Heartbreak

Wake up. Scroll through the news. Find out how many more innocent people were killed by Israeli Occupation Forces at a food collection point. Cry. A faint glimmer of hope. A ceasefire, they say? Get excited. Sure, it’s not international acknowledgement of statehood but at least the murdering might stop for a moment. Find out the talks have broken down. Return to gloom. You know Israel wasn’t going to honour the ceasefire anyway.

Spend hours watching interviews of the Freedom Flotilla Coalition activists aboard the Madleen. Listen to Greta speak with a clarity of thought that lifts your spirits even as tears well up in your eyes. Notice that she’s making it very clear that there are no weapons onboard, that we’re peaceful volunteers carrying baby formula and medicine. Almost as if she expects Israel to attack, kill and justify its actions by claiming weapons were found, which for some reason the world would just believe. Cry at the thought of Greta being aware that she might be killed in this attempt to reach Gaza but going ahead anyway probably because she figures her reputation as an activist will coerce governments into action if she’s killed. Cry at her love for humanity.

Bemoan your inaction. Bemoan your silence. What can I do? What is there to do to dismantle this seemingly impenetrable war machine? Deep breaths. Try to redirect your thoughts towards things that are within your reach, within your ability to influence. You understand tech. Tech is an integral, toxic part of this machine - the eyes and ears of the beast. Helping people reduce their dependence on big tech weakens its ability to aid genocide. Assert to yourself, yes, it’s not much and it does not make a difference in the current situation, but it’s a step in the right direction, long-term.

Realise that you want it all to be over. Just darkness and silence, please. You want to look away, you realise, and you do, skipping past those videos and articles. No more visuals of crying, emaciated children with their ribs jutting out. You can’t bear it. Especially not when you’re tucking into your organic lentil soup. You’re looking for something “light” to keep you company as you eat.

A break from the news. But you know it’s there, you know it’s happening. Your friends tell you of their grief, the latest round of slaughter. At the supermarket, you notice a gloved employee nonchalantly and briskly unloading large chunks of meat. Your scarred mind immediately leaps to visuals of a “refugee” camp in Gaza. Is that what it looks like in the aftermath of an “air raid”, you wonder?

Your social interactions are fraught. Tense. A new acquaintance merely alluding to Israel’s claims over Palestinian land makes you recoil. Disbelief. Are there really people out there who can find a way to rationalise Israel’s actions? Withdraw from the conversation and the acquaintance. Engaging in conversation and countering their claims would be the right thing to do, you agree, but you need what’s left of your will and resolve to function.

Rage. Rage against others who don’t seem to care. Rage against the apathy and cruelty. But you’re familiar with this rage, of course. You’re vegan, and most of your friends are not. Every dinner plate is a demonstration of apathy. But ultimately, you recognise that the rage is just a front for the deep disappointment and frustration with yourself and your impotence. Your inability, like the inability of millions around the world, to stop the genocide.

How much longer? What has this done to our humanity? How many millions of people around the world are devastated by living, continuing to live, in the epoch of a televised genocide?

What is the collective weight of this grief, this heartbreak?

Alt title: How I learned to feel and embraced conflict as an opportunity for growth

What’s your earliest memory of being frustrated or angry but not being able or knowing how to express yourself?

Mine is probably after I said something to my sister, or did something to her things (that part is blurry, but I remember as a child I had a phase when I revelled in smashing/throwing/tearing up the things that meant something to her, like an Archie’s greeting card (remember those? Is that still a thing?) or gift given to her by a friend), immediately recognising at the sight of her tears that I’d done something “wrong”, finding a place to hide (sometimes literally in a closet 🤪), and feeling a wave of intense emotions I didn’t have words for at the time, trembling with the intensity of what I now recognise to be regret and embarrassment for the harm I’d caused, and shame and anger at my own behaviour.

But then, growing up in a South Asian working single-parent-ish household, there was never a conversation about what I’d done, why I’d done it, or how I felt about it later. Only condemnation and judgement that I’d been “bad” and “cruel”. It became the norm to simply dismiss how I felt and pretend like the incident had never happened, even if I was a bit sheepish and unwilling to make eye contact when I eventually emerged from the closet and saw my sister at dinnertime. And, over time, an internalisation of some of the judgements. Perhaps I was a bad person, child-me concluded.

