Hace unos dias me entere de la tragica partida de un amigo del alma- David Daniel. El y yo, eramos como grapa y engrapadora: juntos para todos lados, y con nuestra union traiamos mas union. Los payasos, los romanticos, los echadores de broma, los cantantes, los poetas: el Duo David.
Cuando primeramente me entere de la noticia, una pelicula de experiencias paso por mi cabeza. Estas mismas me han perseguido por los ultimos dias ayudandome a apreciar lo grande que era.
Despues de haberme mudado a los Estados Unidos, David Daniel y yo perdimos contacto, hasta hace como un ano. Me acuerdo de finalmente haber hablado con el por facebook:
Me dijo: "voy a empezar administracion de empresas en la universidad santa maria! pero eso de la beca esta muy bueno chamo, tu te la mereces! mis hermanos estan bien! muy bien, tengo uno nuevo! el menos de 3 añit...os! el que sale conmigo en la foto! es tremendo pero se le quiere, y a mi mami bunisimo como siempre en lo suyo! el catalogo de ropa!y gian mauro tambien esta muy bien q esa era el menor que tu llegaste a conocer!!! mi hermana tambien en lo suyo, es chef! y bueno solo falto yo superarme y crearme nuevas metas!, me encanta lo tuyo, veo que has tenido mucho exito! como estan tus padres! y repito, cuando vienes! cuando voy a tener el honor de beberme algo con el proximo presidente de los estados unidos"
David siempre fue un hombre de y por su familia. Si alguien siempre hablaba de cuanto queria a su hermanito y hermana mayor a la misma vez, era David. A Gian Mauro y Laura capaz los conoci en una o dos ocaciones, pero David Daniel hablaba de ellos como si fueran parte de nuestro grupo. La pena que llevo por dentro es grande al haber perdido este amigo, pero mas aun en saber que su familia a perdido al gran hijo y hermano que el fue...
Un ano despues, hace como dos semanas, me desperte despues de haber tenido un sueno algo extrano, donde el me preguntaba por que teniamos tanto tiempo sin hablar? Al levantarme lo contacte de immediato por facebook y nos volvimos a poner al tanto de nuestras vidas. David ya habia encontrado lo que hace un ano llamaba sus metas- se iria a estudiar a la Universidad de Miami; ya estaba en el papeleo y todo, solo faltaba tiempo. Tiempo que este 13 de Diciembre llego a un fin...
Una experiencia que jamas olvidare con David Daniel: El concurso de Yom Yerushalayim cuando estabamos en 6to grado.
David Daniel y yo nos encontrabamos en clases de computacion en hebreo cuando oimos que esa misma tarde habria una competencia de bailes y canciones, el festival Yom Yerushalayim de Hebraica. David Daniel y yo sabiamos que no teniamos chance de ganar, y que decenas de grupos de todo primaria se estaban preparando desde hace semanas para competir. Sin embargo, llame a mi mama para que nos traiga dos camisas brillantes de mi casa- una vinotinto y una dorada. David Daniel pidio su guitarra! Escribimos una cancion que aun conservo en algun rincon de mi cuarto en nuestro punyo y letra, titulada "Oh Yerushalayim".
Ese dia con gran orgullo y corage nos paramos en el amplio escenario del auditorio de la primaria en Caracas y cantamos nuestra cancion. Que sorpresa nos llevamos cuando nos dieron el 2do premio! Fue un premio de popularidad; nuestros amigos gritaban nuestros nombres y aplaudian fuerte- los jueces vieron como el animo de ese duo llamaba a la gente! Entre ellos me acuerdo sin falta a Aaron Serfaty saltando en el medio de todos y a mi hermano Abraham, quien acababa de salir de clases del liceo y ollo que el Duo David estaba en show!
Ironico capaz que nuestro debut haya sido con una cancion sobre Yerushalayim y hoy me despido de el desde el mismo lugar del cual nuestra cancion habla- Jerusalem. Es mi primera vez en esta tierra, y compruebo lo que nuestra cancion relata- la belleza y harmonia de HaAretz. Escribire una copia entera de la cancion y la firmare con nuestros nombres para ponerla en el muro de los lamentos.
La cancion iba algo asi:
Oh Yerushalayim no llores mas por mi
Oh Yerushalayim te apoyo desde aqui!
Yerushalayim , mi vida
Yerushalayim, mi amor
Yerushalayim, estas en mi corazon
Ahiti ve Yerushalayim va shana she abar
ve raiti eretz, eretz yafa
Yerushalayim, mi vida
Yerushalayim, mi amor
Yerushalayim, estas en mi corazon
...
la termino luego...
Zichronot Libraja David Daniel..
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Second Place at Entrepreneur Idol USA 2009
Every year over 30 teams reach the semi-finals of Entrepreneur Idol USA (http://nuei.net), an elevator, idea pitch competition which provides students with the opportunity to express their innovative vision and creativity. Emphasizing students’ ability to succinctly deliver their business idea and capture the interest of the audience, Entrepreneur Idol hopes to encourage student innovators to pursue their dreams.
I went in with a venture similar to the one that got me to the finals last year- a business dealing with soy. Soy, soymilk, engineering, nutritional programs- all my fathers' passions instilled on to me.
This year, a friend and I pitched a venture in El Salvador: a soymilk production plant that would supply 2,280 cups per day to children in public schools through guaranteed government contracts. The soybeans we'd get from the World Initiative for Soy in Human Health (www.wishh.org), and with my father's mentorship and expertise, we managed to secure a deal for a low-cost, high-tech plant from Prosoya in Canada. The venture would break even in the first month.
We worked hard in putting the business idea together, reaching out to partners and securing contracts, but I think it was the passion that we carried through the rounds that most impressed judges like Emily Miao, PhD from MBHB and Jeff Smith, CEO of Clarity Consulting, one of the main sponsors of the competition.
I, along with three other peers: Pedro Sanchez de Lozada, Rodrigo Blandon and Guimar Vaca Sittic are putting together a business plan to compete at the University of Washington's Global Social Entrepreneurship Competition.
I went in with a venture similar to the one that got me to the finals last year- a business dealing with soy. Soy, soymilk, engineering, nutritional programs- all my fathers' passions instilled on to me.
This year, a friend and I pitched a venture in El Salvador: a soymilk production plant that would supply 2,280 cups per day to children in public schools through guaranteed government contracts. The soybeans we'd get from the World Initiative for Soy in Human Health (www.wishh.org), and with my father's mentorship and expertise, we managed to secure a deal for a low-cost, high-tech plant from Prosoya in Canada. The venture would break even in the first month.
We worked hard in putting the business idea together, reaching out to partners and securing contracts, but I think it was the passion that we carried through the rounds that most impressed judges like Emily Miao, PhD from MBHB and Jeff Smith, CEO of Clarity Consulting, one of the main sponsors of the competition.
I, along with three other peers: Pedro Sanchez de Lozada, Rodrigo Blandon and Guimar Vaca Sittic are putting together a business plan to compete at the University of Washington's Global Social Entrepreneurship Competition.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Unos dichos Venezolanos... y sus origenes.
Esto es algo que me consegui hace poco por el internet, que vale la pena compartir. A continuación comparto con ustedes un post acerca de los orígenes de algunos vocablos populares y expresiones criollas, que caracterizan el código lingüístico del pueblo venezolano y, en especial, el del gentilicio zuliano. Zulia, tercer, estado en importancia política y primer productor de crudo de Venezuela. Ubicado en el occidente del país, hace parte de la frontera con Colombía.
Colita: Proviene de la época de la independencia. En las batallas, no habían tantas bestias (caballos, mulas, etc.) como soldados, no pudiéndose satisfacer a las demandas de toda la tropa. Así que gran parte de la milicia estaba obligada a cubrir grandes distancias a pie. Por eso, cuando les tocaba subir una pendiente, le indicaban al soldado que iba encima de una bestia: "¡Dame una colita!". En otras palabras, dame permiso para agarrarme de la cola del animal para subir con menos esfuerzo la pendiente.
Corotos: Antonio Guzmán Blanco, tres veces Presidente de Venezuela, gran antizuliano, por cierto, vivió en Francia y quedó muy influenciado por los modos y costumbres de la cultura y civilización gala. Siendo diplomático acreditado en ese país, su mujer se aficionó a las pinturas de un pintor francés, llamado Corots. Luego de terminada su misión, regresaron a Venezuela y se establecieron en la ciudad de Caracas. No obstante, se mudaban con mucha frecuencia y Doña Ana Teresa le indicaba nerviosamente a los obreros que embalaban los enseres: "¡Ciudado con los Corots!". Es decir, con las pinturas de aquel pintor francés. Los obreros fueron deshilachando la palabra y la derivaron en el vocablo que hoy conocemos como Corotos.
Espitao: Esmollejao. Corriendo fuerte. Reemplaza a la palabra inglesa: Speed Out. Ej.: ¡Vergación, salí espitao!.
