Sunday, July 19, 2009

Cade of the Week

Cade at work. This is a Cade photo-op from March.



All jokes about Cade's proud papa resembling Devo are unnecessary; I have made them.

To Jeff (Cade's dad): I know you don't read this blog, but I think you're an awesome dad and Cade's a lucky little dude to have found you and Colleen.

Today I learned that I passed my comprehensive exams at Hopkins. In other words: I will graduate. THANK GOD.

xo,

Shannon


Friday, July 17, 2009

Work

Get a close look. Get real close. Press your face to the computer screen. Imagine that all of those million maggots are squiggling around each other. The make a squirming noise that you can hear from 5-ft. away.

They're squiggling around each other in this latrine. The only latrine for shared by several hundred children.
Before seeing the latrine, I asked the head teacher what he meant when he said, "Children are afraid to use the latrine."

"You will see soon," he said. "Soon, you'll understand."

Now, I do.

Shannon

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Photo from Madagascar

I never got a chance to post these photos from Antananarivo, Madagascar. It's the view from my hotel room, at sunset.



It didn't know it was so beautiful either. Up close it's a different story, but I won't dwell on that.

xo,

Shannon

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Cade of the Week

Cade's belly jiggles when he giggles. Cade and me just before I came here ...

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

A very bad day for a certain lioness

For the past few days, I have debated about posting this story. I'm concerned that it may throw my parents (and maybe Alex) into cardiac arrest. But a former professor, Walt Harrington, recommended I put it up. As for my parents, he said, "they've had several years to get over the shock" of having me as a child.

So here it is.

-----

"Today was a very bad day for a certain lioness at the Lake Nakuru National Park in Kenya. It started before sunrise. She was minding her own business, roaming around the plains when she realized she was outside the boundaries of the protected national park. And not only was she outside the protected area, she was also in a village full of waking villagers and – it gets worse – she was being chased by two “eager” male lions.

The fact that two lions and one lioness were wandering around their village made this a very very bad morning for the villagers, who are mostly park rangers and their relatives. One man in particular was in for a bad surprise. As he left his dung hut en route to the outhouse, he noticed that the local baboons were screeching and howling more than usual. “What could their problem be?” he thought as he sat down to “take a long call” (a Kenyan phrase for taking a dump). Then he heard the roar. His “long call” lasted much longer than most. He stayed in the toilet- in safety- until after sunrise.

The fact that two lions, one lioness and a lot of frightened villagers were meandering around the “safe zone” of Lake Nakuru National Park made this is very very very bad morning for a certain overly-eager American tourist, who we will call Shannon. Shannon arrived at the park with friends to watch the sunrise. As the truck of tourists (including Shannon) pulled up to the park’s entrance, Shannon’s boss went inside a brick building to pay admission. Shannon bolted from the truck, ran up to a supposedly electrical fence and began taking pictures of the sun rising over the hills. She took this picture.

(Insert sunrise photo here)

Here’s the supposedly electrical fence:

(Insert fence photo here)

“This is beautiful,” Shannon said, reminiscing about the last time she had been on a safari in Kenya. Shannon was totally lost in the moment when she saw something yellowish in the grass, less than 60 yards to her left.

By now, Shannon’s friend Robert was in earshot.

“Robert,” Shannon said, bewildered. “That’s a lion.”

“No it’s not,” he replied with the authority that springs from spending a day – in this case, the prior day – in the park without Shannon. “That’s a baboon.”

The lion jogged closer.

“Robert, that’s a lion,” she said, noticing that the fence did not have that buzzing noise that electrical fences have.

Then the lion started to grunt, a deep powerful grunt that should only be heard in National Geographic movies. Suddenly the car seemed unbelievably far away. The lion, actually lioness, seemed very close. She continued trotting toward Robert and Shannon. “OH MY GOD,” Shannon whispered. “IT’S ON THIS SIDE OF THE FENCE.”

***

They say in books that humans react with fight or flight. I always thought I would be one to fight. I also always thought that when the moment came, I would be facing someone or something that was somehow beneath me on the food chain.

