Death in Search of Freedom, of Truth

A tribute to Benazir Bhutto. Title links to her NYT obituary.

The coverage, though mournful of her assassination and the ensuing chaos, describes her as "complex" and "contradictory." They say her lifestyle was hypocrisy to her populist stance. That her politics were clandestine, her ignorance of weapons programs during her rule dubious.

And yet, more than 100 people died upon her return to Pakistan in October. More than a score killed with her yesterday. She stood for freedom, hope of basic human dignity for oppressed people. And people believed in her. It seems wrong to paint a woman innocent people died for as "contradictory."

Similarly, the people of Haiti believe in Aristide, still protesting in throngs for his return. He too struggled for basic human dignity. He too was repressed, removed twice from power amidst charges of corruption. The second time, he was kidnapped on a U.S. military jet, overrun by paramilitaries empowered courtesy of my country smuggling weapons through the Dominican Republic. The evidence of a coup d'etat fostered by the U.S., France, and Canada is incontrovertible. And yet in every current news article about Haiti, STILL the press refers to a "popular uprising" that drove Aristide from power in 2004. Every time I read that obligatory phrase, I scowl: frivolous words demeaning thousands of Haitians' deaths and hundreds of wrongful imprisonments.

For both these leaders, we throw around epithets of "controversial" from our comfortable lives, while the people who matter stand and die in futile search for freedom. Our dishonesty keeps it beyond their grasp.

The poor and oppressed don't even have the luxury of truth. Power creates the stories.

100 Suggestions for Being a Catholic Worker

Okay, so I won't list all 100, but these are from a flyer on the refrigerator at Bethany House. Life instructions, as many have learned from living with our downtrodden brothers and sisters:

-take the sermon on the mount very seriously.
-don't take yourself too seriously.
-convene the kingdom of god over soup.
-compel them to come in.
-ask how far the line goes back.
-reside in the margins.
-draw a line. stand on it. get arrested.
-persevere in non-sequitur conversation.
-bless those who curse you, including guests.
-honor conscience, in yourself and others.
-be skeptical of forms, bureaucracies, institutions, and people who put you on hold.
-refuse to be called a saint.
-rage against patriarchy
-find love a harsh and dreadful thing.
-find love.
-be civil when answering the phone at 3 am
(you may swear if it rings again immediately)
-discern the times. take time. give time. do time. add thyme.
-build a new society in the shell of the old.
-try and figure out who is pilfering the toilet paper.
-study the faces of folk down and out.
-curse the filthy, rotten system.
-marvel at the survival skills of your guests.
-weep quietly in your room when necessary.
-stay in touch.
-sweat
-beg
-practice non-violence.
-argue economics over coffee.
-argue over economics and coffee.
-scrub soup pots as an exercise in contemplation.
-visit prisoners. be one.

-celebrate the incarnation.

Se fini

Creole for "it's finished," meaning the journals on Cambodia. I could post a lot more, but I think I should stop, to offer new thoughts from the moment. But to everyone who wanted to hear: thank you. Awwquun jraan (thank you very much). I often would rather listen than speak, but it means a lot to be asked to share something so raw in me.

So final thoughts:
Thursday August 9, 2:35 am (somewhere)

"Now I am really out of Southeast Asia, on the plane, suspended in time. I will sleep. But now, I am churning. Following my friend's suggestion again to ask 'how am I feeling today?' before journaling...today I feel split in pieces.

Part of me is calm about my return. My friend also told me I was going to Cambodia for a reason, one I may not have known at the time. I think I've seen this reason now, in a deeper way, though I guess it's not far from my original thoughts. In the book, "Their Eyes Were Watching God," Janie Crawford says, 'You got to go there to know there." I went to Cambodia to know Cambodia, as much as I could in eight weeks anyway. I read the terrible history, and I wanted to see people rebuilding from it.

I admit that my selfish reason for wanting to go abroad so badly was to see if I could live and work in a poor country maybe long term. Also to continue to discern that medical call I keep hearing. I think I found both. At least I took a step. I'm open to being led, but I'm also ready to continue this path, however slowly I may go.

From Michael Himes, I learned that vocation is about joy, though not always happiness. From Pope JPII and Romero, I learned that solidarity may require great personal sacrifice. Being a doctor in a country like Cambodia...or Haiti doesn't feel like a sacrifice to me. It sure as heck isn't 'saving the world,' as people joke. I just feel as if I'm being pulled in a certain direction. I love the learning and the praxis. But I don't think I've started on any path on my own, without being pushed. And I don't think I can just forget about it.

My family's motto, 'from those to whom much is given, much is expected.' The Gospel for this coming Sunday (Luke 12:48): 'Much will be required from those entrusted with much, and more will be required from those entrusted with more.' Coincidence? Wow.

Teaching taught me about the real need for connection and partnership. My students can do great things...they don't really need our help to heal Cambodia's wounds...they just need us to allow them the resources they deserve.

Everything--especially the hospice--is showing me what it might mean to be a doctor. I love Phalla, my sister; all I did with her was talk and laugh and make flowers and cuddle. And my dear Malis....I guess I changed her and dressed her bedsore and stuff. I held her hand and sang and looked into her beautiful eyes. Did I help either of them? Really help? No. But these women, and so many like them, need real help.

Right now, I want to keep feeling these pieces. I want to love in humble awe. I had to leave Cambodia...so feeling is the very least I can do."

Magic

Thursday July 12, 10:06 p.m., Phnom Penh, Cambodia

"I have felt so inept and useless at my hospice placement. I can't listen [language barrier], so I feel I can't share, that my being with them is not really being with.

But today was magical. I went Tuesday, at Sr. Regina's suggestion, to Boeung Tumpun to learn to make these silk flowers--as an idea for an activity for the five hospice ladies who are feeling pretty well. So I went to the hospice today. Yungsaw has gone home, and a new lady named Dany is here. I sat on Soreun's bed, and showed Chunty and her the sample flowers I made. I am continuously learning and practicing new Kemi, so I can understand and communicate superficial ideas pretty well. I asked if they wanted me to teach them. When I sat down with the materials, Phalla (who's blind from CMV retinopathy, who told Adel that being here is the first time in her life she's been happy) sat down next to me. She felt the flowers, said "sa-at" (beautiful) and motioned for me to teach her.

I guided her hands for the first part and handed her materials, but she caught on really quickly, working intently on her own as I watched. Soon, the caretakers, Saman and Hyup, came to join in, making little silk petals. Soreun and Chunty weren't feeling well, so they watched, laughing at Phalla's visible pleasure. We ended up with a community-effort bouquet, but it was mostly Phalla. she's so resourceful and sheepish at the same time. She still teases me about the way I pronounce "neak" (you), but she's getting more satisfied with my attempts. It was a beautiful afternoon with the bawng srays (ladies)."

Live...from one of the most hellish places on earth

Stung Meanchey: the Phnom Penh garbage dumps....where hundreds of families live to pick throught trash for recyclables. Imagine wading through your own waste for that one aluminum can you forgot to recycle, so you can turn it in for a few cents. Imagine doing it at age 6, barefoot, every day, instead of school, sick and hungry.

More Cambodia...

As it snows, and I again have an exam tomorrow and mountains of "important" things to do, I can't resist opening my Cambodia journal. More, by anonymous popular request.

Saturday July 14, 12:04 am

"I was at the netcafe lesson planning until 11:30 and still thinking and agonizing over plans for next week. It's so hard. Ed did Mass tonight. Gospel was on the Good Samaritan. Ed challenged us with the question the smart lawyer (as Ed was as an NYC DA) asked, "who is my neighbor?" All are our neighbors, as the children believe. Children raise the bar of compassion Ed spoke of. How far AM I willing to go in compassion? When I want nothing, no feel-good and no recognition, in return?

We went back to Stung Meanchey, the garbage dump, this morning. This time, the lady Kevin works with arranged to have 5 kg rice for each of the 70-95 families in that area. Everyone huddled as they started distributing rice. Meg & I brought candy, which we gave to the kids. A random ice cream cart went by (right next to a dump?) so for $5, we bought ice popsicles for dozens and dozens of kids.

