers'", contains a video stream I have not watched. The story tells about New York City’s efforts to make certain that the tragedy we know as September 11th does not happen again. Fair enough. We as a country have every right to protect ourselves; New Yorker’s have every right to protect themselves specifically because it happened to them, though we all share some sense of the tragedy.

Fast forward more than ten years, and we see the implementation of that need to protect. It is here that I believe hindsight down the road will shed light on the slippery slope we have begun to traverse. A few excerpts from the article at this point will help (though I will have to restrain myself from editing some spelling and grammar):

The New York Police Department (NYPD) has targeted Muslim places of worship using tactics normally reserved for criminal organisations, according to newly obtained police documents.

The files, obtained by the Associated Press news agency, show police collecting license plates of worshippers, monitoring them on surveillance cameras and cataloguing sermons via an informant network.

New York City Mayor, Michael Bloomberg, using the 1993 bombings of the World Trade Center as a precedent, called the secret operation monitoring Muslims was ``legal,'' ``appropriate'' and ``constitutional'' on Friday.

"We cannot let our guard down again. We cannot slack in our vigilance. The threat was real. The threat is real. The threat is not going away'', said Bloomberg.

NYPD spokesman, Paul Browne, also defended the tactics, telling reporters a day earlier, that the New York Police Departments' officers may go wherever the public goes and collect intelligence, even outside city limits. . . .

Oh really? Expanding the jurisdiction of the city police to monitor an entire group in this manner is legal and consistent with constitutional principles? Imagine if this was applied to Black Americans. Oh wait….. ok, onward:

“It seems horrible to me that the NYPD is treating an entire religious community as potential terrorists,'' said civil rights lawyer Jethro Eisenstein, who reviewed some of the documents and is involved in a decades-old class-action lawsuit against the police department for spying on protesters and political dissidents.

I’m giggling because the attorney’s last name emanates from Judaic roots, whether in fact he is Jewish or not. The idea of Jewish people supporting Muslim people warms my heart.

Al Jazeera's Cath Turner, reporting live from Patterson, New Jersey, where a local mosque has been targeted by the NYPD, said the Muslim community of New Jersey, "feel betrayed by the NYPD because they say they are citizens in this country and go about living their lives and feel they have been vilified based soley because of their religion". . . .

When New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle and his flight instructor were killed on October 11, 2006, after their small plane crashed into a Manhattan bulding, the NYPD's mosque crawlers reported to police about what they heard at sermons and among worshippers though terrorism was ruled out as a cause hours after the crash.

At the Brooklyn Islamic Centre, a confidential informant "noted chatter among the regulars expressing relief and thanks to God that the crash was only an accident and not an act of terrorism", one report reads.

"The worshippers made remarks to the effect that 'it better be an accident; we don't need any more heat,'" an undercover officer reported from the Al-Tawheed Islamic Centre in Jersey City, New Jersey.

Of course they made remarks like that. These citizens of the United States of America have lived as outcasts and “untouchables” for years. They do not, nor did they ever, subscribe to bombings and mass murder as a means to get their religious-political views expressed.

Of COURSE they made those remarks. To construe and then vilify such a remark just astounds me, but then again I mingle with people of the Muslim faith. I eat meals with them. I marry them and have babies with them. I ask them questions about how they view things and what September 11, 2001 felt like to them. On some level it destroyed my marriage, but I am not afraid any more. Perhaps it enlightened me to how I can propogate such a witch hunt if I am not careful. The Imam (similar to the pastor or priest of a church) at one of the mosques (like a church or congregation) commented pretty pointedly:

They're viewing Muslims like they're crazy. They're terrorists. They all must be fanatics", said Abdul Akbar Mohammed, the imam for the past eight years at the Masjid Imam Ali K. Muslim in Newark. "That's not right."

No Imam Mohammed, that is not right. Our Constitution pretty much makes it clear as a bell that this outcome is not right, unless of course we re-interpret that document to say otherwise.

History is repeating itself again me thinks. Be warned. I think I am going to teach history… global human history mixed with some political theory and governance… to the younglings… often and with great passion.

… and even as I write, a school shooting in Chardon, Ohio is breaking news, and a female reporter speaking to a dad, with a line of questioning that appears to have an agenda…to get him to place blame on the school for not having metal detectors at the school. He keeps saying he believes the school does an excellent job, this kind of thing does not happen in Chardon, and she finally concedes and lets him go get his high school daughter…

Listen people, fear makes us do crazy things. I get that. I fight it all the time in my own personal life. I heard about a guy named Ambrose Redmoon on the radio a few days ago. Here is Wikipedia’s entry on him: James Neil Hollingworth (1933–1996) was a beatnik, hippie, writer, and former manager of the psychedelic folk rock bands Quicksilver Messenger Service and Ace of Cups. He wrote under the pseudonym Ambrose Redmoon.