In this case, I ran. I ran into the car so fast that I banged the left and right sides of my head. While running toward the car, I said, “THAT IS A FUCKING LION. GET IN THE FUCKING CAR. GET IN THE CAR.”

Robert ran in. By now the Kenyan driver, who was having a cigarette near the admission counter saw what was happening. He ran toward the car and said, “Get in the car. Get in the car. This is not safe.”

Was the last sentence really necessary?

The lioness coming toward us was being followed by a jeep. She was in some type of peripheral fencing that had been erected between the village and the game reserve. This peripheral fence had a 5-foot high non-electrical, metal fence. It resembled chicken-wire.

As the jeep drove behind the lioness, she was being pinned into a corner of the chicken-wire fence and the non-electrified 6-ft. fence bordering the game reserve. She had a choice. She could hop over one side of the fence and continue toward us. Or she could jump another side of a fence and return to the park. She jumped into the park.

Good choice for us. Bad choice for her.

On the other side of the fence were more than 50 water buffalo. Water buffalo look like the dumbest, most aesthetically-unfortunate animals on the Savanna. They have permanently out-of-style hairdos to top boxy, cow-like physiques. They’re often seen licking snot from their noses. Their appearance belies their ability. This morning when a lioness entered their territory, they sent an unheard signal to as many as 100 water buffalo in earshot and together roughly 150 water buffalo began to gore and trample the lioness. They pushed her down. Dug their curling horns into her. Kicked her with their hooves. They had no intention of eating her (they’re vegetarians). But they wanted to make a point. “You and your lion buddies think you own the world. We think otherwise.” Her lion buddies – the ones who were so intent on wooing her earlier that morning – were nowhere to be seen.

The park rangers watched in saddened dismay. There are very few lions in reserves nowadays. To lose a lioness is a tragedy.

The tourists watched in shocked disbelief. In a span of about ten seconds, they had expelled a lifetime of adrenaline.

“Oh my Gawd,” Robert said, watching the herd (about 200 yards away) kick up dust and throw the lioness's body through the air. Robert was now back out of the car, near the good-for-nothing fence. “It’s the circle of life.”

I wizened up. I was not going to stand near fences any longer. I was going to stand near him:

(Insert photo of ranger with gun)

This ranger told me the story of the morning. The man. The toilet. The baboons. The two lions. The one lioness. The fact that his gun was loaded and the more important fact that he knew how to shoot it.

“The buffalo will kill her,” he said, shaking his head and lamenting the point. “We will send a car to try to get the buffalo to stop trampling her.”

“Does this happen often?” I asked. “Do lions routinely break into your village?”

“This has never happened - not once in the history of the park,” he said.

“And when did the park open?” I asked, expected him to say, “2008.”

“1968,” he said.

“…”

“Nothing like this ever since 1968,” he repeated, slowly, watching the buffalo pummel the lioness.

I stepped back and looked at him incredulously. Then I exploded.

“ARE YOU TELLING MY THAT YOU HAVE NEVER – NOT EVEN ONCE – HAD LIONS IN YOUR VILLAGE? THAT YOU HAVE NEVER HAD LIONS OUTSIDE THE FENCE? AND ON THE ONE MORNING WHEN I ARRIVE IN KENYA AND I STEP OUT OF THAT TRUCK FOR 25 SECONDS THAT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME A LIONESS IS ON THIS SIDE OF THAT FENCE?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing. “That’s it. Jambo.”

I shook my head, smiled and fell into a shocked daze.

Moments passed in silence.

Then, suddenly, to the surprise of everyone (water buffalo, villagers, rangers and tourists), the lioness stood up, bared her teeth, growled and ran away.

Jambo, or “welcome,” from Kenya,

Shannon

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Поздравляю вас!

Many of my (daring, quick-witted, clever) friends are sticking it out in journalism.

Why?

Because they like throwing manners to the wind. Because they're excellent at eavesdropping. Because they're great writers- particularly while on deadline.

And because when you're a journalist, you get to raid Moscow casinos in the middle of the night and tell the world about it.

Way to go Ana. Chapeau.

