Right to Life with Dignity

Wrote this few years back for The News blog. Thought I would share it here. Right to Life with Dignity.

Human rights rest on human dignity. The dignity of man is an ideal worth fighting for and worth dying for. – Robert Maynard

 

My first reaction on reading above quote: *HeadScratch*. All my life I have been told I had the right to life, to healthcare, education, practicing my religion and beliefs. Therefore imagine my surprise when I find out one fine day that the first right in the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights is the right to life with dignity. What does that even mean? Dear old Google came to my help and I realized ‘Dignity’ is what everything else stems from. Dignity means knowing your worth and valuing yourself because only when we start valuing ourselves do we start asking for more and understanding our rights. Being an entrepreneur myself, the following video by Acumen Fund really struck a chord:

 

Dignity (<= is a link to the YouTube video)

 

People seek dignity, not dependence. Choice, not charity.

 

This has been a bone of contention between me and the foreign donor agencies I meet. They ask why Pakistanis hate them so much despite the aid they are sending. I say, ‘Maybe because you are throwing your aid at them from the back of trucks and enjoying seeing them make a  spectacle of themselves fighting over bags of flour and rice? It would help if you setup a proper system of distributing these goods that wouldn’t compromise their dignity.’

 

When you rip people of their self-respect you take away their most basic and vital human right. This in turn makes them hate themselves for their weakness and others for exploiting it.

 

The truth is that without dignity there can be no equality. And it begins at home. If I don’t love myself enough because of my weaknesses or failures and hence lack self-respect, I give others the power to usurp my rights. Looking down upon one’s self leads to low self-esteem which makes us doubt what we deserve allowing society or certain segments of it to take over our rights.

 

The easiest example that comes to my mind is a question that plagues the life of most women right from childhood to old age, “Am I pretty?” Think about it, look around you. You will hear mothers telling their daughters how pretty they are. Not how good, intelligent or sweet they are but how pretty they are. And when the same little girl grows up and realizes her teeth stick out, or her nose is crooked, or her chest is flat and she doesn’t come up to Hollywood’s interpretation of ‘pretty’ how does that make her feel? Crestfallen! Since the day she was born she has lived thinking being pretty was the best thing she could be and here she is all imperfect. In the process, self-esteem is what she loses. Generations of women come one after the other judging themselves on a yardstick of beauty and then cursing men for objectifying them and not looking beyond their gender or their looks. Just a word of advice for all my gender-mates – listen to this woman and follow her example:

 

This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.

“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”

 

The day we realize double standard of asking for right to practice our religion anywhere in the world when we look down upon minorities in our own country with loathing we will have a better case. The day women are well represented and at the same time do not expect quotas or ‘seats ‘ in educational institutions as a form of entitlement we know we will be making progress.

Finally the day people realize they cannot ask for a right to clean roads and public toilets while at the same time throwing garbage in front of other people’s homes instead of taking it to the dumpster they will sound more convincing. In short, we have to earn the right to ask for our rights by giving others theirs.

 

The right to life alone is not enough. Its life with dignity that we should strive and struggle for because every other right arises from awareness of our worth and respect for ourselves. I leave you with this thought:

 

Equality lies only in human moral dignity. … Let there be brothers first, then there will be brotherhood, and only then will there be a fair sharing of goods among brothers. – Fyodor Dostoevsky

 

Challenges

Short and sweet. 

Took the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Totally nailed it. Would post the video here but I haven’t completely lots it YET so I won’t. 

Was also asked to name my 10 fav books. This I can certainly share. And NO, it does not feature anything by Steve Jobs or Malcolm Gladwell or Napoleon Hill. 

