The economy will have a simple structure in the coming years, with most economic activities focused in five sectors: smallholder, or peasant, agriculture; reconstruction; port services and light manufacturing; local small-scale trade; and public services, including health care and education. The key challenge is to support these five sectors in order to combine short-term relief with long-term reconstruction and development.Been thinking that, rebuilding Haiti “only” $10-$20 billion, there is lots of billionaires in the world with that kind of money. You know he(must say I only think of males in this instant –bit of painful but what I can say! Accept my own weakness also my virtue gosh I have so painfully good virtues?) cannot take his money to his own grave when he dies namelessly, so I make a suggestion to the all the (he) billionaires, BUY Haiti for as his own and make his own kingdom. Crowned himself as the King of Haiti. Like the old days- “guns pointed people’s heads and take whatever they want” kind of strategy. The difference this time is “offer them money each of Haiti people’s heads buy their mind” They make investment to their own money, so their eyeballs are lighting on neon lights in eye sockets, hoots on every thieves' movements, guarded their money like hawks days and nights, who might come closer to their own territory. So that way less corruptible. May be within 10 years times the Splendors King of Haiti will get his money back with full interest. It is much better investment than stock markets! He keeps his kingdom with his good name goes on forever ever in people’s mind. Who knows may be he will be named as “ Hot Shot Somebody from Nobody the Great” like Alexander the Great or King Sejong the Great!! What a great things to do!
First, special efforts should be made to boost peasant agriculture and rural communities. This will enable hundreds of thousands of displaced people to return to their village communities and live from farming. With fertilizer, improved seeds, small-scale irrigation, rapid training and extension services, and low-cost storage silos, Haiti’s food production could double or triple in the next few years, sustaining the country and building a new rural economy.
Reconstruction – of roads, buildings, and water and sanitation systems – will employ tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of Haitian construction workers, and boost the regeneration of towns. The World Food Program can help peasant farmers to produce more food in the countryside and then purchase the food to use in food-for-work programs oriented to construction projects.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Great to be The Great
This Prof Sachs’s article about Haiti in here.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Burry Berries
Among many, my favorite fruits are raspberry and this blackberry.
O man you would never guess how it like to be eat this heavenly fruits day after day with cool summer shade with cartoon with insect and birds field of The Lark Ascending. Natural air-condition in your open spaces, you never burn any energy. They are the fruits you don’t share with your stingy brother, no matter what, even if he offers all his pocket money, you just have yourself until your mouth become dark red. He hee right, at summer heat smelting wild flowers they are the wildest intoxicating taste for your hot summer. Saying goes; there the fruits you and your friend feasting together your friend drop dead you wouldn’t notice. I know where the fruits trees. They are mountain foot hills and field with thorns. They scratch your arms and legs so, you are not permitted to go there and pluck and feast yourself and eat them. The other day I brought some of them from a supermarket and I ate with three huge scope ice-cream and with my favorites celadon bowel and my old spoon but taste is not the same as my hometown wild berry. All tastes are change but my taste are not changed even if I am in here! I suppose I ate them with cool air-conditioned space! Pumping up amorously GHG every my breath, shooting them up there somewhere and building up nice evil things in the atmosphere. Not surprising how that Copenhagen my friend Donald Duck’s ensemble failed but then life is always wins-some losses-some --- Well I don’t care I am much interest in my tasteless burry berry that is all and lamenting for my tasteless berries and this splendor music with tiny little tears! Thinking if I die at this moment, my eulogyelegy should be the Lark Ascending and Tallis Fantasia for myself, well but then they will be change over period of time again!!
O man you would never guess how it like to be eat this heavenly fruits day after day with cool summer shade with cartoon with insect and birds field of The Lark Ascending. Natural air-condition in your open spaces, you never burn any energy. They are the fruits you don’t share with your stingy brother, no matter what, even if he offers all his pocket money, you just have yourself until your mouth become dark red. He hee right, at summer heat smelting wild flowers they are the wildest intoxicating taste for your hot summer. Saying goes; there the fruits you and your friend feasting together your friend drop dead you wouldn’t notice. I know where the fruits trees. They are mountain foot hills and field with thorns. They scratch your arms and legs so, you are not permitted to go there and pluck and feast yourself and eat them. The other day I brought some of them from a supermarket and I ate with three huge scope ice-cream and with my favorites celadon bowel and my old spoon but taste is not the same as my hometown wild berry. All tastes are change but my taste are not changed even if I am in here! I suppose I ate them with cool air-conditioned space! Pumping up amorously GHG every my breath, shooting them up there somewhere and building up nice evil things in the atmosphere. Not surprising how that Copenhagen my friend Donald Duck’s ensemble failed but then life is always wins-some losses-some --- Well I don’t care I am much interest in my tasteless burry berry that is all and lamenting for my tasteless berries and this splendor music with tiny little tears! Thinking if I die at this moment, my eulogy
Friday, January 1, 2010
First New Year Concerto!
