XUNICEF News and Views

Photo caption: My house in little Italy: 3rd from the right On a sparkling, sunny morning I landed in Baltimore, Maryland. In 2004, my twelve years of UNICEF work came to an end (post abolishment). I did apply within the agency, wasn’t successful. I meant to be somewhere else, I guessed. I was offered a job to head an HIV/AIDS project at the Johns Hopkins University/CCP in Baltimore, USA. We operated under the Hopkins-school of Public Health.

We met by chance. And just like that we started talking . . . He was a young man––miles and miles away from home. We talked about our lives.

“Why is Mr. Tim in a new world of his own?” Izara (my six year old granddaughter) asked.  She had picked up my conversation with her dad while we were driving her to school. In Izara’s presence, we try our best not to discuss things that could confuse her or make her stressed or sad. But we give her tiny, healthy slices of reality now and then to help her understand the universe around her. Tim and Grace are our neighbors, in their late seventies. Tim worked his entire life overseas under diplomatic cover (possibly as a CIA operative, I guess). They have been living here since he retired. He is a friendly, kind soul and befriended us right after we moved into this neighborhood. Our houses are separated by a by-lane. Often, he would cross over to our side to talk to me as I played with Izara in our front lawn. We spoke about the joys and challenges of living overseas, their three adult daughters living in three different states, and the grandkids. Izara was two-and-a-half-year-old...

What IS YOUR NAME and your last assignment with UNICEF? Nuzhat Shahzadi I was heading UNICEF-Kiribati and the UN Joint Presence Office, UNICEF Pacific (under EAPRO). I was based in Tarawa, Kiribati for almost 4 years. The isolation was too much so I decided to quit. HR termed it as "early retirement."

Nuzhat shares an article by Yuriy is a former deputy Minister of Defense, Ukraine. Yuriy was a Unicef consultant before the war and they met in Kiribati when he did some work for UNICEF. She says: Yuriy has recently penned an article (for King’s College, UK) on the war in Ukraine- more of an analysis. He shared it with me. It’s a good piece.

On the last loop of my walk, I entered the CVS drug store. CVS is about point 8 miles from our home. I picked my vitamins and then started walking around the isles . . . wasn't looking for anything in particular––just browsing. Even after the Covid era recovery (sort of), often shelves are empty due to lack of stock––supply chain issues or Trump-tariff.

Colors carry meaning. In each culture, every color has a unique connotation, associations, acceptance and avoidance. In general, the color white symbolizes hope, cleansing, the divine, spirituality . . . in some cultures, white attires are often worn during religious ceremonies, in times of grief (in south and east Asia, some African countries). In Japan and India, white, is associated with spiritual rituals and sacredness.

I came across several fascinating expressions in recent weeks. They just caught my attention––I photographed some stuff––seemed extraordinary to me - amusing, crying out for attention . . . some were captured by others which I am adding here as well. I photographed this one recently while driving by in Austin, Texas, with friends. Not sure whether the words were chosen to create humor . . .   I found this on Facebook. Two besties!   In December 2023, my childhood best friend, Ava and I went to Puerto Rico to celebrate our 60th best-friendship-forever anniversary. Actually, it was our 59th year but we weren't taking any chances . . . Our fathers were best friends in college, medical school and served side by side as military doctors. Ava and I became best friends from our ponytail days . . . She migrated to the US with her young family over 3 decades ago . . . I kept roaming around the world with my work . . . we kept in touch . . . and finally I came back to the US and ...

                                                     S ongs of Innocence A bunch of girls ran past me on the sidewalk and greeted me in unison, almost: “Good morning.” Their vibrancy touched me. They were followed by two boys right behind. They said, “Hello!” I greeted them back. They were possibly 15 or 16––heading somewhere on the summer morning. I could hear the traces of laughter as their footsteps faded––I could feel their fierce freedom as their feet bounced on the sidewalk. Girls’ groups in Vienna Town Center––a common sight especially in summer Adolescents seem to live inside their own bubble - oblivious of the existences around them. In all the places I have lived this has been mostly true.  Sometimes their uninterested gazes have glided over me––an ancient relic??. . . Surprisingly in our current neighborhood, children and teenagers are qu...