They were all jumpy and clingy and wanted to play. I loved it. I basically wrestled with and gave piggy back rids to a brother and sister for an hour. Held a beautiful little girl with a rash around her face and sores on her arms. An older girl, maybe 11, wearing the dirtiest old McDonald's shirt, taught me hand slap games AND "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands" in Khemi. Not kidding.

Some of them led me back through their shack homes.
I had so much fun playing with them.
But at the end, we saw the girl with the McDonald's shirt headed out to the dump to work in the filth.

She is my neighbor.

Meg and I had thought about giving the community water filters. Doy, a lay missioner, didn't recommend it--the people might sell them. We then turned to the idea of bednets and roofs. In Khemi, Kevin was talking about this with a group of St. Vincent de Paul society people. I stood nearby, hugging a little girl to my side. She said something to me I didn't understand. I asked Kevin to translate.

"Please one bednet and one roof."

Christ, this little girl asked me for a bednet and a roof.

I will make sure we do it. Roofs and bednets to the group, all the families in that cluster of hellish shacks. They are my neighbors. She's my neighbor. I am responsible for the inhumanness of her life.

I later found she lives outside that little area we were in, and I don't have a picture of her or anything. Please let me be able to find her.

Do I really have compassion for my neighbors, for her?"

----------
Now on to the less important things I'm supposed to do.

Here's what matters...

I just opened my journal, and out of 140 pages to choose from, randomly, this is what I read. Here is some meaning, I think. I can't forget, never will.

Friday August 3:
"...The best moment, perhaps of the summer, came from my personal exhaustion this morning. I was not on my game. My dear Phalla was feeling sick today, headache, and dozing on her bed. I got up from my seat by Malis and lay on Phalla's small bed. Immediately and without a single word, Phalla wrapped her arm across my stomach and pulled me close. She could feel my diaphragm and I could feel her fresh soft breath on my cheek--a centimeter from her mouth. We lay there, holding hands, cuddling, dozing, breathing together for half an hour. That time was love.

I said goodye to Svay Phalla as she took those life-giving medicines that keep making her stronger. Told her I didn't want to leave Kampuchea.

Srey Pao invited me in her room to her bed. I have barely spent time with her, but when I told her I was leaving, she burst into tears and embraced me with her stick arms. We kissed each other and exchanged 'I'll miss you.' 'I love you.'
I'm amazed that my brief presence meant something to her.

Phalla was lying by the TV when I said goodbye. I hugged her and told her I loved her. I was--and am--sad. I will miss my dear friend, my sister. But Phalla put on a good face, though I got the feeling she felt as I did. She said she loved me. But when I started to say 'thank you' (for her presence and companionship), as if to stop me from being too sentimental, she simply said 'sok sapbaay' (be happy). Kept her gaze (which goes beyond her eyes) on the ceiling as I walked away. That woman defines courage to me."

What matters

So it's been far too long since I've posted. The fall has been different: a rocky start from missing school, difficult classes, accomplishing less than I think I should, and perpetual fatigue. The endless self-criticism...I am not good enough, and I never will be.

"We had the experience, but missed the meaning." T.S. Eliot.

I don't want that to be me. For the meaning is far beyond what I can comprehend. And the only way to approach it is to get outside myself and into someone else.

It's snowing outside, dome shining against the grey-blue sky.
I understand some of the dome's tarnish.
Freedom should start here.
My friends are playing Christmas Carols across the hall.
The Khmer Rouge tribunals started last week with Duch's testimony.
I'm going to Haiti over Christmas break.
We're already deciding on next year's Cambodia students...so many would give so much to the experience.
I spent Thanksgiving with 84 family members, two of whom fought breast cancer.
Through various experiences this fall, I've seen disparities in the U.S. healthcare system.
I have a physiology test that I'm not prepared for on Tuesday, and three papers, and a presentation to high-schoolers.
I'm writing about humanitarian aid in Darfur, and health care justice in the U.S.....finally, things that matter.
On my 21st birthday, I might get to hear Dr. Jim Yong Kim speak about the implementation gap in health care delivery.
This blog wasn't/isn't intended to be biographical.
But I need to reflect on the meaning in everyday life.
I'm wasting time...or am I?
I understand the homeostatic compensations our bodies try to make to compensate for diahhrea. People are dying from diahhrea right now.

I miss Lem Phalla and Sothearith.
I wish Men Malis hadn't died.

Two Haitians and one Cambodian sent me emails to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving. The beginning of our colonialism...wouldn't Haiti have been better off without pilgrims?

What matters?
Where's the meaning?

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

This is a poem by Wendell Berry. A friend introduced me to it last week. Best read aloud, in groups, considering the truth of each phrase.

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Dr. Tom Dooley

"I am only one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything, but I can do something.
What I can do, I ought to do,
and what I ought to do,
by the grace of God,
I will do."

Dr. Tom Dooley
Notre Dame alum, who built hospitals throughout Southeast Asia in the 1950s and 60s.

A new school year...

Yeah, I don't think daily updates will happen now that the semester's started. But, I won't let this blog die, mostly because I really like to write.

Don't have time to dig through my journal now, but I promise to follow-up with a better entry than the last one.

Don't read if you're afraid to be shaken

More from the Cambodia journal…seriously heed the above warning.

Tuesday June 19, 10:06 p.m.
Yesterday, we went to the two places in Phnom Penh every visitor sees: Chuoung Ek (The Killing Fields) and the Tuol Sleng S-21 prison. I don’t know if I can describe those. I don’t think it’s possible to really fathom the suffering and death under the Khmer Rouge—2 million in four years—but I saw some of the punctured skulls. I saw clothes and bones and teeth in the ground around the hundreds of mass graves. Standing next to the Tuol Sleng’s torture instruments; around 20,000 people entered this prison, and 7 left alive. The thousands of headshot photos of prisoners in Tuol Sleng—faces staring at me as if their pain were not 30 years ago, but rather, at this very moment. I can’t even begin…

Then today, I also am overwhelmed by a sadness just below the surface. I’m not crying, so I’m not letting it out, but I feel it hard. We learned more about Maryknoll’s Seedling of Hope program from Ed, and then he took us to Chay Chumneas: a government referral hospital for AIDS and TB. I can’t…well, I’ll try to describe.

An open ward full of metal frame beds, possibly with straw mattresses, or just a sheet. All the patients’ belongings under their beds, a few clothes and pots and pans, because they have no safe home to leave things in. Maybe an IV stand. The people were all so incredibly sick, most with both AIDS and TB. A prisoner lay shackled to his bed, skin and bones and a diaper. How much longer does he have?

Maybe worse than the physical horror of the place was the total lack of hospital staff. No nurses or aids to make sure IVs don’t run dry. No one to offer any care. Only the patients’ families—if they have them—are present to care for people. Imagine a six-year-old child taking his mother to use the filthy outdoor latrine at night. What is it like there now, in the dark? What does it feel like to live in that pain and terror?

The pediatric ward was as bad. Nearly all the children in the over-filled ward have HIV and dengue fever—Cambodia’s new plague (the country has the highest burden of dengue in the world right now). I saw a baby—who knows how old?—who was a miniscule skeleton.

Why?

By Popular Request: Cambodia

A little more than a week ago, I was halfway around the world. I miss that side of the globe—a lot. When thinking so often of the tiny country of Cambodia and all within it, I’m fortunate to have my precious journal as a memory. College-ruled notebook, I wrote 135 pages and counting…

When I started this blog, I promised myself I wouldn’t make it a personal diary thing. Instead, I wanted to write commentaries on current events and world issues, to learn through my typing fingers. However, several close friends have asked me to tell them all about Cambodia; I want to, but I can’t say everything. Yet I can share some of my experiences and thoughts, meticulously recorded as they happened, though I post chronologically. I suppose this writing is a form of commentary on the world.

