The Country Inside My Grandfather’s Stomach

One of the books I have read so far, and one that I enjoyed the most,
is The Country Inside My Grandfather’s Stomach, written by the beloved children’s author Qobiljon Shermatov.

The main characters of the story are Bahodir, Baxtiyor, Mahmud Bobo, Oftob Payvasta, Nursalom Hoji, Shabadaliyev Sharof, the ruler Sfan, Abdurahmon Bobo, Qalandar Toga, and others.

The story begins when Bahodir and his closest friend Baxtiyor return
home thirsty after playing football and accidentally drink a shrinking
potion created by Bahodir’s elder brother, Olim. As a result, they
become smaller than a flea and find themselves inside their
grandfather’s body—more precisely, in the country within their
grandfather’s stomach.

This country is extraordinarily pure, beautiful, and radiant. Anyone
who enters it cannot help but fall in love with it. Its people are
honest, faithful, intelligent, fair, and truthful, and everyone
strives to become a scholar. Instead of water, delicious juices flow
through the rivers. As people begin to read, they grow younger, and
light starts to shine from their homes.

Bahodir and Baxtiyor, who previously did not enjoy studying very much, witness many things in this land that do not exist in our world. They experience wonderful adventures and show great courage. For their bravery, they are awarded the “Golden Star” by the city governor, Oftob Payvasta. They come to love learning wholeheartedly, take a growth potion, return to the real world, and after many events, firmly decide to become scholars. They also wish to return once again to their grandfather’s country.

However, this time, by coincidence, they do not enter their
grandfather’s country but instead find themselves inside Shabadaliyev Sharof, a greedy accountant who fears no injustice and has made his desires the master of his heart. The country inside him is completely different from Mahmud Bobo’s land. There is no sun, the people are extremely selfish and miserly, and everyone thinks only of themselves.

This land is ruled by the greedy ruler Sfan, who represents human
desire and lust.

Determined to become scholars, the protagonists meet Nursalom Hoji and continue their journey of learning. They gain extensive experience, study diligently, and strive to lead the people out of ignorance toward goodness. During one research journey, Bahodir ends up in the land of the “People of Prayer.” Together with the faithful, radiant, and kind people of that land, they fight against the ruler Sfan and defeat him. After seven years, they finally return to their homes and achieve their goals and dreams.

Conclusion

What does this work offer today’s readers? This story encourages every reader—young or old—to think deeply. It teaches us to be pure-hearted like Mahmud Bobo and warns us never to allow “Ruler Sfan,” that is, our own selfish desires, to rule our hearts. The story reminds us to seek knowledge constantly, to stand among good people, and to do good deeds.

Dear reader, as the saying goes, “Seeing once is better than hearing a thousand times.” Therefore, read this book, understand it deeply, and draw your own valuable conclusions. And never grow tired of seeking knowledge.

BEKHBUDIY: CALL OF ONE HEART, ONE IDEA, ONE CENTURY

“Turon, what is your state, vying with the stars?

Thousands of separate heads—Freedom, why not come?

Find your own opportunity—Nation, why not rise?

Time will not wait. Will the heart not beat?

It is a companion to fear… Should I live like this?

Your death is nigh.”

(Najmiddin Ermatov)

     Uzbekistan, my radiant land, the home of the golden cradle generation where the sun sleeps in your veranda when you sing a “alla”, where white “to’n and “adras” robes suit well, adorned with silk belts; the land of Mahmudkhoja Bekhbudiy, Fitrat, and Chulpan; a bright nation where faith and Islam are perpetual companions! My dearest sun-filled land, an oasis where the architect of the Taj Mahal, the engineer of the Nile, and the Imam Bukhariys originated; where spring whispers in winter, and gold blossoms in the soil! My heavenly nation, a pearl of the East, that has captured the morning shimmer of the sun in its orbits, a stellar land that has made both the sun and the stars fall in love with it!

     My chest is full of pride that the great Turkistan enlighteners, who endured all hardships for the happiness and prosperity of this country and sacrificed their lives to lead the homeland from darkness to light, are my ancestors. The feeling and glorification of the homeland are inherent in the heart of every person who grew up on the soil of Mulki Turon. When talking about the brave sons ready to give their lives for their country, the difficult lives of our Venerable Jadids, who raised them in the spirit of the homeland, and simultaneously the dawn suns who opened the eyes of our nation, serve as an example for everyone.

