FFT

Excerpts from an article I was reading... this kind of helps to delineate a few of the reasons why I seem rather non-plussed about my globe-trotting....

Colonialism isn't dead.
Colonialism is alive and well every time you travel from the First World to the Third and come home bearing photographs of sharks and storms and slums, or scorpions fried for snacks, sunflowers bigger than your head, stalled buses whose aisles are slick with spit, and then you tell your friends and co-workers, "Oh man, it was so great, you gotta go."
We call it ecotourism and adventure travel. That sounds sensitive. We think "ugly Americans" are the fat ones on cruises and on package tours - anyone but us. We think we're different because we don't have a stars-and-stripes patch on our backpacks.
We think our motives are purer, that in the correct frame of mind, a trip to exotica means independence and not exploitation, as we come and see and - well, not quite conquer but globalize with every dollar spent. It's easy to say: "My aim is true, my morals are on track," but Christopher Columbus and a million missionaries said so, too. Easy to think it's not corrupting or condescending or anachronistic but cool to collect snapshots of the other, trading smiles with strangers to brag about at dinner parties later: souvenirs....
... Okay, so we - having shelled out to the airlines and big oil and then fouled the air - arrive abroad. Here we are now, entertain us. We're spurred by the same selfish yearnings as every pioneer and pirate and imperial passenger from eras past... Lawrence Osborne laments that there's "nowhere left to go," because "tourism has made the planet into a uniform spectacle," with everyone "wandering through an imitation of an imitation... The entire world is a tourist installation."...
... every destination resembles a theme park at which "you are asked to play a part in the racial memory of others": Consumer. Invader. Crusader. Seducer. Self-hating Westerner. Buffoon...
... But I now wonder whether it is right to guide anyone anywhere that he or she could not find on his or her own. Travel writing is advertising; it's turning foreigners and their landscapes into commodities...
... tourism, as James Hamilton-Patterson writes.. "is an industry determined to embrace you... It wants you to spend as much as you can on fatuous souvenirs; it wants you to do Machu Picchu or the Taj Mahal; it wants you to have the rainforest experience or the Mysterious East experience or the Rose Red City Half as Old as Time experience, and it doesn't terribly mind if you also have the fleeced-by-muggers-on-Copacabana-Beach experience."
First Worlders penetrating the Third World aren't the wild rebels they imagine themselves to be, he snorts. They're deluded children, lulled by the convenience of their own electronic toys and their longing to make the folks back home envy them for where they've been...
... In an ever-flatter world where simply seeing is no longer enough, where adventure travel gets spun into Survivor and The Amazing Race, neo-swashbucklers feels compelled to traverse entire nations and waterways on foot or in unorthodox boats, suffering and sometimes only barely surviving... But even this - even what appears to be anti-travel writing, with its horror stories about power outages and Taliban gunmen and canned meat and house-sized icebergs and whole populations afflicted with what Tayler calls "broken souls" - is travel writing nonetheless. Because in its perverse way, it still makes you want to go.
Go on, sneers Hamilton-Patterson, who has lived all over the world: Ski down Kilimanjaro before the last snowdrift melts on a planet whose "accelerating demise is helped along by the mounting effluent of our journeys."
... Am I saving some tribe from extinction by not looking for it, much less telling you about it? Or am I starving some shopkeeper by not buying his sandals? Both. Neither...

- Anneli Rufus

Looking at the Man in the Mirror

So, with all the brou-ha-ha about Michael Jackson's passing (whether real or staged), along with everybody else on the planet, I headed to Youtube to watch some of the classic music he'd created over his lifetime. Yes, he was an incredibly talented singer, dancer and entertainer, and the contributions that he made to the music industry are absolutely stunning (ie. like Thriller, utter, utter brilliant classic).
However, I also reviewed some Jackson 5 videos, from when he was a small child, and I couldn't help thinking about the man. We all know the stories of how those poor boys, like many other child entertainers, were worked to the bone, and possibly even abused, to practice their routines and shows day and night for the masses. Looking at little Michael, dancing around to 'ABC' (yet another classic), it saddened me to think about his life. His whole life, fed bit by bit to the masses, since he was old enough to hold a microphone. No wonder he got weird. No wonder he was so enamored of children (whether criminally so, or not, is a point of debate). No wonder he lived in Neverland with a chimp. Searching elusively for the childhood, the innocence, the peace of just being normal; something he never actually ever got a chance to do.
Now that being said, a very wise friend also reminded me that another 170,000 people also died yesterday as well, and none of those, especially those killed for rising up against the regime in Iran, will be eulogized and remembered like the King of Pop...

Go watch Food Inc. already...

I've been rather delinquent on this end, but it's been rather busy, being growing season and all.
Yesterday, I went to go see Food Inc., the movie with a friend, and for me, rather familiar faces and voices populated the screen, and, to be honest, I didn't learn anything more that I didn't already know. That being said, it's a highly recommended movie and I think everyone should watch it for education's sake. What I couldn't believe this past weekend that a Sandra Bullock rom-com was the #1 grossing movie. Gross, indeed.
However, my friend learned quite a bit from watching, so that was gratifying. Not that they were any slouch in the nutrition and eating department at all, but it was hopeful to me that they learned quite a bit.
It sometimes makes me wonder about preaching to the choir. I find that most people I talk to about food and food issues already 'get' me; in fact, many of them are my teachers as well. Most other friends don't actually really care about food, or where it comes from, or what it's made of. They find that as long as my beliefs and understanding about food works for me, then that's great. Awesome.
Which inevitably makes me think about mission. It works both ways, you see. Just as many of my friends in the Community don't understand why I care so much about food and agriculture, and see it mainly as irrelevant to the Way and faith, it works in reverse as well. Sometimes, I feel evangelism is more about preaching to the choir; we love Jesus, and everyone else is happy for us that we do, but it doesn't fit into their paradigm, so as long as it doesn't really affect them, they don't need Him either.
Just as I wonder and worry about my non-food friends not caring about how they are nourishing their bodies, and what the future holds for them as they choose to continue to be completely ignorant of what they are feeding themselves, I likewise worry about my food friends who do not know Jesus, and I worry about their future as they choose to be ignorant of what they are feeding their souls...
What I deeply ponder is to how to be the gap-stander, how to build bridges that make sense and how to see God glorified in His creation that He loves so much...

God is doing a mighty thing....

Admittedly, God is always doing mighty things, but that's 'cause He's always amazing!
One thing that always moves my heart is Urbana. The idea of it makes my heart leap. Now, to be sure, of most of the people I know who've been, I know scant few who actually work cross-culturally, which is disappointing. However, it is the potentiality of God's people being unleashed for His purposes which is exciting!
Here's a clip, for the Liberator has come!

Running for office

I don't understand politics very well, but there are various things that both the provincial and federal opposition parties seem to be making much hay about currently. Pointlessly. Particularly since some of the hay-making is health-related, I am particularly annoyed at how much useless rhetoric is being slung around, none of which has anything to do with reality, or the issue at hand.
I am curious, however: I understood that one of the main reasons why Stéphane Dion was perceived as a weak leader was his waffling at being unable to vote against the government, and thus bring the minority government down. He apparently let several non-confidence motions pass through the House without much debate, and this contributed to his downfall.
Um, now I have a question: Didn't Michael Ignatieff just do the exact same thing?
I don't understand how come the media isn't howling at the hypocrisy. Can someone explain that to me (especially you journalists out there)???

Clichés bug me

I'm not quite sure how to approach this. A friend of mine recently told me something about themselves that, for all intents and purposes, is chronically sinful. Now comes the delicate dance of deciding how to do the 'hate the sin and love the sinner' cliché. Certainly, I'm not happy about the whole situation, my friend is perfectly aware what my traditional stance has to be on the issue, as well as what the Community at large tends to think as well. On the other hand, to condemn and be an awful person about it is also not such a great idea.
So, I brought it up as a prayer point in a small group I attend, none of whom know my friend at all, mainly along the lines of how to walk that line. Well. The response and discussion about how to walk that line didn't quite work out the way I was hoping. There was no walking of any line; I am supposed to pick a side and sit there. That to not strongly point out the 'ungodliness' of the situation was ducking the issue. That to not condemn meant I was supporting and condoning the action. Hm.
Well, I had today to mull about it, and wrote about the issue (because, of course, you never really think about how to say things eruditely at the time; usually, you have good comebacks wayyy after the fact) in an email to the ones who particularly are involved. My response to the idea that my friend's sin is a specifically bad one is as such (I've edited out anything that might identify my friend, which takes a way a bit from the flow of the email, but you can probably get the drift):
We all live ungodly lifestyles. I'm impatient, stubborn, materialistic, selfish, self-centred and ungracious; those are (some of) mine. To particularly stigmatize and condemn one sin over another, I feel is not fair. I perpetually live a lifestyle that almost completely ignores the reality of a spiritually lost, economically unjust, justice-deprived world - THAT, I feel, in many senses, is a VERY ungodly lifestyle.
We should call it what it is: Prayer for a friend and how to love him well, love him despite his shortcomings, possibly love him into a new reality and a renewed relationship with the One who loves him more than any human ever could.

Oh, to just pass over...

Ach, it bothers me when my patients' situations really grab me by the heart and I weep with them in their despair. Very unprofessional, and frankly, very self-indulgent - it's not exactly very helpful to you when your health care provider is as upset about your situation as you are.
However, my encounter with one of my families hit very hard with this recession has struck me today, more than the others that have come over the past few months; they have already lost their home, had to sell many of their appliances, have had creditors hounding them with phone calls at work and at home, and are considering personal bankruptcy. They are fearful that they will not be able to provide for their children and have them subsequently taken away from them. They've had to use a food bank for the first time in their lives, and dad cannot even bring himself to say the word "food bank". For various other reasons, they really are alone and afraid.
It's a world I, and the vast majority of my friends, barely ever touch. We don't understand want; sure, we may be short of cash, so we have to go to Tim's, rather than Starbucks, but we are not in danger of falling behind in the rent or the mortgage payments or in being unable to afford a landline, let alone a cell phone plan and internet access.
But this, this is a completely different beast. Despair and fear are not words I hear in my social circles, but they are being whispered under the doors of many other houses. I almost wish I had a paintbrush, and could paint the protective blood over their doorways, to keep hunger and poverty and despair from their homes...

Navigating through...

Received some cool news today: I've been accepted into the LEAD Fellowship program. It's a secular international program to develop leaders in the realms of environmental, social and economic sustainability. I'm looking forward to the stretching and training that I'll get from participating in this program over the next 18 months! It culminates in an international conference in South Africa next year, which will hopefully coincide with several other meetings and gatherings in that part of the world at the same time.

China IX

I can say this now, as I am no longer there, but China is not a communist country.
I have mentioned before the staggering economic discrepancies here. That is not a communist ideal. Nor is the lack of taxation of all except for the very rich, the lack of medical care, the lack of job security, nor the lack of communal provision one for the other. No equity in education or in gender relations. No equity between people groups. No equity in religious beliefs.
It is a markedly more capitalist society than, dare I say, even America. If you are left behind, there is no social safety net to catch you. If you make it, with your guanxi, then good for you! If you don't, well, that's just too bad for you, you and your family will not catch up for generations...
Now, I'm not saying that this is necessarily a bad thing, per se, but to pretend that the country runs under communist ideals and rule is a joke. If, in the pursuit of wealth and gain, many are left behind, then to pretend that the nation works under communist ideals should be left behind. It would likely be more honest to say that it is not the People's Republic of China, which implies communist, democratic ideas, but should find some name that would better reflect it's capitalistic, intensely centralized power structures instead...
I'm sorry if these few posts seem rather incoherent, but after being in transit for 25 hours, and being terribly jet-lagged, I suppose they are not as erudite as they could be...

China VIII

Traffic rules are illusory, at best, in China. Similarly to many other countries in the Global South, lane markings are optional, as are traffic lights. Speed limits are variable, depending on who's driving. Crossing the street becomes a bit like Frogger. One difference that I have noted, though, is the relative smoothness that this all occurs in. One friend mentioned it is the Taoist qi concept, of balancing pulling and pushing, flowing and going. Which is true: here, while crossing multiple lanes on a highway, you really aren't putting your life into your hands, as the vehicles will give way, instead of trying to run you down in many other countries. There is a hierarchy of who moves into empty spaces first, and vehicles and people defer to that hierarchy, instead of complete anarchy that I've seen in many other contexts. There is order in this disorder...

China VII

The one and only meal I had helped to cook in China was actually chicken and dumplings. I had insisted that we should get fresh chicken, as I'm a bit concerned about buying meat lying out on a room temperature counter all day. So, off to the market we went, and selected a squawking, feathery chicken. I got to watch the whole killing and de-feathering of the whole animal, which was very intrinsically interesting to me. We had requested that they gut the animal as well, and it did seem that the butcher removed some of the internal organs. Much to my chagrin, when we got home, I noticed, oh, intestines and gall bladders and lungs in the chicken. Seems like they removed nothing from the chicken innards at all.
Which is where I got involved in the dinner making process, which basically was to eviscerate the chicken by hand. I suppose I got this job by default since it was I who insisted on a fresh, live chicken for dinner, and since my line of work makes me less queasy about manipulating internal organs. Thank goodness for anatomy class! So I had to cut out all of the abdominal organs, and then the thoracic ones. Cut the aorta along the way, so the heart started spilling blood over all the pleural viscera, which was no good. At any rate, I got her relatively cleaned up, and then we boiled her up and ate her.

China VI

Pandas, though incredibly adorable, have no good reason as to why they have still managed to survive and not go completely extinct. If it wasn't for their extreme cuteness, I think they likely would've disappeared a while ago, as humanity just wouldn't have had the interest in saving a non-cute species.
Seriously; their mating rituals are appalling and have a poor success rate, and the very fact that pandas reproduce at all is a small miracle - most pandas today are conceived through artificial insemination. They are born prematurely, without ears, eyes or fur. They count on their mothers for caring for them for the first few months they have no eyes or ears. However, first time mothers are usually so surprised that this thing comes out of them (as they never realize that they are pregnant), they will sit on it, eat it, or bat it around until it dies.
Furthermore, though they are designed to be carnivorous (and, in fact, they sometimes will eat carrion if it's available, or their babies), they have decided that they are only able to eat a few specific species of bamboo. And, of all the bamboo that they eat, they only extract 7% of the nutritional content of the bamboo, so they need to eat kilograms of the stuff in order to get enough nourishment for the day.
So, they can't procreate, they can't gestate, they don't have maternal instincts, they don't eat efficiently... but they are so darn cute, you just want to hug one...

China V (interrupted, of course, by Big Brother)

Well, courtesy of the Great Firewall, I wasn't able to access my blog for the rest of my time in China, and, as I have just arrived back in Canada again (the True North strong and free), I will finish up my postings from here - a bit less authentic, as I am no longer in the actual country, but hey...
I believe I have discussed the issue of the insidiousness of Coca-Cola branding globally. China is no different. Here, Coca-Cola has been translated to "Ke Kou Ke La", which literally means: "suitable for the mouth, suitable for pleasure". It's a whole different ball game out here when the transliteration of your global brand actually sells itself!

China IV

I'm finding it difficult to write about China, in that I feel whatever I have to say has already been said, by many other people many other times.
However, one thing that has struck me is the sheer economic disparity in this country. I am not sure if people have already likened it to the social disparity that occurred in England during the Industrial Revolution, but the differences between the haves and the have-nots are staggering.
I have learned that the real estate moguls here, building skyscraper after skyscraper, and industrial developments galore, pay their construction workers, who are mainly migrant workers from rural settings, the equivalent of $7 CDN daily. Let me tell you; China may be a cheap country to live in, but it's not that cheap. This is also in a country that has no workers' compensation, no medical benefits, no disability insurance and no retirement pensions. I have seen grandmothers begging on the streets, presumably because they have no family to care for them, and are too old to work. I have seen construction workers come into very close calls with potential work accidents. I have seen pretty young things walking by them, in their flashy clothes, and holding cell phones that are worth two months' salary to those migrant workers.
Now, I am no student of history, but obviously change came about in the UK at the time, noting how many, many people were being left behind, while a select few were fabulously wealthy. I do hope that such change will occur here; I am not saying that we are any better in caring for our poor, but here, the poor break their backs and work in hard, hard labour in order to buy food for the day.
I suppose the paradox in saying this is that we in the West must realize how much our consumption patterns reinforce this cycle. The reason why people get paid so shitty here is because labour is cheap; dirt cheap. Which, of course, is why the products that we buy at home made here are so cheap. The competition to reach the very bottom in who can pay the lowest wages in order to cut costs here is partly our fault, to be honest. I can't help but walk through these streets and realize how much of what we do at home is preventing many people from reaching their full potential. The very small value that this culture places on individual lives is our mea culpa as well...
On a completely related note, I have also been trying to look for gifts to bring people back at home. As some of you know, my usual dilemma when I travel abroad is to buy items that are authentically made in the country that I'm visiting. The dilemma being that most souvenir-type items are made in China, no matter where in the world you are. Now that I'm here, where -everything- is made, I am finding that there is nothing here that I cannot find everywhere else in the world. All the Chinoiserie and kitsch that is found in these streets can easily be bought in any store in Toronto, for almost the same price. I am starting to think of ways to support the local economy in a viable way, and not just spend money on stupid, pointless trash...

China III

Traveling around in China isn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be - in the past few days, I've ridden trains, subways, taxis, buses and my own two feet to get around, and it hasn't been too bad at all - admittedly, part of it is the relative invisibility that I have here.
I must say that I am truly stunned by the rate of development here. One ex-pat told me that the national bird of China is the crane (ba-dum ching!). One lady I was staying with lives out in the suburbs of a small city (of only five million people!), and her entire neighbourhood is made up of super high-rises! The entire area is made up of condominium-type buildings - much like CitiPark, but for many square kilometres around.
That being said, there are some notable differences where I think they have performed better than we, in terms of urban planning. Firstly, they have very narrow, similar buildings, such that there is aesthetic congruence between buildings, and that every suite gets windows that face out of both sides of the building. I think that is great - each apartment gets a balcony out of both ends. Furthermore, they have designed these high-rises with a good mix of retail and residential, along with parks and schools as well. Wandering around in the evening, there were many (only) children playing in the courtyards around the high-rises. Lastly, they have a very extensive and frequent public transit service to help people get to the core of the city (at only $0.35 CDN a ride!).
I suppose when you're talking about "small" cities of 5 million people, you have to be organized in order to house them and move them about.

China II

It's a bit odd, in that I haven't really yet felt that I'm "in" China. In many ways, I feel like I'm running around a very, very, very large Chinatown, that just happens to have its own subway system running through it. There are enough ex-pats around to help confirm that feeling as well.
Wandering around the streets of Shanghai, I noticed the oddity of being completely ignored as a tourist. In some ways, the advantage of being relatively invisible allows me to watch people more easily. While wandering around yesterday, even with an English tourbook in hand, people mainly ignored me, with the occasional person talking to me about... something, which I wouldn't understand. It was also odd in that all the tourists and ex-pats also fully ignored me, assuming that I was one of 'them'.
I am struck by the cultural divide between the ex-pat community and the native community here. I stopped off for a break at a Western-style coffee shop, and noted that I was the only non-Caucasian person, besides the service staff, in the room. This was noted even more strongly when the barista started to take my order in Mandarin, and I just looked at her blankly. Sigh.
The same thing goes for church here; at the beginning of service for the internationals, there is an announcement to make clear that you are only allowed to stay if you hold a foreign passport, and all others are politely asked to leave, though they are welcome to any of the 'official' Chinese services. I think service this week was a welcome balm to the soul; it was encouraging to see the little church packed to the rafters with a completely multi-ethnic group of people, from over 60 nations of the earth, all worshipping God in the most unlikely of places. I haven't been so spiritually and emotionally moved by a service in a very, very long time.
In addition, we had gone to an 'all you can eat' dim sum restaurant, and guess what? They ran out of dim sum! We didn't get any hak gow, siu mai, egg tarts, nothing! Everything we ordered, they said they had run out, or were running out. At one point, they even told us the chef was leaving! What we found infuriating was that, knowing that they were closing down the kitchen soon, they still sat us at table, and didn't tell us the kitchen was closing till after they had brought out some dishes! I seemed to gather that customer service isn't exactly a strong point in China yet, as they didn't seem to find a problem in still charging us full price for the meal.

China I

Some of you are well aware of the horror show that was involved in actually getting here, and how, by the end of it all, my heart was just plain not into coming. Furthermore, with very current events in my life, deep guilt about leaving the country at this particular moment in time was also combined with all of the above. So, it was not with an easy, free heart that I was leaving.
However, off to Pearson I went anyways. Not two minutes after being dropped off, I found out that my flight was being delayed by two hours. D'oh! Next, I arrived at the ticket counter to find out that I was being placed on standby, and they couldn't guarantee that I would be able to get on my already-delayed flight. Nor could they explain why my reserved seat had magically disappeared from their computer system. Heading through the security system, I was actually taken out of the line, selected "at random" for a body search, which, I suppose, did waste some of the time that I had to kill, waiting for my flight. It was not boding well at all. By the time I arrived at the gate, the departure time had been pushed back yet another hour, thus leaving me to stew at Terminal 1.
To me, by this point, because of everything else that had happened while preparing to go on this trip, I was really feeling that really, I wasn't meant to go, and I had really not been paying close enough attention all the way along. And I sat and prayed, "God, if you sincerely want me to go home and deal with the acute issue that I'm leaving, just let Air Canada reimburse me, and I'll go home." People who were hearing about my ordeal just to get to the gate, and who were aware of everything else that had happened, were at the ready, waiting for the call to come to Pearson and get me.
However, God sent a few angels along, and, through Providence herself, I ended up in First Class ('werd to the two angels), and also was connected safely through customs and into the city by another few angels as well.
It's funny how that happens. It does make me wonder at the grace of God, or, perhaps, how His will works. Because until He sent them along, I was fairly convinced I was not supposed to be here, in this country, at this point in time in my life. And perhaps I am still not. However, I am thankful for the small graces He provides to show that He does know that I am here, and that He will open His hand, when we are not sure where to turn...

Grief for someone who has not gone

The inevitable mourning that occurs when a loved one suffers from mental illness has been striking me recently.
Theoretically, I know that, from a medical point of view, that mental illness is not different in type than physical illness. I know, as a physician, that mental illness should not be a stigmatizing status, and that its sufferers should be seen and treated with the same amount of respect and care that we would for someone with, say, an amputated leg.
The practical reality is, however, quite different. I have been mourning quite deeply for a loved one that I am not entirely sure will entirely come back to reality (see, I'm crying right now thinking about it). I am not sure if it is because that the value that is placed on being of 'sound mind' is incredibly heavy. I am not sure if it is still the huge stigma that is still associated with mental illness. I am not sure if, in my culture and in my social group, that having a quick-thinking, 'normal' brain is expected. I am not sure if we, as a society, truly believe that people with mental illness really are the 'same' as the 'rest of us', and that we actually believe that they suddenly become 'apart', that they are no longer allowed within the realm of 'normality', that we mourn their exile into the abyss of disreality.
The disconnect between what I know as a physician, and how I experience it, as a friend, has been repeatedly slapping me in the face. My friend is still the same dear friend that they were last week, last month, last year. This, just as if they had had a heart attack, been diagnosed with cancer, or lost an eye. However, I fear for their future: for their family, their work, relationships they may have, and how God will deal with all of this.
Now, I know this fear is irrational: God is firmly in control, and He is always good. I trust that He will watch over them, and His ways are things that I cannot understand. Which is why I will not mourn in front of my friend: I may fear and worry, but it is not for my friend to bear my burdens on top of their own. The load that they are now called to bear requires me to help carry it, not to add my own fears and sadness onto it. I am already worried about them in how I have seen family members and friends heaping their own anxieties onto their frail shoulders. It grieves me as to how this will affect their healing, and the role that they may be assigned by the fears that have already been projected upon them, even this early in the proceedings...

Why we need storytellers

OK, so I've been thinking some more about the great seven storylines for all of humanity. Christopher Booker initially wrote about these ideas, and as they persist, and as I had mentioned them in the previous post, I should say something about them. Originally, I had thought they were divided into: boy meets girl, person goes on quest, or some other storyline like that. I think Booker tells it better.
They could be summarized as such:
1. Overcoming the monster: defeating some fain force - whether that is Darth Vader, environmental collapse, nuclear war, the evil in ourselves...
2. The Quest (see, I was right about this one!): an individual or a group setting off to find something - thinking of LOTR, Pilgrim's Progress or the Musicians of Breman
3. Journey and Return: The protagonist goes off on an adventure and returns to after having experienced much and hopefully become a better person - think of the Hobbit or the Wizard of Oz
4. Comedy: not ha-ha funny, but rather, like in Shakespearean comedies, various obstacles and misunderstandings between the hero and heroine ensue, until they are all resolved and the lovers can reunite again - think of any Shakespearean comedy, and almost any romance-y chick flick.
5. Tragedy: again, like Shakespearean tragedy, in that human vice and temptation overtake the protagonist, becoming trapped in their actions, until they (usually) end up in death - Hamlet being the archetype.
6. Rebirth: The protagonist is oppressed, almost seems on the verge of death and it seems that all is hopelessly lost, until they are miraculously freed - such as Sleeping Beauty, Scrooge, and Jesus.
7. Rags to Riches: this is a bit self-explanatory - downtrodden individual is recognized for their value or talent, which are revealed to the world to have a happy ending - this is where Slumdog certainly fits.

I think the story of Jesus is so compelling because it encompasses pretty much all of the storylines. The Tragedy storyline really encompasses Judas' journey, but all the other plots involve the person of Jesus - He has overcome sin, the biggest monster of them all. He has gone on the quest for eternal life for all of humanity. He has journeyed to death and has returned from it. He has overcome all obstacles and misunderstandings that humanity has of God in order to reunite humanity to Himself in a joyful, loving embrace. He has obviously, through the Resurrection, fulfilled the Rebirth story. And He, as the Suffering Servant to the King of Kings, has gone from Rags to Riches.
Compelling, heady stuff that our King has undergone!
(Now, I know Booker wrote his book from some sort of Jungian philosophy/ego-based analysis, but I think that there is something to this seven basic storylines...)

FFT

This has some echoes of Solomon in it... it is unfortunate that the one true Joy, though so easily found, is so desperately avoided by millions around the globe, including this caliph here...

"I have now reigned about 50 years in victory and peace, beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honours, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: They amount to 14."

- Abd-ar-Rahman III, The Caliph of Cordoba, who presided over the 10th-century golden age of al-Andalus, the Moorish kingdom in southern Spain