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Author Archives: Kamelia Kilawan
Posts: 16 (archived below)
Comments: 10
Teen Joyrides Run Awry, Leaving Behind Community in Questions

Vigil in memory of four Indo-Caribbean teens held in Smokey Oval Park, south Richmond Hill in October 2012. (Photo Courtesy of Jeffrey Liu, Wheel and Torque.com)
TOGETHER Indo-Caribbean teens, parents, community leaders, car enthusiasts, elected officials, teachers, and principals stood on a brisk October evening in the Smokey Oval Park as they heard a neighborhood pandit offer a prayer in Hindi in memory of the tragic death of four teens.
At the end of the vigil, hundreds of teens holding candles dripping of wax and tears swayed to a Jamaican reggae song “Fallen Soldier” stating life on the battlefield is so real.
“That was the first time ever the community has seen such an outpouring of emotions,” said Dhanpaul Narine, a vigil organizer, community leader, and president of a Hindu temple in south Queens.
He mentioned that many family members and friends were in denial that such a tragedy could occur.
Last year on an October night, 17-year-old Joseph Beer took his new Subaru Impreza on a joyride on the 25 and a half-mile Southern State Parkway—a highway notorious for its sharp curves and unpredictable interchanges.
Beer’s parents did know where he was going but he took along four of his friends. They never returned. Later the next day, Beer was found wandering around the wreckage; a tree crushed the car. According to a Patch article, a Nassau County trooper noted that Beer was under the influence of marijuana that night and he was speeding at a rate of over 110 miles per hour.
The accident is just one of many in the Indo-Caribbean community, which have left families, friends, and relatives to mourn the death of such young men for, as local critics say, “reckless” and “stupid” behavior. In 2007 two Indo-Caribbean high school students died after speeding into a guardrail along the Van Wyck Expressway with a black Dodge Charger. And in 2011 Bishnu Dinanauth, a car enthusiast, raced another vehicle along the Southern State Parkway, that ultimately ended in his death.
A New York Times feature suggests that Indo-Caribbean immigrant parents of modest means should be more careful when giving their children an expensive, fast vehicle and many members of the community agree.
“Why is it we would give a 17 year old an expensive vehicle to go joyriding on a dangerous night in a dangerous city?” asked Narine later adding, “Children are having all this freedom and aren’t accountable to any.”
Bhopaul “B.P.” Singh, a parent and long-time owner of an auto repair shop in Ozone Park, Queens said that if parents give their teenage son or daughter a sports car, they should be able to monitor how and when they drive it. “If you give them a sports car you have to watch them,” he said noting that parents can also keep the keys of the car.
Though he also mentioned, “You have to know what kind of car you give them.” He pointed out that often parents are not aware that some cars are specifically made for performance value and racing.
Yet while giving a car to a teen may be a concern, the right group of friends is also an important factor to Singh and Narine.
Narine said it is almost like a rite of passage for young men to receive their learner’s permit at 16 years and then when they get a vehicle, the friends appear.
“Because he got wheels now everyone goes for the joyride,” he said.
“You got to know who your kids friends are,” said Singh.
But when friends are not the problem, the culture can be. To many teens and car enthusiasts, racing is often portrayed as glamorous and is a culture that they say will never end, even to those who oppose and have coped with the deadly consequences.
“There’s no stop to racing,” said Sateesh Parsotan, a twenty-six year old ‘low and slow’ car enthusiast. “You have movies like Fast and Furious, you have movies like Need for Speed, you have video games, you have things that come out every single day that causes racing to come out on top—when it comes to stance you only have me.”
He explained that after the death of Bishnu Dinanauth, his best friend, found racing his car on the Southern State, he no longer wanted to engage in the risky behavior.
“The consequences are not fun,” he said pointing out that “stance,” or lowering the coil springs of cars to ride slow with a “slammed, pretty” look is the new culture he is advocating with his network called Lowered Congress.
But he added that racing is a behavior that is not likely to be tamed anytime soon among not just Indo-Caribbeans, but a community of those who speed with beautiful cars throughout the city.