     “If we, the Turanians, spend the money we use for weddings and funerals on the path of science and religion, we will soon progress like the Europeans, and both we and our religion will gain prestige and development. If we continue in our current state, we will have nothing but humiliation and misery in religion and the world.” The people were in a deep sleep of negligence. Yes, these were the words of Bekhbudiy spoken at a time when other intellectuals were bursting forth from within, like a volcano, with the cry of “freedom”… The more we study the history, life, and activities of these national luminaries, the more they remain alive, and the unfulfilled desires scratching a corner of our hearts are reincarnated. They are rivers that have overflowed their banks and flowed backwards, untamable stallions restless in chains, the frothing blood of the nation, the life of enlightenment that has reached the throat in the face of ignorance. The Jadids are the new echo of the questions sought from the essence of the homeland, the tears that flowed behind the eyes of Mother Turkestan, whose heart was filled with lamentation; they are the very identity of this country, the root veins of New Uzbekistan. They were lessons incarnate, brought into the world to explain the value of the gift called life, the honor and respect of a human being, and what it means to be worthy of one’s nation and homeland. The goal of these innovators, who did not fit into the despotic system and had their own new world and ideology, was the noble pursuit of opening the nation’s eyes, achieving the days of progress for the people of Turkestan, reaching the world through educated national cadres, and building a free civil society on the foundation of enlightenment and culture. Striving to reform and renew a backward country, its education system, Bekhbudiy despaired with the “needs of the nation” in his heart, saying, “This path leads to a bad end; we must learn and teach,” and never lost hope for our present day until his execution.

     Have you seen the softly rustling, burning candles in the dark night? They flicker faintly, continuously and orderly spreading light. This light has the power to illuminate the entire night. Mahmudkhoja Bekhbudiy was such a candle of light.

He selflessly sacrificed himself, like a shieldless victim, to return the sun to the dark, unattended heart of a slumbering nation. It was exactly Behbudiy who launched the wingless birds of the darkness of illiteracy into the sky of science, “drowned” the thirsty fish in the ocean of endless books, and acted as the rider for the unsaddled horses. Mahmudkhoja dreamed of seeing the Uzbek people on equal footing with developed nations, and he stood out among the mature Jadids of the period of intellectual awakening with his worldview and activities. In his view, the school alone was not enough for enlightenment. It was necessary to keep up with the times and world events, to be aware of the condition, and daily life, of the nation and homeland. Therefore, society needed a mirror in which it could see both its ugliness and its beauty. This need and necessity led Bekhbudiy to theater and the press.

     “Padarkush” came into existence during this period. The author called this work a “national tragedy,” and it tells the story of ignorance and folly, where an uneducated child falls into corrupt ways and kills his own parents. Despite its small size, the lesson to be learned from it is extremely important. The life path and scientific and social activities of this enlightener, who tried his best to light the candle of the future in people’s hearts, are an endless example for us, as are his works and instructive ideas.

     In particular, there is a lesson in Behbudiy’s attitude towards world phenomena. His discretion in distinguishing between friend and foe is immaculate. The evidence he provided to prove his views is strong. The weights of his balance scale are not hollow inside. That is why dozens of names of Eastern scholars and titles of works appear in the content of his articles. Since he knew Russian perfectly, he referred to Russian books and the ideas of Russian scientists. There is great pain, a great dream, and meaning embodied in the communication, awareness, and cry of His Holiness Bekhbudiy with world civilization, world scientists, and world-famous books. For instance, in his article “Islahi Tahsil” (Reform of Education), he wrote, “We should send students to Egypt to systematically study general religious and Arabic literature and learn the methods of education there.” In this regard, he freely expressed his recommendation.

     Bekhbudiy is the star that defines the nation’s new path! Bekhbudiy is the gazelle staring into the far distance, trying to save its herd from predators! Bekhbudiy is the rope that fell into the hands of executioners and is preventing the innocent from perishing! Bekhbudiy is the compassionate soul worried about the lifeless, impoverished people, astonished by the populace that has even forgotten religion! Bekhbudiy is the love whose heart is burning while looking at those smiling as they die! Bekhbudiy is the tightrope walker carefully passing the pearl of knowledge from one heart to another above those silently watching! What an honor that Mahmudkhoja was born like the sun, with such dedication fixed in his body and soul.

      Indeed, the Jadids were not ordinary people. They opened new method schools and created textbooks. They enriched our language with writing and linguistic units. They worked tirelessly, like swallows trying to awaken the sleep in people’s eyes. They went from village to village, knocking on doors saying, “We have brought knowledge, please accept it.” The pen was their sword, every letter put on paper served them like a soldier. They published newspapers and magazines, wanting to awaken the nation with only one thing—the truth. Prison chains, years of exile, and even the executioner’s sword could not stop them. All of them sacrificed their lives on the path of their sweet dreams.

Is there a greater, more magnificent deed than this for a nation? True, this enlightenment movement, which urged the future towards light and stirred Turkestan, encountered great obstacles, was erased from the pages of history, the national leaders were branded as “nationalists,” and the bright faces were blackened. However, neither chained legs nor bound hands could turn the Jadids, who have taken an eternal place in the consciousness of the young generation, away from the path of enlightenment. The secret of eternity lies precisely in this commitment and self-sacrifice. “Oh Turkistan, did you manage to preserve the second pearls emerging from the shells? Did you not accept with a torn and patched shroud those who honored you with poems that sang of your love in every line? Oh Turkistan, did you stand by silently when the riders galloping in the field of literature were whipped on the head? Did you not share sustenance from your fields and dastarkhans, becoming a ready meal for those who trampled your sacred soil? Oh Turkistan, did you ever throw the stones that muddled the water back at them? Even if evil deeds and the most sordid events occurred in your past, could you loudly proclaim the thousands of treasures of enlightenment, the priceless jewels of knowledge within your chest? Turkistan, every dream of yours has a unique secret, every night of yours is adorned with divine inspiration. Turkistan, we bow to every wind of yours, we cherish every flower of yours. We will shine as stars in your sky, we will pay our debts as children on your lands, we will be the generation that preserves your power!

     In conclusion, our ancestors, who dreamed of seeing their colonized homeland among the world’s developed countries by fighting against ignorance and defending the nation’s honor, have achieved their goals today. Now, we, the owners of today, have a strong duty not to forget that we must realize the centuries-old dreams of our ancestors, preserve the land where peace reigns, and make the youth understand whose descendants we are through our aspirations, participation in reforms, and initiatives. Indeed, the future of New Uzbekistan is a glorious responsibility entrusted to our shoulders. As Bekhbudiy emphasized: “Oh zealous youth! The time is yours. Unite with each other, build societies, and serve the nation’s cause.””

Dilafruz Muhammadjonova is a second-year student majoring in Uzbek Language and Literature at the Faculty of Philology of the National Pedagogical University of Uzbekistan named after Nizami.

Ode to Return

—The Four Seasons Walking Out of Ancient Dongba Scriptures

By Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

Internationally renowned Chinese writer and poet, the only female inheritor of Dongba culture, Dean of China Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy, Winner of the Premio Letterario Internazionale Francesco Giampietri

Dongba’s Winter
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times upward
Three pure white feathers float down
The white feathers turn into white snow
White snow is the messenger of winter
Skylarks usher in the north wind
Wagtails bring the dewdrops covering the ground
White cranes summon the snowflakes filling the sky
The diligent have shoes to wear
The lazy walk barefoot
This winter
Is not the time to migrate home
Shall we wait till the warm spring of the third lunar month?

Dongba’s Spring
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times downward
Three emerald green feathers float down
The green feathers turn into tender grass
Tender grass is the messenger of spring
Trees are clad in emerald gowns
Cuckoos sing on the branches
White muntjacs roar in the pine woods
Pheasants and hill pheasants chirp in the forest

Valiant men lack food grains
Virtuous women waste away
This spring
Is not the time to migrate home either
Shall we wait till the midsummer of the sixth lunar month?

Dongba’s Summer
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times to the left
Three jet-black feathers float down
The black feathers turn into heavy rain
Heavy rain is the messenger of summer
Slopes are covered with dense grass and woods
Even leopards and tigers with sharp claws
Cannot wander out of the deep mountains and thick forests
Beneath the tree roots down below
Rainwater merges into a river
Even otters and fish
Cannot swim across the rushing gully
This summer
Is still not the time to migrate home
Shall we wait till the golden autumn of the ninth lunar month?