Contiune from the below...
Now my fancy slightly different turn. Few years back while I was backpacking around Australia, I encountered so many tottering old ruins and traces of early settlers; heartfelt little striving lovers’ nest, part of our history; tiered of blazing silhouette of red soil; O yes her bloody signatory broken outback, O her merciless assaulting bushfire and proclaimed her promises! O intensity, her leitmotif embracing power of mate-ship! Well yes, you can not help but fell in love with her! Yeah her name is AUSTRALIA!
In NSW, early 1900s, one bed room small cottage, O man, a lover had nine children, an old metal beautiful cooking fire stove was the middle palm size living area, imagine the nine children was thriving, can you believe? Or from miles miles from no where, under leaden bluest blanket, lonely ruins of settlers’ nests, where they have gone now?
In Broome, I bumped into an old estate garage sales. An old sand stone house, with jasmine flowers striated open backyard, coiffed midday sky at lazy summer shade, books on an open table tray. O I felt unexplainable strange feeling. What lovely old things were in whoring shades. Among, an old tattered leather bounded, ink written dairy, dated back to November 15,18111911, a gift from “Bryan” fading ink is swing at a time. An enchanting word of word enlivened from tatted saint/whoring pages were welcomed me into the opus-world of hers. Glory of personality, sheer of vermillion uncluttered, rage raged anger pure gold agony that warped into cool rational paranoia, complained unkind endless spaces, heated brutality and amours delicate romance. Basically she was a whore well in her mind anyway! O how could I not enchanted by the scent of uncouthly refined sprit? Was pang of jealous about her requited beauty? Declaring, confrontational ruffles of space, frank discussions of traitorous life that enviably refugee at pages, intended her straightforwardness and boundless practicality. Her desire to be free like the space, yet also was dismayed by the gateless space. Well yes there is all really! From there I start obsessed of ordinary people’ diaries, their memento of word of world. It is such privileges, when you are dealing with very personal item, feeling of nobility dealing with such quilt of personal sentiment. It is rare a personal dairies exposed on secondhand dealer but sometimes accidently they do, for my fortune, so I get my wondrous thrills from someone else mistakes. Thinking that there is nothing secrete of our life really! Our passion and yearnings are same as whether 2000 years ago or today, just masked difference tune and shade that is all. Just little dig to see all of these clearly. The composition our life!
I tell you what anyway, I would not miss any of them if I go my sea shore tomorrow for rest of my life for not reading any of the books but living with mist ravaged wild flowers, dragging insects, fugitive birds their compounded nodding winds, stream of natural pinball embellished words of colors, sky moon stars sunset will be there… mantic then I could go walk on early morning with my devilish brother and catch bejeweled sunbeam waves…
Now my fancy slightly different turn. Few years back while I was backpacking around Australia, I encountered so many tottering old ruins and traces of early settlers; heartfelt little striving lovers’ nest, part of our history; tiered of blazing silhouette of red soil; O yes her bloody signatory broken outback, O her merciless assaulting bushfire and proclaimed her promises! O intensity, her leitmotif embracing power of mate-ship! Well yes, you can not help but fell in love with her! Yeah her name is AUSTRALIA!
In NSW, early 1900s, one bed room small cottage, O man, a lover had nine children, an old metal beautiful cooking fire stove was the middle palm size living area, imagine the nine children was thriving, can you believe? Or from miles miles from no where, under leaden bluest blanket, lonely ruins of settlers’ nests, where they have gone now?
In Broome, I bumped into an old estate garage sales. An old sand stone house, with jasmine flowers striated open backyard, coiffed midday sky at lazy summer shade, books on an open table tray. O I felt unexplainable strange feeling. What lovely old things were in whoring shades. Among, an old tattered leather bounded, ink written dairy, dated back to November 15,
I tell you what anyway, I would not miss any of them if I go my sea shore tomorrow for rest of my life for not reading any of the books but living with mist ravaged wild flowers, dragging insects, fugitive birds their compounded nodding winds, stream of natural pinball embellished words of colors, sky moon stars sunset will be there… mantic then I could go walk on early morning with my devilish brother and catch bejeweled sunbeam waves…
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