Fool Proof

“Holy crap Rach, we’re really screwed tomorrow,” said Sam over the telephone.

“Chill, chill, I’ll think of something I promise. I’m sure we’ll get out of this. Look if we’re going to get fucked we might as well enjoy it,” I replied chuckling.

I always did this. Every time I got nervous about something I ended up saying something crude or stupid trying to shed some humor to the situation. This time it did not seem to work.

“ What is wrong with you woman? Are you seriously insane? How the hell can you be casual about this? No, Rach what the hell are we going to do? Seriously I’m flipping out,” she babbled on.

Sam was starting to get on my nerves now. How the hell was I supposed to know what to do? The five of us were in the same mess together and why was everyone expecting me to bail us out of this? I put the end of the pencil that I was playing with in my mouth and started to chew on the eraser bit.

“ If we don’t go to school tomorrow then we don’t have to take the exam. Just don’t go to school tomorrow,” I said, thinking it was a good idea.

“ Are you a moron? Where is your fucking brain Rachel? Our parents all know we have this exam tomorrow. There is no way any of us are going to be able to get out of school tomorrow. Besides, we had all weekend to study for it but no, you wanted to go for that stupid concert and talked us all into it,” she retorted.

I hated when Sam did this. Okay fine, yes I procrastinated. Yes, we all should have studied for our French exam, but it was an Aerosmith concert and I really wanted to go. I felt a little bad. There was no way my parents would have let me go without the girls. It was an overnight weekend concert and they obviously did not trust me. I had to talk Sam and the other girls to come with me. Okay think Rach, how do we get out of this mess now?

“ Sam, I’ll call you back. Don’t say anything to anyone yet. Let me just think about it. I’m sorry but just trust me I’ll find a way to get out of this,” I said.

“ Whatever Rach, just call me back soon okay?” she said sounding worried.

“Yeah, yeah I will. Toodles,” I said.

I got off the phone with Sam and sat down on my bed. I resumed chewing my pencil and thought hard. I had almost chewed off most of the eraser when an idea struck me. It was perfect and fool proof.

Picking up my phone, I punched in Sam’s number and told her to get the other three girls on conference with us.

It didn’t take long for her to get Alex, Jo and Tash on the phone. Sam was good at rallying the troops. I was the one that roused them up.

Tash and Jo were on her landline speakerphone, while Sam, Alex and I were on speaker on her cell phone. (Honestly I don’t know how she does it).

“ Okay girls. I’ve got a plan. And before saying anything and interrupting me just listen okay?” I said.

There were four “Fine’s” and I began narrating my plot.

“ So here’s what we do. You know how behind the school, up near the football field there’s the wire fence with all the trees? Well there’s one bit, which is well covered, with trees so no one can really see anything,” I said.

First interruption. I was expecting this anyways.

“ Rach, how do you know that?” barked Alex

“ Oh I go down there sometimes between class to sneak a cigarette with Dan and Kyle,” I said, quickly regretting that I didn’t.

“ Rach! I’ve told you a million times not to smoke in school. What if you get caught? You’ll get expelled!” said Sam.

God! Sometimes I really hated how annoying my friends could be.

“ You know they’ll never expel me,” I said cockily. “I’m a model student and the head of every major student organization in school. Plus I’m basketball and house captain. They can’t expel me,” I continued. Why were these shit heads digressing I thought.

“ Okay whatever, can we get back to my plan,” I snapped.

“ Go on,” sighed Jo and Alex together. I was pretty sure Sam was rolling her eyes and Tash was trying to muffle her laughter. I loved Tash. She was gutsy and rebellious like me, but way more subtle.

“ Well I’ll get a wire cutter with me tomorrow. All of us come to school normally, but carry a change of clothes,” I said.

Second interruption.

“ What? Why?” shouted Sam. “Rach what the hell are we doing tomorrow?”

I wanted to punch Sam right now. I was trying to get us out of this pickle and all she kept doing was annoying me.

“ Seriously? Well my plan is that we skip school, climb through the wire mesh, call a cab to the back of the school near the water tower and then go out somewhere. We can wait till school’s almost done, take a cab back in time and then just go in through the primary section because they get out early. Coach Shannon goes to pick her daughter up, so if anyone asks just say it’s about after school practice,” I said, sounding very pleased with myself.

Rightfully enough, there were four immediate reactions.

“ Are you crazy?” yelled Sam.

“ That’s brilliant Rach!” laughed Tash.

“ What?” said Alex.

“ Rach, there’s no way we can get away with all that,” said Jo.

“ You guys are fucking morons seriously. People skip school all the time. Trust me, no one’s going to know. Their just going to assume we’re sick or something. They never call our parents anyways to find out if we’re actually sick. Plus no one would ever expect us to skip school. Especially when we have an exam,” I said.

“ You know she does have a point,” said Tash. I loved Tash. She always backed me up at everything.

“ Rach your actually serious about this?” said Sam. I could tell she was getting convinced. That was how desperate we all were.

“ You guys, we’re all really good students. We always get A’s, the teachers love us, the principals in my pocket, and besides we’re not doing this for some joy ride or thrill factor. We’re actually desperate. And our parents will never find out. Come on. Get with the program”.

“ I’m in,” said Tash.

“ Yeah. Rach is right. We are desperate,” said Alex.

“ Me too. I’ll do it,” said Jo.

Sam was the only one left to be convinced. I knew she was hesitating. This is classic Sam. She’ll hesitate and go back and forth but in the end she always gave in. She just needed the extra push.
Tash came to the rescue.

“ Sam think about it. Do you really want to fail the exam? Or skip school tomorrow, study all day and then get an A. It would ruin your average if you don’t. Think about it. Think about college,” said Tash.