Dongba’s Autumn
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times to the right
Three golden feathers float down
The golden feathers turn into yellow flowers
Flowers are the messenger of autumn
Yellow flowers, silver flowers and golden flowers
Turquoise flowers and jet-black gem flowers
Bloom everywhere across the land
This autumn
At long last
Is the time to migrate home
Chong Ren Li En, the ancestor of the Naxi (Nakhi) people

Takes his bride Chen Heng Baobai, whom he married in the heavenly realm
Back into the long-missed embrace of Mother Earth
Back to the home where humans dwell
One mother gives birth to three sons
And the three sons are all different from one another
From then on
Upon the land of humans
Three ancient ethnic groups come into being
They build a beautiful homeland together
And live in harmony and happiness

Time as Our Witness

Poem by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

International Spiritual Poet, Internationally Renowned Chinese Writer and Poet, Winner of the Premio Letterario Internazionale Francesco Giampietri, the Only Female Inheritor of the World Memory Heritage Naxi Dongba Culture, Dean of the Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy of China and Lanxin Samei Academy

Dedicated to the Greek readers on Valentine’s Day, February 14, with this poem. May you and your loved ones be blessed with eternal happiness!

——Lan Xin

Three thousand years ago

You were the Lord of the Universe—the King of Kings

Known to gods and mortals alike, I was your cherished Queen

Then came the great catastrophe of the Three Realms

Tearing us apart abruptly, leaving us to grieve the love we lost

Since then, time has carried me

Across the Ten Directions and Dharmadhatus

Through six cycles of reincarnation

Reborn as a human, I walked the path of cultivation for nine lifetimes

Endured all the tribulations of the mortal world, just to meet you again

After three thousand years of wandering

I searched for you a thousand times among the crowds

And finally, today, three thousand years later

We reunite beneath the magnolia tree

Its dancing shadows whisper our ancient vows

In the moment our eyes meet

We see reflections of ourselves from three thousand years ago

And the endless search through lifetimes unfolds before us

Above the mortal world, you remain the supreme King of Kings;

Within the mortal world, you are also the finest man on earth.

Heaven and earth unite, with white cranes as their matchmakers

Sun and moon unite, with Venus as their matchmaker

Mountains and rivers unite, with gold as their matchmaker

Chestnut and pine trees unite, with bees as their matchmaker

Turquoise and black jade unite, with golden threads as their matchmaker

When you and I unite once more, who shall be our matchmaker?

Let three thousand years of time be our matchmaker

To witness our timeless love

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return as the goddess of the Diamond Kingdom

I only wish to be the little woman in your arms

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to leave a legacy for a thousand years

I only wish to be with you, day and night

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be a fairy in the clouds

I only wish to live fully as a mortal woman

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be showered with thousands of affections

I only wish to nestle in the arms of you, the ultimate doting husband

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return to the cosmic kingdom

I only wish to savor the love of this mortal world

Time as our witness

Heaven and earth as our testimony

May we be united for ten thousand years

And never part again

Still Life with Dead Zone

1-

Blackbirds at Dusk

Bare tree outlined against a brushed-of-light sky.  Blackbirds risen in flight.  Cold, 

shifting wind suggests a freezing rain, sleet changing to snow.  In the valley, the cleared

field is collecting birds.  Their gathering a strange collection of living matter among the

desiccated stumps of summer.  Long rows of them, newly sprouted like nightmares.

Moon rise with

white comet tails;

ghost light on an

empty outdoor stage

After the flight of birds, silence.  Nothing moving among the dead, leafless trees, sheared

to the stumps or broken into diseased humps, sprouting from the ground like the broken limbs of

dead soldiers planted as a warning for those who follows after. The muffled steps of what comes

after the night, their obscene bodies, their wings.

2-

Flyway

Pre-front clouds, a black fistula consuming a bent horizon.  Birds in migratory flight

flee the stilted hills, the nesting grounds.  Static electricity rubs the color from the sky.  An open

wound left behind.

Flat sky, sun torn

fabrics, black 

blood blisters.  Birds.

Incongruous tarmac at the edge of wild jungle growth baked hard by relentless sun.  Air

ground control station, elevated sniper/ guard towers overlooking the perimeter, concertina wire,

no man’s land.  Toward nightfall, a mad minute, tracer rounds instead of exotic birds flights;

incoming instead of by-air transport.

3-

Roadside Marker

Early morning still life with grazing cows.  Sun bursting off last finger of ground fog

drying the low, foraged grass.  Budding trees just beyond wending wall of rock separating fields

from drainage ditches and black topped road.  Clipped lily on white cross by bare black limbed,

skinned-of-bark tree.  A scatter of car parts. Windshield glass.