1. All of Enid Blyton. Specially partial to ‘Naughtiest Girl in School’ and ‘Magic Faraway Tree’ series. Famous Five and the Seven Find-Outers are a very close second. Envied Fatty for having his own shed and all those cool disguises.
2. Harry Potter series. Had the privilege of reading the first print and also at a time when it wasn’t the craze it became later. No shame in admitting I was in college at the time and the Prisoner of Azkaban scared the hell out of me.
3. Gone with the Wind. Read the book some gazillion times and can read it another gazillion times. Totally in love with Rhett and more so with the feisty Scarlett O’Hara. Can relate to the pre-Civil War American society’s treatment of women. The sequel ‘Scarlett’ saved me from committing suicide over Rhett’s abandonment of Scarlett.
4. The Anne of Green Gables Series. The first 3 books are my fav. Still lack the courage to read beyond Anne’s House of Dreams.
5. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin.
6. Tess of the D’Urbevilles. Although if you ask me for details I may not know them. But this was when I really understood why Hardy is such a celebrated writer.
7. The Scarlet Letter by Hawthorne This hit a chord. One of the most touching, heart-rending books ever written.
8. The Book Thief. A book I read recently. It made me LOL and cry bitter tears too. I know if my grandkids take literature in college they will have this on their course.
9. A Thousand Splendid Suns. Even though Kite Runner is the more famous book, I like this much better.
10. Samarkand. Amin Maalouf is a genius.

Leaving you with some poetry by Omar Khayyam: 

Those whom we meet in churches, divinity colleges or temples
Desire heaven and fear hell;
But he who has read the secrets of the Divine,
Does not give a moment’s thought to such matters. 

OK byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The Dirty ‘F’ Word for Startups and Other Things

The Send Maria To School campaign FAILED! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee (that’s me getting excited over nothing). Couldn’t find 1250 people to donate $8. *Sob. But did find many friends who rose to the challenge and donated very generously. Still a long way from my goal so decided to return the money. 100% of those who wrote back said they wanted me to keep it and use it for WDL. How awesome is that! Here is the thing. Crowdfunding is such a cool concept and it really works. But to make it successful you need to have a team of people working with you. You will need someone to run your social media campaign, do your graphics, write emails to network, send thank you emails, send updates, put up latest info on the campaign on whatever platform you are using and so on. Plus, you need to do it from a proper platform like Kickstarter or Indiegogo or if most of your network is in the MENA or Pakistan you can try Zoomaal. With the other 2 platforms sometimes credit cards from these regions are not accepted. Zoomaal is based in MENA so it won’t give you any problem with your plastic. Also, of all the donations received the one that touched me the most is from Sidra Qasim. Sidra is the co-founder of an e-commerce startup called Markhor. Out of nowhere she sent me $50. Knowing how hard-pressed startups are for money this gesture really won me over. Thank you once again Sidra and Waqas. 

Recently made acquaintance of this really inspiring young man. Imran Ali Rajput is the founder of Inovadors, a startup aiming to ‘bridge the gap between education and employment’. This guy came out of nowhere and made it to the first ever week-long MITx Entrepreneurship Bootcamp. He is the only person to get selected from Pakistan. You can read more about it here. Unfortunately he couldn’t find any sponsors. I can’t tell you how frustrated that makes me with everything. We have tons of money to spend on stupid workshops that serve no purpose except to show donor agencies we are doing something. Even more is spent on startup competitions, that I completely endorse, but if startups like Inovadors are not finding sponsors for such huge opportunities then what exactly is the purpose of holding these events? Now he has been selected for the Web Summit in Dublin. I truly hope he finds someone to pay for him to attend. If you know someone who can help or you have any ideas please do share them. 

Above is just one example. The guy just happened to connect with me. I wonder how many others are missing out on huge opportunities just because they can’t find funding. :( 

Other than that, it’s all good. Kids have started school. THANK GOD FOR THAT. They were driving me nuts expecting me to entertain them every day. I have started drinking the yuckiest possible homemade juices. An example? Cabbage, cucumber, spinach, carrot, mango, apple, plum, beet, ginger, lemon concoction. :D Told you it was disgusting. 

The Digital League just finished working on this really cool website for a client. Check it out here. This involved a lot of sweat and blood and I am so proud of my team. I still hope for the day when I can source out such work to WDL. Any girl-coders in Pakistan out there who can deliver such work? DO get in touch. 

Have a workshop at Lahore College for Women University starting 15th September. Looking forward to that. Involves some surprise guests. Will share more later ;) This is strictly for students of the university. However, if you are interested in attending drop me an email at maria (at) womensdigitalleague (dot) com and I will see what I can do. 