I offer his words relatively intact as my parting thought:

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.”

Ahab the Arab - Camel Ride

I have attempted this day to put the camel ride videos together for your entertainment pleasure. I actually have NO clue how to post a video on here, and after numerous failed attempts, I published it on Facebook and am attempting to embed it here. Here goes:

The Entrepreneurs of the Kibera

I pride myself (probably more than I ought) on looking at the world from different perspectives so that I can shake things up a bit. Just seems unusually restrictive and unfair to view things in one, sort of “status quo” manner propounded by the media or whatever outlet I’m viewing.


An article in the Denver Post this morning about rapper “Fiddy Cent” (sorry, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson) visiting 'impoverished parts of Africa' is giving me an opportunity to share my process of viewing differently. Interestingly, the article comes out of Nairobi, Kenya. I am assuming before I read it that he saw the Kibera slums in Nairobi on his tour. I will read and return....

.... Yes indeed, 50 Cent visited the camps at the border with Somalia and then the Kibera in western Nairobi. He certainly sets an admirable goal of one billion meals to feed the hungry. The problem with one billion meals is that at the end of the meals, the people are still hungry. But perhaps with such an impressive number, other aid agencies will contribute is the thinking.



Nonetheless I digress. Here is the thought that came to me as we took our own driving tour of the Kibera less than 10 days ago: These “orphan kids” (in the Kibera anyway) are orphaned because of war in neighboring countries like Rwanda I was told. The genocide happened in the 90’s and now the children we see are the result of the Rwandan refugees mixing with other squatters and the Kenyans and literally forming a new community. They interestingly have good body weight, they are mobile and can run, their eyes are clear, their hair is strong and healthy, their clothing is dirty, feet are pretty dirty (like the rest of us walking everywhere), and their teeth appear strong and healthy as they smile and say to me, "Come on, Mama, I need some" gesturing a need for food with fingers to their mouths. Mind you, they do not want my leftover Samosa. They want my western watch and earrings and leather hand bag and the American dollars inside. They know full well that their dusty and impoverished presentation will garner pitty and thus some kind of monetary support from the “Mama” tourists.

But make no mistake - these are the entrepreneurs of the Kibera slum, and they are far wiser, tougher, and educated than the aid agency rumors in the media would indicate. My fear of them was replaced by my amazement of them as survivalists and humans. Oh, I still kept my wallet buried between me and Guled in hiding. You bet.

These "poor", "slum" kids are far more able to survive than any of us here in my town under similar circumstances. The Kibera has developed a civil code of its own, developed businesses and survival systems, and developed protective measures to insulate family and shack. Sure, the survival code has elements that offend our Western (or Eastern for that matter) sense of justice and fairness, but I suppose when your country implodes and you run to a neighboring place for survival, the systems that develop will not mirror white anglo civil justice. Both Hakim and our driver JJ told me that if we walked through the winding alley-type paths of the Kibera, I would be mugged with 100% surety. I was pretty tempted to take up the challenge at one point actually. I laughed about that, saying I had nothing for them to take! Apparently, I just don't think I do. The ingenious entrepreneurs borne of survival are able to find good use out of the most unimaginable (to me) things... like cloth, soles of shoes, metals, buttons, baubles, strings.... and I realized that my civility really has rendered me fairly weak in the survival world.

I applaud Mr. Jackson for taking the time and offering resources to a humanitarian need. The majority of Nairobi money appeared to me to be in the form of humanitarian government aid, NGO's, and private Trusts set up for humanitarian purposes. The indigenous folks live off the crumbs and the administrators of the programs drive BMWs and Mercedes and live in exotic homes. So be it. But what I would think might be a cool experiment is to approach the problem from the viewpoint that these little entrepreneurs are far smarter about some things, including the "business of survival" than they are poor and destitute, and perhaps “The Trump” might consider hosting a few on that TV show he does... “The Apprentice”…? I think that was it.

You can feed a billion meals, or you can feed maybe 200 million meals and take the rest of that money to set up vocational training and a few resources .... and some civil law training. The Kibera entrepreneurs will need that because the code of survival means that if you are hungry, take and eat, with no regard for "rights" in the Western sense.

I am frankly astounded by these young people, rather than feeling pity for their impoverished lives, at least in general terms. I feel momentary bits of pity for me and mine because I don't know that I could survive with such vibrancy. I think I experienced a moment of awareness with a young boy as he put his precious 10 year old face into my window and asked “Mama” for something. I offered my leftover food and water. He laughed, looked up to the sky as he walked following our car, then turned and met my gaze full on and knowingly, and with a chuckle told me, “My stomach is satisfied fully. Mamas are good to me today. I will take the water.” He probably would have taken it if he were able to reach it.