Okay so she was getting a little dramatic talking about college and everything. It was just a stupid little mid term but all of us were very particular and OCD about our grades.

“ Fine. Whatever,” said Sam. And that was how Samantha Brown gave in.

“ Good, now that that’s settled, don’t forget to get a change of clothes tomorrow. We can’t be running around in uniforms. If a cop sees us, or a teacher we can get into a lot of trouble. So change of clothes and please act as normal as possible. Sam, you especially,” I said.

“ Yeah, yeah I know,” she said. “ So we’re meeting outside school tomorrow then?” she asked.

“ No you idiot. People will see us. Just come to school at the usual time and go to the boys’ bathroom in the gym. We can easily walk out on the steps that lead to the football field and there are no classes scheduled there during first period,” I said.

“ You my girl, are bloody brilliant,” said Tash.

“ I try,” came my cocky reply. I had to admit it was a pretty good plan though.

“ Anyways, can I go now? I want to go watch Gossip Girls before bed.

“ Oh. I forgot that was on tonight. Yeah I better go too. We’ll see you tomorrow. Good night hun,” said Tash.

The other three mumbled goodbyes and I put the phone down. My ear was hot from holding my cell phone there for so long but a smile spread across my face as I thought about the next day. The plan was definitely was foolproof.


The next morning I shoved a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into my sling bag. I had put the wire cutter in my bag the night before after stealing it from my father’s toolbox. I went downstairs and sat down to have breakfast with my mother.

“ So you’re prepared for this exam?” she asked.
“ Uh huh,” I replied chewing through my piece of toast.
“ I haven’t seen you studying all weekend,” bantered my mother.
“ I studied. Chill. Relax woman. Your always so paranoid about everything,” I said.
“ Just make sure you do well okay? No B’s or C’s. I only want A’s from you,” she pressed on.
“ Yeah mom. Take a chill pill. I’m out. Bye. See you after school,” I said, walking towards my front door.

“ Read the questions twice and go over…” I shut the door before she could finish. God why was everyone so anal about everything.

I got to school and walked straight to the boys’ bathroom. The girls were already there.

“ Oh my God Rach where the hell have you been,” said Sam.

“ Having breakfast,” I said. Tash and I both laughed and high fived each other while Sam gave me a really dirty look.

“ Okay. Change and we can call a cab. I’ve got the wire cutter,” I said.

Alex took out the phone and dialed the cab company since she was already dressed. I heard her give directions to the cab company as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I told the girls to stay back while I went and cut the fence down so it did not look too obvious what we were doing.

The wire cutter worked like a charm and in about five minutes I had cut down on one side and bent the wire back so we could all climb out. I ran back to the boys’ bathroom to where the girls were waiting.

“ Okay so that’s done. Now lets just wait for the cab. Alex you keep watch and we’ll run as soon as it come,” I said.

“ Fine. I don’t know where you come up with these mad ideas,” she replied.

In about ten minutes our cab was there and we snuck out as carefully as possible. I had butterflies in my stomach and part of me was excited, the other a little nervous. We managed to get over the fence okay and into the cab. We all knew the cab driver wasn’t going to ask us any questions but none of us had decided where we were going to go.

“ Where are we going?” asked Sam.

“ Lets go to the hookah place we always go to. People know us there, won’t ask any questions and it’s away from teachers and school,” said Jo.

“ Yeah that’s a good idea,” said Sam and told the cab driver where to take us.

We got to the hookah place okay and sat down, relieved on the plush couches around the place. We did say we were skipping school to study and we had brought our books, so one by one we pulled out our French books and notes from our bags and started to study.

I’m pretty sure we looked funny. Five girls sitting around a hookah place at eight in the morning, smoking hookah and cigarettes and studying like our life depended on it. We didn’t say much to each other for the rest of the time. We honestly just sat there and tried to salvage whatever time we had in order to do really well on the test we were planning on taking the next day.

Around noon we ordered some burgers and fries and sat around chatting about what we thought was going to be on the test. We forgot where we were, forgot that we had skipped school and just sat there like model students doing our work and eating. After we were done, we decided to quiz each other on our French vocabulary when Sam suddenly looked shocked.

“ You guys, are none of you scared? I just realized what we did and I am a little scared to go back,” she said.

“ Chill Sam, I’m sure it will be okay. I’m positive nothing’s going to happen. Just chill. We’re leaving soon anyways so don’t worry about it,” I said.

“ Yeah, Rach your right. Sorry,” said Sam.

An hour later we were all ready to leave and had done more than enough studying to be confident that we were all going to get an A on our exam. We called a cab and made our way back to school, the whole way laughing about how we got away with our little scheme. The girls kept slapping me on the back and congratulating me on my brilliant plan and I couldn’t help feel really proud of myself. I had gotten away with it.

As we turned into the road that led up to the school my mouth dropped. Nothing, trust me nothing could have prepared me for this.

There were four cars in front of us that were jus waiting in one line and I instantly recognized all of them. My mother, my father and my two uncles were waiting for us.

“ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! We’re fucked. I’m fucked. My parents are going to fucking kill me,” I panicked.

As we drove up, I made eye contact with my mother who I could tell was fuming. I couldn’t figure it out. The girls and I were panicking. HOW THE HELL DID THEY FIND OUT?

The four cars surrounded our cab and the driver was forced to stop. My mother jumped out of her car, (God help me I thought) and pulled our door open.
“ Get out. All you girls are in big trouble. Get out and go straight to the principal’s office. NOW!” she yelled.

I didn’t want to look at her and honestly I just wanted to walk ahead of the girls. Principal I could handle, Mom, no fucking way. I didn’t even want to try.