Saturday June 16, 10:10 pm
Yesterday morning, I was sitting on the balcony watching the HI “squeakers” start their collection. People pull rented wooden carts around and pick up recyclables to turn in for a few hundred riel—next to nothing, but their only chance for income. Imagine collecting pop can deposits for a living. They use bathtub squeaky toys to announce their presence. One little boy, with an empty cart, motioned to me. I hurried inside to get my single Coke can, but I undershot my throw, so it fell within the apartment gate. I made a sorry face to the boy. He shrugged, smiled, and walked on, squeaking.

Thursday July 26, 6:26 am
I will miss the sounds of Cambodia, the chirping/burping of geckos at night (though the ones on my bedroom walls don’t really chirp). And in the morning, I wake to the squeaks and “HI” calls of the recycling collectors—tiny children and adults, all barefoot and poor. And to the bread man calling “Pang, pang” in his throaty voice, selling baguettes for 500 riel (12.5 cents) from a wicker basket on his bicycle, and to the egg man playing his monotone recording that some haughty foreigners complained about in letters to the editor. Yet I love waking to sounds of people living—trying to live anyway—to draw me to face the day with some generosity, knowing there’s life and hope even in a desperate world.

Hiatus

I meant to write several posts in the last several days, but got too busy. A response to Andrew's question about health and human rights (well, I do have to say a yes--a right--to the cancer treatment question). Comments on the media coverage of the XDR-TB patient: they're missing the point. Other musings. Comments on an email a friend sent me about faith and service. Probably nothing very interesting.

Alas for failed good intentions.

However, if anyone does happen to read this blog, it is not defunct, but will not be updated until at least early August. Maybe then I'll have more to say. Or maybe I'll figure out that I have nothing to say. Maybe I'll fail to see the point.

Life, mine at least, is Pachelbel's Canon.

Peace friends.

Unwarranted and Undeserved

Yesterday, I fainted in the local hospital. I had been stupid—donated blood on an empty stomach, ate breakfast, and then immediately went for a run in the thickly hot morning. I finished breathing harder than normal and utterly drenched in sweat. Right after showering, I drove to the hospital to pick up a family member from an endoscopic procedure. Standing by the bed, I started to feel lightheaded. I knew I was going to faint, but at the point of that realization, it’s impossible to stop.

So I passed out in a chair. Three nurses jumped to me, and within 45 seconds of coming to, I had an air pipe and smelling salts up my nostrils, a blood pressure cuff on my bicep, a pulse monitor clamped on my finger, and an IV needle jammed in my brachial vein. Within five minutes, I had been loaded into a bed and wheeled to the emergency room. Within 30 minutes, I had recovered from all lightheadness, yet I still waited through an EKG—just in case I had an arrhythmia. I didn’t, of course. I was simply dehydrated from being stupid enough to run immediately after removing a pint of blood.

Both the nurses in the endoscopy unit and the ER were amazingly kind and forgiving of my inconvenient noncompliance. And they followed our nation’s copious medical protocol for such situations. But I didn’t need that care or really deserve it. Dehydration from an unwise run wouldn’t kill me. And it was my fault.

At least 1.6 million children die each year from diarrhea complications. Unlike in my case, the dehydration is not their fault. They can’t choose to avoid the fetid water they drink. There is no other choice. These children deserve care.

I am grateful for the luxurious care that I enjoyed—and the insurance that paid for it, insurance unavailable to nearly one in six in our richest of countries. Reflecting on my healthcare experiences and thinking about the complete lack of healthcare for so many forgotten people makes this conviction difficult to believe: healthcare, just like food and clean water, are basic human rights. More important than any other right is the right to survive. But as Dr. Farmer writes (Pathologies of Power, I think) “If healthcare is a basic human right, who is considered human enough to have that right?”

So I am human. How many are with me? Surely fewer than those denied humanity. Haitians have such a hopeful proverb, “tout moun se moun” (every person is a person). Yet, only 54% of Haitians have access to safe water. They count themselves each as human. Why can’t we?

Triple A: "AIDS and Accusation" and Abbott Laboratories

After finally reading "Deus Caritas Est" and former president Jean Bertrand Aristide's "In the Parish of the Poor: Writings From Haiti," I've begun the only book by Dr. Paul Farmer I haven't yet read, "AIDS and Accusation."

My blood still boiling over Abbott Laboratories continued callousness, extreme even with their deplorable track record, extreme even for a corporation, whose business needs admittedly do lend themselves to dispassion. This week, Abbott offered Thailand a "compromise": Aluvia (one of the drugs it was planning to pull) for $1000 per patient per year--fixed price, no lower, and Thailand couldn't continue its compulsory license. As an alternative to the deal, an Indian generic company, with the support of the Clinton Foundation, could make the drug for $695, with the near certainty of a price drop as more generic companies produce the ARV. Thai ministry of health looks like it won't take the deal...good decision, clearly.

In his 2005 preface to this book, originally published in 1992, Dr. Farmer addresses exactly this issue:
"Even if we agree that AIDS care is a right, there are significant challenges. We need to understand that as long as these medications remain commodities on the open market, they will be available only to those who can afford them. Regardless of how low costs go, there will always be those who cannot pay. For those interested in health as a human right, selling ARVS will always pose problems."

And a little later on...:
"...confused debates nonetheless continue to waste precious time. We should brace ourselves for the next great wave of debate, which will undoubtedly focus on what the modern world owes to the destitute sick. If AIDS care becomes a right rather than a commodity, some people believe we will open a Pandora's box. Others, including me, believe that we have no more excuses for ignoring the growing inequality that has left hundreds of millions of people without any hope of surviving preventable and treatable illnesses."

We need to put pressure on the Miles Whites [Abbott CEO] of the world. We need to put pressure on the world. We need to put pressure on ourselves in the world. To not continue to ignore inequality.

Anticipation

I spoke with my site supervisor, a priest, this morning. Hearing his voice made this all more real, though sometimes I still can't believe it. What is this? I guess I should explain my pending hiatus from this blog.

On June 5, I will board Thai Airways for a 17-hour nonstop flight from New York to Bangkok. Through ND's Center for Social Concerns, a friend and I will live in Phnom Penh, Cambodia for seven weeks—doing so-called “service learning.” Which basically means we’ll work and learn and discern in the midst of poverty, and hope we can do a little good in the process. My friend and I are in a class of 36 students: we all are soon to depart for places around the world to begin to learn about the real world. The one beyond U.S. borders, the one of the shafted majority, the one of struggle, but also the one of real humanity.

Our particular site placement is with the Maryknoll, the century-old global mission organization. The community of priests, sisters, and lay missioners has built a number of social programs in Phnom Penh. As student short-term volunteers, my friend and I will have the main responsibility of teaching two intermediate English classes at the local public university. So for four weeks, I will teach English to probably 60-70 students my own age. Though a language class, the topic is “Current World Affairs.” Yes, I’m a more than a little intimidated.

But I’ve been fortunate to have so many mentors in my classrooms. My teachers have inspired me and cultivated a love of learning in me. The couple thousand dollars ND donors have paid to send me to Cambodia would probably pay the salary of ten local teachers—who could likely do a better job than I can. Both this realization and a strong desire to share some of the learning excitement I’ve been given will motivate me. I don’t harbor naïve visions of how effective I might be. I’ll just do my best. But if anyone has a neat idea of an activity or something, I’d love to hear it!

Beyond teaching in the morning for four weeks, I’ll get involved somehow with Maryknoll’s HIV/AIDS program. They have adults and children on ARVs (anti-retrovirals). Some 320 children are enrolled in the program: half are orphans and live in Maryknoll-run group homes and the other half live with families. But in a true community health system, workers visit the kids every day to supervise pill ingestion and check on other needs. Maryknoll helps with food, education, and other support. My supervisor spoke just this morning of the need for counsel for the children, and when they’re older, a transition to independence. This life—not death—is the possibility for the 38 million people living with HIV, no longer a death sentence.

This description sounds great from my couch in sunny, pleasant Michigan. But I know an experience doesn’t fit into a 500-word summary on a blog. Any presumption or expectation I might have will probably go flying out the window as soon as we touch down in Phnom Penh. So I’m not expecting movie-like poignancy. My summer will be messy. But I do have one personal hope. In the book Their Eyes Were Watching God, the main character Janie Crawford remarks, “you can’t know there until you go there.” So I hope beyond all my self-interested hope that I can “go there,” and in going, start to see if I can “stay there.” Can I live in Haiti someday, my dream? I hope so, but I don’t know, so I have to go. To Cambodia, I will simply go.

Immigration, Doing One's Job, and a Sweet Slam

Since I'm back in SJ now, I have easy access to a TV. Thus, instead of reading all the news I get (which isn't as much as I should get), I watched CNN tonight. Lou Dobb's Situation Room focused on the pending "sweeping immigration reform." Most Republicans are fighting it tooth and nail, afraid of the A-word. No, not that one. Amnesty. So...let's not allow people to contribute to the economy as legal residents. Let's just punish them and deny them more rights (especially the big 'life' right) just because we're a vindictive country. Makes a lot of sense. As if we haven't already shown poor people who's boss.

All correspondents on the show also remarked that very few legislators have likely read last year's immigration bill. That's major legislation. One year later. And they haven't read it? If passing legislation is congressmen's job and knowing the legislation necessarily precludes passing it, then doesn't that mean these people failed to do their job here? No wonder the executive branch is taking over the borders.

In more uplifting news, the religion-politics question remerged following Rev. Jerry Falwell's death. May he rest in peace of course. But CNN did an interesting piece on Archbishop Mahoney of Los Angelos and his outspoken support for immigrants' rights. He directly supports specific political action to grant amnesty and humanity to "illegal" aliens. Coming immediately after Pope Benedict's sharp warning in Brazil against religion getting mingled in with Marxist and capitalist sentiments, I found the Mahoney report very interesting and encouraging. Some in the Church hierarchy do actively work for earthly justice, albeit with a spiritual motive. Always back to Matthew 25: whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me (Christ).

An AP article, which of course I don't trust as Gospel truth (excuse the pun), described the Pope's message as an exhortation to "address spiritual hunger as a means of easing poverty." I think when people are hungry--such as the 850 million suffering from severe hunger right now--they need food. Real food. Spiritual food is great and all. But if working for justice through a political mechanism brings bread to the hungry, or amnesty and life to aliens, then by all means--let's work for justice for all God's children.

Mothers Day

So I'm a little late on this post, but I'm okay with being untimely.

I simply want to express my appreciation for my mother, for her unconditional love. Such a ubiquitous concept, but a difficult one to grasp--love. Though I just read Pope Benedict's encyclical "Deus Caritas Est" (God is love), so I should intellectually understand the "freely-bestowed experience of love from within, a love which by its very nature must then be shared with others." My mother has offered experience to my knowledge of love.

My mom supports me in everything I do. She tries to understand my thoughts and ideas, however radical they might seem. She believes in me. But more important than anything, though I didn't earn it and don't always deserve it, she loves me.

For that love, I'm grateful. But my thanks comes with some guilt: every minute, a mother dies in childbirth. AIDS and tuberculosis claim the lives of 10-15,000 parents each day. So for every child with a loving mother, many more children have no mothers--no love, often no hope.

We need to protect the world's mothers.

Haitians die in desperate search of life

Another tragedy at sea for Haitians, and yet another evidence of our negligence. "More than 900 [Haitian] migrants have been caught and sent home." No hearing to determine whether these people are legitimate economic asylum seakers (which they undoubtedly were), which violates international norms. This boat capsized off the coast of the resort island of the Turks and Caicos. Which means some ritzy hotels lost out on roomkeepers...while these people lost their lives.

And a question, with the national discussion on "illegal" immigration: what can ever make a person "illegal"? Who's committing the crime here: the person who seeks their supposedly inalienable right to life though it requires passing artifical human-drawn boundaries? Or the people and countries who deny that right?

A Studying Poem

This Yeats poem was quoted in my organic chemistry textbook from last year (yes, I'm serious). I think it’s appropriate for finals week….and for Kentucky Derby Day! Until a week from now, when I can write more…

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

“The Fascination of what’s difficult”
William Butler Yeats

Heart?

I don’t have time to write my diatribe against Abbott Laboratories now, but trust me, my blood is absolutely boiling. If you don’t know what’s happening, read the following:

Official Tribune news:
http://www.chicagotribune.com/business/chi-070427abbott,0,3375539.story?coll=chi-bizfront-hed

Student movement & "Die-in":
http://www.soapblox.net/chicago/showDiary.do;jsessionid=DDF17927D8F085C25C3A73A483B1D22E?diaryId=3004

International movement:
http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/HKG98945.htm

An overview of their overall "corporate social responsibility plan"....not good if even UNICEF and WHO (conservative organizations) are requesting more:
http://www.patientsnotpatents.org/AbbottsFailedPromise.htm

Harvard economist Benjamin Friedman wrote, “The business of business is business. Period. Nothing else.”

Well, this is not business. This is callousness. In my mind, by knowingly allowing people to die when you have DIRECT POWER to prevent death…this is mortal sin.

The Value of a Liberal Art to a Science Nerd

I’m a biology major. I love science….I relished organic chemistry. In becoming a doctor, I hope to practice biomedical reductionism to cure a person. I know what biomedical reductionism means!

But this semester, I’ve discovered a study that encompasses my non-scientific passions: peace studies. Go ahead. Laugh. Picture me a hippy. But here’s why, in the form of a final journal entry for my Intro to Peace Studies class:

To be completely honest, I took Intro to Peace Studies as a second choice when “Clinical Ethics” closed. Sorry to admit that! But I had my first clue in how much I subconsciously needed the course when I answered the pre-class survey question, “Where do you see yourself in 20 years?” I answered: “doctor in Haiti.” An aspiration, granted, but still true.

I’m interested in the political social economy of pathology—so called “social medicine.” Like many, I’m passionate about social justice. I’ve recently become fascinated by history and political science as I read about Haiti, Cambodia, and other countries’ histories and current situations. But this second-choice peace studies class put it together for me, helping me frame a lot of issues I care about in the context of war and peace.

I didn’t want to study war for the first six weeks of the class! But I found myself fascinated by readings on the nature of new globalized wars and on just war theory. I started to develop a vocabulary for thinking about—confronting in a way—violence. I want to continue this critical analysis. In the type of medicine I hope to practice, I’ll have to deal with issues raised in this course and others in the department.

I hope to treat biological pathology as a physician, but I also want to understand the social pathology that results from physical and structural violence.

So, skeptics (I know you’re there), laugh if you want: “Biology major. Peace Studies minor.”

Hunger

I should written about this experience earlier in the week (though I suppose I should also be doing schoolwork now). But I want to write because I have very few personal experiences to share—I’m working on it I suppose, but I’m not really living the preferential option yet. As Janie Crawford said in Their Eyes Were Watching God, “You have to go there to know there.” In that sense, very little of what I’ve written has any validity!

But this week, I participated in a 30-hour fast to raise money for World Vision. Apparently, USAID is matching all money raised four times…all for food aid. So no big deal, I’m not valorizing this simple action. However, the experience did make me think. I did consider it a sacrifice to go for 30 hours with no food and minimal drink. I confess I felt a little righteous when I was light-headed or had trouble focusing in class. I felt like I was “nan batay la,” Creole for “in the struggle.” Not true.

Millions of five year olds all over the world perform 30-hour fasts all the time. Right now, at this moment, many are exactly one fast from starvation. In just the time I’ve been writing this, several children have finished their final fast. Hanging on is pure torture. The entire body and mind (and maybe soul) shuts down to bare minimum. In a way, my willful sacrifice makes a mockery of this misery. I know the point was to show a little solidarity, and I do believe the ND participants did that. I’m not criticizing what we did. I’m indicting all of us for not doing more. The world produces enough food for every person to have 2800 calories per day, way more than we each need. So we can do more.

I attended a hunger banquet after the fast. Another provoking experience. A priest who spoke after dinner gave us three things we can do. I’m probably not very good about any of them, so I’m not trying to be hypocritical or anything. But if we could remember these three things…First, live simply. Second, give generously. Third, advocate for justice.

This is not about helping people or understanding others’ suffering. This is about life and death.

Another Maryknoll video on Cambodia

Land mines still maim and kill 600 people a year in Cambodia. Almost 2 a day more than 15 years since war ended.

Maryknoll video on Cambodia

Personal Position on Violence

Six months ago, I probably would have described myself as a pacifist. Living in and loving a Catholic Worker House will do that to a person. But in my class peace studies (my new minor), I’ve been pushed to critically question and refine my personal position on violence. It’s not complete. Or definitive. Or solid. Like much else, violence raises complex moral questions, so we should allow for our beliefs to change with time. But at 20-years-old, here is where I am now:

For me personally, I will not initiate direct acts of physical, structural, or environmental violence against other human beings or their property. I say “initiate” because I don’t know how I would respond to an attack—my guess is that I’d for the most part defend myself. I use the word “direct” because while I cannot imagine myself willfully bringing physical or structural violence against another person, I have to be honest about my status. I am a middle-class American. Ipso facto then, I do indirectly perpetuate violence. See “U.S. foreign policy” for detail here. I cannot talk about structural inequality and violence without recognizing my role in the system. In response to this role, it is my duty to work for an alternative—in a peacebuilding endeavor, of which being a physician is one of MANY. As a global citizen, to minimize violence, I must follow Jim Wallis’s charge and try to “answer the questions violence purports to answer, but in a better way.”

I do believe Pope Paul VI’s statement: “If you want peace, work for justice.”

But how to deal with the real problem of evil? This is where contemporary Just War Theory comes into my position. My apologies to anyone unfamiliar with JWT—read a book on it, fascinating history and application. Anyway, first, a presumption against the use of force is indeed essential and must be taken seriously. Second, in the cases of real evil and assault on the innocent for which I believe a military intervention is required, the only legitimate authority to make the decision is the United Nations. It is the fault of stronger countries that the UN currently lacks full capacity to exercise this role. That problem must be addressed. Last resort—which does not allow for preemption—and right intention must be followed strictly as spelled out in JWT. Finally, in the case of a military intervention such as one that must happen in Darfur, force must only be exercised as a political necessity to bring about a diplomatic solution. Force must be absolutely as limited as possible. The human and infrastructure security of noncombatants absolutely must not be damaged.

Two disclaimers, other than that this position is subject to refinement. One, I have not had to put these principles into practice for the protection of others. But if necessary, I hope my actions would follow my ideals. Two, I understand the huge challenge of actualizing my position.

That's our charge.

Google Shows What News Neglects

Right now, download Google Earth. Search "Darfur camps."

See the testimonials, the photos, the camps labeled "ok" or "destroyed" (see how the destroyed overwhelms the ok).

See the button for "how to help."

Yes, everyone knows about Darfur. But when a genocide is happening, right now, at this moment people dying or living in terror...we need to see more. We need more national news coverage on Darfur (perhaps in lieu of overcoverage of stories like the mysterious death of a certain actress, may God rest her soul). We need to see. What Google and the Holocaust Museum have done is admirable, even if we say we already "know." Because if we keep knowing, maybe we (yes, each of us) can move our government to do more. We know what can be done. I find it very hard to believe that the international community can't band together and force Omar al-Bashir to accept an intervention. The odds are in our favor. But right now, at this moment, odds do not favor Darfurians.

We mark the 13th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide this month: 800,000 killed in 100 days, a country torn apart. We know the international community could have stopped it, but did nothing. Despite UN Commander Romeo Dallaire's fervent plea for an intervention, the United Nations (at the request of our own country) withdrew its forces in the middle of that April. We didn't act, and so we share the blame.

It's April again. Genocide is happening again. I have no power over policy. I don't pretend to know the best solution. But I do know that we, each of us, can see more and do more.

Not my words

My words are not good enough. I try to articulate my own thoughts about social justice, if only in my head. But as I think, words of others poke into my ideas, phrases that say what I’m trying to say. Maybe my words will be stronger when they’re based on more action…a work in progress for me. So now, to give you my thoughts, I turn to thoughts not my own, to Dr. Paul Farmer’s words from Pathologies of Power:

“In my experience, people who work for social justice, regardless of their own station in life, tend to see the world as deeply flawed. They see the conditions of the poor not only as unacceptable but as a result of structural violence that is human-made…Often, if these individuals are privileged people like me, they understand that hey have been implicated, whether directly or indirectly, in the creation or maintenance of this structural violence. They then feel indignation, but also humility and penitence.”

If you could meet any living person...?

Let’s try be interactive. I’m curious.

We’re all taught to develop role models and heroes, to focus on the VIPs. I could probably argue against the judiciousness of this focus. How do important people become important? What is importance? Don’t the unimportant need attention more?

But, it’s human to be sucker for celebrity. So, if you could meet any living person, who would it be? Why? If you’re as indecisive as I am, give me a couple top picks.

My choices:
1. Jean Bertrand Aristide: former president of Haiti, victim to, not one, but two coup d’etats. I want to meet the would-be savior of one of the world’s poorest countries.
2. Nicholas Kristof: journalist from the New York Times. He travels the world to bring its most pressing issues—the under-reported ones—to my laptop every Tuesday and Sunday. I’d love to pick his brain, and thank him.
3. Dith Pran: Cambodian journalist who survived the Khmer Rouge, subject of the movie “The Killing Fields.”
4. Dave Matthews: because “life is short but sweet for certain”

Who would you give anything to have coffee with?

Bread for the World

So, as the Basilica bells chimed, and gongs resounded, and voices of the liturgical choir and a full congregation proclaimed last night—“Christ the Lord is risen today.” I love the Easter Triduum at Notre Dame. Trom Fr. Tyson’s homily on Holy Thursday about how rich and poor alike “wash each other’s feet” in service, following the way of Christ at the last supper. To the celebration of the fullness of the Eucharist: entering the love of Christ’s suffering and death, so that by His resurrection, we might be life and love for the world. Okay, I apologize for getting a little too religious, but I don’t do so to exclude. Rather to include. I don’t care what you believe or if you believe, I think Easter still holds a truth for everyone. I wish I knew more about other traditions to show you more specifically how the idea transcends religious or cultural practice…but I have to go with what I know.

I think our communion hymn from Thursday illustrates this absolutely universal Easter message:
“Bread for the world: a world of hunger.
Wine for all peoples: people who thirst.
May we who eat, be bread for others.
May we who drink, pour out our love.”

Whether we believe we are loved by a Christ who suffered, died, and rose for us…or whether we believe we are loved by our mothers and fathers—we do have love to pour out for others. But with our love, we also must give bread.

A Somber News Day

I have to comment on two things, despite my lack of time to develop the ideas. Look into them on your own for depth, because I’m obviously no Nick Kristof.

1) Speaking of Kristof, he returned to his oft-written about topic of sex slaves and human trafficking. He writes, the crucial point he brings up repeatedly though a little less explicitly in this piece, that there are more slaves now than in the height of the slave trade. However, slaves today are usually dead of AIDS by age 20 or so. This winter, he returned to profile trafficking in Cambodia. I likely will be aware of the presence of brothels in Phnom Penh this summer. I don’t know if I can imagine girls my age literally chained and enslaved in the city where I’ll be living…

But here, Kristof writes about a Pakistani woman who unwittingly married a brothel owner, giving her and her family a life of terror. I must quote the article here (“Sanctuary for Sex Slaves” NYT 4/3/07) where the woman says, “If I had money, this wouldn’t be happening,” said Ms. Parveen’s mother, Akbari Begum. “It’s all about money. In the police station, nobody listens to me. The police listen to those who sell narcotics.”