Workshop with the British Council Active Citizen Program (ACP) participants at the LCWU.

Workshop with the British Council Active Citizen Program (ACP) participants at the LCWU.

Still waiting for the NGO registration to go through for WDL. Oh yeah … a Malaysian friend/client has got my Hunza team working on a data scraping project. We have 20 women engaged. It’s so awesome. Am really excited. There was definitely a learning curve there and we are still trying to figure out most efficient way of extracting data (we = client and us) but it’s really cool that the women are getting a first hand experience of how online work is actually possible. The procurement officer in Hunza tells me the women are having such a grand time they even come to work on weekends. :) :) It’s my dream to have this model replicated through out Pakistan. 

OK no more to add. Take care my lovelies. Don’t let anyone get you down. Stay away from negative people. You are wonderful as you are. 

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

 P.S. The ‘F’ word = FUNDING 

Shankay Displacement

(Inspired from real events)
As the ten hour journey came to an end, She didn’t realize this was the last time She’d be visiting her village.

It was a sad day. Her father came to pick her up from school after dropping Her there just an hour ago. That never happened. As they got in his old government owned Pajero She asked him if Grandfather was OK. Baba didn’t answer. She was right. He was no more. As saddened as She was there was also a little excitement there. Bad girl! Always thinking and doing things good girls didn’t do. There was no doubt She was going to hell but this meant going to her village.

It was a rare thing but the few times She had been there She had  loved it. Despite an urban upbringing there was a strong bond She felt with everyone there. The kids seemed to Her like Herself – wild, mischievous, loud, even a little evil.

Growing up Grandmother had told Her many stories about that wild, rough land. Of how she kept little chicks under a wicker basket to keep them safe from large scavenger birds. Of going down a big mountain to green fields along a gushing stream with her prized cow. That was where Grandmother spent most of her day talking with other village women, grazing the cow, cleaning up the little paths she had made from the stream to her field. She was lucky to witness the scene before Grandmother passed away. Her Cousinly, same age as herself, expertly carried a jug of buttermilk in her hand and a basket of cornbread over her head as She towed behind. How envious She was of Cousin. She half-hoped the buttermilk would spill or the basket slip from her head. Which never happened. Many years later, when they were both expecting babies at the same time Cousin died in her first trimester. The baby had died inside her without her realizing it. Could it be that Her wish had come true after so many years later? The perfect Cousin had made the mistake She had been waiting for?

Sitting there in that field, nothing had tasted better. Grandmother sat erect much like the Native Americans She had seen in movies with a few of her many tiny braids hanging out from her chador. Being the village chief’s wife all the other women treated her like royalty.

Today as they walked from the market, which was where the road ended, down the narrow path through mountains and villages with curious children and huge angry dogs She expected the same. Women grabbing her and giving her huge busty hugs and sloppy kisses while the men ignored with all the manliness they could muster. But no, this was definitely different.

Grandmother was never one to show emotions. Today she sat in a corner surrounded by other women as usual but something was unusual. She had some emotion that was hard to describe. Pain? Anger? Pride? Sorrow? Fear? She never expected to see Grandmother crying. Oh no. A woman didn’t cry over their husband’s death. It meant she loved him. This made for a lot of gossip. Was he loving and caring? That wasn’t very manly. But could Grandmother be crying without shedding any tears?

This was Her first funeral. Oddly She didn’t feel anything. Until then. As She sat with her back against the wall hiding from all those gathered in the biggest opening in the village, a queue of men started passing before Her. Tall men, stocky men, young men, old men. All with hard, weather-worn faces. Faces that had seen hardships beyond their years. Roughened by every day struggle to live in a ruthless land where there was no room for a gentle soul. But beyond those fierce tribal facades were many concealed moments of kindness. The world would never know about those moments. She saw them file past Her towards the middle of the opening where Grandfather lay on a high bed all wrapped in white. She couldn’t see his face from where She was. Hadn’t seen his face since they brought him to the village from Dera. Those proud men paid their respects one by one to the tribal chief and moved along to take their place on the stones with the other men. Fascinating!
That’s when Her uncle announced they were taking Grandfather’s body for burial and the women could have one last look. Curiosity made Her inch closer. That’s when She saw him. She didn’t know what She expected to see but this was strange. First time She was seeing Grandfather without his big, beige turban in public. He looked so vulnerable. Walking away as fast as She could warm liquid running down her face the voices of women crying and men chanting the Kalmah would forever change the way She looked at Her life. Pain would subside because the wounds would heal. Those were wounds to the body, not to the soul. That was a body being carried away. Grandfather was elsewhere smiling his amused smile with his piercingly intelligent eyes waiting for the right moment to tickle with his big hard fingers that hurt more than made Her laugh.