Gatico: En tiempos de inicio de las actividade petroleras, los comisariatos eran casas de abasto, destinadas a satisfacer a la demanda de los expatriado(a)s. Al lado estaban las puertas gigantescas por donde entraba la mercancía, siendo identificadas con la palabra inglesa: Gates. Los venezolanos y venezolanas instalaron al lado o en los alrededores sus tarantines o abastos y le pusieron "Gaticos" (abasto pequeño). Es común escucharlo en Cabimas, La Cañada, La Rita y Maracaibo. Ej.: ¡Voy a comprar azúcar al gatico!.
Guachimanera: Vehículo tipo camioneta, dónde anda "El Guachimán" (Watchman: Vigilante en inglés). Propio de la industria petrolera. Era común en Lagunillas, cuando se hacía una travesura escuchar el grito: ¡Ahí viene la guachimanera!".
Hijo de la panadera: En abril de 1769, la Corona Española del territorio colonizado, hoy Venezuela, recibió una inusual protesta: No estaban de acuerdo con el nombramiento de un joven blanco como Oficial de las Milicias, esgrimiendo como argumento la dudosa reputación de éste porque su madre ejercía el oficio de panadera en Caracas. De allí se ha quedado el proverbio o refrán. Ej.: "A mí no me dieron nada porque soy el hijo de la panadera".
Macundales: Para abrir picas, en el proceso de exploración de la industria de los hidrocarburos en Venezuela, se utilizaron unos machetes ingleses de marca Mc and Dale. Los trabajadores, le dieron el nombre de "macundales" y luego a la hora de terminar la faena, decían: "¡Llegó la hora de recoger los macundales!" y así se ha quedado con el pasar del tiempo.
Pichón: Identifica al venezolano que es diligente o cuando se le pide un esfuerzo ( ¡échale pichón! ). Cuando no había acueductos o no había sistemas de distribución del agua, ésta se extraía con bombas manuales que decían en la palanca: "Push On". Esa palabra derivó en pichón y quería decir: "¡Dale a la bomba!".
Colita: Proviene de la época de la independencia. En las batallas, no habían tantas bestias (caballos, mulas, etc.) como soldados, no pudiéndose satisfacer a las demandas de toda la tropa. Así que gran parte de la milicia estaba obligada a cubrir grandes distancias a pie. Por eso, cuando les tocaba subir una pendiente, le indicaban al soldado que iba encima de una bestia: "¡Dame una colita!". En otras palabras, dame permiso para agarrarme de la cola del animal para subir con menos esfuerzo la pendiente.
Corotos: Antonio Guzmán Blanco, tres veces Presidente de Venezuela, gran antizuliano, por cierto, vivió en Francia y quedó muy influenciado por los modos y costumbres de la cultura y civilización gala. Siendo diplomático acreditado en ese país, su mujer se aficionó a las pinturas de un pintor francés, llamado Corots. Luego de terminada su misión, regresaron a Venezuela y se establecieron en la ciudad de Caracas. No obstante, se mudaban con mucha frecuencia y Doña Ana Teresa le indicaba nerviosamente a los obreros que embalaban los enseres: "¡Ciudado con los Corots!". Es decir, con las pinturas de aquel pintor francés. Los obreros fueron deshilachando la palabra y la derivaron en el vocablo que hoy conocemos como Corotos.
Espitao: Esmollejao. Corriendo fuerte. Reemplaza a la palabra inglesa: Speed Out. Ej.: ¡Vergación, salí espitao!.
Gatico: En tiempos de inicio de las actividade petroleras, los comisariatos eran casas de abasto, destinadas a satisfacer a la demanda de los expatriado(a)s. Al lado estaban las puertas gigantescas por donde entraba la mercancía, siendo identificadas con la palabra inglesa: Gates. Los venezolanos y venezolanas instalaron al lado o en los alrededores sus tarantines o abastos y le pusieron "Gaticos" (abasto pequeño). Es común escucharlo en Cabimas, La Cañada, La Rita y Maracaibo. Ej.: ¡Voy a comprar azúcar al gatico!.
Guachimanera: Vehículo tipo camioneta, dónde anda "El Guachimán" (Watchman: Vigilante en inglés). Propio de la industria petrolera. Era común en Lagunillas, cuando se hacía una travesura escuchar el grito: ¡Ahí viene la guachimanera!".
Hijo de la panadera: En abril de 1769, la Corona Española del territorio colonizado, hoy Venezuela, recibió una inusual protesta: No estaban de acuerdo con el nombramiento de un joven blanco como Oficial de las Milicias, esgrimiendo como argumento la dudosa reputación de éste porque su madre ejercía el oficio de panadera en Caracas. De allí se ha quedado el proverbio o refrán. Ej.: "A mí no me dieron nada porque soy el hijo de la panadera".
Macundales: Para abrir picas, en el proceso de exploración de la industria de los hidrocarburos en Venezuela, se utilizaron unos machetes ingleses de marca Mc and Dale. Los trabajadores, le dieron el nombre de "macundales" y luego a la hora de terminar la faena, decían: "¡Llegó la hora de recoger los macundales!" y así se ha quedado con el pasar del tiempo.
Pichón: Identifica al venezolano que es diligente o cuando se le pide un esfuerzo ( ¡échale pichón! ). Cuando no había acueductos o no había sistemas de distribución del agua, ésta se extraía con bombas manuales que decían en la palanca: "Push On". Esa palabra derivó en pichón y quería decir: "¡Dale a la bomba!".
Monday, August 3, 2009
On The Importance of Being Customer Centric, a Conversation with the VP of Best Buy
As part of my summer at Google, I've had the opportunity to meet countless people that are reshaping and influencing corporate America this decade.
Bill Thompson, the vice president and territory general manager of Best Buy, came to speak to a small group at Google on the focus on customer centricity. The term refers to the orientation of a company to the needs and behaviors of its customers, rather than internal drivers (such as the quest for short term profit). The Best Buy executive led us through an invigorating presentation that presented the company's key Standard Operating Practices (SOPs), values and vision.
"Stack it high and watch it fly" was one of the key phrases that sparked from Thompson's presentation. Best Buy seeks to have it all, and let customers do the rest. "The business was getting far more complicated than we were able to convey to our client," said the Vice President when describing the business model and complexity.
In the early 2000's Best Buy turned massive wheels to focus their main powers on the "customer centricity" model. It's literally all about serving the customer right, customer service- how well are you listening to the customer, and then meeting his needs.
70% of what a store will do is based on SOPs: stores must connect to communities. A great example for Best Buy was the Tech Tax repeal through the "Geek Squad Rally" and their having joined forces with the local people to seek support. Bill Thompson assures that their strategy is centered on grassroots initiatives, benefiting communities.
Customer Centricity's Goals
Donna Fluss puts it best. A major impediment to building a customer-centric organization is the conflicting goals of the primary customer-facing departments: sales, marketing and service. Somehow, in the drive to achieve goals, each department loses sight of customers as people and sees them only as "objects" that need to be optimized. (See Figure above) Clearly, the obvious answer is to shift the focus back to customers and to align corporate goals. The problem is that when some companies have tried to standardize goals, their revenues decreased, customer satisfaction fell and loyalty dropped off, because the three primary customer-facing groups failed to cooperate.
Best Buy encourages its employees to be innovative and eager to bring about ideas through the "Idea Development Summit" every year. Best Buy gives its employees the freedom to make decisions and take action at the local level. One whole market is dedicated to selling Korean fridges in the branches because their community members in those cities happen to be Korean, and one employee was intuitive enough to identify that opportunity and divert from the SOP. Wait till you hear about the branch manager in California who hired 8 full time sign language proficient employees to target the population attending the 70 sign language schools in the area- revenue increased by 27 percent! Finally, Target's "You Spoke, We Listened" campaign surveyed students on what features they needed and Best Buy ordered the computers on those provisions.
It's all about local growth plans, about developing the communities where they're based and adopting those practices on the national level.
He ended the conversation on this note: "Try to satisfy their needs, selling will happen by on its own".
The Model
Promise Phelon wrote a very interesting article on Inc. magazine, titled "Are you really customer centric?"
Bill Thompson, the vice president and territory general manager of Best Buy, came to speak to a small group at Google on the focus on customer centricity. The term refers to the orientation of a company to the needs and behaviors of its customers, rather than internal drivers (such as the quest for short term profit). The Best Buy executive led us through an invigorating presentation that presented the company's key Standard Operating Practices (SOPs), values and vision.
"Stack it high and watch it fly" was one of the key phrases that sparked from Thompson's presentation. Best Buy seeks to have it all, and let customers do the rest. "The business was getting far more complicated than we were able to convey to our client," said the Vice President when describing the business model and complexity.
In the early 2000's Best Buy turned massive wheels to focus their main powers on the "customer centricity" model. It's literally all about serving the customer right, customer service- how well are you listening to the customer, and then meeting his needs.
70% of what a store will do is based on SOPs: stores must connect to communities. A great example for Best Buy was the Tech Tax repeal through the "Geek Squad Rally" and their having joined forces with the local people to seek support. Bill Thompson assures that their strategy is centered on grassroots initiatives, benefiting communities.