“God should never grant daughters to poor people,” she added. “God should not give sisters to poor brothers. Because we’re poor, we can’t fight for them. It’s very hard for poor people, because they take our daughters and dishonor them. There’s nothing we can do.”

What’s our response when women today wish away their families, not because of planning, but because of terror and poverty?

2) Five African Union soldiers were killed in Darfur today, the most ever at a time. The beleaguered force has no shot at quelling the violence, or stopping the genocide which is only getting worse. Simple fact: the situation in Darfur is getting worse. Honestly, how many times can the world make the same mistake? Holocaust. Khmer Rouge. Rwanda. Many many others. Guaranteed, we will look back in dismay at our present inaction. We can express penitence then. But thousands upon thousands of Darfurians can no longer express life. 400,000 to half a million dead now, 2 million displaced. Everyone knows it. Can we not do something?

Though President Omar al-Bashir won’t let international troops in, we can impose a strict no-fly zone on the country. We can certainly implement targeted divestment in Sudan corporations. We can impose smart sanctions to put economic pressure on without hurting the already-damaged humanitarian efforts. We can strongly make a statement, especially from repeated direct speeches by heads of state. None of those absolutely crucial interventions even involve military action.

They simply can not wait any longer.

ND-SMC Observer Letter: "We Owe it to the University"

I had my first letter to the editor published in the Notre Dame newspaper yesterday. Probably easier to get published in ND's paper than in the NYT, when I’m criticizing their reporting on Haiti! Since my "fun" writing is limited, I thought I'd double this as a blog post.

This all started with guest column one of my friends wrote—a plea for more responsible drinking on campus. She wrote about her experience volunteering at a hospital where the nurses hate Notre Dame students because so many come in on weekend nights to get their stomachs pumped, taking away from people who are legitimately sick. Also wrote about stepping in vomit on Sunday mornings. She ended with a fear for the one student who won’t be able to answer her question of “why?”

Then, a (male) student wrote a response. He said that if Ulysses Grant could win the Civil War as a drunk, students could surely afford it. After all, as he said, “students only real responsibility is deciding what time to go to the dining hall.” He then continued with a tirade against the disgruntled “townies” who are just jealous of our fun—ending with an encouragement of the “eat, drink, and be merry” philosophy. In light of his thoughts, I was incited to respond.

“We Owe it to the University”
It is sadly ironic that Patrick McMaster's insights ("Nothing wrong with our 'Reputation,'" March 28) appeared on the same day as a piece examining student apathy. I hope McMaster's jocular tone shows he meant to exaggerate. However, if his letter is even partly based on genuine viewpoints - his own, or of anyone in our community - we have other serious problems on our campus. To be clear, this isn't a tirade against college drinking.

We're all supposed to be adults here: we can make our own decisions. But if our entire social lives revolve around the Bud Lights in our hands, I think we're negatively impacting Notre Dame beyond Friday night. We're disrespecting our futures and those who work to offer us futures. McMaster discusses students' lack of real responsibility, and he's right. I'm not supporting a family or running a country; I can afford to have fun. Time with friends is an essential part of our college experience. However, I hope we're not paying more than $40,000 a year just to get wasted every weekend and attend a few classes in between.

Think of everything else we have to engage us. Academic inquiry and research beyond our normal classes. Creative and performing arts. Service and social action groups working on issues in our local and global communities. These, and much more, teach us to stretch our minds beyond textbook information and to develop an informed worldview - essential qualities for our leadership. Having a couple drinks on occasion probably doesn't prevent us from engaging in what our university has to offer. But we could question whether excessive drinking now keeps us from opportunities we can't buy at a bar. That would be disrespecting our future. Tied in with personal lack of respect is lack of respect for our educators. I'll use the term educator broadly: from professors and administrators to all the service people who run our school.

Don't we understand that everyone here is working for our benefit? I've talked to numerous custodians who enjoy their jobs here because they love to see students inspired. Again, we don't need to forsake all "normal" college social life to respect our educators. However, maybe we should think carefully about how we show gratefulness to people who give us so much. Don't we owe it to ourselves, and our community, to take advantage of the whole Notre Dame experience? To not waste it away?

My greatest personal fear

Is that I’m not strong enough for what solidarity really means for my life. It means sadness, bad smells, hunger, heat, nausea, blood, sores, frustration, fatigue, pain, suffering.

“[Solidarity] then is not a feeling of vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of so many people, both near and far. On the contrary, it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good; that is to say, to the good of all and of each individual because we are all really responsible for all.”
Pope John Paul II in his 1987 encyclical “Sollicitudo Rei Socialis”

When, and how, can I know?

Hip-hop reggae truth

One of my favorite songs, "Yele" by Wyclef Jean...a Haitian who continues to advocate and work for justice for his homeland. He delivered a quite eloquent testimony before the Foreign Affairs Committee, Subcommittee on the Western Hemisphere on March 13.

"Si ou gen zorèy, tande,
Si ou gen bouch, pale.
Si se pa sa, peyi nou, li pral koule
tankou yon bato ki plen refije,
Si nou pa chache bondye, ankò"

Literal translation (because I don't feel comfortable yet informalizing):

"If you have ears, listen
If you have voice, speak
If it is not that, our country, it will drown
like a boat that is full of refugees
If we don't seek god, again!"

Do we have ears? Do we have a voice?

He's not just talking about Haitians here....

A Threat to All People

It amazes me that I can often talk to people who think the tuberculosis threat is a thing of the past. Everyone knows about the global AIDS pandemic, but in my casual conversations, I find much less awareness of TB. But 9 million people developed active tuberculosis in 2005 alone. One-third of the world’s population is infected. As a worldwide infectious killer, TB is second only to HIV/AIDS (though the two diseases very often co-occur)—taking 2 million lives per year.

And there’s a new problem. Though multi-drug resistant tuberculosis, now present in most countries, is defined as resistance to at least two of the most powerful “first line” drugs (isoniazid and rifampicin), it is still treatable. A tailored regimen of “second line” drugs can cure a large percentage of patients. But when second-line drugs are misused—for example, by not ensuring regular treatment for patients with drug-susceptible strains or by failing to recognize resistant strains early—the bacilli develop more resistance. So now we must deal with XDR-TB (extensively drug resistant): strains that even currently-available second line drugs can’t kill. While concentrated in sub-Saharan Africa, XDR-TB has been identified in 28 countries (including all G8 nations). See http://www.who.int/tb/xdr/en/index.html for more information on a global plan to halt this epidemic.

Terrifying. For current patients, the prognosis is grim; however, the philanthropist George Soros through the Open Society Institute recently gave $3 million to Partners in Health and other organizations to work on a treatment strategy for the co-occurrence of XDR-TB and HIV. They're working extremely hard to avoid death sentences. The WHO also called for $650 million in emergency funding (from governments like ours) to try to stop XDR-TB from potentially reversing major public health gains in HIV/AIDS and TB care over the past several years.

But the situation should also be terrifying for anyone who might argue that treating poor people for a disease like MDR-TB is not “cost-effective.” Personally, I have absolutely no sympathy for these people—not compared to the thousands dying every day from a disease we’ve known how to treat for half a century. But now Mycobacterium tuberculosis is outsmarting our science. As Dr. Paul Farmer writes in Infections and Inequalities, “We live in a world where infections pass easily across borders—social and geographic—while resources, including cumulative scientific knowledge, are blocked at customs.” Because of our failure to adequately care for all people, we now have a threat to all people—the rich along with the poor.

An Erroneous Blurb

The New York Times has done it again. Lied by omission. And in fewer than a hundred words. Marc Lacey wrote a regional update 3/15, reporting on the arrest of the gang leader Evans. The blurb ends, “Evans led attacks against United Nations peacekeeping troops in recent months.” Honestly, I don’t know about any attacks Evans led...I wish I could be a first hand witness to what’s happening. But I do know that the United Nations “Peacekeeping” force has initiated its fair share of attacks: raiding Cite Soleil, making arrests with only an AK-47 as a “legal” warrant, killing and injuring dozens of innocent civilians in the crossfire.