Toxic masculinity, queer edition

Cut to being a young adult, and its distinct swirl of confusion and anxieties over one’s role in the world, gender identity, masculinity and sexuality. There is a strain of masculinity out there, certainly widely prevalent in India, that identifies itself with being emotionless. As in, completely devoid of emotions. All emotions are the realm of women. Men, real men (by which I mean straight, of course), feel no emotion and are driven purely by reason.

When you’re overwhelmed and unable to cope with the immensity of the weight of the world and the questions it’s throwing at you, a supposed pathway of escaping emotions altogether can be very tempting. Emotions are for other, lesser, people, not me, I decided. People who cry at airports as they say goodbye to a loved one? Weak.

If you’re inclined towards intellectualising your choices, you might even reach for the self-description “stoic”, in a terribly misguided (but somewhat common?) interpretation of stoicism.

The cost of avoiding your feelings

Given that it’s something we do every day, you’d think we’d be taught how to communicate with each other, but sadly no, that’s not the kind of schooling most of us go through. And so it is that you learn to keep your discomfort to yourself, instead indulging in heaping judgements upon the “perpetrator”, the person “responsible” for your frustrations.

If you’re conditioned to be “nice”, you might keep the judgements to yourself, just swilling them about in your mind. But if you’ve fully internalised the judgement that you’re a “bad” person as I had, you might choose to air them out (which dovetails neatly with the “masculine” trait of being “direct” regardless of the consequences), or worse, stockpile them and weaponise them during fights.

No surprise then that my interpersonal relationships suffered greatly in my twenties, people taken aback by the harshness of my judgements while receiving no feedback whatsoever how/whether I valued their presence in my life, words that perhaps might have offset the judgements.

But I reserved the harshest judgements for a special recipient - me. Try as I did to convince myself that I felt no emotions, that I was an automaton, my bipolar depressive episodes came and went, and a nasty inner voice unleashed a vortex of judgements upon myself. On the days when I was a crying mess, unable to get out of bed, I’d tell myself that I was being “lazy”, “ungrateful” for all the choices, comforts and things I had that others did not (third-world survivor’s guilt much?)

Enter NVC

A few years ago, I joined a group that met up weekly to practise nonviolent communication (NVC), the communication framework developed by Marshall Rosenberg.

NVC prescribes a Rumi-esque judgement-free approach to communication that goes beyond right or wrong, asking its practitioners to instead focus on

1. Observations - Given a situation, who said/did what?
   If the incident were on video, what would it show, making sure to avoid interpretations/evaluations of the incident (“He arrived 30 minutes after the agreed-upon meeting time” vs “He disrespected me”).

2. Feelings - What do you feel?
   Without resisting or judging your feelings as positive, negative, productive or unhelpful, acknowledge the feelings you’re experiencing, whether that’s happiness, anger, jealousy, excitement, regret, or disappointment. NVC calls out false feelings such as “disrespected” as interpretations. See feelings inventory if you need a little prompting.

3. Needs - Taking stock of your feelings, what needs of yours were met or not met?
   NVC posits that underneath each feeling lies a set of needs that is met or not met. In case of a person showing up 30 minutes after the agreed-upon meeting time, you might feel angry because your needs for consideration and communication were not met. And/or disappointed because your needs for (self-)organisation and structure were not met. See needs list

4. Requests/actions - Based on the awareness of your unmet neds, are there any requests you’d like to make of the other person to have your needs met?
   Knowing your unmet needs, are there requests you’d like to make of the other person so that your needs can be met?

(I’ve described these steps from the perspective of one’s own feelings and needs, but the process involves listening to everyone involved with empathy, devoid of preconceptions and judgements, and acknowledging their feelings and needs).

At first, I felt awkward (and often struggled) to talk about my feelings in the group, let alone talk about my feelings and needs with others who were unaware of NVC (Try being the only one on Slack typing out sentences in the format “When you did X, I felt Y because my need for Z was [not] met” 😅). But over months and years, the awkwardness has faded away and in its place is a deep sense of gratitude for this communication framework. A friend once joked that I sounded like I’d joined a cult because of the number of times I mentioned NVC in one conversation 😅

Conflict as opportunity

Now that I am no longer running away from my feelings, I look at conflict as an opportunity to deepen interpersonal relationships and work together to meet our needs, whether with friends, family or at work.