“You have no control over it, I have no control over it. Racing in itself is just something that people are just gonna do, because its just competitive and its just fun,” he said. “When they can’t do it on the track they do it on the street”
Unlike many other states like Florida, there is no racetrack in New York City designed for racing fast vehicles with a nearby emergency crew and no other vehicles on the road. Although, there are paved asphalt speedways for motorsport enthusiasts, many teens prefer longer strips of lonely highways for drag racing.
But some say that driving while under the influence of alcohol and marijuana are other factors in the issue of joyriding. “The problem is a combination of a lot of things,” said Narine who noted alcohol being an issue seen both back home and in the Indo-Caribbean immigrant enclave in south Queens.
With popular chutney songs, originating from Guyana and Trinidad, and broadcasted through the homeland and spreading to the Indo-Caribbean diaspora in the U.S., rum is often heard as an object of desire. “Ah drinka,” “Bring de Rum,” and “Where deh Puncheon deh?” are just some of the top hits within the past several years among Indo-Caribbean mainstream music.
Some Guyanese officials argue the glorifying of alcohol in music and lifestyle of Guyanese people are related.
According to a piece in TIME published in 2010, Evan Persaud, Guyana’s chairman of broadcasting advisory committee has said they are considering issuing a warning to television stations against airing chutney music videos that promote drinking after reports show Guyana drink nearly a gallon and a half of alcohol per capita.
Though despite the semblance of issues from fast cars, peer pressure, a dangerous culture, substance abuse, and bad music, schools continue to be the playing field where having a car means much more than being able to drive to the nearest grocery store or even to school.
“What does it mean to really have a nice car in high school? It means a lot. It means the world. It means you get to pick up girls and go someplace and then go back to school. You know, you’re one of those lucky kids,” said Parsotan who pointed out, “There’s a lot of kids that have to take the bus.”
He was gifted a “really fast car,” a RX 7 that he modified to make even faster at his father’s auto shop in Queens. Though he mentioned that although he did experiment with driving fast, he quickly graduated from the risky behavior.
Although many cite the issue of teens driving fast with cars gifted by their Indo-Caribbean parents, Parsotan said it is okay to give your child a sports car, as long as you teach them how to use it. After all, it’s not a bad thing to give your child what you never had in life.
“I wouldn’t call you lucky, I would call you fortunate—not wealthy but someone whose actually fortunate to have parents that worked in life,” he said.
Singh noted back home in Guyana, he was one of the very few who had the opportunity to drive a car. His father was a rice farmer and in addition to their tractor, their family also owned a car though most of his neighbors in the village used the bus, motorcycles, or simply bicycles to get from one part of the country to the next.
Though Beer was also gifted a fast car by his parents but after the death of four of his friends, he has been sentenced to 25 years to life in prison.
Was it the right sentence?
“That’s a long time, and he was a teenager,” Narine said. “I don’t know if it’s too much or too less. It’s kinda hard to say because he’s a young man.”
Beer’s Facebook page, still open for comments, reflects a number of teens who support and miss him.
“It’s been almost a year bro. Hope your doing well,” said one family member. “The justice system of America is f*cked up. Keep your head up bruh.”
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Protected: The Tragedy of Teenage Car Culture in Indo-Caribbean Community
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Protected: Non-Profit Aims to Create an Indo-Caribbean Identity
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A Powerful Yet Tragic Story ‘The Deadly Choices at Memorial’
Sheri Fink does take the side of an investigative journalist in her story chronicling the decision made by Anna Pou and other doctors at Memorial Medical Center in New Orleans to categorize intensive care patients as those with “terminal and irreversible conditions” who are not worth saving in times of disasters.
By reflecting how “stunned” morgue workers were at the number of dead bodies they received from the hospital and by mentioning her role as a journalist, interviewing Ms. Pou at length though she declined to comment on any patient deaths, Fink proves her credibility as a reporter and writer.
Fink implies that the eventual death of intensive care patients was wrong, but maintains her status as an objective journalist by including that although the Life Care staff members asked on Tuesday for their 52 patients be added to the transport plans, Tenet Healthcare, the hospital’s main healthcare provider, said that Life Care staff members turned down several opportunities to receive evacuation assistance the same day.