No one ate that day. Big cauldrons of food were made for the people who had come to pay respects. Different beans all cooked together. Later she saw the food carried away by the strong current of the stream. No one in Father’s village ever ate funeral food. Found it repulsive. She and Sister didn’t touch it either though they didn’t know the oddity. Genetics!

Later that day, Cousin and other children from the village went to gather “shankay”. She was charmed! What was “shankay”? Cousin just grinned and told Her to come along and find out for Herself. This was a different path from the usual one they took to go to the fields, stream or even to the other villages that they dared each other to go to. It was different. Rocky and barren as most of her village but with a bluish hue and some vegetation. This was where shepherds brought their cattle to graze. This was Her favorite part – discovering what She called a mountain on a mountain. Her village was on top of a mountain but She knew that there were other mountains surrounding the area. Here She was at the foot of one of the largest She had seen yet. And it was blue. A deep, serious blue – not one of those cheerful hues. On closer inspection, small crush-like stones were found to be the reason for the color. This was shankay – small blue stones people used to decorate graves with. Cousin was happy to see Her surprise. Cousin was like that. She liked showing Her new things and was delighted when the right amount of curiosity and excitement were shown. Does the mountain feel happy it gives a part of itself to decorate a grave? Or does it find it morbid? How would I feel if someone thought my hair pretty and took away locks to lay on a dear one’s grave? Is that why bits of me were taken away so they could make their ugly souls look pretty even if for just a while? She collected the stones because She couldn’t let Cousin take all the credit for making the grave pretty. Cousin had already started making a flag from rags to put on it.

Death should be mourned more. Isn’t that how it’s shown on TV and in books? But as the kids returned to the village and headed towards the graveyard, She saw women sitting by the graves chatting amongst themselves. There was nothing tragic. No tears. Just life going on. Grandfather’s newly dug grave was easy to find. She never knew he was this tall. They must have made the grave bigger by mistake. Here in the late afternoon breeze with the women’s silent murmuring and chuckles, running around of the children with slingshots around their necks, the chatter of tweens like herself as they spread shankay on the grave, Death was a friend and not the scary monster it was made out to be. Life and Death. Death and Life. Just a Dream separating the two. Both cruel. Both kind. Both divine.

Granduncle’s room with the tin roof shaded by pomegranate trees. Mud stoves and log fire. Enchanting rooms with poles smack-dab in the middle going up a hole in the roof for keeping night watches. Prized walnut trees. Ancestors. Roots. Simplicity. All dead. Displaced. And in Her mind She has covered it all with shankay.

Negativity – Let It Go

People will bring you down no matter what you do. There will always be something you didn’t do right. Something someone thinks you or they could have done differently. A dear friend was telling me just today about how social entrepreneurs will forever face the dilemma of going with fulfilling their dream and getting rewarded with immense personal gratification, and following the set rule of success and measuring it in terms of money.

“What is your revenue?”

“How many people do you employ?”

“How come you don’t even have an office?”

So many questions. So many DUMB questions to put to someone working to bring a sustainable social change. Foolish questions to ask a social entrepreneur spending every minute of his/her life envisioning and working for a social revolution that will make lives better and not just bring in VCs. Makes me question the person’s knowledge of what a socent actually is.

Then there are those saying they would do it differently. My question to them; Why don’t you? I don’t own copyrights to running digital livelihood workshops and connecting people to work. Fast rewind to my first blog posts. I have said it time and time again I am not one to get scared of challenges. And no one can stop me from doing something I truly believe in. Everyone I went to with the idea for WDL said NO. They said it was impossible. So here I am doing it myself. My journey has been no secret. It’s all here on this very blog. Been saying if I couldn’t make it happen it was OK. Maybe someone will pick it up from where I leave (which would only be when I die or someone actually makes my dream a reality) and take it to the next step.