Confluence of shadow

and fog, no light

leaking through.

White stone marker embedded roadside indicates eighty-one kilometers to nowhere.

Lifting ground fog and battlefield smoke envelop cratered highway littered with discarded gear:

worn boots, torn rucksacks, unfolded blankets, ruptured canteens, tattered tents.  Along the road,

stunted trees, a long, thin barbed wire fence posted with warning signs, blackened fields of burnt

elephant grass.  Still life with dead zone.

4-

Flooded Road

Legacy of storm; a spontaneous inland sea.  Reflections of immersed objects in still

water: trees, tops of fence posts, vehicle roofs, antennae, tips as rigid as insects remains.  Clear,

cloudless sky cleansed of light.

Temporary bridges

between two shores,

water in the middle

washing them away.

Fording the river in full combat gear.  Foot soldiers holding their weapons diagonally

overhead, walking, waist high, then chest high, some totally submerged. Only the rifles, still

mostly dry, visible above the surging water.

5-

Fog and Woodsmoke

Evening haze with scent of cook stoves, fireplaces.  Houses trimmed with decorative

lights off-season; an almost unearthly glowing in near-night darkness.  Still life with cracked

blacktop and low hanging trees.  The pulsing of the overhead wires almost audible.  Nothing

moving but the smoke. The haze.  The strange rings of the overhead street lights.

Dead air with black

smoke; impossible

to breathe.

Smoke from the burning thatched huts.  The guts of cook fire spread on the hard packed

earth: embers, overturned black pot, utensils for stirring, nearby.  Last, spent remnants of 

location-marking flares amid the black, billowing smoke.  A naked baby, sitting amid the 

wreckage, screaming.

6-

Pavement Ends

Single lane of hard packed, graded rock between fenced fields.  Thick, intensifying

ground fog covering the land, obscuring the caution sign, masking the way.  Vision, at last light,

no more than a few feet forward.  Soon, the dark.

Maps without borders,

unmarked trails

have no end.

Bent-to-the-earth signs say: Extreme Caution: Minefield Do Not Enter.  A skull and

crossed bones penciled beneath the words.  Fields extending on either side of the road into the 

dark; the enclosing jungle trees beyond.  The way on either side cratered from overhead

bombing or from something explosive underneath.  Large pits with still water inside. Other

objects, as well.  Soon, the dark.

Communication between the Teacher and the “Digital Generation” (Gen Alpha): Strategic Approaches in New Era Education

​Author: Turgunova Kh.

Educational Institution: Kokand University, Andijan branch

Field: Primary Education

Course: 2nd-year student

​Abstract: This article analyzes the unique characteristics of communication between the teacher and representatives of the “digital generation” (Gen Alpha) and the strategic approaches used in new era education. The research explores the integration of digital technologies into the educational process and the importance of the teacher’s friendly relationship and psychological closeness. The results indicate the need to reshape the image of the modern teacher.

​Keywords: digital generation, Gen Alpha, teacher, primary education, digital technologies, education strategy, communication.

​Introduction

​The 21st century has started an entirely new stage for the education system. As a result of the rapid development of information technology, the deep penetration of the internet and digital devices into all spheres of life, a new generation — the “digital generation” or “Gen Alpha” — has been formed. Members of this generation differ significantly from previous generations in how they receive, process, and analyze information.

​Gen Alpha children have been growing up in a digital environment since birth. For them, smartphones, tablets, interactive games, and video content are ordinary realities. Therefore, traditional teaching methods — relying solely on textbook reading, one-way lectures, and strict control — are no longer effective.

​Particularly in the primary education stage, establishing correct communication between the teacher and the student is crucial for shaping the child’s interest in learning. From this perspective, this article scientifically analyzes the role of the teacher in working with the Alpha generation, modern education strategies, and issues of using digital technologies.

​Research Objective

​To identify strategic approaches for teachers in establishing effective communication with members of the digital generation and to reveal their impact on educational efficiency.

​Research Methodology

​The following methods of scientific cognition were used in this research:

​Analysis of pedagogical, psychological, and methodical literature;

​Comparative-analytical method to compare traditional and digital teaching methods;

​Study of the activity of digital generation students in the lesson process based on the observation method;

​Drawing conclusions through methods of generalization and systematization;

​Analysis of digital tools used in educational practice.