What is important to Fink’s storytelling technique is her ability to create Anna Pou as a character in a novel. She does not go into the personal details of Anna, simply that she has a tiny build, is passionate, and likes to wear pearls. But yet despite her calm demeanor, she was able to make such an important decision that cost numerous lives. “The full details of what Pou did, and why, may never be known,” Fink wrote. This statement lends itself to a more insightful portrayal of Ms. Pou as an individual.
Fink organizes her story from the most current news of Ms. Pou trying to save herself from three suits through advocacy of her decision, to the lack of public awareness of her idea on what doctors should due in the sake of “disaster preparedness,” then to leading up to the days handled by tiers of medical workers left with the aftermath of a bad decision, and finally to the inevitable deaths of so many intensive care patients, and the angry relatives they left behind in confusion.
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Outsourced Roti Becomes Staple for Indo-Caribbean Women

Trini style pepper roti, a mix of flour, masala, and other spices left to the imagination of the customer.
It’s almost 7pm on a weekday at Sandy’s Roti Shop in Richmond Hill and customers are still trickling in from a hard day of work. Steaming stainless steel tubs are filled with an assortment of Caribbean delicacies: chicken curry, smoke herring, fried cabbage, ‘aloo’ potato curry, pepper shrimp fried rice, and chow-mein.
But most customers are not there for the buffet style wonder. They are there to pick up some fresh, hot roti.
Roti, a common Indian and West Indian bread dish, doubles (a spongy sandwich of spicy chick peas) and dhal puri (a flaky bread embedded with split peas) are the restaurant’s best sellers.
The staff at Sandy’s is friendly, but they know they are on a mission: to serve up all of the roti, dhal puri, and “buss up shut”— a Trinidadian variation of roti, to a mass of customers.
“You could say every five minutes,” said Mitra Jankie, a member of the shop’s staff, about the constant influx of customers coming in to order roti.

Sandy’s Roti Shop is twenty-five years old, but still a walk-in store with a few tables but lots of orders.
He approximated that one out of every three customers purchases roti or dhal puri on a daily basis.
Roti shops are popular destinations for Indo-Caribbean residents to purchase their homeland’s ethnic dishes. Time is valuable, and a growing trend, within these small businesses, is selling rotis for $2 a piece, quite a bargain for working mothers who no longer make the dish from home as they used to do in the Caribbean. Now, many outsource the job of making roti and dhal puri to the shops.
A woman dressed in a black sequined blouse and sporting fuschia-colored lipstick came into Sandy’s roti shop in the evening to pick up one dhal-puri for her dinner—including some leftover chicken curry she had cooked the night before. She said being able to purchase one dhal-puri for just $2 was a big help after she comes home from hours of taking care of the elderly as a home aide.
“It’s too stressful,” making the dish from scratch, said Savitri Singh who emigrated from Guyana six years ago. She added that she works six days a week and that she has learned in this country, you need to work hard in order to have the lifestyle you want.
“People say when you come to this country it is paradise,” she said pointing out, “You’ve got to make it your paradise.” For her, purchasing dhal-puri makes her life just a little less stressful.
The cost of making roti? Time. The purchase of flour, a rolling pin, oil, and a griddle seem to be less of a feat. It is the number of steps from kneading the dough, rolling it, oiling it, placing it on a hot ‘towah’ , and ‘clapping’ the roti with bare hands for just the right flaky texture, all of which compare to a quick stop at the roti shop for ready-made batches of the staple.

Singh’s Roti Shop has been a long-time hotspot for Trinidadian and West Indian dishes. It started with just five tables and now among a slew of customers, also features a vibrant nightlife of ‘tassa’ music for customers.
Back at the shop the staff prepare for a new set of customers. The trio wear red aprons and clear gloves behind the counter, occasionally coming out from the kitchen with batches of the flaky, round roti and widening spreads of dhal puri, cutting and packing them in brown paper bags. Instead of using a small griddle or ‘towah’ to make a single roti, a large griddle replaces it to cook several rotis all at once.
The shop uses two cooks and a three foot mill to grind split peas for the signature style of dhal-puri, a variation of the flaky roti bread eaten with an assortment of curries and fried vegetables dishes. Though the restaurant does offer these dishes to go with the store-bought roti, members of the staff mentioned that female customers often come in just for the roti because they have leftovers like chicken curry made at home.