As I tried to walk away, my mother grabbed me by my arm and slapped me right across my face. Tears were streaming down here face and I could tell she was really, really upset.

“ Have you no respect for me? What is wrong with you? What if the cab driver took you girls somewhere in the desert and raped all of you? How would we find you? You couldn’t even call and tell me what you were doing? No! You had to go off. I’ve been worried for the past three hours,” she yelled at the top of her voice.

Okay, now keep in mind that schools already over by this point and there are kids everywhere, and here was my mother whacking me and yelling at the top of her lungs. I however, was too shit scared to even be embarrassed.

“ The school called! They said all of you were not in school today and they got worried especially since all of you had an exam. They wanted to know if you were sick,” she continued yelling. Then she turned to the girls and said, “ Oh your parents are waiting for you girls in the principals office.”

Now all of us were pretty much shitting ourselves. We just stood there while my mother continued yelling at us as we looked down at our feet.

“ March! Now! Office,” she barked, like a fire breathing dragon.

We made it up to the principal’s office, some kids chuckled as they saw us, and others I could tell just felt plain bad. As we walked in, there were four pairs of parents just as pissed off as my mother.

I don’t know how long the shouting went on for. Each parent was drowning the other one out. It was quite funny actually but had I laughed right now I’d have really had it.
When they finally calmed down (I think they just were out of breath) Sam explained why we had done what we did. Our principal listened to us and surprisingly was really nice about the whole issue. None of us were going to get into any trouble since that was the first time we had broken school rules. It was the first time I got caught.

My mother however being the martyr/ savior/ saint that she thinks she is was furious with my principal.

“ How can you let these girls get away with this? I want to se some punishment,” she said. “ My daughter needs to learn a lesson.”

Oh God. I hated my mother sometimes. The principal said he couldn’t punish the other girls because their parents were not insisting on any kind of punishment. But since my mother was he gave me three days of in school suspension. Not bad I thought. I got to spend three days chatting away with my principal who was very fond of me.

But the worst was yet to come.

When the whole charade was over and everyone had gone home, all my mother said to me was “ Eat your lunch.”

My father hadn’t said a word to me up till this point and I knew I was in for a huge lecture later on that day. But what he did I did not expect.
As soon as I was done eating my lunch, I felt someone yank my hair into a ponytail and before I knew what was happening I heard my mom scream, “Darling not that short.”

My dad had just chopped off five feet of my hair.

My hair was my mascot. I modeled for it. People were always complimenting me on it. It was my biggest asset and I was more proud of it than anything else.

I can’t remember for how long I cried that day. My mother felt sorry for me and held me the entire time. She was nice enough to even take me to the hairdresser and get my hair cleaned up from the rough cut my dad gave me. I hated my dad and I swore I would never speak to him. I felt ugly. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror and I was dreading going to school the next day. I had always had long hair and now I had an ugly bob with an even uglier bang on one side. My dad I could tell was sadistically happy and I even remember calling him a sadist and a narcissist.

I didn’t want to go to school the next day because I knew everyone would make fun of me. I knew I looked really different and the whole school knew what happened by this point. My father however, being a sadist insisted I go or I would get another months worth of grounding.

When I walked into school it was like people were honestly waiting to see what I looked like. What I didn’t expect though, were the flow of compliments I kept getting from people. Apparently (I did not see this) I looked like a chic French model. Everyone thought my bob was extremely sassy and suited me really well. At first I thought people were just making me feel better but it was only until the girls dragged me to the bathroom and forced me to look into the mirror that I actually realized how awesome I looked.

That day went extremely well for me. Kids kept walking into my principal’s office to see my hair and even teachers came. Everyone wanted to see me and not one person said anything bad about my hair. I was suddenly the most popular girl in school and one teacher even went to the extent of saying that I was going to be a legend in this school.

When I went home that day my father was the first person to ask me how it was. I could see the sadistic smile on his face. I could tell he was waiting for me to blow up at him at tell him how I hated his punishment. He wanted me to feel some remorse for what I did and that was his way of achieving that.

I however, calmly walked up to him and said, “ Daddy, my day was awesome. And you know what? I love my hair. In fact I’m going to keep it like this for a while. Everyone loved it in school and I think this was the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”

I kissed him on his check and walked off to my room as he stared dumbfounded after me.

My plan did end up being a really good one after all. I got an A on my French exam, three dates and an awesome, awesome haircut.

50 FT

Every cliché known to man couldn’t possibly help me out right now. I’ve tried a series of things, and then I’ve tried them all again. Nothing seems to work. I am still here, at the very top of a fifty-story high skyscraper, standing on its ledge looking down.

I look back, biting my lip and think about what I am about to leave behind. Everything. My free spirit lurks somewhere behind the water tank that is perched on top of this skyscraper. It’s a façade. This whole building is a façade. Exactly like this place in my life. Don’t get me wrong. This building is beautiful. It has no imperfections, no flaws; it is not tainted in the least. There is not a single crack in any of the glass panels. None of the metal is scratched. Its surface is impeccable.

Yet, I now think of what it is like on the inside. It is tarnished, ravaged and appalling. Why not? I think. The plumbing and the wiring were not meant to be seen by anyone. Yet without it this structure would not function.

I think about myself. Tainted, tarnished, ravaged. I am at the threshold of letting go. But do I really want to. I was none of those things before. My foundation, my structure and well for the most part my ‘plumbing and wiring’ were neat, clean and presentable at any given time and place. But these cracks were not placed by me. No. It was like I had rented myself out to a real estate contractor hoping he would better me. I did not realize that he was on contract and his job needed to be done fast. Instead of taking the time to re-model and re-structure, he stuck with his contract and haphazardly did what he thought was a decent job. His ‘decent job’ left me with scratches and fractures. Not the best of contractors I’ll admit. But I have never picked them. They always seem to pick me. I am their protégé.

