Germanismen I: Wesserbisser

Die Süddeutsche Zeitung glänzt pünktlich zur Vergabe des Medizin Nobelpreises 2009 mit höchstgradig verschwurbelter Wiedergabe grundlegendem Fachwissens.

Ein unschätzbarer Vorteil des Sabbatjahres ist die Möglichkeit zur entspannten allmorgendliche Durchsicht der Tageszeitungen. Mit der kompletativem Ruhe war es allerdings heute morgen schon auf Seite zwei der Süddeutschen Zeitung vorbei. Was dort als Weitergabe lexikalischen Wissens getarnt in das kollektive Bewusstsein der deutschen Bevölkerung eingespeist wird, ließ mir schier das halbzerkaute Brötchen aus den Mandibeln fallen - und ist mit dem Begriff Volksverdummung nur unzureichend beschrieben. Auf vierzehn Sätzen verbergen sich nicht nur zahlreiche Unschärfen, sondern auch zwei haarsträubende Fehler, deren Existenz in einer anspruchsvollen Tagezeitung eigentlich nur durch die Vergabe unangenehmer Recherchearbeiten an internetsüchtige BOGY-Praktikanten erklärbar scheint. Bei Umsetzung des Bildungplans müssste dabei eigentlich jeder  Zehntklässler in der Lage sein, diese Fehler zu identifizieren und richig zu stellen.

Trotz erklärter Absicht und Anspruch, zu einem sachlichen Umgang mit den Fragen der Biotechnologie  in der Gesellschaft beizutragen, unter anderem mit reger Unterstützung der scienceblogs, blamiert sich die Süddeutsche also bis auf die Knochen. Zudem drängt sich die Frage auf, ob die deutsche Bevölkerung auf dem Gebiet der allgemeinen Biologie tatsächlich so schwach auf der Brust ist, dass diese Fehler nicht weiter auffallen - es steht wohl zu befürchten.

Dies ist aber, im Sinne der absoluten Wahrheitsfindung und -verteidigung, der Ratio und der politischen Bildung, nicht hinzunehmen! News from Nowhere ruft deshalb alle Leser auf, die Fehler zu suchen, zu beschreiben, und eine Richtigstellung zu posten.

Die prägnanteste sachlich richtige Antwort wird mit einem fulminanten Abendessen belohnt!

(Einsendeschluß ist der 31. Oktober 2009.)

Zusätzlich startet News from Nowhere einen Spendenaufruf, um der Redaktion der Süddeutschen in Zukunft solch Blamage zu ersparen - und ihr ein Exemplar der Bio-bibel "Biologie" von Neil. A. Campbell unter den Weinachtsbaum zu legen. 

Wer sich mit beteiligen möchte, schreibt eine mail an 'horseburger(at)web.de', Stichwort 'Bildungskampagne Biologie - Entwicklungshilfe Süddeutsche'.

Anbei der Artikel im Originalwortlaut:

Süddeutsche Zeitung Nr. 229 // Dienstag, 6. Oktober 2009

Aktuelles Lexikon

Chromosom

Denkt man sich die Erbsubstanz einer menschlichen Zelle, die DNS, als einen Faden, wäre dieser etwa zwei Meter lang - viel zu groß, um in den Zellkern zu passen. Also muss das Erbgut so verpackt sein, dass es möglichst wenig PLatz einnimmt. Das geschieht nach dem gleichen Prinzip wie bei einem Stück Schnur, das umso kürzer und dabei dicker wird, je stärker man es verdrillt. Zusätzlich wickelt sich die verdrillte DNS platzsparend um Eiweiß-Moleküle. Diesen Molekülkomplex aus Eiweißen und Erbsubstanz nennt man Chromosom.

Wörtlich übersetzt heißt das "Farbkörper": Weil die DNS stark komprimierbar ist, kann man sie gut färben und sichtbar machen. Um sich zu vervielfältigen, muss sich die DNS allerdings kurzfristig entkräuseln. Menschen besitzen normalerweise in jeder Zelle 46 Chromosomen, von denen jeweils die Hälfte vom Vater und von der Mutter stammen. Zusammen tragen sie das gesamte Erbgut in sich. Nur die Keimzellen enthalten zusätzlich je zwei Geschlechtschromosomen.Menschliche Chromosomen sind nur wenige Mikrometer lang. Trotzdem sind sie in klar definierte Bereiche unterteilt, zum Beispiel in die sogenannten Telomere. Sie bilden eine Art Schutzkappe an den Enden der Chromosomen. Für Ihre Entdeckung wurden drei Amerikaner mit dem diesjährigen Medizin-Nobelpreis geehrt.

Salaam Surfing: In the lineup with enDo

This world holds adventure for the traveler, and the open minded will find a lot of good things still come for free. In many destinations, however, relaxation has become an organized business - where more often than not the critical customer cannot help feeling milked or finds local customs twisted and perverted to suit the taste of the lobotomized. Thus it came as great relief to find that the concept behind enDo surf camp in Morocco is definetely opposed to the superficial: Here, one has the feeling that it's all about the love for surfing, rather than making a buck.

enDo teamers demonstrate a breach of surfing etiquette:
It's always 'Ladies first', of course.

The Moroccan September sun glazes the sleepy town of Tamraght in warm colours. I strain to look into the setting sun, the waves coming in directly from the west. It's a slow late afternoon session, there is a gentle 2 foot swell just right for me to practice my take offs. I am the only surfer in the water, and have plenty of time to let my thoughts go with the flow. The muezzin calls to end the fast as the sun disappears in the ocean. I catch a last wave in. Two local boys wave to me with a mixture of excitement and bashness and I give them my board for a brief spell in the whitewater.