To use a recent example, I’m currently volunteering at a farm. I arrived here after establishing with the owner that I have a theoretical understanding of permaculture and its concepts from watching videos and reading books, and want to gain practical experience.

When we were working on a swale (a permaculture technique of digging a trench on a slope to capture rainwater and prevent soil erosion), I said to the owner, “Hey, my understanding from watching Geoff Lawton’s videos on swales is that trees are essential to swales and yet we don’t seem to have any here. Why are we doing things differently?”

She replied, “Open your mind! The design of swales varies depending on the terrain and the elements involved”.

The words “Open your mind” rang in my ears, and I wasn’t sure how I felt in the moment. But I stayed silent, continued to work on the swale according to her instructions, checked in with myself and recognised that I felt….irritated. Why? Because her words “Open your mind” carried the implication that I wasn’t open to swale designs other than the ones I was familiar with. I thought about it and realised that I was irritated because my need for clarity (over her swale design) was unmet.

Some fifteen minutes after the incident, I decided to address it. I followed the four steps of NVC and said, “When you said ‘open your mind’ in response to my question about why we aren’t planting any trees, I felt irritated because my need for clarity was not met. I still don’t know why we didn’t plant trees. Are you willing to explain that?”. To her credit, she acknowledged that she’s open to questions, that saying “open your mind” didn’t add to the discussion, and proceeded to explain her thinking behind the swale design! I felt relieved that the conversation had met my need for clarity, and happy and reassured that she was willing to explain her thinking in detail. This factored into my decision to stay on at the farm longer than I’d initially planned.

Bonus: No more self-flagellation

Another profound change since I started incorporating NVC into how I talk with others is that I (mostly) no longer have a nasty inner voice. Even when I’m the midst of a depressive episode and not quite myself, I can acknowledge what I’m feeling, enumerate my needs and give myself grace to rest, or entertain myself with mindless TV. Gone are the days of wielding the whip of judgements!

Wondering how to apply for a temporary resident visa to Mexico as a person of colour in a “third world country” (Kenya) as a citizen of a different third world country (India)? Buckle up! This guide will lay out the dos and donts, with detailed instructions on how best to avoid rejection. Failing that, it will remind you your place in the world.

Shed your self-respect

This is the most important step in this (and any) visa application process. Find a small cardboard box (A dirty shoebox will do) and place your self-respect and expectations of civility and equality in it. If it’s been a while since your last visa application, your self-respect may have regrown and it may be hard to fit it in the box. You can reclaim your self-respect from the box when the visa process is done, but it’s best if you just throw away the box.

Read the visa rules carefully

Go to the consulate website and read the visa page. Take care to note the requirements for your type of visa. In case of the temporary resident visa, the consulate requires

• Proof of residency in the country you’re applying from
• Bank account statements for the last six months

Double-check with the consulate

Just to be sure you don’t get your hopes up of getting a visa after reviewing the website, contact the consulate, stating the visa you’re interested in and confirming the documents you plan to apply with. This will almost certainly be met with an automated reply linking you to the very website you got all the information from but if you’re lucky, you might get a passive-aggressive response from a human linking you to the website instead! 😍

This is a good reminder to temper your expectations and practise stoicism - remember, nothing in this world is for sure, not least the possibility of your getting a visa despite meeting all the requirements.

You want privacy? What are you, a terrorist?!

Take a stab in the dark, and send an email to the consulate with all your documents and ask if they’re in order. You may not know who (or how many people) have access to the email, but it doesn’t matter - people who have nothing to hide don’t expect their bank statements and the personal transactions they contain to be private. Privacy is for other people who distinctly don’t look like you.

Expect the unexpected

You didn’t think that the requirements you saw on the website would be everything, did you? No, of course not. You know better than that - There are always hidden requirements! It would be no fun if consulates listed out all of them on their websites or responded to your emails/phone calls with the real list of requirements.

I followed the requirements on the website and emailed the consulate a bank statement for the last six months, generated by the online statement generation tool of my international bank (Standard Chartered) only to be told that I need to submit a statement for the last twelve months. Surprise!

What if you switched banks eight months ago and cannot obtain a bank statement from your previous bank? No problem, the consulate has you covered - Just submit a letter from your employer instead, as well as your payslips for the last six months. Just to be sure that you’re not making up an entire organization, its payroll system, contact information, and address, make sure to include the passport bio-data page of the person who signs the letter confirming that you work for the organization. Easy peasy!