I shake it all off. Every bit of it I shake off. I yearn to hold on but I realize there is no point. My mentor has moved on. My mentor has now taken his expertise elsewhere.
I have to get out of here I tell myself. I have to spit out all that I have swallowed for it has no nutrition, no nourishment.

I look down from the ledge. I look back again. I shut my eyes tight and count till five.

Then I jump.

I fall.

Five feet.

Fifteen feet.

Thirty feet.

Forty-five.

I fall all fifty feet.

I hit the ground hard. Yet no pain has been inflicted on me. I pull myself off the floor and dust of any remnants of my fall. I look back up to where I started. There is no remorse. No regret. I feel whole again: it only took me those fifty feet to find closure.

Rearing Llamas and Alpacas

The foul and putrid stench stuck my nostrils and I was forced to wrinkle my nose, while still keeping a straight face as I entered the arena. My gaze wandered for a while before locking into a pair of glassy eyes. Intrigued, and slightly amused, I approached those pair of eyes, half expecting a wad of spit to slap me in the face, yet thankfully that did not happen.

 

Drumming my fingers against the edge of the pen, I paced slowly, trying not to break eye contact, anxiously waiting for an approach. I realized my pacing was making her nervous, so I stopped and stood right in front of her, and relaxed my otherwise stiff posture.

 

I reached my hand out towards her head which was a few inches away from me. Running my fingers through that soft fur, it felt like little silk worms were weaving constantly at her crimp. Even cashmere doesn’t feel that soft. Maintaining these animals must be real hard work I thought.

 

“I see you’ve met my alpaca, Grayson,” said a voice behind me, accompanied by a tap on my shoulder.

 

I turned around to find a sweet looking old lady standing there, a stack of pamphlets cradled in her arms.

 

 “Welcome to our llama and alpaca festival,” she said, shaking my hand and introducing herself as Kathy Kenworthy, Grayson’s owner.

 

Kenworthy was just one of the many breeders who participated in The Pennsylvania Llama and Alpaca Association’s (PLAA), Llama and Alpaca Festival at the Agricultural Arena in The Pennsylvania State University. Breeders, volunteers and families were buzzing around individual pens, either tending to their llamas and alpacas or just observing them in amazement.

 

“The purpose of the Festival is to educate the public about llamas and alpacas,” said Festival Coordinator, Sonja Leach.

 

The breeders at the festival were not only engaging the public in the festival but were also answering the queries people had about them.

 

Kenworthy spoke at length about Grayson and her other alpacas, stating how easy they are to look after. She stressed how effortless both llama and alpaca farming is to manage.

 

Although both llamas and alpacas come from similar regions of Peru and Bolivia there are differences between them. The most obvious one is size. Llamas are much larger than alpacas, about 2-3ft taller. Alpacas are also more expensive than llamas, almost 3-4 times more. Alpaca’s unlike llamas are not beasts of burden and are bred primarily for their fiber. One of the best ways to distinguish between an alpaca and a llama are its ears. The llama’s ears are curved inwards, often referred to being ‘banana shaped’, while the alpaca’s ears are straight.

 

Even though these animals may not originate in the United States, they are not hard to look after.

 

“It is easier looking after alpacas than it is looking after our two dogs,” said Lisa Rudy, an alpaca breeder.

 

Before starting a llama or alpaca enterprise, it is advisable to visit as many existing llama or alpaca organizations as possible. Almost all the breeders I talked to, strongly recommended attending seminars and festivals in order to equip yourself with the knowledge you need.

 

“My husband and I only got into farming a month and a half ago, but we did do our research before hand,” said Rudy.

 

Although the rearing of these animals is manageable, the initial investment one would need to make is expensive. The animals itself are expensive.

 

The llama price range can vary from $200 to $1000-plus for males and $400 to $3,500-plus for females. This price variance depends upon the age, sex of the animal (males usually cost less), quality of breeding or show stock, and location of birth or bloodlines (recent imports sell at a much higher price than domestic llamas because of improved genetic potential). Llama owners need to consider which of the creature's multiple uses will fit with their goals. Llama owners who plan to market breeding llamas will probably need to get pedigreed animals.

 

The price ranges for alpacas, like llamas, also depend on age, quality, and sex. Prices can range from $10,000 to $30,000-plus for good-quality females and from $1,000 for a gelding (used for companions and fiber animals) to as much as $60,000 for a prime herd sire.

 

“Because of the small number of alpacas in North America, the main market for alpacas will probably focus on breeding stock for some time,” said Leach.

 

 Alpaca producers getting into marketing of breeding stock should purchase registered and blood-typed stock. When considering a llama or alpaca operation, find out whether any permits or licenses are required for raising llamas or alpacas in your state.

 

Besides the animals, one will also have to invest in land and good quality orchard grass.

 

“It’s not that bad though, you can raise up to 4 alpacas on an acre of land,” said Kenworthy.

 

Since llamas and alpacas both have flat plantar pads on their feet unlike other livestock, they do not damage the landscape and they also double up as ‘lawn mowers’. This reduces the cost of maintaining the farmland.

 

Feeding these animals is also inexpensive. According to Rudy, “Two bales of hay a week is enough to feed up to six llamas.”

 

Alpacas are also simple keepers, requiring pasture, good grass hay, and pellet supplementation for free range minerals. Rotational grazing of llamas and alpacas can help utilize the pasture to a greater extent. Water needs to be accessible at all times. Using pastures to meet most of the nutritional needs of the animals will also enhance profitability.

 

Fencing is similarly an easy task. Most standard 4-foot-high fencing is generally adequate for llamas, however, a 5-foot-high fence is recommended for alpacas. Producers need a small catch pen, a chute, or other safe restraint to catch llamas or alpacas for trimming toenails administering vaccinations and shots, or handling an injured animal.

 

A three-sided shed or other shelter should be provided for inclement weather. Llamas and alpacas do not adapt well to dark sheds, but prefer shelters with large doors or windows. For a group of five adult llamas accustomed to each other, an open shed should be at least 12 feet by 16 feet, while six mother llamas and crias can fit into a 16 by 16 foot shed. Alpacas are generally about half the size of llamas, so shelter sizes can probably be reduced.

Alpacas and llamas have a habit of sharing communal dunging areas called dung or potty piles. This trait makes manure cleanup easier and helps reduce the spread of internal parasites.

“The manure is great fertilizer and does not burn, so can be used right from the animals to the flowerbed and garden,” said Kenworthy.

Because llamas and alpacas are from the dry, thin air in the high plains and mountains of South America, heat stress is a concern during a hot, humid day. They should be sheared in the spring and a small wading pool or sprinkler may be needed to help keep them cool. They need shelter from direct sunlight, and air movement is also necessary.

The amount of vetting these animals need is also very little compared to other livestock. Routine de worming and two yearly vaccinations are enough.

“They seem to be rather disease resistant and hardy,” said llama breeder Carol Reigh.

Female llamas produce one offspring per year after a gestation of around 350 days. Alpacas also produce one cria after a gestation of about 335 days. Twins for both llamas and alpacas are rare. Birthing is usually quick and trouble-free, and occurs during daylight hours with the mother standing during delivery. Avoid over-interacting with crias though, sometimes cria males that are bottle fed or given too much attention at an early age, bond to people and not with other llamas. When they have bonded to humans and grow to maturity, they perceive the humans (usually male) to be in competition for females in their herd. Their behavior problems toward humans can range widely in severity.

Llama and alpaca farming is becoming increasingly popular, not just because the animals make outstanding pets and companions but they also double up as a cash cow for owners.

Many breeders at the PLAA have also started learning how to spin and weave llama and alpaca fiber since the animals produce fine, soft fiber. There is a high demand for llama and alpaca fiber since the popularity of these animals has increased.

“Many designers are now introducing alpaca fiber in their garments because the fiber is so soft, and it is also non-allergenic, producing a good alternative for wool,” said Rudy.

The benefits of alpaca and llama farming eventually outweigh the initial investment, not just in monetary terms but also as far as effort is concerned. Once the farm is set up, it is not hard to keep adding more animals to the herd. These animals get along well with other farm and domestic animals.

They are so easy to raise and can be handled by just about anyone even seniors and children. They don’t bark, bite, dig or have fleas and are quiet and peaceful animals.

Be warned though; according to Reigh, “Llamas are like chips, you cannot just have a few. We started with four and now have close to forty.”

The Road to Purgatory

 

On the white, sandy coast of the Arabian Gulf, where shallow, turquoise water laps gently on the never-ending, beautiful beaches is a place called Dubai. Located in the heart of the Middle East, it is marketed as a vacation paradise. Glittering, seven-star hotels rise from spectacular man-made islands, shiny new emerald courses designed by golfing legends pleasure the sporting senses, food and drink from every corner of the globe is in abundance, and traditional Arabian hospitality ensures the best of attention for every holiday-maker.

It's not only the holiday companies that are giving it the hard sell. Employment agencies dangle the carrot of year-round sunshine and a luxurious, tax-free lifestyle to people in the West and offer unbelievable, life-changing opportunities to the people in the less well-off countries of Africa and Asia. The very size and nature of the development going on ensures that Dubai is never far from the free advertising offered by features on TV news and travel channels; in newspapers and magazines. The branding exercise by the rulers is wide-reaching, with sports sponsorships by the likes of Emirates Airlines keeping the destination present in the subconscious mind.

The truth about Dubai is somewhat different to that advertised. Having lived there for 15 years, I have the experience to back this statement up. I have seen many family friends move to Dubai, solely based on what they’ve heard about it from what they’ve read. Brushing aside any word of caution from people who actually live here they come to chase the carrot dangling in front of them like a loyal but slightly dim donkey. But from the moment they arrive, they realize that the image of Dubai that they had built up in their minds was just that: an image.

This fact is evident as soon as you walk out of the doors of the airport in the middle of the night and get hit by a wall of heat akin to the blast felt when one opens an oven door to check the cake within. I experience it every summer; more so on returning home from State College, Pennsylvania where what people call ‘hot’ there is like a mild winter in Dubai terms. The summers never change, if anything it gets hotter as the years progress.

I still recall what it first felt like when I first moved to Dubai. It must have been more than thirty degrees Celsius, and it was nearly midnight. The following morning, I woke up to the haunting strains of the Call to Prayer at a nearby mosque echoing around the streets, and upon opening the window blinds, I was half-blinded by the sheer brilliance of the Arabian sun and the glare of the sandy-colored buildings, which almost seemed to amplify its heat and light.

It wasn't long before I learned that for around 5 months of the year, people are generally confined to air-conditioned surroundings - moving from the villa or apartment to the car to the office, and at the weekend to the shopping mall or the hotel. Of course, I knew there would be heat, but I wasn't prepared for the ferocity of it, or the way it didn't abate by a great deal at night-time. But people still go to Dubai all year round. I can't personally see the attraction of spending two weeks confined to a hotel, but then that's just me.