Tourism is not really big thing in Tamraght, a few miles up the coast from Agadir. Four surf camps exist in the area, nicheing in between everyday regional businesses and private homes. Except for water sports, there is not much exploitable toursim activity in the viccintiy. A trip to Agadir and Essaouira, a visit to the local market, a short hike up the mountian or a bike ride along the beach are the only available pasttimes, a fact that will not bother the regular enDo guest, where the declared focus is surfing, surfing, and surfing. Several great spots are in walking distance, Banana Point regularly pitches nice swells a mere stone's throw from the door step, slabs like Boilers and Killers are a short drive away.

Just playing in the foamies: enDo teamers having fun at the housebeach.

enDo was brought into existence in this spot ten years ago by two young surfers looking for a way to combine their sport with making a living. Camp philosophy is a mix of offering the grit of an individual surfari while incorporating respect for local traditions and idiosyncrasies with the carefreeness of hanging out at a friend's house. In fact, three weeks of surfing with enDo felt to me more like living in digs with incredibly sportive housemates – and an expert cook. Loosing weight is definetley not an objective when confronted with delicious breakfasts and local dinners - and perhaps one or two burgers thrown in for lunch.

The still extremely affordable prices of the camp are part of the agenda and are made possible only by the teamer system, where staff work basically for food and lodging and a little else – a perfect job for students or drifters. Thus, there ist no shortage in stoked surfers who welcome the arrangement to make their own dream of a prolonged surf time-out reality in return for passsing on knowledge, arranging transport and an occasional cocktail evening. Customers are drawn from all ranges of expertise, from surf pro to grommet, but no matter what your skill level, instruction is tailor made and precise. Regular video feedback sessions help tremendously in acknowledging one's potential for improvement. Yet there are no alures of aloofness from those more experienced. The best surfer is still the one who leaves the water with the biggest smile.

It's a fact that the more you talk about surfing, the more ridiculous you sound – which does not stop conversations on the roof terrasse revolving around swell, board shapes and surf stories. „My first time surfing was a life-changing experience“, says an enDo executive otherwise completely alien to pathos. „I realized that the things that were so important to me before, like cars, job money, career, simpy lost their relevance. Now the prime objective is to spend at least a few months surfing each year. I may make less money now, but my life is the richer for it.“ I nod and exhale slowly. What would sound like a cheesy surf dude's mantra at home in our organized and clockworked society makes complete sense in the warm afterglow of a surfing session and a belly full of delicious tagine. The muezzin is at it again, his rival answers the call from the next hilltop. There will be waves tomorrow, insha'Allah.

enDo teamer Mo attempts to demonstrate how to cross-step on a longboard

Mint tea in Essaouria

As hard as it is not to grab a board and head for the water, it has to be said that a day trip is a nice break from the routine of surf, eat, sleep. Especially if the waves are flat anyway and your shoulder feels like Pompeij the day after. A car is easily rented from enDo surf camp and so one early morning saw us head out north to Essaouira. The famed city of Blue and White on the southern Atlantic coast of Morocco is an easy three hours drive from Tamraght, made scenic by the ocean and gnarly Argan tree forests.

Will climb for food - goats eat Argan fruit. A favourite snapshot from southwest Morocco.

On all my travels, I have always preferred 'breathing in' a city rather than running around with guide and map. Essaouria is perfectly set up to loose oneself on a scenic stroll in this fashion, yet small enough not to get completely disoriented. The enchanted crooks and crannies of the Medina offer plenty of picturesque moments and the odd chance of exchanging a few words with the locals. Communication here works more or less without hassle, which I find is a distinct advantage of Morocco as a travel destination.

Tourist shops and real life still blend in Essaouira.

After a slightly overpriced fish feast at the harbour, and an extended walk on the stretching crescent of sand beach, I found myself sitting in the worst tourist trap right smack on the front line of backpackerism. Tea was overpriced, but sweet, and went extremely well with watching the hustle and bustle of al ate afternoon along the hippie trail.

Talents of tomorrow. Local basketball training.

The local mint tea is not to be compared to your regular cup of concoction. Performing the ritual of pouring and re-pouring the hot water to get a full-flavoured body with amber glow and mild but lucious scent has a distinct meditative quality. Thoughts wander and meander in synchrony to the steaming swirls, images from the street catch your eye and the individual moments extends whereas time as such shrinks. The late afternoon glow on the yellow dusty telephone booths, the two guys slapping flies across the street. Mahmoud whispering hash stories from the right. Backpacker tourists in faded Arafat shawls on their way to the cash machines, determination to spend their money on lamps, cloth or leather written all over their faces.

Need for speed. Horses provide kicks on Essaouira beach promenade.

A young Moroccan in Gucci jeans parades his baby boy on the main street amidst a group of feisty friends, his father, in stripey Djellaba comes to join and sings the praises of the familyseed as he breaks up in self-satisfied smiles. A group of ladies in colourful tchadors moves gracefully in the square, if you watch closely you can observe them sending flirtatious glances to blonde Germans from the corners of their khol-marked eyes. A fisherman walks home, dizzy from the combination of working under the glaring sun and Ramaddan fasting. His limbs seem to move independently, the gaze is hollow, empty. Any time he will fall over, you think, but he sets foot before foot, and makes it out of the picture in one piece. Hilarious – a teenager so full of testosterone he can wax his hair with it swaggers in zigzags across the street, brandishing his polished Italian shoes with a toe curve that would leave any Leningrad cowboy green with envy.

Above all, chatter. Murmurs from darker corners, pling-pling songs from Rasta guitars, a shout to shoo away the begging children, a greeting, a handshake with the retracted hand cupped over the heart, a mother dragging her screaming child, laughter from the waiters preparing refreshments.

The splash of mint tea in the glass.

The clink of the swirling spoon.

The scratch of a last undissolved sugar crystal.