Every woman was wearing a hijab. From where I stood, looking down Karl-Marx-Straße, maybe one or two were bare-headed. On my right, I could hear Turkish. On my left, Arabic. I had to remind myself this was the heart of Central Europe, not the Middle East. (More…)
The flyers were everywhere. Posted to the walls of buildings throughout San Salvario, they described the death of a 19-year-old Arab woman, who was being chased by the immigration place. (More…)
Nothing will stop Matteo Salvini. That is, if you read the European press, which, day in and day out, cites the Italian deputy premier’s high polling numbers. And, if they feel like adding insult to injury, his number of social media followers, too. Nevermind the veracity of his polling data, especially given the fact that reports have repeatedly indicated he buys social media followers. (More…)
I’ve always had an eye for the elderly. Part of the reason is because I had older parents than most persons of my generation. My mother gave birth to me at the age of 42, which, though not uncommon today, was extremely rare in 1967. My father, four years her senior, was 46. (More…)
I nearly tripped. Opening the door to leave for work, I accidentally stomped on a man’s chest. Sheltering in our doorway, he was laying on his back. Carrying my bike and my messenger bag on my shoulder, the impact of my weight must have been painful. He screamed so loudly, everyone on our block must have heard him. (More…)
Her eyes were filled with fear, and her breath reeked of alcohol. “Andare, andare,” the activist yelled, telling me to leave. Unable to figure out why I shrugged my shoulders out of surprise. I was on her side, after all. “Your camera,” she replied, touching my Pentax. “Go.” (More…)
Few foreign leaders receive more attention from Berliners than Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. A frequent visitor to Germany, Erdogan is routinely greeted by several weeks worth of political flyers and graffiti, disparaging his authoritarianism, and mistreatment of the Kurds. (More…)
Few cities are as hyped for their cosmopolitanism more than Berlin. Home to a bewildering array of nationalities, it caters to fantasies of a fully globalised space that could be designated capital of a world without borders. (More…)
The racists have it wrong. The invading hordes of migrants are neither Arab nor Muslim. The majority, in the two cities I work, Berlin and Turin, are African. Black African that is, many speaking indigenous languages, if not French or English. If they’re religious, generally the choice of faith is Evangelical Protestantism, not jihadist Islam. (More…)
Oren was frustrated. “You always end up living with jihadists,” he said. “Wherever you move in Europe, it’s always the same.” While I wouldn’t have chosen the J-word, he wasn’t entirely wrong. I’d made a habit of living in Muslim-heavy neighbourhoods in Milan and Berlin. (More…)
It’s hard to get the world interested in the realities of the war in eastern Ukraine. Frankly, it’s boring. (More…)
I’m standing outside in the rain. Not the savage sort we usually see during our summer Monsoon season here in the Sonoran Desert, but an impossible soft mist. There’s just enough of a breeze to set our wind chimes in motion, creating a soundscape that implores me to be completely in the moment. I hear myself saying, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighbourhood.” (More…)