Over the years I realized that the weather was a minor disappointment when it came to the “Paradise City” image that Dubai portrayed. There were bigger and much more pressing problems. As I grew older, I saw the portrayal of Dubai peel away, like an onion and its layers, till I was left with the raw and quite disturbing truth of the situation.

The next layer of the image to fall away was the promise of a tax-free lifestyle and the resultant opportunity to live like royalty. Everyone who has moved to Dubai with the tax free incentive has been disappointed. Not only is the cost of living high but property rates, even the cost of renting is through the roof. Even the cost of education is phenomenal, equating to approximately the same cost of tuition in a reputed university. There are a dizzying number of fees and charges added here there and everywhere. Although not necessarily taxes, people still find that more money comes out of their pockets than what goes in.

I will admit that mine and the lifestyle available to the middle and upper class is good. Sumptuous brunch buffets for reasonable prices can be indulged in every weekend. When the weather isn't too hot to breathe, you can venture to pleasant, palm-lined beaches (although the number of public, free beaches is diminishing all the time as more of the coastline is swallowed by new hotels and resorts). Glamorous, sprawling shopping malls with high-end outlets and indoor ski slopes shelter you when it is too hot, tempting everyone to give the plastic a good battering, and Arabian-souq-themed resorts with idyllic - but essentially fake - surroundings enchant those who like their experiences packaged, clean and safe like a Disney movie.

Those with a more adventurous bent can explore the real souqs scattered around the Dubai Creek, with their hustle and bustle and sights and smells, selling gold, spices, textiles and what traders will unashamedly refer to as "genuine fake Rolexes". It's in these places that you start to see the true heart and nature of the place. You see what the real make-up of the city's population is. It is a society of carefully-choreographed and jealously-protected levels of wealth and power, only a few of which are openly displayed in the brochures and advertisements. It is hierarchical and then some. The Sheiks of the Maktoum family sit at the top with absolute power, and are completely unassailable and beyond criticism. They are seen as men of vision and wisdom who have brought great prosperity to the area on the back of the oil money, and, admittedly, they are building something quite unprecedented.

The non-royal locals are the next level, just above the Western expats, and then come the higher-caste, educated sub-continentals. Behind them are the service staffs, a lot of them from places in Asia, like the Philippines and India. Ethnic origin counts for everything. It is a common occurrence that after a car crash, fault is assigned based on nationality and skin color rather than who was actually to blame. There’s more however, if a driver runs over a camel, which is the national animal, they are required to pay more blood money than they would if it were a human being.

 

There are more levels in this pyramid of privilege. The poorest and lowest levels have the most people in them. When you finally become aware of them, whether on vacation or in your first few weeks of living there, you take more notice of the dirty white buses ferrying laborers all over the city and the Emirate, to the hundreds of building sites that mark their presence with spindly, towering cranes.

 

You quickly come to the realization, mostly through informal channels and word-of-mouth, that these men - generally from the poorer parts of the Indian sub-continent - are here for one thing and one thing only: Work. The affluent lifestyle is not available to them. They are here to build the place, but they aren't really welcome in any other capacity. They are turned away from the magnificent malls that they built and won't even get within 50 yards of a five-star hotel. Even in public areas they are seen as a nuisance, with public beaches becoming notorious for being ogling posts for men who have never seen a woman showing more naked flesh than her face and hands.

 

While you belt along the Sheikh Zayed road in your air-conditioned, gulf-spec car towards another hotel or mall, you spot these white buses, with their barred-over windows and dirty exhaust fumes, and you can't help but thank your lucky stars that you aren't one of the men aboard. These men stare blankly at the unreal surroundings, either on their way to work a 12-hour shift or being conveyed back to their filthy, cramped labor accommodation to eat as little as possible so they can afford to send as much of their meager earnings (US$200 a month or less) back to their families in India, Pakistan or Sri-Lanka.

 

The summer is the worst. Most people are desensitized to the common sight of these men as they drive past construction sites. Dubai never stops building, and it is usually at the expense of these men. They work in 45 degree heat, even during midday when the sun is overhead and the heat is at its peak. Most of us would faint, and people have. Yet these men continue to toil. The stains of sweat patches cover most of their blue overalls. They are not allowed to take their helmets off, even though the sweat makes their forehead itch because they would be a liability to the company should anything happen.

 

These men were enticed. They were made promises. Their dreams were exploited, and they are often trapped in this existence as unscrupulous employers hold their passports.

 

You see it all the time, newspapers will report about the living conditions in labor camps, how some employers haven’t paid the laborers for months, and god forbid if they ever try to do anything. On one occasion about 200 laborers decided to sit on Sheikh Zayed road to protest their living conditions and wages. There is a rule against striking and protesting in Dubai. You’re just not allowed to do it. Those laborers were deported and their visas cancelled.

 

Some people have observed their plight. And some have been troubled by it. It troubled me, because I realized that I was living a lifestyle at the expense of these people. Above everything else - the wafer-thin facade, the oppressive heat and the hidden costs - this was the thing that affected me most, and ultimately it contributed to my decision to leave. That's not to say I regret going there, because I don't. It opened my eyes - not just, to how things are in Dubai, but to how they are in the world at large. For me it is a microcosm of how the world works, with a few people at the top holding all the money and power, while the great majority live in poverty, often unwittingly subsidizing the lives of those above them.

 

 I now wonder if things have really moved on since the days of Egypt, when slave labor was employed by Pharaohs to construct amazing structures in the sand. But things haven’t changed; situations have forced people into a life very similar to that of slaves and now humanity is dangling by a fine thread.