Susan Persaud, a Trinidadian native and Manhattan nanny, picked up a stack of 10 rotis for her family of four and guests. Though she learned to make roti from her mother back home in south Trinidad when she was fifteen years old, she has found outsourcing the work to nearby roti shops most convenient upon moving to this country.
“It’s easy,” she said mentioning that her life could be quite stressful looking after children on a daily basis and coming home having to make a fresh batch of roti. “Back home all you have to do is look after your kids,” she said pointing out, “Here, everybody has to work.”

The owner of Anil’s Roti Shop is related to the venerable Singh’s Roti Shop. “We’re all interconnected,” said Seema Singh.
It’s a similar story with the owner of Ghee’s Roti Shop just a few miles away in South Ozone Park, Queens.
“From the time we open till the time we close, it’s roti all day long,” said Diane Itwaru the co-owner of Ghee’s, a family-owned roti shop she runs each day with her husband.
Just fifteen minutes away from John F. Kennedy airport, Ghee’s stands a good shot at maintaining a regular airport crowd from pilots, flight attendants, and workers. But still the majority of the shop’s customers are Indo-Caribbean.
Itwaru said her new roti shop, which opened in December, sells soft, layered roti which keep her customers coming back. She said sometimes she can sell up to 200 of the hot breads per day.
“When wives come home from work—that’s a hard thing to do,” she said commenting on the difficulty many Indo-Caribbean mothers face at balancing their families, jobs, and the complex steps of making roti when they come home from work.
For many Indo-Caribbean women, ‘sada’ roti can do the trick for some weeknights. Alica Ramkirpal-Senhouse, a food blogger for “Inner-Gourmet: Culinary and Cultural Musings of Guyanese-American Girl,” reflected on the “labor intensive” process her mother went through to make traditional roti at home and she wrote that her mother would often make a quicker version of the ‘paratha roti’ she so enjoyed, called ‘sada’ roti — made without oil, simply flour, salt, and water.
“One particular memory that sticks out in my mind is the overwhelming feeling my mom felt when she had to make paratha, oil roti for dinner on a weeknight,” she wrote later delineating some do-it-yourself steps to achieve the quicker version of roti at home. Though she noted the quicker version was nothing like the traditional roti she loved.
For many, purchasing roti, rather than making it at home, seems like the best option, but there are challenges when outsourcing a dish, that was traditionally made at home. “After two days they said it has a funny scent,” Itwaru said of some of her customers at Ghee’s Roti Shop who complained that at other shops, the roti isn’t always so wonderful and can not be used as left overs.
Apology for Breathing
A.J. Liebling’s “Apology for Breathing,” gave me a deeper understanding of what it is like to be a native New Yorker—one who is polite and knows when to interrupt in conversations.Not the New Yorker who is from a small town, used to having his or her thoughts seem grand and wise. But instead the true New Yorker accommodates and bends to the multitude of cultures and lifestyles that make the city whole.
The author does a wonderful job at uncovering these truths in a way that sounds like a little self-realization coupled with vivid portraits of the city’s inhabitants. It could have very well sounded like an anthropological assessment or an analysis. But it did not.
Since this piece reads like an anecdote, of course the city’s representative inhabitants will change from time to time. I found it difficult to identify most of these people on Liebling’s list below. But I do get the undercurrent of his message : the city can sometimes look more like a mixed salad than a melting pot.
“I like to think of all the city microcosms so nicely synchronized though unaware of one another : the worlds of weight lifters, yodelers, tugboat captains, and sideshow barkers, of the book ditchers, sparring partners, song pluggers, sporting girls and religious painters, of the dealers in rhesus monkeys and the bishops of churches they established themselves…”
A sentence that I appreciated much from Liebling was his point later in the passage pointing out the city’s irony—its residents live so close, yet know nothing about each other.
“There are New Yorkers so completely submerged in one environment, like the Garment Centre or Jack and Charlie’s, that they live and die oblivious of the other worlds around them.”
This I believe was once a universal statement about the city, but now a notion which I think is under revision now with the fever of “The Tale of Two Cities,” the mantra of the city’s lead mayoral candidate Bill de Blasio.