We've come a long way since Urbana-Champaign.

With deep admiration,

Shannon

Monday, June 29, 2009

blunders

I tend to mess up words. Like when an incorrect word or phrase gets stuck in my head, it's there indefinitely. Today I discovered a new mistake I've been making for ~10 years.

But first some background on my mistakes. For example, I consistently misidentify figs and dates. I tell everyone I lived next to a date tree in Jordan. I'm pretty sure it was a fig tree. Or maybe it was a date tree. I have no idea. Ask Alex.

Another example: The phrases "rubbing off" and "wearing off" -- total effin mystery to me which is which. I am always offending Alex by telling people his little quirks are rubbing/wearing off on me. He corrects me and I say, "Right Babe. Got it." Then I make the mistake again.

Other botched phrases:

"He's a dyed in the wool XYZ." I have been known to say, "He's a dyed in that lamb ...er ... whatever XYZ."

"That's your ace in the hole." I tend to revert to, "That's that card in the thing."

There's some phrase about spades. I never get it right. There's another one about throwing dead cats at something and hitting an XYZ (or maybe not hitting an XYZ?). I don't even attempt that any longer. Too potentially offensive.

But my classic Shannon mistakes are the ones I make in foreign languages. Those mistakes are infinite and oftentimes unrecognized by me. The list grows daily.

For instance, the English expression, "It's not the end of the world" does NOT translate into French. If you say, "Ce n'est pas de fin du monde" everyone will think you are some type of heretic who insists on bringing up Armageddon. Not cool.

Today, I learned my latest lifelong mistake. It's almost too random to be funny. For some reason, my whole life I have thought that the French word for "spider" was "cendrillon". I don't know why. In Madagascar - a francophone country - there are many spiders. Big cendrillons. Little cendrillons. The problem is, cendrillon does NOT means spider. It means... CINDERELLA. As in, THE DISNEY PRINCESS. How the hell did I get a Disney character and an insect mixed up? No idea. But I have pointed out Cinderellas to taxi drivers, colleagues and tour guides. Never - not even once - did anyone say, "Yo Shannon, you keep calling spiders Cinderellas. WTF?" I only learned because when I turned on the TV tonight, "CENDRILLON" (as in, the Princess) popped on the screen singing with her animal friends.

The French word for spider? I have no idea. No point learning it. Because no matter how many times someone drills it into my head, I will call the next French spider I see Cinderella. Only this time, I'll know why everyone's laughing.

xo

Shannon

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Cade of the Week- Summertime Cade

I'm a little overwhelmend sometimes by how adorable my Godson is:

I can't wait to take you on adventures all around the world Little Buddy!

xoxo!

Auntie Shannon

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Lemurs

Before the internet cuts, I want to show some photos of Madagascar's most famous furry residents, "les lemuriens":

This is the lemur I wanted to take home for my brother. I named him Bob:

Bob and friends:

On the lookout, Bob wants bananas:

These are really little lemurs- distant cousins of Bob. There are roughly 54 different types of lemurs in Madagascar.

This is where things get a little funny. Here is Robert, my colleague and travel buddy:

Robert is very comfortable around lemurs. In fact, Robert with lemurs on his back is the happiest version of Robert I've ever seen. Here is Robert with a lemur I will call Rico. Rico and Robert bonded for about a half an hour while we walked around the forest.

Here is me with Rico's buddy. We'll call her Rockette. Rockette decided that she should jump on my face and begin pawing me with her squishy little fingers. At around this time (when Rockette began nibbling my hair and earlobes), I started thinking, "I really really really wish I got that rabies vaccine."

There are many embarrassing photos of Rockette and her best buddy double-teaming me. But this is a PG-rated blog (for Cade). So I'll keep it clean.


Here are some really shy lemurs that- to my delight - don't like to jump on your face.

This lemur is named Caramel. Caramel and Robert shared a heart-to-heart. Caramel talked about how hard it was for him to survive the cyclone of 2007. He came to this forest alone, stranded, girlfriendless. There are no lemurs like him in his new forest, but he's happy enough that he has stayed for the past few years.

