terça-feira, 15 de dezembro de 2015

Uma fábrica abandonada na estrada


Vou apagar as luzes. Deixa o sapato ali, não faz mal, contanto que se faça à dois. Ambíguo. Ora meu, ora teu. E agora mais de ninguém. Queríamos tanto conversar. mas foi na falta da necessidade de fazer-lo mesmo, que não o fizemos propriamente. O próprio. O jeito como o teu olhar fugia do meu, eu já lia tudo. Pára o mundo. Queria era escutar em bom português, queria tropeçar em um sinal de dois metros escrito "PÁRA!". Mas se fui eu mesma quem tirou o sinal dali, quem eu ia culpar? Culpa o vento. Culpa. Até chegar a uma desculpa que te apeteça a dor, a falta. Algo que ocupe o espaço de tudo isso. Um grito. Um cimento nessas paredes quebradiças, dessa fábrica esquecida na estrada. Passa gente o tempo inteiro, o dia inteiro e nem a vê. Já é noite e não há nada mais do ontem que foi nosso. 

Lembra. Te contei de tudo. Você escutou mais da metade. Li teus livros e reli tuas dores. Nunca quis flores. Senti de tudo um pouco. Medi, perdi a medida, criei calos de andar atrás de algo que me pertencesse. Atrás de algo verde. Eu desviava e você me puxava de volta para a calçada. Andei demais. Nem senti frio. Quis te dar a mão para que você não se sentisse só, não porque eu quisesse dar a mão, mas só para que você soubesse que a minha mão é uma terra gigante, que queria te receber. Acolher. Eu nunca disse não. Você, sim, tinha toda a razão. Quisemos de tudo muito pouco.

Não me odeie só por quase ter se tratado de amor. Eu sei a resposta, mas não sei como te responder. Deixa o silêncio falar sozinho, deixa o Tejo levar tudo isso embora, e lá do outro lado do Atlântico vai cair nas areias da minha praia, e vai estar tão longe de mim.

Não sinto raiva, não sinto nada. Sinto saudade, de vez em quando. Quando penso que poderia ter sido diferente. Saudade do que poderia ter sido e não foi.

Nessas de não-amor e amor eu mergulhei de peito, me deixei levar, ali mesmo aprendi a nadar. Preciso desaprender (você).

A porta está aberta, e minha janela dá para o mar.

Инфекции: прошлое, настоящее, будущее.



“Будьте виросологами, и вы без работы точно не останьтесь”, были слова голландского доктора медицинских наук, вирусолог, изучающий вирус гриппа, Альберт Остерхаус, во время своей лекции на конференции iMed в 2014 году в Лиссабоне. Сначала аудитория реагировала смехом, а сами знали что поводов смеяться нет никаких. Согласно Всемирной Организации Здравоохранения (ВОЗ) инфекционные заболевания являются причиной 12% смертей среди населения всего мира. Даже в военное время, возьмем пример второй мировой войны, люди погибают в удивительных количествах от инфекционных заболеваний, неужели во время сражений — около полмиллиона солдатов войск США заразились малярией во время второй мировой войны. Остается вопрос: кто же врач? Ответа проще не бывает: инфекционные невидимые невооруженным глазом патогены. В настояще время человечество избавилось полность от всего лишь одной инфекции: натуральная оспа. Мы создали вакцины, безусловно, но часто некоторые привывки приходятся повторять во взрослом возрасте, должность которую многие игнорируют, то из-за времени, то из-за того, что считают, что такие актуальные проблемы как туберкулеза, их не касается. Это огромная ошибка. Причем наша с Вами, а не чья-та. Проблема такова, что уже пришлось сгруппировать три инфекции под термином “социально значимые инфекции” — ВИЧ, гепатит, туберкулез. Реагировать против них профилактическими мерами бывает поздно, а на самом дело нередно задачи решения вопросов социальной значимости, как таковы, падают на плеча ученых и врачей. Единичных. Еще недавный пример: Эбола. Весь мир ждался не дождался волшебного средства от геморрагической лихорадки Эболы, а ученые с другой стороны сами не знали с чем имели дело. И до сих пор вопрос остается открытым — вот сосвем недавно узнали мы, что вирус сохраняется в сперме до 9 месяцев. Я лично вкладывала много времени говоря о геморрагической лихорадке денге, где угодно бы мне дали микрофон и где слайды показать. Каждый раз кто-то понимал руку и спрашивал: “а как лечим?” Улыбнувшаясь я отвечала каждый раз: никак, можно только верить. Привожу другие цифры, более угрожающие и чаще появляющиеся в наши с вами повседневную жизнь, если кажется что Эбола и Денге— далекая проблема от России и мы в зоне комфорта. Наступает зима и уже каждый второй наш знакомый успел переболеть гриппом. Если очень упростить, то видов вируса гриппа бывают три. Только один поражает и людей и животных, это означает что площадь для мутации — огромная. Просто представляете, что вирус мутируется в организме птицы и к нам переходит уже в незнакомой нашей иммунной системе форме. А тот уже не исправляется. Отсюда эпидемии гриппа. Это угроза всему человечеству. Так что, уделяем ли мы достаточно внимание инфекционным болезням? Передаю слово Шведской королевской академии наук. С 1901 по 2015 года присуждали 26 Нобелевских премий по медицине или физиологии ученым, посявещающим свои работы инфекционным заболеваниям и вопросами иммунологии. Последнюю премию в 2015 г., например, выдавали за работы, связанные с малярией и аскаридой. Это не только ставит вопрос инфекций в актуальность, а нас напоминает о том, что враг общий, и только единичные люди умеют с ними бороться. Мы, врачи, не компрексированные герои, мы только знаем лучше вашего соседа размер угрозы. Не зря называют Остерхауса, вирусолог, Дейвида Бекгана вирусологии — ведь же он может спасти все человечество от гриппа, пока мы с вами читаем эту статью и вирус где-то как-то мутирует.