​Research Results

​The research results highlight the following main aspects:

​1. Characteristics of information perception in the digital generation

Gen Alpha members receive information quickly, prioritizing short and meaningful content, especially visual and audiovisual content. For them, moving images, animation, video lessons, and interactive games are considered effective.

​2. Limitations of traditional teaching methods

Lessons based only on reading text or oral explanation cause boredom in children. This leads to a decrease in attention and a decline in the quality of education.

​3. Importance of digital technologies in education

Introducing online platforms, interactive tests, educational video clips, and elements of digital gaming into the lesson process increases student activity. In such conditions, the child becomes an active participant in the lesson rather than a passive listener.

​4. Psychological closeness and communication

A friendly, open, and respect-based attitude from the teacher awakens trust in students. A child who feels that their opinion is valued approaches the educational process with responsibility.

​Discussion

​The results show that the image of the teacher is changing in the modern education system. Now, a teacher must turn into a person who is not just a provider of knowledge, but a guide, consultant, and motivator.

​In working with the Alpha generation, a student-centered educational approach based on cooperation should take the place of an authoritarian approach. Rational use of digital technologies strengthens mutual trust between the teacher and the student and increases the quality of education.

​Conclusion

​In conclusion, working with the “digital generation” requires the teacher to constantly work on themselves, master innovative approaches, and adapt to the requirements of the times. The teacher must change along with the children, speak their “language,” and understand their worldview.

​Through sincere communication, psychological closeness, and the correct use of digital technologies, educational efficiency can be increased. This, in turn, serves to raise a free-thinking, knowledgeable, and socially active generation in the future.

​References

​O’zbekiston Respublikasi Prezidenti. Yangi O’zbekiston – taraqqiyot strategiyasi. – Toshkent, 2022.

​Karimov I.A. Yuksak ma’naviyat – yengilmas kuch. – Toshkent: Ma’naviyat, 2019.

​Mirziyoyev Sh.M. Milliy taraqqiyot yo’limizni qat’iyat bilan davom ettirib, yangi bosqichga ko’taramiz. – Toshkent: O’zbekiston, 2021.

​To’xtaxodjayeva M., Jo’rayeva D. Zamonaviy pedagogik texnologiyalar. – Toshkent: Fan va texnologiya, 2020.

​Usmonova N. Boshlang’ich ta’limda innovatsion yondashuvlar. – Toshkent: Sharq, 2021.

​Prensky, M. (2001). Digital Natives, Digital Immigrants. On the Horizon, 9(5), 1–6.

​OECD. (2019). Trends Shaping Education. Paris: OECD Publishing.

​Tapscott, D. (2009). Grown Up Digital: How the Net Generation Is Changing Your World. New York: McGraw-Hill.

FORECAST:  MORE STORMTROOPERS

Minnesota, Land of 10,000 Lakes,

land of tall, Scandinavian blondes,

now hosts a rainbow of nations—

Somalia, India, Mexico, Laos,

China, Liberia, Ethiopia, Burma,

even a large Hmong community.

But Minnesota, Star of the North,

now faces Immigration & Customs Enforcement–

four times as many ICE agents on the streets

as local police.

You can tell an ICE prowl car—

our-of-state plates,

tinted windows,

two masked gunmen inside.

ICE cruises Somali neighborhoods,

haunts Home Depot parking lots,

roams through Target,

radiates menace.

Black masks. Military weapons. 

Escalating quotas of captives.

This army of well-paid, out-of-shape thugs

targets brown faces,

asks no questions, 

ignores civil rights,

uses snatch-and-grab tactics—

with the blessings of Homeland Security

and the President. 

Civilians push back. 

First, locate an ICE vehicle. 

Follow it, honking, blowing whistles—

alerting locals to imminent danger.

Take videos of agents hassling people on the streets, in stores, at schools, at work.

Tell detainees about their rights.

Remind agents they need warrants

to enter homes, or private property.

Best case:  ICE leaves empty-handed.

Worst case:

An ICE agent approaches a fleeing car,

shoots the driver in the face

three times–

US citizen,

mother of three,

prize-winning poet,

age 37. 

Her death is collateral damage

for an ICE thug’s daily fishing expedition,

his daily search for prey. 

The killer’s excused: all in the line of duty…

Her death sparks coast to coast outrage.

Minnesota, be strong.

Be our North Star.

We see prosecutors resign in protest, 

refuse to hold victims at fault.

But we see civil rights bow to politics.

Law is no longer our friend.

Minnesota forecasts our country’s future

when a President, 

limited only by his morality–

has none. 

GRAB GREENLAND?  BAD IDEA

Erik the Red and his Norse Viking crew

happened on a frozen, windswept land

around 980. Named it “Greenland” (Hah!)

in hopes the name would lure some colonists.

Erik’s people never bought the hype.

Around 1200, Thule-Inuits

joined native tribes. The land now speaks their tongue.

Then in the 1700’s, Danish merchants

came for oil and sealskins. Many stayed.

Today Greenland controls its own affairs—

but Denmark is in charge of all defense.

Who’d attack a place so cold and far?

A man who thinks there’s wealth below the ground,

though mining in the Arctic Circle’s tough. 

Greenlander-folks speak Kalaallisut;

Danish, in business, schools, and politics.

So protest signs are in three languages.

Red MAGA hats abound in snarky slogans.

Here’s how the locals feel about the threat

to seize their home “the hard way,” using planes, 

armed forces, and the arsenals of war…

We are GREEN-land, not GREED-land.

Stop the pedophile protector!

USA already has too much ICE.

Hey, Congressional cowards—

do your constitutional duty. STOP HIM!

No means No!  USA, go!

Greenlanders don’t support a hostile takeover.

Perhaps the US needs leadership make-over.

WAR ON PROTEIN

Don’t buy those string beans! We’re at war, you know.

Food-traitors challenge prime beef. RFK

declared the war, he’s head of HHR—

so he should know. He spearheads this brave fight.

Milk, yogurt, cheese and beans, they’re protein, too, 

like shrimp and chicken, oysters, catfish, eggs–

But what we’re fighting for is meat that bleeds,

red meat that’s key to feed-lot economics.

Consumption’s down. The price of beef’s at risk. 

Big donors’ big donations, too, at risk—

So patriotic citizens eat steak,

or tri-tip, rump roasts, short ribs, tenderloins.

Those health food freaks and vegetarians

are enemies! We must not let them win!

Rib-eye, brisket, burgers—buy them all,

and do your part to keep beef prices up.

It’s spinach, carrots, broccoli and beets

against filet mignon, sirloin, and ribs—

a battle led by one who dines on roadkill,

puts birthday candles on a slab of steak.

ICE ATTACKS MINNESOTA

Two ICE murders: Renee Good on 1/7/26; Alex Pretti on 1/24/26

Minnesota is a war zone.  ICE

invades and kidnaps prey, one goal in mind—

Deport! Deport!  Make DHS look strong,

and punish states that didn’t vote for Trump.

ICE will back off only when it’s bought off–

can mine state files for private information.

Renee Good’s killing brings it to a boil.

This citizen, accosted by masked thugs,

refused to leave the safety of her car.

She tried to drive away. ICE opened fire—

shot her in the face.  Trump blames the girl,

until he learns her father’s politics:

a staunch MAGA supporter. Or he was…

Protestors now fill up the freezing streets.

One morning, Alex Pretti videos ICE

as thugs begin to herd two targets towards

their white SUV parked across the street.

ICE knocks one woman down, while Pretti films–

his cell phone in one hand, the other raised

to shield his eyes from pepper spray. He tries

to help her up. Because he is a nurse

at Minneapolis’ VA hospital,

his first instinct is always to assist. 

But one ICE agent grabs him, knocks him down.

Seven toughs now pin him to the ground.

An eighth extracts the gun from his right hip,

and backs away with it. A gunman fires,

shoots Pretti in the back. He lies immobile.

Three bullets, then six more. In 30 seconds,

Pretti’s shot ten times.  Bystanders’ phones

document the death from every view.

Protestors swarm, though it’s 20 below–

while Kristi Noem repeats the same old line:

This terrorist, gun drawn, approached ICE troops

with clear intent to massacre them all. 

But cell phone footage shows us all the truth. 

And viewers coast-to-coast behold the scene,

time after time. See Pretti hold his phone,

and see ICE agents shoot him in the back.

Can truth unmask this rogue Gestapo force—

this lawless gang of federal bounty hunters?

Video clips alone won’t rein in ICE.

Right wing sheep must open eyes and minds,

demand that no one is above the law,

that government does not make war on states.

Minnesota shows our nation’s soul. 

Copyright 1/2026                  Patricia Doyne