Customer Centricity's GoalsDonna Fluss puts it best. A major impediment to building a customer-centric organization is the conflicting goals of the primary customer-facing departments: sales, marketing and service. Somehow, in the drive to achieve goals, each department loses sight of customers as people and sees them only as "objects" that need to be optimized. (See Figure above) Clearly, the obvious answer is to shift the focus back to customers and to align corporate goals. The problem is that when some companies have tried to standardize goals, their revenues decreased, customer satisfaction fell and loyalty dropped off, because the three primary customer-facing groups failed to cooperate.
Best Buy encourages its employees to be innovative and eager to bring about ideas through the "Idea Development Summit" every year. Best Buy gives its employees the freedom to make decisions and take action at the local level. One whole market is dedicated to selling Korean fridges in the branches because their community members in those cities happen to be Korean, and one employee was intuitive enough to identify that opportunity and divert from the SOP. Wait till you hear about the branch manager in California who hired 8 full time sign language proficient employees to target the population attending the 70 sign language schools in the area- revenue increased by 27 percent! Finally, Target's "You Spoke, We Listened" campaign surveyed students on what features they needed and Best Buy ordered the computers on those provisions.
It's all about local growth plans, about developing the communities where they're based and adopting those practices on the national level.
He ended the conversation on this note: "Try to satisfy their needs, selling will happen by on its own".
The Model Promise Phelon wrote a very interesting article on Inc. magazine, titled "Are you really customer centric?"
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
"I L E YOU"
Have you ever wondered how to express your feelings when you more than like somebody, but not quite sure if the timing is appropriate for telling them you love them?
Do you feel that saying "I Like You" doesn't just do the job, but "I Love You" might not be acceptable yet?
"I L E You" is the solution!
I thought of this a couple of weeks back, and it works perfectly:
In essence, it is the evolution of the phrase "I like you", often used by someone who's falling for another person. In this instance, the letters "ik" are dropped, and the two spaces are left blank to demonstrate the intensity of passion between the two people.
(pronunciation: I el ee u).
The next level of usage would include filling up the two spaces with the letters "ov"; making the ultimate phrase "I love you".
Example use:
"Baby, I l e you"
"David, I l e you too"
CLICK HERE, Urban Dictionary already published it!
Do you feel that saying "I Like You" doesn't just do the job, but "I Love You" might not be acceptable yet?
"I L E You" is the solution!
I thought of this a couple of weeks back, and it works perfectly:
In essence, it is the evolution of the phrase "I like you", often used by someone who's falling for another person. In this instance, the letters "ik" are dropped, and the two spaces are left blank to demonstrate the intensity of passion between the two people.
(pronunciation: I el ee u).
The next level of usage would include filling up the two spaces with the letters "ov"; making the ultimate phrase "I love you".
Example use:
"Baby, I l e you"
"David, I l e you too"
CLICK HERE, Urban Dictionary already published it!
Friday, July 24, 2009
An Unconventional Wedding: The Power of Surpise
This morning, Kim, the Director of Online Sales and Operations shared with me a video about an unconventional wedding.
The power of surprise is infinite. To treat someone in an unusual manner, to lighten up their day, to leave in them something to remember you by, makes a world of difference.
Kim ended the email saying, "your customers will probably expect you to act a certain way today. The same old greetings, the same service, the same old promises, etc. Maybe today you should surprise them. Answer the phone differently. Offer them something extra. Show them another side of you. Let yourself get carried away and swept up."
The power of surprise is infinite. To treat someone in an unusual manner, to lighten up their day, to leave in them something to remember you by, makes a world of difference.
Kim ended the email saying, "your customers will probably expect you to act a certain way today. The same old greetings, the same service, the same old promises, etc. Maybe today you should surprise them. Answer the phone differently. Offer them something extra. Show them another side of you. Let yourself get carried away and swept up."
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
University of Chicago ranked #1 !
This one's short. Just sharing a link to collegecrunch.org from 2009 rankings for colleges and universities. I am proud to report that the University of Chicago is ranked #1, on top of Harvard, Yale and Princeton.
http://www.collegecrunch.org/rankings/top-50-colleges-ranked-for-2009/
http://www.collegecrunch.org/rankings/top-50-colleges-ranked-for-2009/
The Univ
ersity of Chicago is a private institution located in Hyde Park, on the South Side of Chicago. Founded by John D. Rockefeller, the first classes were held in 1892. The University has 14,600 students and 2,100 faculty. Seven current faculty members have won Nobel Prizes. To attend the University of Chicago as an on-campus student, the annual cost is $52,450. The University of Chicago not only has one of the best research and technology infrastructures in the world, but it has also climbed into almost every top 10 undergrad list out there. That's no fluke. The school has everything you could want. A diverse student body, high quality teachers, access to city life and an unsurpassed emphasis on research opportunities, even for undergrads.
To learn more about the University of Chicago, visit their website at http://www.uchicago.edu/ or contact me! :)
David Akinin is a rising sophomore at the University of Chicago majoring in Economics and International Studies.
ersity of Chicago is a private institution located in Hyde Park, on the South Side of Chicago. Founded by John D. Rockefeller, the first classes were held in 1892. The University has 14,600 students and 2,100 faculty. Seven current faculty members have won Nobel Prizes. To attend the University of Chicago as an on-campus student, the annual cost is $52,450. The University of Chicago not only has one of the best research and technology infrastructures in the world, but it has also climbed into almost every top 10 undergrad list out there. That's no fluke. The school has everything you could want. A diverse student body, high quality teachers, access to city life and an unsurpassed emphasis on research opportunities, even for undergrads.To learn more about the University of Chicago, visit their website at http://www.uchicago.edu/ or contact me! :)
David Akinin is a rising sophomore at the University of Chicago majoring in Economics and International Studies.
The Three Musketeers in a Basement: My Friday Nights in San Francisco
I find myself in one of the most exhilarating cities around the world, yet one of the coldest at this time of the year. I couldn't believe it either, but yeah, San Francisco is cold. Despite the chilly breeze that makes one mutter "zezezeeeetszee", I am inspired to go explore, find new places, meet new people and experience unforgettable experiences.
Friday nights are a bit different for me, though. They have always been. I was born and raised in Venezuela in a Jewish Orthodox home. My parents always left it up to us to decide the extent of involvement and dedication we would give the religion, while imposing in our upbringing strong values and traditions. Not surprisingly, my brothers and I chose to pursue the path of our ancestors and celebrate our heritage.
Many have a passion for their religion; I myself try to get involved not only in the spiritual side of things, but in the community building opportunities and practice of traditions. At the University of Chicago, I am the President of the Chabad Student Board, back in High School I was one of the student directors of Maccabi Tzair Miami, which a group of community members and I developed from its grassroots: Olam Hayeled.
On Fridays, Jewish people celebrate the Shabbat (Sabbath); it is customary to pray in the evening and follow by performing the blessing of the wine and the bread and having a Shabbat meal. Living in San Francisco this summer, I took advantage of the opportunity that there are numerous synagogues around and picked one of Sephardic tradition (the one that my family practices from their origins in Morocco). Temple Magain David is 40 minutes away in public transportation from my apartment! Regardless, I decided to go and check it out.
I finally arrived. 7:40 marked my watch; I was already 10 minutes late. As I entered the harmonious temple, everyone shushed and the main guy, whom I later learned was the rabbi said in a loud voice "Shabbat shalom" (good shabbos). I thought it was funny he did that so I smiled and took a seat somewhere in the middle row. Without making eye-contact with anyone, he proceeded by repeating the phrase, twice more. In seeing that no one answered, I realized that he was actually talking to me and wanted to make sure I had come to the right place. I immediately responded three times the same phrase, and everyone laughed. The prayers continued without other interruptions all the way until the end.
After the prayers, the rabbi asked me in Hebrew if I had a place to eat that night, and I said no, so he claimed that they served dinners downstairs every Friday and that I was welcome to come, eat and share whenever.
The rabbi didn't stay though. I walked down to the basement and helped a guy I was introduced to, to cut some vegetables. While I did that he took out 10 plates with different foods on them and put them on a side table, while another man helped him setup our plates. The two of them and I would have dinner together every Friday thereafter for the rest of the summer.
It's a different experience. All three of us are young, one has a room in the synagogues on Fridays and the other camps out in the backyard- it's their way of not having to walk over 2 hours to get to temple on Fridays. The food is magically there every Friday- always different, in abundance and hot. The fellows- one is an accountant who migrated from Russia, the other one is the son of two Holocaust escapees who got married when they were 15 years old and went through Argentina and Chile, until they ended up in San Francisco.
I could probably find another synagogue, with more people to eat dinner with, not in a basement… but it wouldn't make this summer as special as it is. I have my musketeer Fridays, and I wouldn't change the laughs, stories and sense of independence for anything out there.
Monday, July 13, 2009
When Latinos (and friends) Come Together… at Google!
Note to begin, that I added “(and friends)” because Google in itself is known for its inclusive culture, and our Hispanic Googler’s Network (HGN) is that much so!
The BOLD (Building Opportunities for Leadership & Development) Program is a summer internship for undergraduate and graduate students of diverse backgrounds around the United States in any of the Google offices. It brings together people of all majors, schools, colors and affinities- it brings together a taste of the world.
This year’s group of interns is fun and engaging, opportunity-seeking and driven. We are here to learn, work, network and make long-lasting relationships that will help us develop as a group and as individuals in the years to come.
I am currently an economics/international studies double major at the University of Chicago. I grew up in Caracas, Venezuela and finished High School in Miami. My family is so diverse in itself that it’s usually hard to tell people where we’re from; I’ve come to see that as a trend among many peers in our group. We all have a story, and a load of culture differences and similarities. That’s what makes us the 2009 BOLD Interns.
This past Friday, a group of interns and I, met with Alana and Luiz of the Hispanic Googler’s Network to learn and contribute ideas to what should be an exciting summer together. Many of us have already introduced ourselves through the mailing list, and joined forces with the aforementioned hosts to come up with exhilarating ideas that will mark our summers, build on our culture and strengthen HGN.
We are here, we are eager, and we are ready.
The BOLD (Building Opportunities for Leadership & Development) Program is a summer internship for undergraduate and graduate students of diverse backgrounds around the United States in any of the Google offices. It brings together people of all majors, schools, colors and affinities- it brings together a taste of the world.
This year’s group of interns is fun and engaging, opportunity-seeking and driven. We are here to learn, work, network and make long-lasting relationships that will help us develop as a group and as individuals in the years to come.
I am currently an economics/international studies double major at the University of Chicago. I grew up in Caracas, Venezuela and finished High School in Miami. My family is so diverse in itself that it’s usually hard to tell people where we’re from; I’ve come to see that as a trend among many peers in our group. We all have a story, and a load of culture differences and similarities. That’s what makes us the 2009 BOLD Interns.
This past Friday, a group of interns and I, met with Alana and Luiz of the Hispanic Googler’s Network to learn and contribute ideas to what should be an exciting summer together. Many of us have already introduced ourselves through the mailing list, and joined forces with the aforementioned hosts to come up with exhilarating ideas that will mark our summers, build on our culture and strengthen HGN.
We are here, we are eager, and we are ready.
Ashley and Luiz
Luiz, Benito, Rodrigo, David and Ashley
Introductions
Alana!
After our meeting (and getting some schwag), we headed to the ERG Ice Cream Party near the volleyball courts on main, where we had an official introduction of the other groups at Google eager to come together and share: Black Googlers Network, Asian American Googlers Network, Gayglers, etc… We mingled and ate, as any good Googler would!
I am very much looking forward to cultural food outings, Salsa competitions, networking and so much more!
Feel free to reach out to us, schedule a lunch / coffee, or even join forces in planning summer events!
To a great summer: Cheers!
David Akinin, on behalf of the BOLD Interns
I am very much looking forward to cultural food outings, Salsa competitions, networking and so much more!
Feel free to reach out to us, schedule a lunch / coffee, or even join forces in planning summer events!
To a great summer: Cheers!
David Akinin, on behalf of the BOLD Interns
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Shoes4Africa, Inc.- from an idea to a global nonprofit
Today, I am to write about what marked my life for two years, developed my interpersonal skills and helped me learn more about myself, my aspirations, my dreams than I thought was possible. Today, I write about what woke me up, what pushed me in the race of life, what got me somehow to where I am today. Shoes4Africa, Inc. is a campaign that started as a simple idea in the summer of my sophomore year in high school with my best friend Joel Wiznitzer, and overnight, turned to a globally represented, media-covered and multinational-organization funded nonprofit corporation.
As an immigrant I have had the opportunity to view the world through many lenses. When I lived in Venezuela I was aware that many people suffered and had to struggle to sustain their families. Arriving in the United States, I knew that I would not be able to eradicate these images from my mind.
I lived for 13 years in an underdeveloped country where injustices and societal flaws were covered up by the fraudulent action of the powerful few. These most likely were the ones who hired the team of criminals who kidnapped my brothers and me, leaving us with painful memories. After this harrowing experience how could I not do something to change the world in which I live?
In the summer of 2006, reviewing the life experiences that haunted me and the impoverished living conditions of many in my homeland, I wanted to change some of those problems. The inspiration and the idea that I had the power to start something, however big, came from my father. In my sophomore year at Dr. Michael M. Krop Senior High School in Miami, Florida, I had the opportunity to attend my older brother’s, Abraham Akinin, Silver Knight Award Ceremony. On the ride back from the ceremony, all my father talked about is how I had to start something, a project- “thinking big, thinking small, thinking of your community and the global spectrum, start something that you like, that puts your skills to practice. Those kids did it, you can do much more!.”
Thinking big to start small, I came across the idea of world poverty. I saw it with my own eyes in Venezuela, but I read about it and studied it thoroughly since coming to America. As a student in an AP Human Geography course, I was exposed to the economics of West Africa, from cocoa production in the Ivory Coast to populations below the poverty line. Later I took International Relations at Florida International University, which widened my knowledge of contemporary Africa and made me fall in love with the cause. Joel and I sat in a room one day for 6 hours and stopped talking about what we wanted to do when we grew up, as our usual conversations would go, and decided to talk about what we were going to do then.
Through this research we found that being barefoot is not uncommon, nor is it healthy. We realized that shoes would help in the fight against poverty. This was my chance to get back at some of the injustices of the world and bring about a positive change. We founded a nonprofit organization and started collecting shoes at school and storing them in every corner we could fit a box. What better place to start than my own closet?
Shoes4Africa, Inc. (www.help4africa.com) collects shoes in cities across the U.S. and eight countries around the world to be shipped to people in Ivory Coast, Nigeria, and other African nations where so many walk barefoot and some have never owned a pair of shoes. Wearing shoes helps in the fight against environmentally caused diseases, cuts, scratches, and parasites (such as hookworm larvae), as well as progressing in terms of world development.
The first steps are often the most difficult part of founding an organization or starting a campaign, but to me those were the easiest. First we launched the website, which I designed myself that same day. The project began small, but as people heard what we were doing, it grew.
We collected shoes from our families and close friends. We had by the end of a week, a couple dozen pairs. That’s when we got ambitious.
Holding leadership positions in our school’s French Club, Future Business Leaders of America, and student government, I was able to encourage student participation in the drive. In less than one month the whole school became involved, and hundreds of shoes piled into boxes and bags. These results gave us an idea that was the turning point of our campaign.
Joel Wiznitzer and David Akinin talking to volunteers at the Aventura Chabad in South Florida
Networking essential: a business card!This community and Internet exposure gave me the motivation to set up a global structure for my organization. At Harvard Summer School I met professors who put me in touch with an African nonprofit I’d been working with to send the shoes to Africa, African Embassy, Inc. I made friends all over the world who were just as motivated and inspired as I am, and who have taken the campaign to their cities and countries. By then, I served as the global co-director, and we had eight country directors, city directors, and 34 school liaisons. Giving a teen the opportunity to feel like a leader is all the motivation necessary to change the world. Amy Omar in Akron, Ohio was in TV interviews and countless journal publications spotlighting her leadership and work through Shoes4Africa.
Amy Omar from Akron, OhioWith Florida International University, Shoes4Africa undertook the “Walk in My Shoes” campaign to increase awareness of sexual violence and bring an end to it, while using the campaign as a means of collecting shoes for the needy. Each pair had a story of rape attached to it, and surprisingly, many anonymous volunteers brought shoes with their own stories attached.
No long and ambitious task comes without problems. One year after having founded Shoes4Africa with the mission of solving the barefoot crisis in Western Africa “one shoe at a time”, viciously expanding our ideal globally, and starting chapters throughout the US, Canada, Sweden, Nicaragua, Guatemala and Venezuela, I was threatened of being sued by Shoe4Africa’s legal counsel. A counsel for another NPO in NY, undertook legal actions against me as they learned of our success in collecting thousands of shoes. Although they managed to shut down the website, S4A, because they threatened the hosting company, we kept expanding and collecting. We simply switched from www.shoes4africa.org (which is still blocked) to www.help4africa.com (which we have started building again).
“The world needs one hundred organizations like ours,” was my first and last response to them. I grew older than I did in 17 years, that day, when I digested the irony in their actions, the coldness in the hearts and their pocketing intentions. Feeling alone in a fight- combating the goliaths without a rock, and managing to continue on with my aspirations, to learn and comprehend from those incidents, have made me grow taller inside.
Teaching about Africa and its problems at an elementary schoolJoel and I would leave school early, or even wake up 3 hours before school started, because we had to move hundreds of boxes from one storage space to another, as the companies that lend us the space needed to vacate from time to time. In the last months of the project we had over 4,000 pairs of shoes stored in Milan Kitchen’s storage space in South Florida.
Shipping? We had no idea what we’re going to do until the last months of our project. I had called, mailed, emailed, stalked everyone possible; we had gotten rejection letters from everyone, and worst of all everyone in the community was on our tail about the status of the shipment. Frederick Smith, the president of FedEx sent me a personal letter saying he couldn’t help at the time. But pushing down the scale, I found success with Tiffany Bryant, a Branch Manager for FedEx, who helped us out and allowed us to close a deal with FedEx.
At FedEx Miami, shipping over 4,500 pairs
Interview with Nani MonteroNot only has Shoes4Africa ameliorated the conditions of the needy by providing shoes, but it prevents the spread of diseases that come with being barefoot. Moreover, the project created young leaders in over 20 cities and eight countries who are now in charge of an important campaign in their schools and communities. It inspired local campaigns in many places, and made leaders out of third grade classrooms like Mrs. Landman’s class at Sinai Jacobson Academy. It made the world more aware of the harsh conditions of others, inspired teens like myself to start their own campaigns, and most importantly, changed my life!
Mrs Landman's Class and David Akinin, at Sinai Academy in Miami, Florida
This is truly a short version of two and a half years of sweat, experiences, learning and growth. Feel free to reach out to me to learn more.
Founders, David Akinin and Joel Wiznitzer
Joel Wiznitzer
David Akinin
Visit http://www.dosomething.org/project/shoes4africa-inc-aka-help4africa to view our project
or www.help4africa.com
or www.zimbio.com/shoes4africa.org
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Hoy recuerdo a mi abuelo, Don Abraham Benarroch Bentata Z''L
Hoy me siento a contemplar el pasado. El pequeño pasado que he vivido, la gente que lo influyó, la manera en que lo hicieron, directa e indirectamente.
Hoy en especial contemplo a un hombre que llevó siempre mi más alto respeto, a un marido excepcional, a un padre como pocos, a un abuelo relleno de cariño y emoción. Hoy me siento a contemplar lo que representó para mi, mi abuelo: Don Abraham Benarroch Bentata (Zichronot Libraha).
Mi abuelo, y con qué honor y pasión quiero intensificar el “mi” con el que empiezo esta oración, nunca dejó de impresionarme- no importa la ocasión, mi edad, o las circunstancias. Muchas fueron las oportunidades cuales compartí con él en familia, donde su energía, picardía, sonrisa, pasión y amor eran el centro de atención.
Mejores, califico yo, aunque él ya un poco mayor, fueron las veces que me senté con el asolas en su apartamento de Mystic Pointe a conversar sobre temas varios, a lanzarle preguntas de temas aburridos, interesantes, alarmantes, y oír las respuestas que me daba. La abuela Lucy se reía, y a veces después de hacer la pregunta yo me volteaba y veía su asombro en oír las respuestas que MI abuelo, reconocido por ser mas callado en sus últimos años, daba con intuición.
Sobre una novia, sobre la universidad, sobre un negocio, sobre un equipo, sobre mi vida, sobre su pasado, sobre mi futuro, sobre Dios y la religión- qué no le pregunte? Si algo me faltó, de eso me arrepiento hoy. A veces le hacía preguntas sobre temas que no tenían fin, porque sentía que el tan solo llevar una conversación con él ya en si era para mí más que suficiente.
Ahora me siento aquí, en un cubículo en una oficina, pensando en cuantas preguntas le deje de preguntar, cuantos temas jamás descubriré, sobre cuantas experiencias dejé de oír, y lo único que puedo hacer es ver lágrimas caer sobre el teclado de mi computadora. Mi nivel de madurez creció con el pasar de los años, y cada vez era más tarde para hacer preguntas, para satisfacer una infinita necesidad que pocos tienen la oportunidad de alimentar, y que hoy me pregunto, al recordar, si yo la supe sustentar…
Increíble como en un estado de confusión, la solución solo parece ser llorar… pero así se abren campos y veo las mil razones por las que con una gran sonrisa el resto de mi vida lo iré a recordar.
Me acuerdo de verlo sentado en su sofá en Caracas con una camiseta, bermudas y medias largas negras, que luego al acostarse a descansar, como él siempre supo hacerlo en el Shabbat, me pediría que se las fuera a quitar.
Me acuerdo de ser levantado en el aire por sus largos brazos, levantar mi camisa y presionar sus labios en mi barriga, prrhshprsh, haciéndome entrar en carcajadas.
Me acuerdo del beso ensordecedor.
Me acuerdo del “peligro amarillo”.
Me acuerdo de las mil historias que oí sobre él, y conté a mis amigos con gran orgullo, empezando con la del Señor Burdines. Reconozco que nunca fue él quien contaba las historias- que humildad!
Me acuerdo de estar sentado alrededor de una hermosa mesa de Shabbat un viernes por la noche y oírlo decir el Kiddush, y a mi tio Ari seguir con su voz.
Me acuerdo de estar sentado en la misma mesa un sábado por la tarde y oír a mi abuelo empezar con el “Beshameru benei Israel…” y dejar pegado el “Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”…. Hasta que mi abuela le tocaba el hombro y él seguía “sheshet yamin…” La única razón por la cual me aprendí el kidush del sábado, es por haberlo oído a él, cantarlo infinitas veces con su gran voz.
Me acuerdo de hasta en sus últimos shabbatot con nosotros, oírlo rezar de memoria todos los rezos, y seguir con uno la tefilah…
Me acuerdo de haber empezado a ir a la sinagoga por mi cuenta gracias a él. Hasta donde me lleva mi memoria, fui por primera vez con mi padre a un Shabbat para acompañar al Abuelo Abraham a Mariperez, y al notar el respeto que todos le tenían, jóvenes y viejos, rabinos- toda la Kehila, como quería yo volver el próximo Shabbat y ser uno de los privilegiados que se sentase al lado de él.
Me acuerdo de hacerle la vida imposible a Zurita, Alberto o Thomas, si no me llevaban a la sinagoga a la hora. Llegaba yo solo, y luego me alcanzaba mi papa, pero yo a la sinagoga de mi abuelo Abraham, sin falta, siempre. Me acuerdo de oír a todos preguntar cómo estaba mi abuelo Abraham, y con gran orgullo responder sobre él. Me acuerdo de estar orgulloso de ser asociado con él- el nieto de Don Abraham Benarroch. Me acuerdo de rezar el kiddush parado en la teibah, y de tratar de forzar mi voz sobre la de los otros jóvenes para que mi abuelo, Don Abraham, y por supuesto mi padre, la oyeran con honor y orgullo.
Me acuerdo de haber entrado a su cuarto en varias ocasiones y verlo descansar ocupando toda la cama, y tener la oportunidad de ver la paz que había allí. Me acuerdo de haberle preguntado cómo podía el cerrar los ojos y quedarse dormido tan rápido- “solo cierra los ojos, y pon la mente en blanco”. Hasta el día de hoy no lo he podido lograr. Empiezo pensando en el color blanco, y luego la palabra color me lleva a pensar en creyones, y luego en el colegio y bamm se me abren los ojos.
Me acuerdo de oírlo echarle piropos a mi abuela sobre su cintura, su belleza, su esplendor.
Me acuerdo, y de esta me acuerdo sin falta, de oírlo darle gracias a Dios por el pan de todos los días y la mujer de su vida antes de tomar sus pastillas y vitaminas matutinas. Esa era su beraja diaria!
Me acuerdo de que le importase que yo me terminara mi Nesquick antes de ir al parque o a la piscina de su edificio.
Me acuerdo de verlo jugar Parchis, Solitario.
Me acuerdo de querer hacer mis tareas de matemáticas en su casa.
Me acuerdo de perder dos horas con mi familia preparándonos para ir a su casa. Trajes de baño, juguetes, toallas, carritos, pelotas, etc.. igual si no lo llevábamos, en su casa lo podíamos encontrar.
Me acuerdo de una vez que mi abuelo Abraham y mi abuela Lucy se mudaron a Atenu, nuestra casa, por una semana o un poco más, porque mis padres se habían ido a Paris. Me acuerdo de haberme atragantado con una hoja de laurel y mi abuela voltearme en el aire, mientras el abuelo Abraham decía con gran calma “tose, tose hombre!”
Me acuerdo de luego haberle preguntado si él creía en Dios. Como un niño con grandes preguntas y numerosas a la vez, esa fue una de las pocas veces que me atreví a hacerle esa pregunta a alguien. A la primera persona que se la hice fue a él.
D: “Abuelo, tú crees que Dios existe?”
A: “Si. Estoy seguro de que él existe!”
D: “Pero, cómo? Yo nunca lo he visto, como puedes estar tan seguro?”
--Me respondió con calma y gran certeza. Una respuesta de mi abuelo, ya en si era para mí suficiente razón. Saber que él no tenía duda, me quitó a mi toda duda, mágicamente…
A: “Todos nos hicimos esa pregunta en algún momento de nuestras vidas. Yo no estaba seguro hasta que leí varias historias en la Tora. Que un hombre, solo, haya sacado a un pueblo de un país puede ser acción de cualquier buen líder, pero que ese mismo hombre haya abierto los mares, o que a todo un pueblo le haya caído el Mana; eso es acción de quien llamamos Dios.
D: Yo estaba convencido, pero le quise de cualquier manera preguntar. “Tú no estuviste ahí abuelo, como sabes TU que D-os existe…?”
A: “Yo viví en una época en la que los Judíos estaban siendo exterminados en Europa. Pero de una noche a la mañana, vi una obra de Hashem. Sentí con más fuerza que nunca, que había esperanza. Vi a un imperio Nazi caer, a víctimas del holocausto sobrevivir, vi la creación del estado de Israel en un mundo mitad antisemita… vi las obras de Dios”
Si él las vio, yo las vi, y así es que los judíos debemos haber pasado nuestra historia y tradición oral. De abuelo a nieto por generaciones y generaciones.
Me acuerdo de creer en Dios y de respetar mis tradiciones gracias a Mi abuelo Abraham.
Me acuerdo y no me paro de acordar, de experiencias, de momentos, de sentimientos, de pensamientos, que en su momento se sintieron insignificantes y ahora, más que nunca, no puedo parar de valorar.
Me acuerdo de bromas espontaneas, canciones sin palabras, dichos sabios, repeticiones de palabras con las que la abuela Lucy terminaba sus oraciones. Me acuerdo de todas esas tonalidades estresantes (para los que la oían)- me recuerda a mi mama gritando “papaaa!” o a mi abuela agregando “Abraham, Ya!
“Que dirán los niños!”… “los niños, los niños,” lo que hacíamos era reír, y reír sin parar. Cancioncillas que hasta hace un poquitín más de un ano, el abuelo y nosotros cantábamos juntos cuando visitabamos su casa. No había nada que a Arie mi hermano le gustase más hacer que unirse a él en eso! Me acuerdo mejor de sus carcajadas y sonrisas al vernos felices.
Este Viernes 10 de Julio, ha transcurrido un año desde que por última vez lo vi, un año desde que le pude decir frente a frente, que lo quería, que era un joven contento, que veía pa’lante y que quisiera compartirlo todo con él. Tuve la oportunidad de despedirme. De sostener su mano, y decirle que lo quería con el corazón, de que estábamos todos reunidos, su familia inmediata, compartiendo con él, pensando en él, rezando por él.
Mi tío Ari Benarroch, que Dios lo guarde y le dé buen mazal e infinitas alegrías, ha sostenido su nombre en alto, ha rezado con una increíble intensidad y responsabilidad, que ha cargado la neshama de Mi abuelo, su padre, Abraham Benarroch Bentata Z’L, al Olam Haba- a su trono en Olam Haba.
Mi abuela Lucy, la mujer más bella y fuerte del mundo, más colorida y más apasionante que he conocido, ha llevado un gran dolor por haber perdido al amor de su vida. A ella la admiro por infinitas razones, pero a esa lista le agrego el haberse compuesto para seguir adelante como mi abuelo lo hubiese querida, repartiendo energía y amor a la familia.
Le hablo hoy más que todo a mi abuelo Abraham a través de esta lista de recuerdos y memorias, a pedirle que mire por todos nosotros con el amor que lo hizo mientras estaba acá, que guie a nuestras familias por el camino de la paz y felicidad, y que algún día me dé el coraje y la fuerza de llegar a ser el hombre, esposo, padre, abuelo y judío que él por ochenta años fue.
Listen to the blog post read by author here:
Hoy en especial contemplo a un hombre que llevó siempre mi más alto respeto, a un marido excepcional, a un padre como pocos, a un abuelo relleno de cariño y emoción. Hoy me siento a contemplar lo que representó para mi, mi abuelo: Don Abraham Benarroch Bentata (Zichronot Libraha).
Mi abuelo, y con qué honor y pasión quiero intensificar el “mi” con el que empiezo esta oración, nunca dejó de impresionarme- no importa la ocasión, mi edad, o las circunstancias. Muchas fueron las oportunidades cuales compartí con él en familia, donde su energía, picardía, sonrisa, pasión y amor eran el centro de atención.
Mejores, califico yo, aunque él ya un poco mayor, fueron las veces que me senté con el asolas en su apartamento de Mystic Pointe a conversar sobre temas varios, a lanzarle preguntas de temas aburridos, interesantes, alarmantes, y oír las respuestas que me daba. La abuela Lucy se reía, y a veces después de hacer la pregunta yo me volteaba y veía su asombro en oír las respuestas que MI abuelo, reconocido por ser mas callado en sus últimos años, daba con intuición.
Sobre una novia, sobre la universidad, sobre un negocio, sobre un equipo, sobre mi vida, sobre su pasado, sobre mi futuro, sobre Dios y la religión- qué no le pregunte? Si algo me faltó, de eso me arrepiento hoy. A veces le hacía preguntas sobre temas que no tenían fin, porque sentía que el tan solo llevar una conversación con él ya en si era para mí más que suficiente.
Ahora me siento aquí, en un cubículo en una oficina, pensando en cuantas preguntas le deje de preguntar, cuantos temas jamás descubriré, sobre cuantas experiencias dejé de oír, y lo único que puedo hacer es ver lágrimas caer sobre el teclado de mi computadora. Mi nivel de madurez creció con el pasar de los años, y cada vez era más tarde para hacer preguntas, para satisfacer una infinita necesidad que pocos tienen la oportunidad de alimentar, y que hoy me pregunto, al recordar, si yo la supe sustentar…
Increíble como en un estado de confusión, la solución solo parece ser llorar… pero así se abren campos y veo las mil razones por las que con una gran sonrisa el resto de mi vida lo iré a recordar.
Me acuerdo de verlo sentado en su sofá en Caracas con una camiseta, bermudas y medias largas negras, que luego al acostarse a descansar, como él siempre supo hacerlo en el Shabbat, me pediría que se las fuera a quitar.
Me acuerdo de ser levantado en el aire por sus largos brazos, levantar mi camisa y presionar sus labios en mi barriga, prrhshprsh, haciéndome entrar en carcajadas.
Me acuerdo del beso ensordecedor.
Me acuerdo del “peligro amarillo”.
Me acuerdo de las mil historias que oí sobre él, y conté a mis amigos con gran orgullo, empezando con la del Señor Burdines. Reconozco que nunca fue él quien contaba las historias- que humildad!
Me acuerdo de estar sentado alrededor de una hermosa mesa de Shabbat un viernes por la noche y oírlo decir el Kiddush, y a mi tio Ari seguir con su voz.
Me acuerdo de estar sentado en la misma mesa un sábado por la tarde y oír a mi abuelo empezar con el “Beshameru benei Israel…” y dejar pegado el “Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”…. Hasta que mi abuela le tocaba el hombro y él seguía “sheshet yamin…” La única razón por la cual me aprendí el kidush del sábado, es por haberlo oído a él, cantarlo infinitas veces con su gran voz.
Me acuerdo de hasta en sus últimos shabbatot con nosotros, oírlo rezar de memoria todos los rezos, y seguir con uno la tefilah…
Me acuerdo de haber empezado a ir a la sinagoga por mi cuenta gracias a él. Hasta donde me lleva mi memoria, fui por primera vez con mi padre a un Shabbat para acompañar al Abuelo Abraham a Mariperez, y al notar el respeto que todos le tenían, jóvenes y viejos, rabinos- toda la Kehila, como quería yo volver el próximo Shabbat y ser uno de los privilegiados que se sentase al lado de él.
Me acuerdo de hacerle la vida imposible a Zurita, Alberto o Thomas, si no me llevaban a la sinagoga a la hora. Llegaba yo solo, y luego me alcanzaba mi papa, pero yo a la sinagoga de mi abuelo Abraham, sin falta, siempre. Me acuerdo de oír a todos preguntar cómo estaba mi abuelo Abraham, y con gran orgullo responder sobre él. Me acuerdo de estar orgulloso de ser asociado con él- el nieto de Don Abraham Benarroch. Me acuerdo de rezar el kiddush parado en la teibah, y de tratar de forzar mi voz sobre la de los otros jóvenes para que mi abuelo, Don Abraham, y por supuesto mi padre, la oyeran con honor y orgullo.
Me acuerdo de haber entrado a su cuarto en varias ocasiones y verlo descansar ocupando toda la cama, y tener la oportunidad de ver la paz que había allí. Me acuerdo de haberle preguntado cómo podía el cerrar los ojos y quedarse dormido tan rápido- “solo cierra los ojos, y pon la mente en blanco”. Hasta el día de hoy no lo he podido lograr. Empiezo pensando en el color blanco, y luego la palabra color me lleva a pensar en creyones, y luego en el colegio y bamm se me abren los ojos.
Me acuerdo de oírlo echarle piropos a mi abuela sobre su cintura, su belleza, su esplendor.
Me acuerdo, y de esta me acuerdo sin falta, de oírlo darle gracias a Dios por el pan de todos los días y la mujer de su vida antes de tomar sus pastillas y vitaminas matutinas. Esa era su beraja diaria!
Me acuerdo de que le importase que yo me terminara mi Nesquick antes de ir al parque o a la piscina de su edificio.
Me acuerdo de verlo jugar Parchis, Solitario.
Me acuerdo de querer hacer mis tareas de matemáticas en su casa.
Me acuerdo de perder dos horas con mi familia preparándonos para ir a su casa. Trajes de baño, juguetes, toallas, carritos, pelotas, etc.. igual si no lo llevábamos, en su casa lo podíamos encontrar.
Me acuerdo de una vez que mi abuelo Abraham y mi abuela Lucy se mudaron a Atenu, nuestra casa, por una semana o un poco más, porque mis padres se habían ido a Paris. Me acuerdo de haberme atragantado con una hoja de laurel y mi abuela voltearme en el aire, mientras el abuelo Abraham decía con gran calma “tose, tose hombre!”
Me acuerdo de luego haberle preguntado si él creía en Dios. Como un niño con grandes preguntas y numerosas a la vez, esa fue una de las pocas veces que me atreví a hacerle esa pregunta a alguien. A la primera persona que se la hice fue a él.
D: “Abuelo, tú crees que Dios existe?”
A: “Si. Estoy seguro de que él existe!”
D: “Pero, cómo? Yo nunca lo he visto, como puedes estar tan seguro?”
--Me respondió con calma y gran certeza. Una respuesta de mi abuelo, ya en si era para mí suficiente razón. Saber que él no tenía duda, me quitó a mi toda duda, mágicamente…
A: “Todos nos hicimos esa pregunta en algún momento de nuestras vidas. Yo no estaba seguro hasta que leí varias historias en la Tora. Que un hombre, solo, haya sacado a un pueblo de un país puede ser acción de cualquier buen líder, pero que ese mismo hombre haya abierto los mares, o que a todo un pueblo le haya caído el Mana; eso es acción de quien llamamos Dios.
D: Yo estaba convencido, pero le quise de cualquier manera preguntar. “Tú no estuviste ahí abuelo, como sabes TU que D-os existe…?”
A: “Yo viví en una época en la que los Judíos estaban siendo exterminados en Europa. Pero de una noche a la mañana, vi una obra de Hashem. Sentí con más fuerza que nunca, que había esperanza. Vi a un imperio Nazi caer, a víctimas del holocausto sobrevivir, vi la creación del estado de Israel en un mundo mitad antisemita… vi las obras de Dios”
Si él las vio, yo las vi, y así es que los judíos debemos haber pasado nuestra historia y tradición oral. De abuelo a nieto por generaciones y generaciones.
Me acuerdo de creer en Dios y de respetar mis tradiciones gracias a Mi abuelo Abraham.
Me acuerdo y no me paro de acordar, de experiencias, de momentos, de sentimientos, de pensamientos, que en su momento se sintieron insignificantes y ahora, más que nunca, no puedo parar de valorar.
Me acuerdo de bromas espontaneas, canciones sin palabras, dichos sabios, repeticiones de palabras con las que la abuela Lucy terminaba sus oraciones. Me acuerdo de todas esas tonalidades estresantes (para los que la oían)- me recuerda a mi mama gritando “papaaa!” o a mi abuela agregando “Abraham, Ya!
“Que dirán los niños!”… “los niños, los niños,” lo que hacíamos era reír, y reír sin parar. Cancioncillas que hasta hace un poquitín más de un ano, el abuelo y nosotros cantábamos juntos cuando visitabamos su casa. No había nada que a Arie mi hermano le gustase más hacer que unirse a él en eso! Me acuerdo mejor de sus carcajadas y sonrisas al vernos felices.
Este Viernes 10 de Julio, ha transcurrido un año desde que por última vez lo vi, un año desde que le pude decir frente a frente, que lo quería, que era un joven contento, que veía pa’lante y que quisiera compartirlo todo con él. Tuve la oportunidad de despedirme. De sostener su mano, y decirle que lo quería con el corazón, de que estábamos todos reunidos, su familia inmediata, compartiendo con él, pensando en él, rezando por él.
Mi tío Ari Benarroch, que Dios lo guarde y le dé buen mazal e infinitas alegrías, ha sostenido su nombre en alto, ha rezado con una increíble intensidad y responsabilidad, que ha cargado la neshama de Mi abuelo, su padre, Abraham Benarroch Bentata Z’L, al Olam Haba- a su trono en Olam Haba.
Mi abuela Lucy, la mujer más bella y fuerte del mundo, más colorida y más apasionante que he conocido, ha llevado un gran dolor por haber perdido al amor de su vida. A ella la admiro por infinitas razones, pero a esa lista le agrego el haberse compuesto para seguir adelante como mi abuelo lo hubiese querida, repartiendo energía y amor a la familia.
Le hablo hoy más que todo a mi abuelo Abraham a través de esta lista de recuerdos y memorias, a pedirle que mire por todos nosotros con el amor que lo hizo mientras estaba acá, que guie a nuestras familias por el camino de la paz y felicidad, y que algún día me dé el coraje y la fuerza de llegar a ser el hombre, esposo, padre, abuelo y judío que él por ochenta años fue.
Listen to the blog post read by author here:
Friday, July 3, 2009
AdSense For Soccer
This summer, as you'll later learn I am working at Google. I have a paid internship in AdSense, Google's ad publisher interface that allows you to make money while publishing advertisements from their AdWords customers. In AdSense everything is AFX. AdSense for X (x being, S for search, M for mobile, etc)... Today's post is about AdSense for Soccer.
I had just gotten back from a 1:1 meeting with a team leader in AdSense when three different people approached me asking me how come I wasn’t ready! Ready for what? I asked. For soccer, put your shoes on, this product manager (that’s quite a high position) answered. Now let me explain something about Google culture: here everything has codenames, so “soccer” probably stood for some software or meeting, and as any new intern, I felt out of place! So I proceeded by doing what I have always done when I feel out of place- I asked!
It turns out there was an actual soccer game. Yes! At 12:30 PM right in the middle of lunchtime, and I was probably not only going to miss the Texas themed 4th of July BBQ I was about to go to with some co-workers, but some of the meetings that followed. Agh! Who cares? My manager thought it’d be cool, I took the offer.
Now here was the problem- everyone at Google dresses really chill, I on the other hand was dressed on the business casual side, and therefore only found myself wearing one thing that would come useful for the soccer game- underwear. Where was I going to find sneakers, shorts and a T-shirt. By coincidence I had those things in a locker at the Gym, as the day before I had forgotten to take it home.
I walked out of the Gym and there was an SUV, with a driver waiting. He pulled down the window and called out- Sir, are you David? I laughed. He said, get on and quickly, they’re waiting for you. I had no idea what was going on. One minute there’s some managers near my desk asking me why am I not ready, the next a driver outside of the building awaiting me.
It was a chilled ride- he talked about how he always tried to play in a soccer league but never made the cut. I wanted to share a similar experience, until he interrupted by saying how he really admired people like me who can do business and play sports so well. I had no idea where he got that from, but the last time I was officially in any sort of sports team, must have been the 7th grade.
Anyways, we reached the soccer field, I got outo f the SUV and thanked him. Ran in to the Google Soccer Field (as big as any pro field you’ll find), and there they were. Six team mates waiting for me, in their soccer gear, anxious. Aren’t you Scott Sheffer, the Director of Online Sales and Operations for the company (that’s four people above my manager)? Yeah! He said. And you’re David the Venezuelan; we have high expectations for you. Well, I’m working really hard and networking with everyone I can, I answered proudly. He giggled. No, I mean for today’s game- given your country of origin we expect good results! There, I joined him in the laughing; mine was perhaps a nervous one. I immediately wanted to clear everything with my team mates. Guys, I am not sure why all of this is happening or why I was chosen to play this afternoon. Given my country of origin I should be good at baseball- Venezuela never made it to the world cup.
I was relieved. I finally built up the courage to stop time for a second and let them know I wasn’t Maradona. They didn’t seem to listen. One teammate padded me in the back, and the VP-level-executive (who no one ever gets to meet with because he’s so busy, but with whom I was now going to spend the next hour and a half playing sports) approached me and asked what position I usually play. I don’t usually play, I answered. He laughed, no seriously, where in the field? That was it for me, they weren’t going to believe me, then I was going to show off. I usually play Lateral Izquierdo, it’s our word for left defense. He suddenly became interested in how to say the rest of the positions in Spanish, and I made up half, but I was proud to be teaching him some things in the field, at least before the game started.
So yeah. This was all for real. The other team got there, everyone in cleats and sheen guards! Game starts. They scored, we scored, and they scored. We were down 1-2 towards the end of the first half. I have got to admit it; I was putting up a great fight! Poh, poh , puhh- a bunch of great passes and all, but this was a really quiet game for me. One who knows me, would picture me in a field screaming random Spanish things, “pasala brother”, “cheeeaa boii”, “aqui viejo, aqui” or “papi, papi”, or even running funny to scare the other players. Not this time, this was a job interview, man. Everyone in that field had a Bachelors Degree, most had a Master’s In Business Administration, and years of experience in the Google Soccer team.