sábado, 12 de dezembro de 2015

Sovietesque

Один из отцов церкви скакал, что мы чувствуем себя лучше в обществе знакомой собаки, чем с человеком, язык которого нам не знаком: Так что чужеземец для человека иного племени не является человеком -- Монтьень
"I've been counting how many terrorism warnings I will hear today", we were in this fancy german-like train in Moscow leaving for Vladimir. Looked anything but Russian. Not anything like the Rus', the Soviet Union, the Russian from the 90s being democracy-curious, instead it looked like the Russia trying to go a way it shouldn't go, the West.
Cathedral in Vladimir, outside view. A чужеземец and an anthropology enthusiast.
The country is so singular in so many cultural, historical and political aspects that the world has failed to understand it throughout all human history. Now there's a big terorrism awareness campaign going on, because it seems like it they scratch Russia or Russians in any way, then a war might really unleash. "If they touch this country, it will rape and destroy everything they love and have", a colleague of mine once said. You can't touch this. Napoleon and Hitler went home running with their tales between their legs. When I did think about it, I actually started counting how many times we would be warned about terrorists in public places that day. It was only 10 am and it was already 2 or 3 times. Fighting a war against ghost ideas. Ideas without a face, out of which we label a group as the doer and start planting prejudice. I had seen that before in the US, and it got so old with time, that hate agaisnt muslins just started sounding like one of those terror stories you tell children so they go to bed earlier. 
A panorama in Vladimir. Old wooden houses and Alex.
Streets of Vladimir, next to the touristic center of the city. 
This guy called Vladimir had drastically changed the course of history of Russia by choosing between judaism, christianity and islam the new, official religion of the former Empire (former, is it?). He chose christianity, the orthodox branch of it, because of their tight relations with the Byzantine Empire. It's easier to govern a monotheist nation, so Russia became officially orthodox. Cathedrals were built. The orthodox doctrine adapted to the Russian character, soul. Until the Soviets came and decided to abolish religion and make it illegal. Our anthropology enthusiast came up with the perfect term for it: sovietesque. It's a mix of soviet and grotesque, or just that feeling of completely lack of reaction whenever facing a typical Russian paradox of ideas, culture, etc. A reaction of both surprise, motionlessness, and impotence towards the course that history has already taken and the turns this country has taken that can't be untaken. It's sovietesque.
Hopefully have fully adapted to life in Russia to be able to write this article-ish. This is me wearing a платок Russian style. Behind me a famous Russian fresco painter, Andrey Rublyev.
It's this time of the year, December, that I'm awaiting by reflex for Christmas sales and decorations around the street, and still in 2016 you will see none of it. Christmas is not celebrated, in fact, it's just a working day. All its holiday-ish influence was thrown at New Year's. If you're a catholic/been raised as one, it might seem like the Grinch movie from time to time. Growing up around catholics, and exclusively around them, the notion that this was the only religion people ever followed was so embedded in my brain that I was completely deprived of the thought of knowing Jews, Muslins, Buddhists, anyone outside the Roman Catholic circle. 
Surprisingly enough we found a catholic church in Vladimir. Against all historic odds. The difference between catholics and orthodox churches jumps before your eyes. Very interesting to see the both of them in one day, from one said you have a branch of christianity that is nurturing suffering and very specific doctrines on behaviour, on the other side, the Pope's picture with a thumbs up and an organ rehearsal that takes you away even if you're the least religious person in the world.

I only had that chance when moving to Russia, I was both fascinated and intrigued, as to how do people make this work. Everything in this country is mixed. Races, religion, etc. People live in a relative state of peace, and what's more important and fascinating, there are absolutely no official religious holidays. The Soviets made their point. And that stayed around, for good or not. The city of Vladimir had reminiscences of all of the Russian history. It gives you the feeling that opening history books was a complete mistake, when it was all there to see. And if you bring this country down, you will go down together, therefore I have been completely ignoring all terrorist threats agaisnt it -- no one's crazy enough. There is no country on this Earth that has reinvented itself so many times in such short periods of time. You go ahead and destroy it, blow it up if you must, but they're remaking, reinventing it before you've turned your back. 
Western Alarm. Barber shops have reached Vladimir streets.

I have been nurturing a relation of love-hate with Russia, I've lived with them, learned their language, basically infiltrated every aspect there was to infiltrate, at least at my reach, and slowly changed into simply a relationship of respect. There's nothing monotonic, boring or uninteresting about it. The latter opinion is reserved and available only for those who have lived here. Close your history book, it's lying to you, a bit more than a 100 km from Moscow you get in contact with enough historical truths about this country that are simply not out there. I might be leaving Russia soon, and even after so many years I cannot quite figure out what's their deal, and there's an obvious answer to that: it's because it's always changing.