Strengthen your bond with your boss

You may not have read this in your run-of-the-mill “How to be a manager” book, but the true sign of a healthy relationship with your manager is having a copy of their passport bio-data page! After all, nothing says “I trust you” than sharing personal IDs with your reports.

I reached out to my boss and explained my predicament and how I was running out of time before some upcoming travel plans that would take me out of Kenya, and in the course of a day, she shared a signed letter with the organization letterhead stating my job role and tenure at the org, as well as my salary and her passport details. She also included a photo of passport bio-data page! In unrelated news, my current role at Maisha Meds has been the longest of my career.

Embrace radical candour

Think you’re an open book? Consulates have a new free service to aid you in your journey towards simple, transparent living - Doxxing your salary!

Remember that signed letter from my boss, with the organization letterhead? It contained an email. A public-facing email address that we share with external parties, which forwards all emails to five people across the org. See where I’m going with this?

To make sure that I did not make up an organization, payslips from the org, a signed letter from my boss and a photo of her passport, the consulate decided to contact that public email address. It included my payslips for the last six months in the very first email and asked for verification.

Understandable, really. You can never be too sure of the legitimacy of documents these days.

Encryption, you say? Stamps and signatures on paper are the true sign of security

Speaking of legitimate documents, don’t forget to get your bank statements and your payslips doodled on beautified bedazzled certified by professionals - bank managers and your org’s finance team respectively. Everyone knows that even a truly hardened criminal who has found a way to forge the bio-data page of a passport and set up a fake organization website and Google Workspace to intercept emails sent to its public-facing email address to confirm the legitimacy of their payslips cannot crack the certification rubberstamps of a bank.

To the consulate’s credit, it always referred to “certified bank statements” and “certified payslips”, but I did not pick up on that until it was explicitly flagged, in the seventh round of correspondence with the consulate. No problem though, all it took was a visit to a bank branch and reaching out to my very accommodating mostly-remote colleague who, recognizing the limited time I had to get a visa before my travel, invited me to drop by their house with printouts of my payslips so they could quickly sign the documents. Download a scanner app, take photos of a lot of pages adorned with signatures and stamps and voilà, certification complete!

Practise patience

So you’ve submitted all your documents, and the consulate has finally confirmed that they’re all in order, but there has been radio silence since then. Time for another reminder that the only thing you can control in this world is your mind (and some of us need medication to have some semblance of control). Never mind that it has been more than a month since you established contact with the consulate. Or that you only have two weeks before your travel plans that will keep you out of the country for a month.

Don’t even think about emailing the consulate informing them that you don’t live in Nairobi, the city the consulate is located in, and that you would appreciate their accommodating a visa appointment before your upcoming travel plans. Not unless you want a generic response with a link and a quote from the website stating that the processing of documents can take up to 10 days from the submission of all documents. This time, the word on the website is the law.

Know your priorities

What would you do if a consulate emails you at 1pm informing you that your appointment had been scheduled for 9am the following day? If you answered, “I’d emphatically accept and show up the next day, because I’d put the rest of my life on hold for the visa appointment anyway”, you are clearly a person who has accepted your place in the world. I had not, especially as I had already travelled to Rwanda at the time, so I replied that “9am tomorrow would not work for me” and requested an appointment at the end of March, when I expected to be in Nairobi for a few days.

Are we sure that samsara is not about obtaining a visa?

Maybe Lumbini had restrictive visa policies?

After following up a second time, the consulate wrote back to inform me that my visa appointment had been scheduled for the first week of April. You’d think seeking an appointment a full 25+ days in advance for the end of March would ensure that appointments were still open and you’d be able to get the date that works best for you (hard to imagine a clamour among folks in Kenya to travel to Mexico), but it is not your allotment in life to question the decisions beyond your control. Well, maybe sometimes it is, as I did, asking if the consulate could accommodate my preference for end of March. It worked - I was informed that my appointment had been set for the date I requested.

Was it that simple, you ask? No, of course not. The consulate informed me that because my visa appointment would be a full month after the date it had initially set for me, I would need to submit fresh bank statements and payslips. All certified of course.

Will this ever end?

We’re getting there, I promise. Long story short, I made it to my appointment with freshly signed and stamped payslips and bank statements, passport copies, signed letter from my employer (needed a new one, just in case I’d been fired in the month since I’d last emailed the consulate), visa application form, passport photos in a specific dimension (which weren’t needed in the end because a digital photo was taken at the consulate instead).

After two in-person visits to the consulate and additional documents to prove my “economic solvency”, I finally got a shiny temporary resident visa sticker in my passport!

I hope I’ve demonstrated how easy it is to apply for this visa! All it takes is a little bit of patience.

After two years of (mostly) staying put in Kisumu, I’m getting back on the road!

Of all the places in the world, I would not have guessed that I’d break my nomadic streak for life in Kisumu. I’m glad to have spent all this time in the slow pace of a small city - definitely dodged the intense lockdowns around the world.

Things I’ll miss from my life in Kisumu

• walking down the quiet Okore Road or Ridoch Road as the sun sets and the heat of the day lets up

• cycling or running along the Lake Victoria shore in the direction of Dunga beach, noticing the water hyacinths surrendering or gaining turf as the “seasons” change.

• grabbing a booth and working from Java House at West End Mall in the afternoons - Going to Java was the one COVID risk I allowed myself for the sake of keeping my sanity and having a reason to get out of the apartment. Debatable if I held on to my sanity, but it became such a comfort that I’d visit Java at least once a week, and get one of the few vegan/vegatarian options in the menu, so much so that the waiters knew exactly what I’d get. “Green smoothie and a garden salad?”. All I had to do was nod.

• the stunning views of the hills around Kisumu - I was lucky to be in a fifth floor apartment, and seeing the orange and purple hues of dawn over the hills was an experience.

• the one-hour (minimum) wait times at most restaurants and how it teaches you to embrace Kisumu’s quirks and work with it - I’d call in my order an hour in advance and would have to wait only 5 - 10 minutes when I got there 😛

• rushing to Chandarana/Food Plus before closing time for groceries that cannot be found elsewhere in Kisumu (hummus, kombucha, vegan pesto/ice cream/wine, fresh tofu)

• being accosted by the same group of boda drivers outside West End Mall who know exactly where to drop you off, all jostling to be the one to make 50 shillings. I’ve been told that real Kisumu folks pay only 20 shillings to go to most places, but 50 is the minimum price for foreigners.

• the long rains - the howling winds, the lightning storms over the lake, the sheer intensity of rain.

• the dodgy instant electric heaters - Can you really say you’ve lived life on the edge if you haven’t showered under an electric showerhead that instantly heats water, as you contemplate high-voltage electrocution and bodies charred beyond recognition? Just kidding, this probably belongs in the next section.

• the elaborate greetings. As someone familiar and very comfortable in the brusque, utilitarian, seemingly rude (by Western standards, not mine) ways of urban Indian customer service at grocery stores, and small shops and restaurants, the social ritual of greeting absolutely everyone before engaging with them initially drove me crazy (So inefficient). This is a real transcript of a phone call from an unknown number

  Me: "Hello?"
  Person: "Hello, how are you?"
  Me: "I'm fine, how are you?"
  Person: "I'm fine too"
  *Awkward pause
  Me: "Yes?"
  Person: "I'm calling you from DHL. There is a package at our office...."
  

  But now? Kisumu has done a number on me. I was in India briefly last year, and I got strange looks because I started all interactions with “Hi, how are you?”

• making small talk with a stranger and discovering that they run a “ministry” on weekends and collections have been down in recent months. The odds that that has happened to me 2 - 3 times!

• watching the sunset in the weirdly segregationist, melanin-free environs of Dunga Hill Camp on a Friday night, and greeting folks whom you’ve only ever seen with a bottle of beer in their hands (and presumably not their first for the evening). Alcoholism is a real thing, Kisumu!

• taking a boda to the airport, and catching your flight even when you get to the airport 15 minutes before takeoff.