And out of some place that I have determined was respect peppered liberally with Kibera charm, I acquiesced and gave him one of our unopened water bottles… and he accepted.

An interesting thing about Kenya

I have a few minutes to myself this evening, with the boys off to see a movie, and thought I would try to capture in words a curious thing I am discovering here in Kenya. It is this idea that things look one way at first, but upon inspection and experience, are in fact a totally different way. Mom used to tell us not to judge a book by its cover.

The shacks used by artisans to produce their wares, whether furniture or textiles or pottery or jewelry or Maasai art, are these visibly poorly constructed units, made from scrap lumber and tin corrugated roofing materials. They really look like "shacks", a word Hakim uses actually. But we walk inside these "shacks", and instead you find strong walls housing the most beautiful and finely crafted handiwork I have ever seen. The wood furniture is really of the best quality, the fabrics are tightly woven with handcrafted art embedded, the pottery is thrown and crafted upon a wheel. Suddenly, things look very expert and beautiful and of high quality.

The decor of places initially appears a bit dusty or unkept, like the streets having no real sidewalks. But the more you delve into the city, the more you see the real beauty. It isn't something I make up. It is really spectacular.

Guled mentioned the air quality and how deceptive it is upon first look because of the Rift Valley desert sands in the distance. There is no smog. The air is so clean and fresh and unencumbered by mechanised waste.

The people see us and look almost cautious but one quick smile from us, and that cautious look turns to a warm and inviting smile. Makes me wonder how many times in my own space half way across the globe I have mistaken a cautious look for something sinister rather than a smile awaiting.

All is well in Kenya. I hope my grammar and spelling are correct because I am not going to run spell check this time.

Habari za asubuhi - News of the Morning from Nairobi, Kenya

Habari za asubuhi - Good morning (news of the morning)from Nairobi! Kiswahili, the other language of the people of Kenya, translates to our good morning. The energy of a city of 9 million people greeted me at 7 a.m. after going to sleep at 4 a.m., certainly the combination of which requires some excellent coffee.

There is no better coffee found than here in the fertile rift valley and birthplace of mankind. I am also greeted with a sharply sweet pungent oder that I have come to know as the smell of cannabis. Yes, one of our neighbors somewhere within whiffing distance has a fairly active taste for the sweet weed. The tops of the trees are almost glazed with a yellow/brown layer of air hovering above the tree line as it were. I will have to post a couple of pictures to Facebook as I am having difficulty here.


I find most interesting the mix of trees found here. One would expect in a warm climate to find palm trees. However, as hopefully the photos show, there is what appears to be a kind of pine tree growing here. It is summer now in January in Kenya, and we are all wearing sandals and light fabrics. The women here dress beautifully, even to go to the grocery store.

They sport vibrantly colored fabrics and lots of matching accessories, something which I gave up long ago! There is hard liquor to be found in gas stations but it is quite suspect as often times, a scrappy local entrepreneur will cook up a very local alcohol and just rebottle it in an expensive Crown or Jack Daniels bottle. Ingenious to say the least. I have a new appreciation for hard work and creative thinking, albeit my skepticism is now also pretty actively engaged!

We have an Italiante apartment with a swimming pool, lounge area, and potted plants all around. The maid service is unparalleled and the fresh fruits and vegetables have a taste that can only be described as "clean." I am acutely aware of the chemical taste found even in what we think in the US is the most healthy of produce. I will have to try to describe it after more time has passed. Perhaps it has to do with the soil itself here and the lack of chemical additives, weed killers and fertilizers.

Petrol/gas runs about $7 per gallon. Many UN and NGO (non-government organizations) homebase out of Nairobi, so there is this delicate balance of wealth and poverty playing throughout the fabric of everyday life, but this makes for an infinitely rich mix of cultures from all over the world. There are fewer cars on the road than one might expect in a city of 9 million. There are many fewer sidewalks and so people's feet are dusty. For transportation, 16 or so people will cram in to one of those old 1980 Mitsubishi vans, windows open, side door open, and lots of drama at every stop.

Guled mentioned yesterday that the prevailing view of "Africa" being a dry desert is completely unfounded. The gentle cool wind and the greenery and flowers at every turn pretty much dispel that rumor. I am uncertain why we seem so affected by jet lag but my eyeballs even hurt this morning.

Perhaps I will lie by the pool now that the morning cleaning is complete.

It is time

“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.” T.S. Eliot

Here we are a year and a half later, and the end is nigh to the beginning... something like that. We shall see how things progress, but for now we go visit and let healing take its course in our little family so we can all decide what each of us wants from life. I think the geography and "where" matter not. It is the "who" that really matters most. And while we wax sappy, here is the song about all of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJUtJA-dLmo