I remember my time in Kiribati with much fondness . . . Lucia lived in Temwaiku village. She was 13 and attended the Junior Secondary School. When the breeze from the ocean broke the stillness on hot afternoons, she usually stepped out of the hut she shared with her family. She liked to stroll on the road with her friend Maki––they giggled without much cause, shared stories of the day in school, happenings in the village among other things.

The public library is about a 4-minute walk from our house. It's called Patrick Henry Library. It opened at the current location in 1971. In total it has 23 branches in our county.   Our library encourages local writers.  Early this year, the library board reviewed and approved my both novels and now they are available for readers in all its branches. I am humbled, and pleased . . .

                                      (I photographed it from Google-search page)   Saturday morning began in a leisurely style. My son and his family were vacationing in Dhaka. My granddaughters, Izara and Raya, were gone for weeks. Getting out of the house was the best way to manage their absence . . .

We observed Mother's Day on 11 May this year. Flowers, food and family are the common themes of this day. I nurtured the memories of my mother, grandmother, aunts, cousin-sister . . . heartening and heartbreaking . . . claimed by cycle of life. Mother's Day spells big business. No one is allowed to forget it ––constant hammering with product promotions, coupons, deals are blaring reminders. Resistance is futile . . . According to a survey from the US National Retail Federation, in 2025, the public are projected to spend $34.1 billions on this day––the average person's spending around $259. During these desperate economic conditions, spending remains strong––84% of American adults planning to celebrate the day. The super markets, grocery stores are embalmed in fragrances of fresh blooms, special merchandise. Specific stalls are built both inside and outside of the stores offering various kinds of bouquets, flowering plants in specially designed expensive colorful pots––ravis...

On my daily walk towards our park, I pass by a single-storied building adjacent to the cobbled sidewalk––almost enshrouded in foliage. In deep summer white flowers tango with the green-vines creating an enchanting environment.

Seneca Falls, NY, convention (1848) is claimed to be the first suffragette movement organized by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott. Among the demands, the key was women’s right to vote in addition to educational and professional opportunities for women, married women’s right to control their wages and property.

March is almost over . . . 20 March was the first day of Spring in the US. 26 March is the Independence Day is Bangladesh. Eid ul Fitr will be celebrated by Muslims on Sunday, 30th March (some would differ on moon sighting and decide to celebrate on the 31st––a usual practice. I call it democratic dissenting. Cultures are different––acceptance instead of mocking is wiser).

I loved Victor Hugo's "Les Misérables." In my girlhood I read the English Translation from French, several times. It's one of the longest novels (655,478 words). The author explained his thoughts on the novel: "Social problems go beyond frontiers. Humankind's wounds, those huge sores that litter the world, do not stop at the blue and red lines drawn on maps. Wherever men go in ignorance or despair, wherever women sell themselves for bread, wherever children lack a book to learn from or a warm hearth, Les Misérables knocks at the door and says: "open up, I am here for you."

I intended to write on it earlier––was going through a "writer's apathy" . . . the current geopolitical situations, especially influenced by the US administration triggered despondence, uncertainties . . .

(Editorial Note: This is a continuation from Puerto Rico Part I, which we carried as our feature in an earlier publication.) Throughout their history, Puerto Ricans proudly showcased their vibrant and rich culture through music, dancing, cooking and painting their walls in empty spaces with bright hues of brilliant colors. This is Puerto Rico, reaching out beyond colors and creed with a touch of craziness and yet preserving its sublimity. It aspires to reach the skies in places.

The price of eggs has skyrocketed in recent weeks in America. During the last presidential election, the cost of eggs created a snowball-effect dominating the GOP campaigns. Trump promised to lower prices of all consumer items, kill the inflation––at present it’s at 3%-4% ––higher than in 2024 (2.9%) under the Biden administration while the world was trying to recover from the Covid-crashed economies.