These are the "show-off" lemurs that tried to interrupt Robert and Caramel's bonding moment:

These lemurs are also jumpers. But they don't lick, so it was a welcome visit:

This is one of our guides, who bears an uncanny resemblance to a certain American politician:
Beyond being funny little animals, there's something striking about lemurs. Especially when the leap through the air or seem to get caught up in a deep thought:
The end!
xo!
Shannon

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

First Week in Madagascar

Hello Everyone! I can't write much because I'm using a bad connection. I'm in Madagascar for the next few weeks. Hope to post more photos soon. First impressions: beautiful landscape, good food, friendly people, funky language. Remarkably easier to travel as an American under the new president.
Below is the view from the plane as we were flying to the capital, Antananrivo.

Kids- the best part of any country

Lots of rice paddies
Clay earth and blue mountains.

More on what I'm doing here later. I'm working. I swear.

On Friday, I'm going with Robert (a colleague here and classmate at Hopkins) to Andasibe-Mantadia National Park. Our goal: to find a lemur for my brother.

Shannon (possibly like the luckiest girl in the world)

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Cade of the Week

Poolside Cade, his first vacation.

Thursday, I took a comprehensive exam. The exam started at 8 am and ended at 6 pm. By 7:00 pm, I was well on my way to consuming my weight in alcohol. Classes at Hopkins are officially finished. I'm off to Madagascar to conduct research next week.

:)

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Photo of the week

Cade, lounging.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

Doctor visits

Because the Hopkins student insurance covers 100% of the cost of doctor visits, I have made 2009 the year of squeezing in visits.

GP visit.
Pathology lab.
Radiology visit.
Ob/Gyn visit.
Pathology lab.
Ob/Gyn visit #2.
Pathology lab.
Eye doctor visit.

The funny thing is, as a public health student, doctors treat me as though I should know various scientific terms.

Or I should want to see the instruments they're using to probe me.

During a recent cervical exam I had to prop myself onto my elbows, look over my legs (which were in stirrups) and tell the doctor, "Doc, I can see how it would make sense for me to be interested in learning about your devices and your stretching and probing mechanisms. But I'm public health. I'm into, like, germs and disease. Epidemiology. Hand washing makes me happy. But if you show me the scraping thing again I will keel over and die."

The doctor peeked his head around my legs.

"Oh, of course."

A nurse was also in the room, standing behind the doctor. She looked at me, gave a 100-watt smile and winked.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Cade of the week

Cade in the sink.

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Baltimore, a resource-poor city

Today, we have no water. Not even a trickle. Alex called the water utility company and a woman politely informed us that they have no idea when the water will be turned back on in our neighborhood.

It's just like being back in the deserts of southern Jordan, only in Baltimore we have more robberies, rapes, guns and drugs.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Term 4

I wish I had more time to write about the characters running around Hopkins.

***
Funny e-mail correspondence of the day:
I received a one-line message from a Hopkins friend and loyal reader of this blog.
E-mail headline: Dr. Diarrhea
E-mail text: First slide in Sack's Class THINK DIARRHEA

My response: oh my god. it actually said that? in bold?i think im going to fall off my chair

Her response: and then he showed a picture of someone running to the bathroom

Ah, Dr. Diarrhea!

***
Also today, my (new) biostatistics professor made a particularly funny joke. Let me preface this by saying that while I am taking biostatistics this term, I am not masochistic; this stats class is much easier and it includes a new professor. The professor's motto: "Pay the fee, get the B." I'll take it.

So the prof (who took many opportunities to make fun of our previous stats professors) informed us that we would not need to complete "problem sets" and we would not be doing "extra self-evaluations" as we have in past terms.

"The last few terms they had you doing, what was it, 'self-evaluation problems?" the professor said, with a fair dose of mockery. "I'm not into 'self-evaluation' of this kind. Here, we 'self-evaluate' by looking in the mirror and saying How you doin'? "

Today, I'm doing just fine.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

My open letter to Baltimore Mayor, Sheila Dixon

Dear Mayor Dixon,

I want to begin by saying that I believe Baltimore is a beautiful, vibrant city. I have enjoyed my time in Baltimore - the music festivals, the world-class museums, the parades - and I feel fortunate to be a member of the Hopkins community and the broader Baltimore community.

Unfortunately, though, I am writing to say that I have never felt as unsafe, anywhere, in any city, as I feel in Baltimore (and I am a Chicago native who has spent the past few years working in the Middle East).

When I first came to Baltimore in June 2008, I planned to move to Charles Village. The day my real estate broker was showing me the neighborhood, we witnessed a shooting. As two men lay bleeding on the sidewalk outside a dry cleaners (less than a block from a college campus), I decided to apartment hunt elsewhere. I ended up in Mt. Vernon. Here in Mt. Vernon, we have a serial rapist who has been preying on women like me since last Fall. In December, a man was shot in the face three blocks south of my apartment. Over the weekend, someone took a sawzall to my 1998 truck and sold pieces of my car for scrap. Now- on top of feeling unsafe- I have lost roughly $1,000 in the form of a catalytic converter.

I want to love Baltimore. I want to feel safe. I want to be a part of what makes this city great. I am an optimist.

But I'm embarrassed to bring my mother here. Embarrassed because she is convinced Baltimore is unsafe and every time I tell her - "Really, Mom it's a great place"- another Hopkins student gets mugged at gunpoint ... another alcoholic is passed out on my stoop ... another drug addict is urinating on a tree on my street ... another man has decided to "expose" himself to my fellow female colleagues on a bus. These are real incidents that have occurred since August.

I don't know if you personally read your e-mails Mayor Dixon, but if you do, please know that this Balitmore resident believes that crime is the most pressing issue in your city. The lack of officers on foot patrol, the lack of oversight of criminal activity and the lack of legislation blocking thieves from re-selling ripped off car parts.

I am saddened to be writing this letter.

Sincerely,

Shannon McMahon
Mt. Vernon Resident

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Hopkins Cade

Collegiate Cade:


Cade's baptism was a few weeks ago. Before leaving for Illinois, I grabbed coffee with my friends Laura, Vanessa and Maria. There was a present on the table.

"Here you go," Laura said, smiling. "It's for Cade!"

"For Cade?" I said. "What did he do?"

"He's getting baptized so we got him a present," she said.

"Oh that's so nice of you guys!" I said, looking at the blue and yellow gift wrap. "Do you mind if I open it when I'm with him?"

(insert look of dismay from friends)

"Uh, it's not for you. It's for Cade," Laura said, with a hint of how-many-times-do-I-have-explain-this in her voice.

"Oh, um, right," I said, waiting for them to smile and say But we realize he is three months old and cant actually open things.

"And he may want to just eat it, FYI," Vanessa said.

Cade loved the gift. He kicked itthe gift, played with the crinkling paper and then we dressed him in his newest Hopkins outfit.

Thanks to Laura, Maria and Vanessa. xo from Cade







Music blends

I nearly never recommend music, but this CD is incredible. Remixed Neil Young, Paul Simon, Nick Drake, Feist. I can't stop listening. I'm finally on Spring Break. Between that and the end of biostats ... I'm in heaven.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Newsosaursus Ex

The other day, my dear friend Ramona asked me about my dream job. Usually this sparks a lively conversation. Instead I got teary.

"I have lots of dream jobs, " I said to Ramona, "but my real dream job - the one I actually feel in my dreams - doesn't exist, or at least it won't for very long. (pause, insert dramatic tears here) I wanted to be a great reporter. To spend my life at a newspaper. To cover great stories, meet great people, see the world."

Ramona got nervous and asked, "So why don't you do that?"

Because today being in the news biz is akin to being in the buggy biz when cars came along. It just doesn't work.

I read this article in the New York Times today and couldn't help but feel like a great, beautiful thing - newspaper journalism - is dying.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/03/12/business/20090312-papers-graphic.html

Thankfully, this public health gig- the thing Hopkins calls "saving lives millions at a time" - is also a beautiful thing. But sometimes I wish I was born a few generations ago to enjoy the heyday of papers.