Things I won’t miss

• The garbage burning and the filthy air (sometimes)! Don’t get me started (I’ve written about it before).
• The drunk-driving! If you see someone driving past midnight on a Friday, I promise you they’re not sober. It blew my mind when I learnt that drunk-driving was just the norm in Kisumu.
• Maybe it’s just me and my complete lack of social media and/or social skills, but it felt like there was absolutely nothing to do in Kisumu but to go to church or drink to get hammered. At this point in my life (and, I hope, always), I don’t need someone shouting at me that “the fiery depths of hell await you for your sinful ways” in the hope of scaring me into committing to a tithe, nor do I want to run away from an existential crisis by numbing my mind with alcohol (I prefer travelling, i.e, literally running away, instead). That meant..spending a lot of time reading and watching stuff online. And resentfully finding meetup.com and Alliance Française events in Nairobi
  • That said, I’m leaving with a tinge of regret that I didn’t use my time in Kisumu to travel to the places around it. I’ve been learning more about permaculture and natural farming lately, and after spending days trying to find a permaculture farm accessible to me that would be willing to give me a tour, I found one an hour’s drive away from Kisumu 🤦. I also don’t feel like I’ve seen much of Kakamega and beyond, not to mention Mount Elgon National Park!
• The madenning chorus of church loudspeakers on the weekends, starting as early as 8AM and stretching all the way to about 6PM.

Exciting times for Kisumu

I’m cautiously optimistic about all the upcoming changes in Kisumu - A waterfront promenade is under construction, the Kisumu port is being revived, many parts of the city have been spruced up and new bicycle lanes created in preparation for the Africities summit in a few months, and the colonial-era train is finally functional again, if your definition of functional accommodates a train that averages about 20 km/h and takes 12 hours from Nairobi to Kisumu.

Depending on how the election in August ~is decided~ goes, the next President may have strong ties to Kisumu - Hopefully that translates to a greater focus on the region, if only for the purposes of voter appeasement.

What’s next?

I’m looking forward to doing a bit of travelling - Yes, it’s inconvenient to look up COVID restrictions and take PCR tests, but after a long time in Kisumu, the scale has tipped in favour of travelling despite the inconveniences. I feel silly that I haven’t seen much of east Africa in all this time in the region, so I have Rwanda on my mind.

What I’d really like from this year is to find a small house on a permaculture farm, in a part of the world with a mild climate, spending hours outdoors everyday, working on the farm alongside people willing to teach me their farming practices and put up with my remote work, somewhere I can go cycling or wandering off every weekend.

I spent some time over the weekend experimenting with voice2json and rhasspy, trying to set up a fully offline voice assistant system using Mozilla DeepSpeech for speech recognition, a template file containing all known phrases and their mappings to intents, an intent recognizer and a local shell script to parse the recognized intent and invoke commands (think opening a website or folder when an intent is recognized). Rhasspy was easy to use and really fun. It’s amazing how far we’ve come in terms of open-source tools in the TTS/speech recognition space.

Along the way, I discovered Larynx, a TTS system for Linux with high-quality voices from Glow-TTS and others, with intonations that sound human. I’ve kept an eye on the Linux TTS space for years and have been disappointed by the limited consumer-use options. Often, the pre-trained TTS voices sound all too robotic for everyday use. I suppose that’s understandable given the dearth of open-source voice datasets (which is why projects like Mozilla CommonVoice are so exciting!). It’s nice to have a pleasant pre-trained TTS model natively available on Linux.

My use case is to copy text in a browser/Thunderbird RSS article, hit a shortcut and have the TTS system read the selected text aloud so I can look away from the screen and just listen.

Setup

I followed the Debian installation instructions, and downloaded and installed the tts, lang-en_us and Harvard Glow TTS files.

# cd Downloads # (or /path/to/downloaded/deb/files)
sudo apt install ./larynx*.deb

TTS Shortcut

To create a shortcut that invokes Larynx on selected text, I added aliases in my ~/.bash_aliases file. They use xclip to access clipboard and selection data. On Debian-based systems, you should be able to install it with sudo apt install xclip.

# Speak text passed as argument
# Usage: speak "This is a test"
alias speak="larynx --voice harvard-glow_tts --interactive"

# Speak clipboard text
# Usage: speak-clipboard
alias speak-clipboard="xclip -out -selection clipboard | speak"

# Speak currently selected text
# Usage: speak-selection
alias speak-selection="xclip -out -selection primary | speak"

Under Settings –> Keyboard on GNOME, I added a custom keybinding for Super+S to invoke bash -i -c "speak-selection". This lets me select any text and hit Super+S to invoke larynx

References

• Larynx [GitHub]
• Assign a keyboard shortuct to a bash alias [Stack Overflow]
• Read the currently selected text using xclip [Stack Overflow]