Joseph Mitchell Conquers Profile of Joe Gould
Joseph Mitchell’s “Professor Seagull” a profile on Joe Gould, a Village bohemian with many identities, as well as his second profile on the same man “Joe Gould’s Secret,” startled and humored me in ways a young reporter can only dream of.
While reading Mitchell’s first profile of Gould, I was curious about how he pitched the idea to his editor at The New Yorker—from profiling a nocturnal wanderer to a colorful story of a bohemian. It certainly was quite a challenge to keep tabs on Mr. Gould. He could have been any reporter’s nightmare…or dream.
Mitchell did a fantastic job at painting a portrait of Gould, using his journalistic skills to include colorful quotes and descriptions of the man with a book eleven times longer than the Bible, or so he says. (My most favorite description of Gould included the loads of ketchup he collected in diners, though he didn’t really like the stuff.)
Mitchell paid attention to the details and that is why his writing style in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as well as “Professor Seagull” proves to be timeless. With names of streets and places across New York, Mitchell tells a story of a man who still seems like he could be a member of the city today.
More importantly, as a reporter Mitchell was able to connect and be patient with Mr. Gould—which I believe was critical to tackling the story of such a fleeting, quirky personality.
While I saw less of Mitchell’s personality and opinion of Gould in his first profile, it became quite clear that he was driven to write his second profile of the same man because of the never-ending relationship and responsibility Mitchell had with his subject Gould.
Mitchell was earnest and even poetic:
I suddenly felt a surge of genuine respect for Gould. He had declined to stay in Norwood and live out his life as Pee Wee Gould, the town fool. If he had to play the fool he would do it on a larger stage, before a friendlier audience. He came to Greenwich Village and had found a mask for himself, and he had put it on and kept it on. The Eccentric Author of a Great, Mysterious, Unpublished Book—that was his mask. And, hiding behind it, he had created a character a good deal more complicated, it seemed to me, than most of the characters created by the novelists and playwrights of his time.”
I was not surprised when Mitchell found out Gould’s “Oral History” did not exist. But I certainly was surprised at Mitchell’s response in the excerpt above. I might have been quite upset, writing a profile for readers who later donated money so Gould could continue schlepping throughout the village collecting histories for his supposed book…buried in a duck and chicken farm in Long Island!
Mitchell was indeed upset with Gould after contacting editor friends to speak with Gould about publishing his “Oral History,” but he became captivated by Gould’s true story, which was not the mysterious book, but what it represented.
Though Mitchell grew frustrated with Gould at times. He very well could be nominated as one of the toughest subjects a reporter could choose. Gould had an unpredictable schedule, never-ending rants about himself, orders like switching his permanent mailing address to The New Yorker, and unexpected visits to Mitchell’s office with a hangover.
Though Mitchell made a transition in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as a dedicated reporter catering to Gould’s every whim, sitting to hear his “Oral History” for ten hour shifts at a time, to Mitchell as a believer.
As a young reporter, one can aspire to handle a situation like this: to be as patient and as tactical and as human as Mitchell was with his subject Joe Gould. He was a subject who many believed in and helped. And even though it is the job of a reporter to write the truth, Mitchell was tasked to write the profile of a deeper personality, one who had a mask.
The second time around—Mitchell got his profile of Joe Gould completely.
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Queens Florist Continues Legacy of Ethnic Assimilation

Dennis Regis spends his day in his floral shop stemming roses. “I’ve adapted to the flowers,” he said.
Dennis Regis is a part of his father’s legacy.
By the time Dennis was twelve years old he had already started dressing corsages in carnations, orchids, gardenias, and roses. Unlike many of his friends in junior high, he spent his afternoons helping his father in his floral shop.
One night John Regis took his son to dinner after he took sole ownership of his floral shop. They dined at the Villa Russo just a short drive away and his father had something important to tell him.
“It’s going to be me and you against the world,” said Dennis Regis “And I never forgot that.”
Heaps of stems were strewn along the floor of his floral shop. Mr. Regis has spent his entire life creating floral designs for an evolving ethnic community in south Queens.