What baffles me the most is that just a few days ago, Mr. Lacey wrote a good piece about Bush’s visit to Guatemala. He describes the plight of child workers—how the Central American Free Trade Agreement will only cause more exploitation as subsidized U.S. businesses look for cheap labor. How can the same person report a human rights abuse in one poor country and cover up a human rights abuse in another? Why Haiti? Can anyone offer the 9-million life answer: why such punishment to Haiti? Honestly, how can some measure of truth and justice and humanity for Haitians hurt powerful-country interests?

Technorati

I'm such a technology ignoramus. I guess I have to create a new post here to activate my new technorati profile? Sure. Okay. Back to writing that paper now. N a wè pita.

Technorati Profile

If you happen to read this (not a certainty) and have something more meaningful to say than I do (very much a certainty), please comment or tell me how else you want initiate dialogue. I'm only writing to learn. You can teach me.

How to see the canonical half (blank) glass

As I glance over my last post and formulate this one in my mind, I see how I could be labeled anti-American, skeptical, pessimistic. So to start with—I’m not. I promise. But a few things hit me from today’s articles, columns, and blogs.

1. My local newspaper detailed next year’s budget cuts in the public school system. Because of a decline in state funding, busing will be radically streamlined, an elementary school orchestra cut, custodial overtimes decreased, insurance co-pays increased, some staff and faculty positions eliminated, and much more. The district had to make tough choices; the board must balance the budget. And our public schools are considered relatively “well-off.” But flashback to November 2006, when a referendum appeared on the state ballot to mandate an increase of public education funds to at minimum match inflation rate. That’s all…essentially keep the funding constant as costs increase due to inflation, so schools don’t dip deeper into the red. Failed to pass. Explain that.

2. Nicholas Kristof’s column today was about a solution—an imperative—for Darfur, so the situation doesn’t become worse than the current genocide, if that’s imaginable. If you read the times, check this out: if only the decision-makers acted on the advice of people like Kristof. But before he wrote the column, he asked readers to submit their own solutions. One wrote the following (paraphrased): for now, we should do nothing, but wait until they crawl begging for our help and then force them to give us all their oil. I can’t tell if this writer meant this as an absolutely sick joke? But if he/she was serious, or if there are people who really feel this way….I don’t even know what to say.

3. My thoughts on a positive news report relate to (2). President Chavez visited Haiti today to discuss a number of things including a $20 million grant from a Venezuelan development fund for healthcare, education, and other development projects as well as the Petrocaribe initiative, which will help Haiti better finance its oil importation, freeing up money for public programs. Fidel Castro participated in conference calls during the meetings, since some of the Venezuelan money will help Cuban doctors currently working in rural Haiti to continue their crucial work. From all I can tell, this is great news for Haiti. That other regional countries are really reaching out to help is huge sign of continued commitment. I hope the aid reaches the ground quickly. Connection to (2), I pray that we (Americans) don’t write off a genuine effort to help a desperately poor country on the basis of resource competition and politics. Look beyond the government-determined image of Chavez and Castro, even just a little, to something we should all have vested interest in: saving lives…lives that hold on so tenuously.

I’m not pessimistic. I believe we care and can act. Show me how to view the glass.

The Secret to Longevity

I have to admit, at home I enjoy getting some of the “light media” I generally ignore at school. But today, the USA Weekend insert caught my eye. Accompanying the cover title “How Long Will You Live?” was an array of mug-shots. Some celebrities, mostly regular people. Under the photo, each person’s healthy practice was listed, along with his or her projected life expectancy.

“Flosses daily. 95 years.”
“Works out almost daily. 99 years.”
“Has a positive outlook on life. 102 years.”

In its “Special Report,” USA Weekend failed to take into account longevity’s most important determiner. Place of birth.

An identifying “American” would have been sufficient explanation for an expected long life.

“Haitian. 53 years.”

USA Weekend isn’t to blame. The magazine rightly assumes readers are looking for ways to improve their quality of life. The article wasn’t written for the millions of people whose only option is fetid drinking water—forget about the best vitamins for their children. How could USA Weekend write for these people? They can’t even read.

Kouraj

That's Haitian Creole for "courage." To see valor in its truest, but most desperate form, read the following articles. (I'm not linking because I'm still wary of copyright issues, but I honestly don't think the authors will mind me spreading their news.)

On www.haitianalysis.com (a fantastic collaboration of many currently involved in truth and activism in Haiti), look at the February 28 "Brutalized and Abandoned: Residents of Cite Soleil Speak Out."

This piece shows the faces and gives the testimony of the true brave. These people--already living in sub-human conditions--have fallen victim to MINUSTAH, the UN "peacekeeping" mission, in its attempt to rout out gang members. Instead of employing the rule of law and due process, they have been arresting and shooting indiscriminately. The people in the HaitiAnalysis photoessay are innocent, civilian victims of the "crossfire"--now with even less access to basic needs than they had before.

For more background on the raid, read the March 1 article "Haiti: Poor Residents Describe a Capital in a State of Siege." And to see how the people of Cite Soleil and advocates are banding together to try to negotiate with the government and MINUSTAH for a disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration approach--instead of the current injustice--see http://www.hurah.revolt.org and read about the Haitian Nonviolent Nonpartisan Coalition (HNVNPC).

How can someone so torn by grief, so crippled by poverty find the strength to speak out? These people know they are victims of brutality. They know they are the sacrificial pawns of a 203-year long international chess game with the Republic of Haiti--all to serve wealthy country interests. They know they are being treated as less than human.

I don't know despair like the residents of Cite Soleil, and I certainly don't know courage. But I so admire the activists working for human rights, broadly defined, in Haiti. Could us regular people not do something? Can we not cry out for some compassion, so the people in one of the world's most decrepit and dangerous slums don't have to suffer? Can we not demand justice?

Dr. Paul Farmer Interview

Dr. Paul Farmer, physician and anthropologist--and social justice advocate for the poorest of the poor--visited Notre Dame this fall for our Academic Forum on "The Global Health Crisis." He joined amazing development economist Dr. Jeffrey Sachs as distinguished guest on the panel.

On my profile, you'll see Dr. Farmer's books are listed under favorites. I wish we didn't have to read about the suffering of the poor--which would mean they weren't suffering--but "Pathologies of Power" was the most poignant, compelling work I've ever read. I believe it, along with "The Uses of Haiti" and "Infections and Inequalities," have significantly shaped my worldview. I hope it continues to be shaped--and I continue to shape it--in this way.

When Dr. Farmer was here, I had the chance to interview him:
http://science.nd.edu/research/profiles/bollman_farmer.htm

My First Letter to the Editor

I wrote a letter to the New York Times on Wednesday, responding to their article extolling the virtues of the UN in Haiti in cracking down on gangs. From all accounts in the many independent news reports I read (while procrastinating studying), what's actually happening is the UN killing innocent civilians in an attempt to take control over Cite Soleil, one of the world's absolute worst slums. Repression by violence, no effort to address the desperate needs of the residents. December 22 was the most extreme massacre, but the killing has continued. Furthermore, the UN makes much less of an effort to disarm gangs in other areas, like "The Little Machete Army" or the paramilitary groups that still create terror. As one commentator put it, MINUSTAH is "Peacekeeping by Paramilitarism."

I would link the original Times article, but I'm a little worried about copyright issues...It was a February 10 piece by Marc Lacey entitled "UN Troops Fight Haiti's Gangs One Battered Street at a Time."

So here's the letter, since the Times would never publish something so critical of their reporting:

To the Editor:

The article “U.N. Peacekeepers Fight Gangs in Haiti” (Feb. 10) ends with a sentence that is tragically false when applied to U.N. actions on a whole in Cite Soleil: “Nobody was hit.”

In fact, many non-militant civilians have been hit. As “collateral damage” resulting from MINUSTAH’s efforts, dozens of unarmed people, including women and children, have fallen victim to UN bullets. Two young girls, Alexandra and Stephanie Lubin, were killed in a February 1 assault on the Boston district. Doctors Without Borders, which runs a hospital in Cite Soleil, reported at least 6 dead and 63 wounded in the past month from UN operations.

MINUSTAH spokesperson Wilmhurst’s denial of civilian death in Mr. Lachey’s article lies in direct contradiction to numerous reports by both Haitian human rights organizations and mainstream media. The Times simply failed in accurately reporting the inhumane consequences of the U.N.’s peacekeeping mission.

Sincerely,
Brennan Bollman

Love for the Least (i.e. Matthew 25)

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm posting a prayer attributed to Mother Theresa. We joined hands many mornings at Bethany House, to give us all grace for the day. I know it by heart, and it reminds me of a love I began to experience this summer, agape:

Dearest Lord, may I see you today and every day in the person of your poor, your homeless, your sick, and while ministering to them minister unto you. Though you hide yourself behind the unattractive disguise of the irritable, the exacting, the unreasonable, may I still recognize you, and say: "Jesus, my guest, how sweet it is to serve you.

Lord, give me this seeing faith; then my work will never be monotonous. I will ever find joy in humoring the fancies and gratifying the wishes of all poor sufferers.

O beloved guest, how doubly dear you are to me when you personify Christ; and what a privilege is mine to be allowed to tend you.

Sweetest Lord, make me appreciative of the dignity of my high vocation, and its many responsibilities. Never permit me to disgrace it by giving way to coldness, unkindness, or impatience.

And, O God, while you are Jesus, my guest, deign also to be to me a patient Jesus, bearing with my faults, looking only to my intention, which is to love and serve you in the person of each of your poor, your homeless, your sick. Lord, increase my faith, bless my efforts and work, now and forevermore.

Global Fund ED

See the linked article in the Boston Globe.

Please, no. Please don't tell me that the executive director of Jeffrey Sach's genius idea--which gives hundreds of thousands ARVs and TB medication, and distributes millions of bednets and malaria treatments--is abusing his power. Does greed rule everything? If you want to make a fortune and ride in limos, be stockbroker. Don't usurp the poor.

Hopeless?

As he took command over U.S. troops in Iraq, General David Petraeus, said yesterday that the “way ahead will be hard, but it is not hopeless.” What does he mean by “not hopeless”? If he’s saying a U.S. conceptualization of victory is achievable—solidifying through our military presence a working coalition of Shiites and Sunnis that can autonomously control extremist, sectarian violence—I don’t think that’s a practical hope. We can’t write the whole country off as hopeless, but I think we need to redefine both our hopes and our “way ahead.”

If we hope to offer security through our military presence, can we at least couple it with aid when security fails? Every day, I can see horrifying photos of not only dead Iraqi’s, but dying Iraqis. Can we not prevent some of those deaths? With the billions of dollars we give to support our military and the Iraqi military, I wonder how much we’re providing to give medical care, food assistance, basic needs to the victims of this war? I assume we’re doing something for the people who lose their homes and livelihoods over our battles, but somehow I doubt it’s enough. Here, we could think about the message we’re sending to Iraqi people: they see no end to the violence, and also no help in the midst of violence. I expect some of these people who have no hope might become part of the extremist rebellion. If the loss of life isn’t enough to cause our government to do more, maybe the threat to our “hope” in Iraq will cause our government to think more critically.

Thomas Friedman's February 7 column in the New York Times takes an interesting and honest approach to the international affairs angle of our "end game" in Iraq with his deadline and gas price cap proposal. I commend him, but I also wonder what can we do to at least help cap the human toll--treatment when prevention falls? We know exactly how many US soldiers have given their lives, and we must not forget them. But estimates of Iraqi civilian deaths vary from 30,000 (Pentagon number) to 600,000 (Lancet). How much is each life worth to us? Worth enough to try to keep the dying from death?

Lancet Article - Health & Human Rights

This Lancet editorial is short, but it gets the point. Access to the highest standards of health care is an inalienable human right. Inalienable--meaning no person can take it away. But we do: every day, every hour, every second, people die of easily preventable and treatable illnesses. It all comes down to a differential valuation of human life. We have the solutions, and we have the wherewithal to solve these problems. Maybe 50 years ago, we wouldn't have been as guilty. But in this technological age, where individual and collective wealth abounds, we are directly to blame for the inequalities of access and outcome in health care. Until our society, not just the medical community, adopts some attitude of penitence, we will continue to allow mass unnecessary death. Everyone can do something. The key word there is "do."

http://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140673607602050/fulltext

Where do you stand?

Last week, in my peace studies class, we were presented with four views on war and asked to choose the one that best describes our position:

Realist: War is hell--deal with it.

Neo-realist: War is a necessary but unfortunate evil, justified by the greater evil it's meant to combat.

Just War: War is often the last resort, but also as such can and should be regulated by rules and norms.

Pacifist: War is hell--and evil--and to fight evil with the evil of war is to sustain two evils.

I think it's essential to know one's beliefs, now especially with the pending escalation in Iraq. I know most people have sincere beliefs, and all sincerity should be heard. So, to anyone who might possibly read this (all 2 of you, maybe)...where do you stand?

Truth and Haiti

Two bits of wisdom, from the philosopher Mulder, came to mind this weekend: "I want to believe" and "The truth is out there."

I want to believe...in Haiti's democracy. I want to believe in honesty when former President Jean Bertrand Aristide extolled liberation theology, when he wanted justice and transparency. I want to believe that he really did do his best to serve the poor of his country. I know his hands were wrenched behind his back: his resources were blocked and his measures killed. Of course US-owned sweatshops wouldn't want him to raise the minimum wage to a dollar a day. I want to believe his decisions were only unwise in that he based them on hopes of honesty from his colleagues, that he suffered only from falsely believing the world would treat him as another democratic leader. I want to believe that the chimeres were a desperate group of young people called upon at a desperate final hour, that he really did only lose control. I want to believe that the person the people so overwhelmingly cast their hopes in was and is a good man.

The truth is out there, but it's sinking deeper every day. Despite all I want to believe, I know I must believe the truth. But how can I find the truth? Propaganda is so entrenched in our culture that it's unrecognizable. We see authority, and we believe it as truth. Any common establishment newspaper around the world will proclaim that Aristide was overthrown by a "popular uprising" or a "rebel movement." Who were these "people"? They were extreme right-wingers, armed by the US, trained in the Dominican Republic. They were the disgruntled minority rich, fueled and nurtured by our majority, ruling rich. Among the obvious propaganda, I find things I don't want to believe, but that seem like truth. I know MINUSTAH is murdering civilians, but are they also fighting the gangs?

News is not truth. News is feeds us what it wants us to believe...what we want to believe.

In George Orwell's 1984, the ministry of truth is really the ministry of lies, and the ministry of peace is responsible for making war. With such a web of snide deals and ulterior motives that links the allies and the enemies, how far are we from an Orwellian reality?

Why?

Why the heck am I starting a blog? I don't need anything else to distract me. Oh well, I bet no one will read this anyway. I'll probably just use it for random thoughts, things I learn. The name will be the theme.

"The university seeks to cultivate in its students not only an appreciation for the great achievements of human beings, but also a disciplined sensibility to the poverty, injustice, and oppression that burden the lives of so many. The aim is to create a sense of human solidarity and concern for the common good that will bear fruit as learning becomes service to justice."

And a new favorite, from Dr. Tom Dooley, "I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. What I can do, I ought to do, and what I ought to do, by the grace of God, I will do."

Snow is amazing on campus. Believe it or not, after three semesters, last night was my first experience sledding on dining hall trays (into the parking lot) and a campus-wide snowball fight. It was awesome.