Back to the game. There I was defending the left laterals of our empire, with my bare shoe soles, no protection or support; every man had a responsibility, and expectations upon him. What sucks about being defense is that you don’t score; you take the ball from the opponent and give it to your team mate to score and take the glory. I took a chance. This time I didn’t give it to my team mate. Went up the left lateral with the ball, thought it would be great to center the ball, and maybe get some credit for “putting it in a silver platter” to the delantero (forward). I shot, the ball torpedoed like never before and I scored. “cheeaaa boiiiii”, I was screaming down the field! The high executives clapping for me, impressive said one of them. The other one turned to him and answered, I told you, we were right. Wow! I cannot express the feeling of ecstasy that was running through me. I ran back calmly to my position while everyone celebrated. On the inside I wanted to explode!
The first half ended, I had tied the game, and we were ready for the second half. I asked for a longer break, I was exhausted, although they all seemed to be fine. What’s wrong buddy, a product manager asked. Man, I haven’t played since college, gotta give me a break, I told him. Why did I say that? You haven’t played since college!? College was three weeks ago for you. You can’t use that sentence, as an intern! Everyone laughed. The ice was definitely broken. Later I’d find out, everyone in the office was talking about how “I hadn’t played since college”.
The second half happened. We really got back to this game. I scored another one (I could not believe it either, don’t worry!), and we ended up beating that team 6-2, maybe 7; by that point I wasn’t really paying attention to the score- I was in my own world…
Game was over, time to get back to work. After all, I was still getting paid for playing that game. Just when I was going to jug back to my building, Scott offered a ride in his car. I took it. I call the shower first, he said. (We have gyms everywhere, and showers too. Our building had only one). I have a meeting soon, I answered. Well, I have a 2 O’clock, he answered. I pulled out my phone, went to our personal Google Calendars, and suggested, whoever is meeting with the most important person gets to shower first. Now, he was already more important than anyone I had met at the company, so unless he was meeting with a coworker of mine, I had no chances. He was meeting with the CEO…
Soccer is a game I have always loved, but not necessarily mastered. I have played at times where I am the star, but usually others outperform me. This time I went in with the mentality that I had to win, that I wanted to win, that I was ready to give it my all. True, I was getting paid to play and all, but this game could have been at anytime during the day, and I would have paid to e able to have this experience. Things sometimes happen to us and we ask ourselves why. We have to learn to let go of that “why?”, and worry more about the “how?” How can I make of this a great experience?
I had just gotten back from a 1:1 meeting with a team leader in AdSense when three different people approached me asking me how come I wasn’t ready! Ready for what? I asked. For soccer, put your shoes on, this product manager (that’s quite a high position) answered. Now let me explain something about Google culture: here everything has codenames, so “soccer” probably stood for some software or meeting, and as any new intern, I felt out of place! So I proceeded by doing what I have always done when I feel out of place- I asked!
It turns out there was an actual soccer game. Yes! At 12:30 PM right in the middle of lunchtime, and I was probably not only going to miss the Texas themed 4th of July BBQ I was about to go to with some co-workers, but some of the meetings that followed. Agh! Who cares? My manager thought it’d be cool, I took the offer.
Now here was the problem- everyone at Google dresses really chill, I on the other hand was dressed on the business casual side, and therefore only found myself wearing one thing that would come useful for the soccer game- underwear. Where was I going to find sneakers, shorts and a T-shirt. By coincidence I had those things in a locker at the Gym, as the day before I had forgotten to take it home.
I walked out of the Gym and there was an SUV, with a driver waiting. He pulled down the window and called out- Sir, are you David? I laughed. He said, get on and quickly, they’re waiting for you. I had no idea what was going on. One minute there’s some managers near my desk asking me why am I not ready, the next a driver outside of the building awaiting me.
It was a chilled ride- he talked about how he always tried to play in a soccer league but never made the cut. I wanted to share a similar experience, until he interrupted by saying how he really admired people like me who can do business and play sports so well. I had no idea where he got that from, but the last time I was officially in any sort of sports team, must have been the 7th grade.
Anyways, we reached the soccer field, I got outo f the SUV and thanked him. Ran in to the Google Soccer Field (as big as any pro field you’ll find), and there they were. Six team mates waiting for me, in their soccer gear, anxious. Aren’t you Scott Sheffer, the Director of Online Sales and Operations for the company (that’s four people above my manager)? Yeah! He said. And you’re David the Venezuelan; we have high expectations for you. Well, I’m working really hard and networking with everyone I can, I answered proudly. He giggled. No, I mean for today’s game- given your country of origin we expect good results! There, I joined him in the laughing; mine was perhaps a nervous one. I immediately wanted to clear everything with my team mates. Guys, I am not sure why all of this is happening or why I was chosen to play this afternoon. Given my country of origin I should be good at baseball- Venezuela never made it to the world cup.
I was relieved. I finally built up the courage to stop time for a second and let them know I wasn’t Maradona. They didn’t seem to listen. One teammate padded me in the back, and the VP-level-executive (who no one ever gets to meet with because he’s so busy, but with whom I was now going to spend the next hour and a half playing sports) approached me and asked what position I usually play. I don’t usually play, I answered. He laughed, no seriously, where in the field? That was it for me, they weren’t going to believe me, then I was going to show off. I usually play Lateral Izquierdo, it’s our word for left defense. He suddenly became interested in how to say the rest of the positions in Spanish, and I made up half, but I was proud to be teaching him some things in the field, at least before the game started.
So yeah. This was all for real. The other team got there, everyone in cleats and sheen guards! Game starts. They scored, we scored, and they scored. We were down 1-2 towards the end of the first half. I have got to admit it; I was putting up a great fight! Poh, poh , puhh- a bunch of great passes and all, but this was a really quiet game for me. One who knows me, would picture me in a field screaming random Spanish things, “pasala brother”, “cheeeaa boii”, “aqui viejo, aqui” or “papi, papi”, or even running funny to scare the other players. Not this time, this was a job interview, man. Everyone in that field had a Bachelors Degree, most had a Master’s In Business Administration, and years of experience in the Google Soccer team.
Back to the game. There I was defending the left laterals of our empire, with my bare shoe soles, no protection or support; every man had a responsibility, and expectations upon him. What sucks about being defense is that you don’t score; you take the ball from the opponent and give it to your team mate to score and take the glory. I took a chance. This time I didn’t give it to my team mate. Went up the left lateral with the ball, thought it would be great to center the ball, and maybe get some credit for “putting it in a silver platter” to the delantero (forward). I shot, the ball torpedoed like never before and I scored. “cheeaaa boiiiii”, I was screaming down the field! The high executives clapping for me, impressive said one of them. The other one turned to him and answered, I told you, we were right. Wow! I cannot express the feeling of ecstasy that was running through me. I ran back calmly to my position while everyone celebrated. On the inside I wanted to explode!
The first half ended, I had tied the game, and we were ready for the second half. I asked for a longer break, I was exhausted, although they all seemed to be fine. What’s wrong buddy, a product manager asked. Man, I haven’t played since college, gotta give me a break, I told him. Why did I say that? You haven’t played since college!? College was three weeks ago for you. You can’t use that sentence, as an intern! Everyone laughed. The ice was definitely broken. Later I’d find out, everyone in the office was talking about how “I hadn’t played since college”.
The second half happened. We really got back to this game. I scored another one (I could not believe it either, don’t worry!), and we ended up beating that team 6-2, maybe 7; by that point I wasn’t really paying attention to the score- I was in my own world…
Game was over, time to get back to work. After all, I was still getting paid for playing that game. Just when I was going to jug back to my building, Scott offered a ride in his car. I took it. I call the shower first, he said. (We have gyms everywhere, and showers too. Our building had only one). I have a meeting soon, I answered. Well, I have a 2 O’clock, he answered. I pulled out my phone, went to our personal Google Calendars, and suggested, whoever is meeting with the most important person gets to shower first. Now, he was already more important than anyone I had met at the company, so unless he was meeting with a coworker of mine, I had no chances. He was meeting with the CEO…
Soccer is a game I have always loved, but not necessarily mastered. I have played at times where I am the star, but usually others outperform me. This time I went in with the mentality that I had to win, that I wanted to win, that I was ready to give it my all. True, I was getting paid to play and all, but this game could have been at anytime during the day, and I would have paid to e able to have this experience. Things sometimes happen to us and we ask ourselves why. We have to learn to let go of that “why?”, and worry more about the “how?” How can I make of this a great experience?
The Blog
Today, I decided that I am going to start recording my life experiences. The things that are worth telling, the things that are worth remembering, the ones not worth letting go, the ones worth learning from. The ones worth compiling one day and reading chronologically, to look back and smile. Today, I begin writing about today, and step into tomorrow cramming posts about yesterday, so as to one day, be able to compile it all.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Monday, June 22, 2009
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