“That’s the only thing I ever did my whole life. I always loved flowers and what they brought to the public,” he said as he stemmed dozens of roses in his floral shop that he has owned for nearly 25 years.
Today Mr. Rigas, 67, serves anywhere from ten to twenty customers each day, working 12 to 14 hour shifts, seven days a week. And on holidays like Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day, the line continues right until the back alley of his shop.
His love for flowers has always been constant. “I’ve adapted to the flowers,” he said. But like his father, Mr. Regis has also had to adapt to the changing ethnic community in south Richmond Hill.
His floral shop sells “malas” or garlands of carnations for Hindu icons and funeral rituals, floral backdrops for “mandaps” in Hindu weddings, and signature designs of OM, a Hindu symbol of peace—all targeted to the emerging Indo-Caribbean immigrant enclave.
“That’s our specialty. I was the first to do it with the Caribbean people … We specialize in Caribbean culture,” he said mentioning that it took a little while to restructure his business to suit the rising Indo-Caribbean enclave — now helping him sustain a business as the leading floral designer in south Richmond Hill.
“It took me a few years to dedicate my whole structure to them, because now I carry prayer flowers, their flowers for their holidays, their plant,” he said chuckling, “and when we started this, all of the florists were German and Irish and they didn’t want to deal with the Italians.”
Mr. Regis is familiar with targeting his flower business to suit the needs of a shifting customer base. After all, he has seen the work of his father John Regis, a jovial man who was a first-generation Greek and newcomer to a local floral industry once dominated by German, Irish and Jews in the 1950s.
“Up to 1956 we did very little business, we were relatively very poor in my family,” he said. But he pointed out that his father found a new band of customers that the other florists did not want to deal with.
“We dealt with them. They were a little rough… they come in yelling and hollering, people you know they got intimidated. And Italians they want big, big, and bigger,” he said.
Mr. Regis mentioned that his father made his business with an influx of Italians ordering large floral centerpieces. And so his father was able to run their family floral shop on the corner of Lefferts Boulevard and Liberty Avenue. In 1962 John Regis was featured in LIFE magazine as one of the leading florists in the New York City metropolitan area.
Mr. Regis became a full-time florist working with his father for 20 years and in 1989 he bought his own florist shop just four blocks away from his father’s. “It’s been a long time,” said Mr. Regis who said since then his life has become about making beautiful flowers for people, just like the life of his father.
“Since the time I was ten years old up until the time I was 45 years old—I gave him my heart and soul,” said Mr. Regis about his father, now deceased.
He said even now that his father is gone, his life will always be about working with the ebb and flow of the flowers and the needs of local residents.
“I go with the flow, it’s the only thing I got left when it comes to work.”
By: Kamelia Kilawan
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A Colorful, Deep Portrait of A Muslim Leader in Brooklyn
Ms. Elliott develops her story through the journey of one man bridging the laws of two different worlds. Though there are many ways in which this story could have been complex, she made Mr. Shata’s journey seem like more of a journey of decision-making.
What I think helped Ms. Elliott develop the conflict in this story was creating the right mix of tension from a variety of sources and anecdotes that add color to a multi-cultural picture. She was keen on detail from the very beginning of the story adding the Mexicans in Bay Ridge, comments from an Egyptian law professor, statistics on the city’s mosques, delineating the McDonald’s conundrum, mentioning the trouble of oral sex, and later pressing into the deeper conflicts of domestic violence and marriage.
The thread that held this conflict story together was the multi-faceted portrait of Mr. Shata as an imam, guidance counselor, lawyer, teacher, and coach all rolled into one and tasked with the challenge of spreading Islam in a Western world. In a post 9/11 context this story gives meaningful insight into the routine and happenings of an inclusive Islamic community.
In a reporter interview with Ms. Elliot on the NYT site, she noted how difficult it was at first to get the mosque to “open its doors” to a photographer and to her questions. Though eventually she made her case, highlighting that in order to get a deeper, truthful portrayal of the community, it is important to study and learn from the imam himself.
Ultimately, I think this conflict story was a product of sharp insight into the most fundamental elements of an Islamic community in the Western world. And the imam is a brilliant element of this community because from this story one can draw the conclusion, that he is the one who holds the community together.