Tigers

She had stood up, only to walk right past us, all 500 pounds of her lazily crunching the leaves beneath her monstrous paws, giving us a full view of her royalty and I was too stunned to even move. It was like she didn't even care. Five cars around her, all clicking away carefully, and she just kept posing almost. "Showoff," I thought. But in my mind I knew this was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her colors were so defined. Her face was chiseled, jaws taut, teeth massive, eyes a gorgeous amber gold, paws the size of my face, and yet with all those monstrous features, she looked regal and beautiful. It honestly was beauty beyond belief.

 

 

She was so close that her tail touched the side of the car. Considering this was an open jeep, she could have just leaped up into it and pulled one of us away. It wouldn’t have been hard. Tigers can leap as high as 5 m (16 ft) and as far as 9–10 m (30–33 ft). Their paws are powerful enough to smash the skull of domestic cattle. Yet even with this knowledge in mind, we just waited. Leaving ourselves out there as bait to see what she would attack, but she just turned around, gave us another clear head shot and in her royal splendor, disappeared into the bushes.

 

My father, my boyfriend Karan, an entourage of domestic help and I were stalking a Bengal tiger, in The Jim Corbett National Park, in Uttaranchal, India. Although we frequented the park every year, occasionally we would encounter an unforgettable experience like this one. They were all the memorabilia that we needed of the park.

 

Jim Corbett National Park lies in the Nainital, Pauri Garwhal and Bijnore Districts of Uttaranchal. The area of the Reserve is 1318.54 sq. km. including 520 sq. km. of core area and 797.72 sq. km. of buffer area. The core area forms the Jim Corbett National Park while the buffer contains reserve forests (496.54 sq.km.) as well as the Sonanadi Wildlife Sanctuary (301.18 sq.km.). The park has been a tiger reserve for decades.

One is quite lucky to spot a tiger in the wild, considering this perfect carnivore is a critically endangered species. India is home to the largest population of wild tigers in the world. There are estimated to be only 5000 to 7500 tigers surviving in the world. Out of these, the subspecies found in the Indian subcontinent, the Bengal tiger has 3000 to 4500 surviving members, more than three-fourths of which are in India.

The Corbett Reserve in particular holds a large percentage of these tigers, but again, you have to be lucky to see one. Adult tigers are usually solitary, except for females with cubs. Generally, both female and male tigers maintain home ranges that do not overlap with the home range of another tiger of the same sex. Females have home ranges of approximately 20 sq. km while those of males are much larger, covering 60-100 sq. km. Male home ranges cover the territory of many smaller female home ranges. The male protects his territory and the females within it from competing males.

Tracking a tiger down is not easy. On one occasion we spent almost 6 hours in the summer heat, tracking a young male tiger. Karan and I were in the back seat of a convertible Gypsy, and while driving along through the jungle we spotted pug marks on the side of the muddy road. You can tell quite easily whether the pug marks belong to a male or a female. The female’s have ‘pointed’ toe prints while the male’s prints are curved. Since tigers are territorial, you know whether this is a male or female’s territory by looking at the pug marks. These pug marks belonged to a young male, around 3 years old.

Our ranger, Kale followed the pug marks for a while, my father’s car and the other cars tailed us as quietly as possible. Then all of a sudden the most awful stench filled the area around us. It was like we stumbled into a morgue during a power shortage. The smell of rotting flesh isn’t something that gets most people excited, but to a ranger and tiger enthusiast it was like walking into a gold mine.

The tiger was in the area, and this ‘aromatic’ pungent odor was the smell of its kill. When tigers kill, they usually settle down in a comfortable and shady place, and eat till they are full. If any of the kill is left over, the tiger will wait until it feels hungry again and finish its meal. So this was a definite indicator that the tiger was in the area.

Male tigers also share their kill with the female and cubs if the female shares the male’s territory. Unlike lions, the female and cubs feed first.

Tigers in India hunt deer and wild boar. They choose the largest of the prey species since larger prey represents more energy for the effort spent. For this reason the Sambar deer population density is believed to be a good indicator of the presence of tigers. Occasionally, tigers will also attack young of elephants and take smaller species, including monkeys, birds, reptiles and fish. 

Tigers usually hunt in the mornings or go down to the water holes to quench their thirst. Corbett is freezing in the mornings, yet dawn is a good time to spot a tiger and also enjoy the stirring jungle. As we were driving through the jungle we got lost in its serenity. The rich peacock of the leaves, the height of some trees that could put a sequoia to shame and the way the sunlight bore through the gaps of the canopy were breathtaking. It was like emerald with gilded gold.

All of a sudden our nirvana was interrupted by shrieks from monkeys and the “call” of the Barking and Sambar deer. The tiger’s prey is one of the most efficient ways of tracking a tiger down. According to Kale, who has been a ranger for 15 years, when the tiger is on the move, the entire jungle comes alive. And when the tiger sits down, the peace is restored.

We experienced something quite similar that morning. As Kale drove through the thick jungle towards the sound of the “call”, he pointed out that it was coming from the direction of a water hole nearby. Considering this man has been tracking tigers for years, the thrill of the chase was still evident on his face.

Anxiously, in his meager English he exclaimed, “Baby (in reference to me), I am going to show you tiger.” In his excitement he let go of the wheel to stretch his arms out, as though giving the moment a hug but really trying to convey how ‘big’ a tiger he meant.

As our cars growled softly towards the water hole, the drivers muted the noise by turning the cars off. And there in the distance was a 450 pound tigress with her two cubs that were not more than 4 months old. 

My boyfriend Karan gasped, taken aback by the sight. You see tigers in the zoo with their cubs and think nothing of it. There’s no magic there. But to see them in the wild, in their natural habitat, maternal instincts at play, and to just sit there in silence and observe nature at its finest, was an unforgettable experience.