My “marketing tactics” have been questioned. Something about how I am cashing in on being from South Waziristan and a woman and a Pakistani and working for digital livelihood and using that as leverage to get attention. Can I help being in a unique position? All of that is true but just how many times have I pitched myself as a poor lil helpless D.I.D. running away from my oppressed past? Or plastered black, yellow, brown, orange faces with myself patronizing them? People find out from word of mouth about WDL and they are curious and then they want to tell the world about it. Am I supposed to say “No” to them just because I make some people uncomfortable and insecure? So if Pakistan has a dormant workforce and faces challenges in working I am not supposed to highlight it? Puhleaze! On the contrary to what some excuse me of I am telling the world we have a LARGE UNTAPPED EDUCATED SKILLED workforce and all it lacks is opportunity. Millions of little girls are denied and education but MILLIONS do go to school and college and universities. Pushtun women have perhaps a harder time especially those from Waziristan and rest of FATA but we are NOT the oppressed, illiterate lot the World wants us to be or knows us to be. I am one example of the women who came forward and said HELL WITH ALL YOUR MEDIA-FED PERCEPTION. I am as Pakistani, as Waziristani, as it gets. I am a woman. I have an education. I am doing tech. Our fathers and brothers and husbands are NOT the cruel savages they are made out to be. There are many more like me … many MUCH MORE intelligent, educated, empowered then me. Stop stereotyping me.

So how the hell am I using any marketing tactic here? I don’t remember even referring to my tribal background ever in any interview. I am taking a social media detox for this reason. I am so sick and tired of all the negativity. Always under a microscope being judged for every word that I tweet or put up on FB. This is precisely why I don’t talk about work on social media and blog as little as possible. This constant scrutiny. It’s like I can never do anything right. Now I know the moment you read this post you will be like oh she is aiming for sympathy/empathy. UGH! I wish I could say I don’t give a crap. But I do. I mean not enough to stop being me. But enough to want to go get a sugar high and then hate myself for it.

In other happier news, had a great 3 days in Islamabad with the familia and friends. Miss this city. Just being able to walk from Shaheen Chemist to Kohsar Market to sit in GJC for a smoothie and then walking down to Kuch Khaas which is my “safe spot”. Off to Lahore tomorrow via train. Sighhh … I am not liking the place so far but having a house in the most green area in the city helps a lot.

OK Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

P.S. Aerosmith’s Angel is still goosebump inducing.
P.P.S. Goosebumps remind me … I had the BIGGEST HUGEST BUMPIEST goosebumps listening to Samina Baig and her brother Mirza Baig. Pakistan’s first mountaineer sibling duo from Hunza climbed 7 peaks in 7 continents including the highest, Mount Everest. Oppressed women? OH SHUT UP ALREADY!
Samina Baig and Mirza Baig

Long Overdue

For those confused about how to contribute to my b school campaign, here is link to my FB page: https://www.facebook.com/MariaGoesToSchool THANKS!

 

Dubai was awesome.

No, let me rephrase that.

ASHOKA was AWESOME.

Gosh … who would have thought I would make it to Ashoka! For those of you who don’t understand what the big deal is it’s the OSCARS of social entrepreneurs. That’s what I told my sister since my family still don’t understand what I do but in retrospect it was very apt. The ladies were ah-mazing.