Karan just sat there, everything else around him was blurred. The only thing in focus was this mother-child bonding session. His mouth curved into a subtle smile as he watched the female. She licked both her cubs, grooming them. All the monstrosity of this huge cat was gone. In that moment, she was just a mother, looking after her babies, and how!

Female tigers rear their cubs alone, and the cubs stay with their mother until they are 2-2½ years old, although they become independent at 18 months. The gestation period is usually 16 weeks and 3–4 cubs of about 2 pounds each are born. The female tigers generally own territory near their mother, while males tend to wander in search of territory, which they acquire by fighting and eliminating another male.

I watched as the female lay down and stretched her massive body on the cool bank. Her cubs started to play with each other and as we reversed our jeeps, satisfied with our morning’s findings, I noticed how she was watching her cubs. She had to be protective, male tigers often kill young cubs. But this was more than being protective; it was almost a show of love and care.

One of the most riveting experiences Karan and I had in particular that trip, also had to do with a tiger. This time however we were not in a jeep, but on the back of an elephant.

An elephant safari is essential for anyone who goes to Corbett. In order to really get into the thick of things, tracking a tiger on elephant back is a must. Due to the park’s regulations, people are not allowed to take their vehicles into some parts of the jungle. Elephants however provide that solution. Domestic elephants are trained by their owners, who are villagers of the area surrounding the park.

The elephant along with its owner riding up front will then take you into the grasslands and the jungle, through the trees. You need to watch your head however and be careful as tree snakes can often fall on you when going through a canopy.

Karan and I rode on the back of an elephant called Mona and that morning she lead us into a field of -get ready for this- marijuana. The plantation stretched out for as far as we could see, full of the intoxicant. Although marijuana grows wildly in Corbett, there are strict laws against harvesting it for sale.

As we trudged along, Mona’s huge feet crushing the ‘higher’, Karan started to get nervous.

“Rach, what happens if we do see a tiger? And it freaks the elephant out, and the elephant throws us down?”

Valid point I thought, considering we were not strapped onto the elephant by anything. It was just a cot placed upside down on the elephants back with a mattress on top. All we had to hold onto were the legs of the cot.

The rider however, told us that it wasn’t a problem. Tiger’s are actually scared of elephants. He went on to tell us about how tigers were trampled by elephants and how some of the loudest noises in the jungle, were fights between elephants and tigers. Usually male tuskers that have elephant calves are very defensive when it comes to tigers as tigers can sometimes prey on elephant young.

Moments later, in the thick of all that green, something orange darted across our line of sight. Yes, here was another one of these beautiful creatures. Yet it was like a jungle joyride.

Karan couldn’t believe it. First marijuana heaven, now this! The tiger could only be seen in flashes because the plants were almost 14 feet high. Yet he was amused by how gracefully this elephant pursued her target. The crowns of the marijuana would swish in the area where the tiger was. It was a cat and mouse chase that did not end in our favor and as soon as the tiger appeared, it was gone.

It didn’t really come as a surprise though. The tall marijuana field was one of the ideal traits of tiger habitat, being a good cover. The dense vegetation provided good camouflage. Tigers are also often found cooling off in ponds, lakes, and rivers during the extreme heat of the day. Tigers are excellent swimmers, and can swim up to 4 miles.

My appreciation for these cats, were for the longest time non-existent. I was aware they were endangered but I never felt passionately about them. Up until that moment where I was inches away from that tiger I started my story with.

That “showoff” made me realize just how beautiful and calm these creatures could be. I could’ve been sure she looked me dead in the eye and as she did, she allowed me in that moment, to co-exist, side by side with the largest and most regal of her kind.

Observations of a rainy day

Everyone has heard of elemental empathy. We all learn about it, usually on that Monday morning of English class where we sit there and try to coerce our brains into analyzing why the thunderstorm is suddenly going to mean that Jane Eyre’s love story with Mr Rochester is about to reach its finale.

I experienced something quite different however. Sure, elemental empathy was defiantly there, it was raining, the clouds were grey, there were scarce amounts of people dotted randomly along the streets. Most of the stores were shut and the meager few that were open for business were running slow.

As I walked down the street, I initially felt so gloomy (elemental empathy kicking in), I wanted to get back home as soon as possible after running the errands I had. I walked past a few stores, and then passed a Starbucks, which got me fantasizing about a tall white chocolate frappucino. And then I realized that this weather was pefect for a coffee that exquisite. I walked out of Starbucks, my fantasy in hand, and as I sipped it, suddenly the weather seemed different. It was the same, but the sentiment now stirring within me was one of excitement and ironically warmth, although that could have been the effect of my delectable drink.

Nonetheless, with this emotion inside, I kept walking, this time, observing all that was around me. Then like a light bulb going off in my head it dawned upon me. This definitely could not be like the kind of elemental empathy motifs we study about. There, rain always symbolizes sorrow, pain, foreshadows something grave and negative.

But, here in my rainy paradise I walked at a happy pace, cantering almost like an appaloosa in a field of daisies. As I looked at the trees, I could imagine them happy, their stomata’s fully exposed, thirsting for the rain, and as the raindrops hit the pores in their leaves, them drinking it all in.

My olfactory nerve was abruptly plucked like a guitar string, and with that ‘twang’ came an array of heavenly smells, smells that I am sure were around here before, but were only prominent when seasoned with essence of rain.

I could smell apple and cherry blossoms, there was the scent of faint vanilla and Indian paintbrush flowers and when I took a closer look, these flowers were blooming more than I have ever seen them bloom before.

I imagined their velvety soft petals, with the drops of rain running down their silky exterior and thought about how the smallest, most minute elements can combine into something so resplendent.

Sure there was definitely elemental empathy over here because somehow, somewhere the sun was shining for me.