Ashoka Everyone                                             Ashoka award

 

You will need YouTube to view this video. Or if you are in a country blocking the service you can use a proxy. I use 12345proxy.com *evilgrin*

Have been invited by a v prestigious b school to apply for their leadership course. You have no idea how big of a thrill it is. Just having your application considered by them is a huge deal never mind getting an actual invitation from them. Now if only I had the money. Do you think if I start a Crowdfunding campaign you’d all pitch in? Tuition fee alone is like 12,000 euros but got good chances of getting a sponsor. Travel is the actual problem. Need about $10,000. That’s like 10,000 people contributing a dollar each. Or 5000 people pitching in $2 each. or 2500 people giving $4/ea. Or 1250 people giving me $8/ea. That should be doable, no? I am serious guys. if you want to help, pledge $8 below and send me an email at maria@womensdigitalleague.com. Let’s see if I can get 1250 people to give me $8/ea. :D

Had to send my college/university degree to my business partner cum mentor. Since I didn’t have the degree on me I ended up sending the DMC (Detailed Marks Certificate). And GAWD it was so embarrassing. :D :D I was a topper in my own college but those marks are anything but topper material. :D

Few months back met this American guy who has been living in Pakistan for last 10 years or more. Runs a disaster relief organization by the name of Comprehensive Disaster Response Service (CDRS). Goes around the world helping people during times of … you guessed it … disaster. Has a strong passion for rock music. Is usually spotted wearing one of his many Pink Floyd shirts.

Todd Shea in Pink Floyd

Imagine an American walking around Swat or Buner or Bannu. Yes, guys. BANNU. The dude is absolutely crazy. At the mo, he is in Bannu at ground zero with the IDPs from North Waziristan. CRAZY!

Todd Shea - Crazy Americano in Bannu

Reason why I am sharing all this is because my peeps, things are really bad for these IDPs. He is collecting funds especially for the local hospital. Am sharing a photograph he put on FB along with an appeal for donations. If you click on the image it will take you to his post where you can connect with him to learn more and donate. Honestly, if this doesn’t move you, I don’t know what will. Please contribute what you can?

Todd Shea - Hospital - postnatal care - bannu

 

OK my lovelies, me outta here. But here is a recap of all of above:

  1. I am an Ashoka Changemaker which means I am cool and you are not. Deal with it.
  2. Scratch last bit of above. You are all awesome. Please give me $8 and spread word (I am serious about this) so I can attend the b school.
  3. People are dying. Please donate what you can.

OK byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Polio / Popularity / Poverty

Have you heard of the WHO sanction on Pakistanis traveling abroad? Because we have been unable to curb the polio virus so whenever we travel abroad we need to show a certificate saying we had been vaccinated. So I went to get my polio certificate. Didn’t take copy of my passport. Had to go out and find a scanner. Got the copy. Went back to the vaccination “cell” (what else do you call a 4X4 room?). Had to wait outside with some 50 other people because they were “fixing something” in the office. Half an hour later, I am ushered in. I asked if I could have a selfie taken while getting the drops. Request denied. They said it would end up on social media and media has been a huge problem these days. So. NO! Alrighty! Get the drops. They taste horrible. Then I am told to come back 3 hours later. Huh? WHY? Because the department head who has to sign the certificate has gone to his children’s school and won’t be back for a few hours. *facepalm*

Polio Vaccination at Airports

Polio Vaccination at Airports

Anyway … so am traveling to Dubai soon for an Ashoka Changemakers Conference. This is for the Women Powering Work competition where I won the Early Entry prize. There is no love lost between Dubai and me. Hate the city. Strangely enough, I quite liked the neighboring Abu Dhabi. But Dubai is racist. You can feel the vibe. The sheikhs looking down on you. Even the shopkeepers and hotel receptionists. Abu Dhabi in comparison was pretty friendly. But a free trip to meet Ashoka reps is always something to be mega excited about. No more whining.

Had a wonderful Orientation session at Pakistan’s oldest women college, Lahore College for Women University. Am conducting digital livelihood workshops next week for the British Council “Active Citizen Program” students and the college management felt it was important to have an intro. Girls seemed to enjoy it and had lots of questions to ask which is always a good sign. I think what they liked and related to most was the case studies I gave them of various women who were working online doing different kinds of work. For that I am ever grateful to Salma Jafri, Haleema Mohammad and Ambreen Tariq. These ladies answered the long list of questions I sent them and even went on to share their monthly earnings with us ;) Now I just feel poor. :D

Best part was the girls lining up to have their photographs with me. I felt so important. haha Will post pictures when I have them.

So what’s new with you guys / girls? Everyone is always so quiet. Say something. Add a comment. I love to hear from everyone.

OK Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee