Go placidly amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,

even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble,

it’s a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

(Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952)

Bald Porcupine Island

I turned 21 this past Tuesday! Yay! This is my first birthday away from home (how blessed am I that I got to spend the previous twenty with my family?) and it really didn’t feel like a birthday until a friend encouraged me to have a party. But first, my housemate Fletcher took me out kayaking. Because I shared a kayak with him (he’s a wilderness guide guy so he’s very skilled at this sort of stuff), he did most of the paddling and I could focus on taking pictures. The trip was so special and beautiful. We left the bay area and looped around Bald Porcupine Island (pictured above). Bald Porcupine Island is a nesting ground for Bald eagles, but its name actually came about because there’s a rocky spot in the middle with no trees.

Fletcher, my awesome housemate

We shared the water with the Margaret Todd…

Margaret Todd

After kayaking, I thought I’d invite four or five friends over and we’d sit and eat chocolate all night and maybe go to the playground (sounds great right?). I didn’t think there would be that many who would want to celebrate the birth of me, but ten or so people showed up, including my housemates (that’s like another ten), and we had a great time. And then the next day at school I saw sooo many other people I would’ve wanted to invite, had I known their last names to send them an e-mail on the school server. This week has really made me think of how many friends I’ve already made and how I really, really, really love the people here. It’s such a small school but the people are SO incredible! Everyone I’ve met is just so real. And, I think if I had to put a number on it, I’d say 50% of my friends are from other countries. And THEY ARE SO COOL. Here’s a picture of the night as it winded down.

Spreading out on the floor with lots of desserts!

The little baby is Nina. Her and her mommy Kate live with me .

I made chocolate frosting, and my friends brought things to dip in it!

Of course I had to get one group shot..

Then… we went to the playground.

Getting High. Hah.

Everyone at home, I love and miss you and I put up more pictures at frostt.myphotoalbum.com if you want to go check out those!

Pictures taken around campus!

“I will write peace on your wings and you will fly all over the world. This is our cry, this is our prayer: peace in the world.” – Sadako Sasaki (佐々木 禎子),

Sadako Sasaki was two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima in 1945. Less than ten years later she was diagnosed with leukemia. There’s a Japanese saying that when one folds 1,000 cranes, they could make a wish that would come true. She only folded 644 before dying, but her friends finished the 1,000 and buried them with her.

Blueberries are to Maine as the Empire State Building is to New York. Yes, really. Everywhere I go–blueberries!! Maine has blueberry scents, blueberry ice cream (and lobster ice cream), blueberry stuffed animals, blueberry pancakes, blueberry maple syrup, blueberry children’s books, blueberry calendars–seriously, anything and everything can be found in blueberry theme! When I found this picture, I couldn’t think of anything more fitting to introduce this town called Bar Harbor. PS if you can click on a picture, it means it’s not mine, and it will take you to where I found it!

Bar Harbor

Before leaving earlier this week, my sister (whom I miss TERRIBLY) remarked too casually to be interpreted as anything less than broken hearted, “Julia. I can’t believe you are moving to a deserted island.” Although the island is technically called Mount Desert Island, she had only heard “desert island,” and I can only imagine what she pictured in her mind. At the time, I took her hand and said, “yep, one person’s heaven is another’s hell.” It’s true. This town isn’t for everyone. We live on an island off the coast of the most northern state in the Continental US. I can walk from one end of town to the other. The stores are all geared towards tourists, so it’s almost impossible to find actual necessities (like a towel!). A store is considered “crowded” when there are more than two people. But my God, is it beautiful.

Hiking Barefoot

Yesterday, I went with a group of kids to Sand Beach. Although some went swimming, I didn’t. Not everyone had bathing suits, but it didn’t matter. A few just went in their underwear. I stood on the shore, fully dressed, not wanting to go in the water because of the temperature, but slightly wishing I was brazen enough to take off all my clothes and just run free around the beach and in the water (we’ll see—maybe before I graduate and after all the tourists leave!). Here is a picture of two of my friends identifying sea weed. On the left is Marketa from the Czech Republic. On the right is Jo from Sweden. I wish I could rotate this for you but  my internet is too slow to upload it again.

Walking down the beach. Left to right, Lindsay (America), Diana (Brazil), Lenka (Czech), Marketa (Czech), Andrea (El Salvador), Jo (Sweden), and two guys I can’t remember.

While exploring the beach, we found a hiking trail. Because it was a spur of the moment decision and no one wanted to run back and get our shoes, all of us ended up going barefoot. 1/5th of the world goes barefoot on a daily basis in weather conditions much less pleasant than Maine in the summer. A few times when the ground looked rocky ahead, or my feet started to hurt, I asked if Lenka wanted to turn around. (Lenka and I got far behind the other girls because we were taking pictures). Lenka, in broken English, said “If the other girls can do it, so can we. It’s also good for your feet.” So we pushed on, barefoot, through the woods. Walking barefoot through the woods is a completely different experience. The twenty minute journey turned into forty minutes as we stepped carefully around the sharpest rocks and sticks. As we walked, I compared our pace and my awareness of the ground to a few days ago when I walked across the sandbar to Bar Island. I had shoes on then, and I trotted through the woods with barely a second glance at where I stepped! This time though, ah, every step had to be carefully planned. There are some kids who do not wear shoes around campus. I see the appeal now. It’s not just freeing your feet, it grounds you. Try it. When I got home, I looked it up to see if it is indeed healthier to go barefoot. Here’s a post in New York Magazine that talks about the benefits of walking barefoot.

This was the view from the top!

Here’s us!

Other things to never forget:

- How I randomly sat down to dinner with students from St. Lucia, Western Sahara, Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Ecuador. Yes, seriously. All at one table. A few were even interested in health and community development. Ah! This is AFTER spending an hour at lunch with friends from the Czech Republic, Sweden, and Mexico talking about the different languages, how and when to say I love you, and public affection in different countries. I am learning so much!

- The Bar Island Swim- a boat took participants (students, faculty and staff) out to the island to jump and swim back to school. Six boats waited in the water to pick people up as they got too tired and cold (imagine 50 degree water). Some made it though. I sat on the shore with a bunch of other students.

- Meeting a student from Swaziland who has heard of Bulembu. Talking to him for hours about Swaziland, orphanages, and sustainable villages.

- I will leave you with this.

Finding my way to the island (a time line)

July 19th, 2009: I left my team in Mississippi to join my family in Kentucky.

July 19th, 2009-August 1st, 2009: In Kentucky, I took a few days to just recuperate. The trip to Mississippi left me physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. Seriously, seriously, seriously exhausted. I couldn’t form sentences. I couldn’t read. I could barely think. For three weeks, I had lived and breathed my Mississippi kids, and that didn’t stop when I boarded the plane for Kentucky. I was completely used up and I had poured out all I had to give, and didn’t have anything left. The team challenged me and pushed me beyond my limits. Where I had drawn boundaries in the sands of my comfort and sanity, the young Mississippites had trotted boldly across, kicking the sands beyond any point of recognition, and leaving me floating completely lost without them. In this state, I did very little. I floated around trying to find the sense of peace I had before going to Mississippi. During this time, and in such a state of internal chaos, I knew I couldn’t return to the city for school. I started thinking about alternative plans. Dreaming of creating a future village for orphans, I wanted to search the world for a good location. Instead, I stumbled upon COA’s website. COA quickly informed me that if I hurried, I might be accepted for the fall term. Skeptical, I sent my references and forwarded my transcript.

August 26th, 2009: The admissions team let me know that I was accepted.

August 27th-August 30th, 2009: I decided to go.

September 2nd, 2009- I found someone on Craig’s list with a room to rent. When I googled the address, I found this description,

“We envision a community that nurtures the individuality of each member. We envision a community that practices a way of living that is sustainable for generations to come, a way of living that defines by practice and direction the meaning of human ecology. We envision a community that strives to work out our personal difficulties between members through its own ingenuity.

Established in 1978 as a collective working to create a whole-grain bakery, the community has evolved into a group of artists and human ecologists. Located in town, we have been a source of housing and support for College of the Atlantic people for 15 years. Some of our members are actively involved in protecting the environment of Maine through grassroots and legislative involvement.

In practice, we are economically independent with an individual contribution toward upkeep and taxes of the building, phone, electric, and recycled paper products. Physically, our community consists of one large commercial building, one large organic garden, and one large shed. We have a complete woodworking shop and dream of a pottery studio.

We have recently purchased 19 acres of woods and blueberries to give the community a larger garden and a retreat in the country. This could possibly lead us to relocate in the future if the way opens.”

September 4th, 2009: Chelsea, Greg, and I drove from NY to ME and moved into the Downeast Friends Community. Chelsea and Greg stayed to check out my living situation and to make sure it’s not a cult, or, as my mom puts it, a bunch of “naval-gazers”—people who sit around looking at their belly buttons in amazement all day. It’s not.

The Downeast Friends Community

My vocabulary is not wide enough to explain this place in all its fullness, so for now, you will have to suffer with cliche’s. I live in a hippie commune, or, as one of my teachers described it today, a “peace community.” I’m here to reclaim the word “hippie” and direct you in a specific direction as I describe my community. Otherwise, I’m doing everyone an injustice by summing it up with a word so quickly stereotyped. I tend to stay away from the term because of its connotation with drug use and free love, but I’m learning that there are so many other kinds of hippies and it’s not a dirty word. The word hippie originally began to describe those living counter to popular culture. Today’s hippies are different because today’s culture is different. The hippies here are not running around naked, getting high, or doing the whole free love thing (or at least are not doing those things in the house). They (we?) are just living counter to popular culture. We eat organically, try to grow some of our own food, or at least be conscious of everything we eat, are nonviolent, and try to live intentionally. Many are artists and musicians, but some are scientists and mathematicians. Many are vegans or vegetarians, and almost all are working towards a better world. That describes College of the Atlantic too.

Joining Downeast Friends

Chelsea, Greg, and I arrived to meet James, the craiglist guy, and Robert, the owner of the house, late Friday afternoon. James gave us a tour of the house. The house looks like it’s two houses that have been connected in the middle. James described one side of the house as the “old person side” and the other side as the “young side.” One side belongs to Robert and Diane, the couple who rent out the rooms. The other side has room for 10-14 tenants spread out over three floors. There is also a large living room and kitchen. My room is on the top floor, and it’s simple, but perfect. The other members of the family (because we are a family) have rooms through out the house. Ian and Christian, however, prefer to sleep outside under the stars, and they have hammocks set up in the garden that they retreat to at night.

When Chelsea and Greg and I arrived, Robert informed us that we were to be guests of the house for two nights to see how it works, and to give us two days to find alternative housing. Sweet deal. If I decide to stay, all the housemembers will “come to consensus” in mid-September and decide that we all want to live together. If we are all “in consensus” we will sign the contract. The contract is not a normal contract.

Instead, it’s a comprehensive guide telling you to cover the TV with a blanket when you are not using it and to let others know before you do use it so they can leave the house if they so desire, and which plants in the garden are for communal use, and how the definition of “sustainable” is NO WASTE. The contract stresses harmony between human beings and the environment. Material goods and work is shared among all members of the community. This desire to live in harmony with each other and the environment is the glue that holds us together.

Explore the Reality of that idea

The others who live here are very interesting characters. One short conversation with any of them leaves you wanting to hear their life story. Maybe with time, those will come. For now, I only have my stories of how things are much more free and flowy here. Structure is loose. For example, when explaining to Robert how Greg could sleep on the floor, Robert put his hand up and slowly said, “well…… why…… don’t you…… explore…… the reality….. of that…… and then… see where that….. takes you……. and just…… go…… from there.” Maybe it wasn’t that slow, and I’m just used to people talking faster. I don’t know.

The next morning at breakfast, we sat out on the porch and ate blue sticky rice with granola and blueberries and talked about the garden, and the imbalance between omega 3’s and omega 6’s in the American diet. At one point, Ian, barefoot (I’ve never seen him wear shoes), wearing overalls, a plaid flannel shirt, and his usual dreads, came out of his hammock to tell us he had found glasses. When he learned someone had left them behind, he put them on and said, “Wow. The trees have actual leaves! I can see how people become addicted to these!” Addicted to glasses? I never thought of it that way. Despite his appearance, which I must admit, initially had me wary (my prejudice labeled Ian a drifter doing nothing with his life). I was SO wrong. Ian is brilliant. He never graduated from COA, but he seems to know everything about food and plants and their interactions with each other and the body. I just want to follow him around with a camera and record everything he says. He’s brilliant.

—

I am perched here in my room on the top floor, looking out over the rest of the town, and enjoying the sun streaming in. In the coming days, I hope I will describe more of the characters and conversations here. But for now, world, I just want to announce that I’m here, and this place already feels like home. Yes, I’m here in this small community of Downeast Friends, living in this big house in this small community on this island off the coast of Maine– I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!

Background:

Over the years, I have found myself constantly loving hurting kids. Even when I try to stop myself because it hurts too much- I can’t. As my heart beats and bleeds for all the children (foster kids in the US to children in armies abroad), my head works overtime to try to find solutions to the causes. More than anything, I want to create a safe place for hurting children to live and play and learn and be loved. I dream of making this place a reality through an intentional international community that is fundamentally eco-friendly and sustainable. This community will include family homes (where couples can move in and adopt children and raise their own), a school (which emphasizes arts and music as well as academics), a medical clinic (to provide basic care for the community members), a creative arts therapy program, and a summer camp and retreat center (for children and adults from outside the community to come learn about our way of life). The community will exemplify an alternative way of life for the rest of the world, a life of love and peace. Although the community will be primarily focused on child orphans, we will fully recognize that at some level, every human being is (and acts as) an orphan when separated from Divine love.

The Story:

A few days ago I transferred from NYU to College of the Atlantic, a small school in Bar Harbor, ME to learn about community development, sustainable food systems, sustainable business, and how public health is intertwined with the health of the environment (and how to improve both).  As soon as I get a chance to sit down and write, I will tell you all about the place- it’s amazing. For now, the explanation of why I’m here (up above), and pictures will have to do. Oh, and because future dreams are not enough for me to live on. Here’s what I am trying to do every day.

• *Respect Earth and life in all its diversity.
• Care for the community of life with understanding, compassion, and love.
• Ensure that communities at all levels guarantee human rights and fundamental freedoms and provide everyone an opportunity to realize his or her full potential.
• Promote social and economic justice, enabling al to achieve a secure and meaningful livelihood that is ecologically responsible.
• Eradicate poverty.
• Guarantee clean water, clean air, food security, uncontaminated soil, shelter, and safe sanitation.
• Allocate the national and international resources required.
• Empower every human being with the education and resources to secure a sustainable livelihood.
• Recognize the ignored, protecting the vulnerable, and serving those who suffer.
• Ensure universal access to education and health care.
• Integrate into formal education and life-long learning the knowledge, values, and skills needed for a sustainable way of life.
• Recognize the impotance of moral and spiritual education for sustainable living.
• Treat all living beings with respect and consideration.
• Promote a culture of nonviolence, and peace.
• Recognize that peace is the wholeness created by right relationships with oneself, other persons, other cultures, other life, Earth, and the larger whole of which all are a part.*
• Learn

• And, to ALWAYS LOVE.

Please hold me accountable to this. When I forget, please remind me of my principles and dreams, even if you do not share the same ones! Challenge mine, make me change, and make me grow, and sometimes, please remind me to just be.

* Taken, often word for word from The Earth Charter. Although I just included the goals I am personally working towards and feel passionate about, there are many more. Check it out here.

A quick tour:

Before heading to campus, Greg and Chelsea and I checked out the surrounding area. This is Cadillac Mountain, a few minutes away from campus.

Around campus:

Back on top of the mountain for the sunset!

***

Dear Whoever May Still Read This,

I want to update you on what’s been going on these past few weeks. I apologize if you texted, called, facebooked, or e-mailed me during the month of July and did not hear back from me. On July 4th, I drove down New Jersey to volunteer at training camp with Touch the World. I have joined TTW teams around the world for the past ten years, but this summer, I really wanted to finish my book so I volunteered to train the other teens going out on trips.

My first trip, almost ten years ago, was very difficult. Training Camp is a boot camp. You wake up at 5:45am, work/learn all day, sleep in tents, and have no running water all in order to prepare you to serve in less privileged areas around the world. TTW’s training camp breaks you down and forces you to work together as a team in order to survive so that when you are on the field you are prepared for anything. As an eleven year old, I moved through training camp in a daze questioning myself every step of the way, “what was I thinking? This is CRAZY! I spent much of my time at the nurses station treating various aches and pains and retreating from the intense discipline forced upon me (but don’t get me wrong- the stomach ache and painful blisters were real!). When we arrived at our destination, a camp for inner-city kids in Erie, Pennsylvania, my two elderly leaders refused to let us have sugar (and as a sugar-holic I went through a painful withdrawal), and one night (probably tossing and turning and dreaming of brownies) I woke up to bears walking through our tent site! Yet, the next summer, two friends convinced me to go on another trip. Prepared for training camp and one year older, I began to really understand TTW’s mission and values, and I enjoyed my time much more.

TOUCH THE WORLD

TTW is dedicated to moving young people from apathy to energy by exemplifying God’s love through service. Coming from a conservative Presbyterian church (where church is more of a social club than a place to worship the creator of the universe), at first I held back and just watched from afar. Were these the crazy evangelical Christians occasionally shown on the news- people who condemned homosexuality and abortion with signs like, “Jesus hates fags” and brainwashed people? No. I quickly learned there was something different about these Christians at TTW. TTW is simply dedicated to love of God above all else and a love for people. They take the golden rule to “love your neighbor as yourself” literally and they promote peace around the world by training young people to go out and love others through community service projects and by building relationships.

The training and experiences I received at training camp and in various communities made it possible for me to travel by myself last summer to Kenya. This summer, I wanted to finish up a multi-media journal from my time there so I dedicated four days to training other teens, and thought that would be it for me. However, when I signed in as a volunteer I (some-what jokingly) said to a TTW staff member, “I packed my passport just in case!”

Later that day, another staff member found me and asked, “So about that passport, were you serious? Are you free?” Dreaming of Uganda or India or one of the more exotic trips, I briefly hesitated before answering, “Yes! I mean I would have to figure out if it would be possible. Why, where do you need me to go? Uganda?” He shook his head, “No, but we desperately need another leader for the Mississippi team, and we will cover all the expenses if you can go.” Oh, I thought, travel to the hottest region in the country in the middle of the summer to do construction on roofs? Hmmmm- totally not as exciting as Uganda. I decided to talk to my mom and think it over while TTW tried to see if they could get me a ticket.

A VERY SPECIAL, UNUSUAL TEAM

Later that day, the Mississippi team, all forty of them, arrived at the Drama tent for training. The team was unlike any team I had ever seen before (TTW teams are usually small). They came into our tent and filled up every chair and then scattered out on the ground. I looked at this huge team and stood in awe at the diversity. (Disclaimer: I do not work for TTW so this is not accurate, but this is just what I’ve gathered from observation). TTW teams usually hail youth and teenagers from affluent communities surrounding the metro area. Although there are always some exceptions, most of my teammembers from previous years have been white kids from similar backgrounds. But, here sat this team of youth of all different ethnicities (is that the politically correct way to say it now? I don’t know. I’m trying to say we had a diverse selection of the human colors represented- especially if you count me as red).  Anyway, the diversity surprised me, and my heart filled and my spirits lifted. Yes, this is the way Touch the World teams should always be. Yes, I feel more comfortable here now. Yes, the potential for this team is so HUGE. Yes, I want to join them and take on this unexpected challenge/opportunity God has given me. Yes, yes, yes!

After a few minutes of observing the team, I saw past the diversity and could see that again, this was no ordinary team. Some of the kids looked like adults, while some of them looked like really little, little kids. When I asked the leaders, one of them answered, “Yep. The ages range from 11-18!” Wow. What a challenge! (How one leads eleven year olds is very different than how one leads an eighteen year old, and TTW usually splits them up very differently)

Long story, and it is a VERY long story, short

I joined the team. Contrary to what one might expect with me, it was not an easy decision. In fact, it was a really difficult one. I had a lot of work to do at home, my family was planning a vacation to see my elderly grandparents, and I was nervous about health issues. After praying about it, and talking with some friends, I decided that I was really meant to join the team. There were too many coincidences and things that were just randomly “working out.” I told myself, “Julia, come on, you can do anything for two weeks, and they need you.” So, I joined the team. No, there was no nobleness here, just really, “you can do anything for two weeks.”

—- This is all I have time to update on tonight, but I promise sometime soon I will update with a part two about the actual team and trip —-

Here are some pictures of our team/trip until then! (The quotes are from Brian Andreas)

“I don’t think of it as working for world peace, he said. I think of it as just trying to get along in a really big strange family.”

When do you get to be a grown-up? she said. When you can read & write & lie without laughing, I said & her eyes got big & she said she didn’t know it was that hard

There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other’s cooking & say it was good.

In the end, I think that I will like that we were sitting on the bed, talking & wondering where the time had gone.

What if we all got along & people loved each other & sang songs about peace? he said. Would that be a good world? & I said I didn’t know about that, but it would be a good summer camp & he looked at me & shook his head & said, It’s no wonder you’re leaving us with such a mess.

has some sort of disease where you hallucinate & start to not believe in love, but after a year or two, or even sometimes ten or twenty, it cures itself & all that’s left are a few little red spots that twinge & ache whenever you get too near someone else that has the disease & it’s all you can do to stop from reaching out & holding them close.

She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short.

I held him close for only a short time, but after he was gone, I’d see his smile on the face of a perfect stranger & I knew he would be there with me all the rest of my days.

I also need to update with fall plans that I am SO EXCITED about! All this- coming soon.

J

Last night I attended the Dosomething Awards at the world famous Apollo Theatre in Harlem, NY and they were AWESOME. Do Something is an incredible organization that honors young change-makers and inspires other young people to DO SOMETHING. My favorite part (and  I think this is what sets them apart MOST from other organizations) is their tech-savvy, hip, youth directed approach. Growing up, I found it so difficult to find ways to get involved in causes I believed in. It was easy to join the travel soccer team (which I did), and easy to act in a play group theater (which I did), but so difficult to do the things I truly wanted to do. Many organizations had age limits or only let younger teens volunteer with parent chaperons. I spent months searching the net for organizations that would let my twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen year old self volunteer. Now, for kids itching to make the world a better place, the Do Something website offers tons of ways for kids to get involved:

• Animal Welfare
• Disaster Response And Relief
• Discrimination
• Education
• Environment
• Health And Fitness
• HIV And Sexuality
• International Human Rights
• Poverty
• Violence And Bullying
• War, Peace And Politics

Now . . . back to the awards! There were five incredible inspiring finalists, and you should check them all out. I mean, you should really, really, really check them all out. The winner, Maggie Doyne, BLEW ME AWAY. Maybe it’s because she’s living my dream and I see myself launching a similar project soon (more on that later), or maybe it’s because of her genuine personality, but she caught my attention immediately. Maggie took a gap year after highschool with the program LeapNow and while trekking through Asia she realized her potential to reach the war-torn orphans of Nepal. After her parents wired her her lifesavings ($5,000 from babysitting), Maggie bought a piece of land and built an orphanage. She is now the proud mother to over twenty kids, and she has sent countless more to school. Check out her journal for more information and ways to get involved!!

I have also been following the story of a girl named Katie in Uganda. My mom has been following her story (via blog entries) religiously for the past year, and has encouraged me (for months) to start reading it. But every time I tried to read it I would end up closing my computer crying. I would then enter my depressed, “why am I not there?” state. Now, I am planning to return in the fall/winter (someway, somehow, most likely to study Post-Conflict Transformation in Uganda/Rwanda), and I can again read about others. Anyway, back to Katie!! Go here. Please. Just do it. I want to write more about her but I’m pressed for time and in the off chance anyone arrives at my blog before I get a chance to finish this post, I want to point you to these two girls.

And go here to read about the other finalists!

Twitter, what exactly is it?

Short answer- Twitter is a social networking cite that facilitates communication by allowing people to say what they are doing in 140 characters or less.

Long answer- Twitter is whatever the user wants it to be! Some use Twitter as a way to keep friends updated on events and social gatherings, while others use Twitter to share life moments. For example, someone might tweet, “At the hospital, the new baby is on the way!” and then follow up later with a picture and health details about the baby. Used this way, twitter helps people feel more connected despite distance.

Companies also turn to twitter as a way to connect with customers. For example, Whole Foods uses twitter to respond to customer questions, suggestions, and concerns, and to alert customers to new products and health information. The uses for Twitter continue to evolve. Just yesterday, I received an e-mail from twitter informing me that the user “wholefoods” is now following me. It made sense for me to follow them, for the reasons I mentioned above, but why would they follow me? Isn’t that just creepy? Well, I can’t speak on Whole Foods behalf, but I can say this. Twitter provides invaluable information about what people are talking about. Businesses  can track (literally) the thoughts of large groups of people and use the data to make smart business decisions about products and marketing strategies.

Using Technology to Create Social Change

Twitter and its uses (both socially and commercially) are really cool, but I am especially excited about what Twitter can do for GOOD. This past week, the world saw a new kind of protest in Moldova– a protest organized, and implemented with the help of Twitter. On Tuesday April 7th, more than 10,000 young protesters showed up to protest against Moldova’s Communist leadership and proceeded to vandalize government facilities. I don’t know, nor have the time to figure out the current state of affairs in Moldova, so I will keep this short and not focus on WHAT they protested but HOW they protested.

Using technology, Moldovans organized this huge protest primarily through text-messaging, Facebook and Twitter. By creating a searchable tag on Twitter, people around the world could learn about the protest, join the protect, or follow from afar. As the protest was happening, people on the ground uploaded firsthand accounts to share with the world. This is not the first time technology has been utilized to facilitate protests. In Kenya earlier this year, in Ukraine in 2004, and in Belarus in 2006, people turned to text messages and cell phones to send messages to large audiences.

What is so great about Twitter?

Mr. Moscovici, the man who managed the tweets in English, told the New York Times that he believed many people made an account for themselves just for the event. When asked why he thought Twitter was effective, he said, “When you follow somebody, you usually know this person, so you trust this person — it is coming from a real person, not an institution.”

Mr. Moscovici’s comment deeply resonates with me.  With all of this technology advancing at such a rapid pace, I have a hard time figuring out what to believe! We really must learn to question everything. People can create and alter sound with strokes on a keyboard, digitally alter pictures beyond recognition, and edit video. This means we have the ability to create sound bytes, images, and events that never happened! When used as a source for entertainment, like the film and TV industry, this isn’t really an issue. It becomes an issue when people distort facts, and use technology to create a reality that does not exist to incite a reaction, or to prevent action.

The news, where many of us turn to find out what’s happening around the world, cannot be trusted as a sole source for information. With all the politics and economics behind every opinion, people are careful about what they say. Using certain rhetoric to describe an event influences how millions around the world perceive it and react to it. On top of that, newspapers have their own agendas. They pick and choose what they consider newsworthy and pass it along to the public. This is just one of probably many reasons why horrific situations can grow out of control before anyone takes action to stop it. During the Holocaust, for example, the death of thousands (which turned into the death of millions) could be found in the back section of American newspapers. Ah. I have to write more often, I have so much to say on this and so little time! I’ll finish up by going back to Twitter.

Where can we turn for the truth? Well, real people are good places to start! Governments can prevent journalists from entering into a country, but the people are always there. Therefore, it is crucial for connections to stay open. The internet and twitter and facebook are just more ways to connect. Of course, I am skipping over the fact that a government can censor the internet, or just plain shut it off. For now, I will leave you with two moving videos. The first, “Did you know?” mixes statistics with some techno music. I am not sure whether the purpose of the video is to inspire or to frighten, but regardless, it will make you think! Some quesitons to keep in mind as you watch: Do you believe it? Just some of it, or all of it? How does the presentation affect how you receive and process the information? And of course, “what does this all mean?”

This next one is from a Dove commercial.

Two days ago, the tribunal in charge of processing Cambodia’s genocide sat down to meet for the first time to try to make sense of the 1.7 million deaths that occurred between 1975-1979 under the Khmer Rouge.  Delayed thirty years by civil war and conflict, the tribunal seeks to bring justice, understanding, and closure to the horrendous crimes committed so long ago. But how do you measure evil, and who do you blame? Pol Pot, the obvious choice, died in 1998. Then there are his closest advisers, there are those who physically murdered people, and those who just, as they say, “ran the trains” (an expression that has come to represent those who followed orders who might not have directly murdered anyone, but participated in the genocide).

Today, Kaing Guek Eav (Duch), the Khmer Rouge’s chief torturer, took the stand.  Duch was in charge of one of the prisons that orchestrated as many as 16,000 deaths. The leaders of the prison were systematic- they took a picture of each victim before torturing them to death. After the tribunal read through gruesome details, Duch was given an opportunity to speak. He took the time to apologize to his nation for the crimes he committed. Hundreds of people watched from behind a glass window. Among them sat victims, and family members of victims who did not survive.

Cambodia has no death penalty, but Duch is facing life in prison for war crimes, crimes against humanity, torture, and murder. After his apology, Duch explained that he carried out his “duty” to protect his family, but that he takes “responsibility for crimes committed at S-21, especially the tortures and executions of the people there.” He also requested the people to “leave an open window for [him] to seek forgiveness.”

Duch’s lawyer argued that Duch is a scapegoat, and the court should turn its attention to those with more blood on their hands.

The Cambodian Prime Minister has been accused of limiting the tribunal because of politics. Hun Sen, the Prime Minister and a former Khmer Rouge officer (yes, really?), said that he does not approve of the court and hopes that it runs of out of money “as soon as possible.”

The Prime Minister’s attitude represents a greater issue facing Cambodia- the entire country’s apparent lack of understanding, knowledge, and justice regarding the genocide. Children growing up in Cambodia do not learn about the tragedy in school, although it is vital to their history, and one teenager goes so far as to say, “I’m not interested… I’m busy and I don’t want to know.”

What does this do for the survivors, and how will this affect the next generation? This tribunal is monumental, and of the utmost importance, and I will continue to follow it. I urge you to do the same, and to learn about what happened. There are many different kinds of genocide, and the genocide that occurred in Cambodia was unique and led to the term “autogenocide” which means the extermination of country’s citizens by its own people or government. Autogenocide differs from “genocide” in that people are not targeted and killed as the “other” as was the case in Nazi Germany, but as the same.

I wish I had time to share more about Cambodia’s history (after taking a class on Genocide a few months ago I had hoped to write a paper on what I learned, and that’s still in the works) but this is a great website to learn about the history.

Today we have a new president! The progress our country has made is absolutely incredible. When people ask me, “how on earth do you expect to create change?” I have to wonder– “really? where have you been?” And when people say, “that’s just the way it is, some things will never change.” Oh! How short our memory is! Just look at the past century- the change- the progress- the hope. Today was just… I’m speechless about it right now actually. It’s just… listening to people share their stories of racial injustices, and how they “never believed they’d see the day,” it just, it absolutely blows my mind.

I have to be totally honest. A few months ago when Barack Obama became the President-elect, immediately the news stations started talking about African-American progress. It seemed every channel I flipped to had people crying and going on and on about race. So, here’s where it kind of hurts to be honest. The stories made me frustrated, and I naively turned to my roommates and complained, “why aren’t we past this yet? I hate that it’s even still an issue!” Because I truly feel like its not among my closest friends here at NYU and at home. I grew up in New York, at a (diverse) private school that taught the importance and equality of every human. Many of my best friends growing up didn’t look like me or share my faith, and I never really noticed. But I didn’t have to try to not notice either- it wasn’t purposefully “politically correctly” ignored. It just didn’t matter, and it never crossed my mind to categorize people by the color of their skin or religion. So, when I sat there watching TV, I became frustrated. The newscasters celebrating, and continually talking about race, came across as blatantly racist. Until I really started listening to the stories. Racial injustice isn’t history. Yes there was slavery and Jim Crow laws, and the KKK, but there’s still more college age black males in prison than in college. Older folks can recall memories of segregated schools and water fountains, and while I can’t resonate with that- I can look at the South Bronx and know that something is still deeply wrong. Which is when I stopped myself and joined the celebrating. Inner-city black kids, when asked who they want to be when they grow up, don’t have to look to 50 cent, or fifty years back at Martin Luther King Jr. They can proudly say, “the president of the United States,” and believe its a possibility. We must continue addressing racial injustice in the world. As much as I like to pretend it doesn’t exist, I know it does. You can’t spend two weeks intensively learning about Genocide and pretend it’s not still an issue.

On to Genocide… Why should we care?

I can only attempt to understand the horrors of genocide, but I have to make every effort to understand the incomprehensible. It’s necessary for the victims, for the perpetrators, for the future, and for myself. Just listening to the facts and to the stories of survivors is an act of courage. I ask you to join me. “Why?” you might ask, “what’s in it for me?” Well, besides sleepless nights and interesting dinner conversations, I’m not really sure. But I can guess.

Learning about genocide is the same as any painful experience; it will either make you a stronger, better person, or a bitter person. You might find a new appreciation for life, beauty, and good, or become disheartened, depressed about the world, and build up walls so as to not hurt again. I’m struggling right now- I want to just crawl in bed. In the back of my head, I know that ignoring pain does not make life easier; ignoring pain greatly inhibits ones ability to love and to live life to the fullest. Blah blah blah- so cliche! But I think C.S. Lewis said it very well,

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one. Wrap it around carefully with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of your self-ishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

Pain happens. Genocide happens. People are slaughtered and raped and we can choose to ignore it. It’s easy because we never have to see it. We can just change the channel when anything makes us uncomfortable. Smile and nod to people on the street handing out flyers, but keep walking. Mark the e-mails from “savedarfur.org” as junk. It’s really, really easy to ignore, but we do humanity and ourselves a disservice when we look the other way. It lets the violence continue. After the Holocaust, the world vowed “never again.” Never again would the world sit idly by while people were systematically murdered. But it has happened again- more than once, and it will continue to happen unless we ask the tough questions: Why does genocide happen? How are some people so cruel? Are some people evil and some good?  Or do each of us have the same capacity for acting as an agent for good or for evil? Are circumstances and events in our childhood the deciding factor for who we become? Should I really use the two categories of good and evil, or should there be more? What is wrong in the world? What is wrong in my country? What is wrong in my community? What can I change within myself? What can we all do to make this world a better place?

By caring and learning about the atrocities committed around the world, we will hurt, but we will also be freer to live. Hm. Let me explain with an example. Remembering, and letting ourselves feel for humanity is essential for our survival of the self. When one person suffers from a traumatic event, he or she recovers fastest when letting themselves feel it. Studies show that Holocaust victims who later are hospitalized for psychosis are silent of their days during the Holocaust. It’s as if their memories have been erased, and they refuse to talk. On the other hand, survivors who were not hospitalized share clear memories of their experience. There is no denial or repression evident. click here for more information about the study. Suzanne Kaplan interviewed one survivor who explained that memory let him keep a sense of self during his time in the concentration camp. Those who could keep a narrative of their trauma went on to lead relatively normal lives, while those who lost their story, lost themselves. The connection to humanity at large might not seem apparent at first and I know I’m kind of stretching it, but.. If humanity’s one body, and we choose to ignore feeling for the people of Rwanda, or Cambodia, or Bosnia, or the victims of Hurricane Katrina or the Tsunami- then we risk our sanity.

At some point in life, most people experience a huge “oh.” It can come early, after some childhood abuse, or it can come after a near death experience, a trip to a third world country, or the death of a family member. It’s an “oh” that makes one ask, “what is the point?”or “how could this happen?” Some choose to ignore the questions, others silence them with alcohol, drugs, sex, and hobbies. These questions are especially poignant when talking about genocide. They are hard questions, but I have to address them to keep my sanity. Maybe at the end of this journey I’ll share my own thoughts of “why,” and I would love to hear yours. But, for humanity’s sake, I plead with you: learn with me; care with me; hurt with me, and ask the hard questions.

Over the past two weeks, Everita Silina has been (intensively) teaching me about genocide. Everita Silina, a visiting professor from the New School, is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. Over the next few days I will be processing everything I have learned. The facts are disturbing, but before I jump into exploring the worst crimes against humanity, I want to provide an overview of genocide for myself and for anyone interested.

This is the just the first entry in a series.

1. Genocide, what is it?
2. Genocide, psychoanalytical thoughts
3. 1915-1918 Armenians in Turkey (1,500,000 deaths)
4. 1932-1933 Stalin’s Forced Famine (7,000,000 deaths)
5. 1938-1945 Nazi Holocaust (6,000,000 deaths)
6. 1975-1979 Pol Pot in Cambodia (2,000,000 deaths)
7. 1994 Rwanda (800,000 deaths)
8. 1992-1995 Bosnia/Herzegovina (200,000 deaths)
9. 2004-2008 Darfur
10. Heroes
11. Trying to make sense of everything

What is Genocide?

Genocide, as defined by Article 2 of the Genocide Convention, is as follows:

Any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnicity, racial or religious group, as such:
•    Killing members of the group;
•    Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
•    Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part.
•    Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
•    Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

We immediately face some tough questions: how do we measure intent? Does the whole group, or just part of the group have to be targeted? How big or small is “part” of a group? Do we measure “parts of groups” by percentages or numbers? For example, if there are only two individuals of an ethnic group alive (as is the case for one tribe in Alaska), if you murder one person, you’ve wiped out 50% of their population. Genocide? Where do the Native Americans fit into this? If colonists/explorers killed 90% of their population, isn’t that Genocide?

How do we evaluate Genocide?

Through strategy (does the perpetrator slaughter the people with machetes or in concentration camps, by denying food or water, through rape or forced deportation, or just with dehumanization), the group (national, ethnicity, racial, or religious groups, but what about political, sexual, tribal, social, economic or cultural groups?), the perpetrator (is it the government, citizens, or an outside strong force?), by the outcomes (does the perpetrator just have to kill a few people or succeed, or what if the perpetrator is stopped before going through with the plans? Is intent all that’s important?), or the level of intent (permissive policy, systematic plan, but no evidence?).

Are bystanders innocent?

What about human rights?

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights contains thirty articles that define human rights for everyone in the world. However, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is only a declaration, and contains no laws. One cannot use the articles to accuse people of any crimes. The end of the document contains group rights, but what constitutes a group? The Amish and Christian Scientists are obvious groups. The Amish went to court and won the right to teach their children in local schools up until age 15. In this case, the group wants to keep their culture and teach what they think is right, but is it infringing on the children’s right to a good education?

We face a similar, but more serious problem with Christian scientists. Christian scientists believe that everything comes from God, and anything that comes from God is good, including diseases.  But what happens when a three year old has a disease and the child dies from lack of medical care. Neutrality is not possible here. Inaction is an action. The government must either step in and require medical treatment, or sit idly by.  Would stepping in and taking the child away from the parents be an infringement on rights if not doing anything means that kids might die?

International Law (history)

After World War I, the League of Nations was established to monitor aggression between countries. The Permanent Court of International Justice was also established as an international court to settle disagreements between countries.

After World War II, the world established the United Nations. Now, almost two hundred nations are members of the UN. (more on the UN later)

The International Court of Justice is a court for state nations and the primary judicial organ of the United Nations. The ICJ (or world court) functions legal disputes between countries or agencies and the UN General Assembly. For example, Bosnia filed a complaint against Serbia for genocide. In 2007, the court came back and ruled that Serbia did not commit genocide because they couldn’t find any intent. The court agreed that there was a genocide, but they weren’t sure who to blame for it.

The International Criminal Court was established in 2002 through the Rome Statue of the International Criminal Court to prosecute individuals for crimes against humanity, war crimes, crimes of aggression, and genocide. 108 nation states are members, but the United States, China, Russia and India have not joined yet.

International Human Rights laws just deal with how governments treat their own people.

International Humanitarian Law

Geneva and Hague conventions began as early as the early 19th century to make rules about behavior during times of war. Initially only concerned with wars between states, laws concerning civil wars have been added more recently. The laws protect civilians, medics, aid workers, the wounded and prisoners of war.

The Geneva Conventions of 1863,1864,1868 said what kind of weapons you could have, banned land minds, cluster bombs, gasses, and anything that inflicts too much damage. Also made a rule that one cannot attack populations that are not armed. Soldiers are only allowed to attack people in uniforms. You don’t attack medical personnel and you must let medical personnel in to help. Naval agreements- can’t mine harbors.

War Crimes

A war crime can happen anywhere and they are just crimes committed during times of war. One must go look at international humanitarian law to see what to charge against someone who has committed war crimes. A genocide is an accumulation of all of these crimes against a type of people.

War of Aggression

A war of aggression is when a country goes to war for self-interest and its not in the best interest of other people. A war of aggression means there was no good reason to go to war. A war of aggression might be when a country goes in for territory. No one has been called on a war of aggression since Germany. Germany was charged with a war of aggression, war crimes, crimes against peace, and crimes against humanity. The UN withheld the phrase when Iraq attacked Kuwait. Today, some try to argue that the US in Afghanistan or the US in Iraq is a war of aggression, however the UN has never claimed the US is perpetrating a war of aggression. So what are good reasons to go to war? Security, self-protection, and when people are suffering from gross human rights violations.

3. 1915-1918 Armenians in Turkey (1,500,000+ deaths)

It’s only appropriate to start with the first genocide of the 20th century- “The Armenian Genocide.” This may come as a surprise or it may not, but the Holocaust was not the first nor the last genocide. Between 1915-1923, Ottoman Turks killed more than 1.5 million Armenians through forced deportation, expropriation, abduction, torture, massacre, and starvation. The vast majority of the Armenian population was removed to Syria where they were sent into the desert to die of thirst and hunger.

Who was responsible for the Armenian Genocide?
The political party in power, the Committee of Union and Progress (the Young Turks) made the decision to carry out a genocide against the Armenian people.  After World War I, there was a brief period of calm, but between 1920 and 1923, Turkish Nationalists took up the cause and began the massacres again to promote ethnic exclusivity.

How did the international community respond to the Armenian Genocide?

Although the Young Turks tried to keep journalists and photographers out of the area, the international community did know what was happening. U.S. diplomatic representatives and American missionaries reported home, and the international community condemned the Armenian Genocide. In the U.S., there was a public outcry against the genocide. After the war, relief efforts were made to save those left. No reparations were ever made to the people who lost everything, and the Young Turks were never held accountable.

Are the Armenian massacres acknowledged today as a Genocide according to the United Nations Genocide Convention?

Genocide is defined as, “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group.”  Armenians have sought for acknowledgment of the crimes committed during W.W.I. but only countries where survivors live, like France, Argentina, Greece, and Russia, have officially recognized the Armenian Genocide.

Why is the Armenian Genocide especially important today?

The present-day Republic of Turkey adamantly denies that a genocide was committed against the Armenians during W.W.I.. Considering Turkey is Israel’s strongest Muslim ally, and it adamantly denies it’s own Holocaust-like behavior- it’s an interesting friendship. Furthermore, for the past 18 years, Turkey has been petitioning to join the EU. How can a country that has yet to compensate, much less recognize the slaughtering of 1.5 million of it’s own people be allowed to claim it has European values?

Click here for more information.

Today in my Genocide class, I open a new Internet window to the drudge report. Because the drudge report relays current news as it gets it, today capital red letters spell out something like, “Plane crash in New York City.” I immediately hit refresh but nothing comes up. Over the next few minutes I switch to the New York Times and back, trying to find some more information. Finally, a few sentences are added to the story. A U.S. Airways plane leaving from La Guardia crashed in the Hudson River. Memories from September 11th come rushing back and I try to refocus on my teacher. Bosnia. Yugoslavia. Mass murder. The UN. What? Reload. Reload. Reload. I need more information about this crash. Are the people okay? For an agonizing amount of time, I sit and wait for news. I’m tempted to just walk up to 50th street and watch but I decide I can’t watch any more people die. Instead, I sit in my seat and miss almost everything my teacher says. After way too long, a news article pops up saying that all the people on board are safe and that the pilot is a hero. The events of today, and what I’ve learned over the past two weeks, are forcing me to spend some time learning about heroes. I have to, to retain my sanity. So tomorrow, expect an educational rant about the most horrendous acts against humanity. That way, I can give proper homage to the people killed, and to the people who risked their lives to save them. But for now, America’s newest hero-

Capt. Chesley B. Sullenberger III

Captain Sullenberger, 57, brought the wounded Airbus A320 passenger plane to rest on the Hudson leading all the passengers on board to safety after something knocked out both engines in the plane. Captain Sullenberger checked the cabin twice for anyone left behind before he left the sinking plane himself. When both engines erupted in flames, Captain Sullenberger did not panic. Instead, in a split second he told the passengers to prepare for impact, and he landed the plane beautifully on the Hudson River.

155 people waiting to be rescued Thursday afternoon

For more information, click here.

On November 11th, Google announced its new web tool “Google Flu Trends.” The concept is simple; Google assumes that people who are sick will search their symptoms on the Web. Using a list of keywords relating to the flu like thermometer, muscle aches, and fever, Google tracks the queries and charts them by regions and states. Tests show that the service may detect outbreaks seven to ten days before the CDC reports them. Because the data is public, it allows for a form of “collective intelligence.” Potentially, subscribers to the system can get an e-mail warning them to take extra precaution when a bug is going around the community before the doctors even know!

The potential benefits are numerous, and I think most have yet to be discovered. The trend tracking system could be used to track other infectious diseases and predict the future. People are starting to turn to Google before visiting their doctor, and if a new virus emerges with unusual symptoms, Google might notice a trend and alert authorities. An early warning system can accelerate the response to outbreaks and reduce the spread anywhere in the world. HealthMap, backed by Google, also uses the Web to track infectious diseases around the world, but in a different way. HealthMap looks for news articles, blog posts and electronic newsletters to track diseases whereas Google Trends uses search engines.

Google Flu might be part of the movement toward EHR (electronic health records) where everyone would have their health records online. As of right now, most doctors continue to write everything on paper. Lists of immunizations and previous conditions and treatments have to be faxed or sent by mail. Why do we still do it this way? (There are reasons but for lack of time I’m not going to go into them- and in my opinion they do not outweigh the benefits, but just know that they exist). The collected data could help identify the best care options. The EHR system would benefit hospitals seeking to treat patients who have they know nothing about. I think EHR would increase physician efficiency overall (faster and more accurate diagnosis). The electronic health records would also reduce cost.

The trend tracking system of taking Internet user’s searches and using them to predict the future could alarm privacy advocates. However, Google Flu Trends uses data that cannot be used to identify individual users. One of my friends brought up another problem as I excitedly told her of the possibilities, she asked, “As more people find out about the system, won’t they go right to the tracker first, instead of typing in their symptoms, to find out if the flu is a likely culprit ailing them?” The executive director of Google.org does caution that the data will need to be monitored to ensure correlation with the flu remains valid. Using technology to track and change factors relating to health is obviously just the next step towards the future of public health. However, it is most certainly an exciting one.

Helft, Miguel. “Google Uses Searches to Track Flu’s Spread.” New York Times 11 Nov. 2008.

I am working so hard on putting together a professional looking book. So far I have taught myself Adobe Photoshop and Adobe InDesign. Two incredible programs. Right now, I am editing my writing and very slowly organizing the pictures with the text. It’s a long process!! After working on a page for a few hours, I sometimes just have to scratch it and start over. The subject matter is also not the easiest. What words does one use to describe a baby dying? Working on this book brings up so many memories and emotions. On top of that, I’m not exactly sure what I am hoping to accomplish. I’m following my instincts though and this just feels right. Today, I received a message from an old friend thanking me for getting him interested in Darfur. Since that day back in high school, he’s helped raise thousands of dollars for refugees in Sudan. I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the situation, but ideally, that’s what this book will do. I want the stories and photographs to inspire other young people to act, and to bring the stories from abroad home. I do not think I’ll ever regret spending so much time on this.

I’ve always just dabbled in art. I love painting, drawing, playing the piano, and taking photographs. But this project has brought a new respect for artists. I’ve been at this two months now and the creative process is a lonely one. I’ve tried bringing other people into it. I ask for opinions and look through books for inspiration, but as Don Gray explains, “The inner drama, the complex ebb and flow of feelings, hints and glimpses of images and ideas, the inner drive, urges, promptings and doubts — the often fierce, undeniable, gut-deep need to create — are those of individual artists alone, that they must somehow deal with through visions of the beauty and torment of the world. Artists are meant to probe heaven and hell, good and evil, beauty and ugliness — the full dimension of life on earth, humanity’s relations with itself, with nature, with God, and the universe, as their personal needs and interests dictate.” And I must do it alone.

When I get frustrated, I look for encouragement from friends and artists. An appropriate mix of music and silence are my companions, and every once in a while I stumble on something that inspires me. Here’s one quote that has me dreaming again. Author Robert Fulghum writes,

Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one first—before we tried anything else. It would explode high in the air—explode softly—and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth—boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either—not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination instead of death.

I close my eyes and picture this and try not to think of the real world alternatives. My mind goes to images of children with missing limbs from landminds. I remember Paul Farmer sharing a story last year about  two children playing in a field. One of them saw a toy on the ground and leaned down to pick it up. The toy was a grenade (manufactured to look like a toy to attract attention) and the explosion threw the two kids back. They arrived at PF’s hospital battered and in great pain. The boy lost his arm. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone’s creativity leads them to produce a bomb disguised as a child’s toy, but it’s reality. Which leads me to end with another Robert Fulghum quote,

The line between good and evil, hope and despair, does not divide the world between “us” and “them”.  It runs down the middle of every one of us.  I do not want to talk about what you understand about this world.  I want to know what you will do about it.  I do not want to know what you hope.  I want to know what you will work for.  I do not want your sympathy for the needs of humanity.  I want your muscle.  As the wagon driver said when they came to a long hard hill,  “Them that’s going on with us, get out and push.  Them that ain’t, get out of the way.”

Writing a book takes a lot more time than I thought! I finally installed photoshop on my computer and have been teaching myself how to use it. I am having such a great time. Here are the first few things I’ve made. I don’t know if any of them will make it into the book because they are just experiments. You have to double click on the picture to really see it!

show me the world

I made this one while listening to the Jon Foreman song “Behind Your Eyes”. It’s my first photoshop creation, and a little dramatic with the skeletons praying the corner.

just playing around

ken-ya believe it?

Last weekend I had some friends up to celebrate my birthday. I’m twenty. Crazy!! I have the best friends in the world, and we had so much fun. I’ll expand on this update later, I promise!

my girls!

jimmy and i

I am taking a Comparative Lit class on child soldiers around the world. I just finished A Long Way Gone and am desperately trying to take it all in. Here is the excerpt and a quick explanation about Ishmael’s Beah’s amazing book. You should definitely read it!

At the age of twelve, he fled attacking rebels and wandered a land rendered unrecognizable by violence. By thirteen, he’d been picked up by the government army, and Beah, at heart a gentle boy, found that he was capable of truly terrible acts. Eventually released by the army and sent to a UNICEF rehabilitation center, he struggled to regain his humanity and to reenter the world of civilians, who viewed him with fear and suspicion. This is, at last, a story of redemption and hope.

New York City, 1998

My high school friends have begun to suspect I haven’t told them the full story of my life.

“Why did you leave Sierra Leone?”

“Because there is a war.”

“Did you witness some of the fighting?”

“Everyone in the country did.”

“You mean you saw people running around with guns and shooting each other?”

“Yes, all the time.”

“Cool.”

I smile a little.

“You should tell us about it sometime.”

“Yes, sometime.”

Ishmael Beah

This is how wars are fought now: by children, traumatized, hopped-up on drugs and wielding AK-47s. Children have become the soldiers of choice. In the more than fifty conflicts going on worldwide, it is estimated that there are some 300,000 child soldiers. Ishmael Beah used to be one of them.

What does war look like through the eyes of a child soldier? How does one become a killer? How does one stop? Child soldiers have been profiled by journalists, and novelists have struggled to imagine their lives. But it is rare to find a first-person account from someone who endured this hell and survived.

In A LONG WAY GONE: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, Beah, now twenty-six years old, tells a powerfully gripping story: At the age of twelve, he fled attacking rebels and wandered a land rendered unrecognizable by violence. By thirteen, he’d been picked up by the government army, and Beah, at heart a gentle boy, found that he was capable of truly terrible acts. At sixteen, he was removed from fighting by UNICEF, and through the help of the staff at his rehabilitation center, he learned how to forgive himself, to regain his humanity, and, finally, to heal.

This is an extraordinary and mesmerizing account, told with real literary force and heartbreaking honesty.

- Click here for more. Or click the picture for the nytimes article.

I received this disturbing message in response to my entry on the South Bronx 1 and the South Bronx 2. I wanted to open this up for more comments.

“the depth of your white privilege is astounding.  a poor black neighborhood is not a zoo or an art exhibit for suburban white kids.  you are taking up space that should go to someone who actually lives in that neighborhood and lacks the economic privilege to move away to a better neighborhood.  this is how gentrification gets started.

i don’t even know what else to say, i’m just floored by how patronizing this is and so uncomfortable i can no longer even look at this.  ugh.” – Kaya

My reply,

Please let me explain. I think you have the wrong impression from reading my update about the South Bronx. I agree, the depth of my white privilege IS astounding, and I don’t like it and it makes me feel physically sick. A black neighborhood is not a zoo nor an art exhibit. We are not treating it as such in ANY way. As of right now, I am not living there, but the girls who are living there have goals that have nothing to do with self-gain, or some sort of school project. They are living there because they are appalled at the differences in socio-economic living situations in the United States. They want to change things. What is a better way to change something than working from the heart of it? They have made incredible friendships from living there. One girl spends her days tutoring at schools in the area and she runs a non-profit connecting other college kids to Mott Haven students for tutoring. Another one works there as a teacher! Kids from the buildings around the apartment come and get help on their homework. What is so wrong about this? Taking it to a deeper level, they are trying to follow Jesus’s instruction to love their neighbors as themselves. They are not religious nutcases moving in trying to convert people. They are just living and loving people who think they have been “forgotten about” by the system, and the rest of the world (quoting a woman I met on the street).

I, personally, am still just a student. I am trying to learn everything I can. That’s why I want to live in the area- so that I can understand the problems on a deeper level to eventually change things. I want to put my white privileged education to good use. I’ve met some really cool people that I would otherwise never have met. I am not living there because it’s cheaper, nor because I’m fascinated by the people, and certainly not because I want to start to kick people who “deserve” to live there out (as you implied with gentrification. No one deserves to live there anyway.) I’m sorry if that was not clear enough in my entry.

I’m confused at the statement that I will be “taking up space that should go to someone who actually lives in that neighborhood.” Please explain more. I am not living in low-cost housing nor am I mooching off the welfare system. I do come from a very wealthy area, but why do you condemn me for wanting to move away from excess wealth? The situation in the South Bronx is a crisis. When New Orleans needed help (as I know it still does), volunteers went down to help people clean up. Some left “better” areas to move there to devote more time to helping. The same goes for many other places around the world. What is so wrong about people loving other people? Because when it comes down to it… that is really the ONLY goal.

May I ask where you are from and what your background is? Do you know the area? I am taking your comment very seriously and want to understand more. Thank you.

- Julia

I am eagerly awaiting her response, but none has come yet. I have re-read over the entry and do not find anything patronizing about it. In fact, I make it very clear that my goal is to treat the people with dignity and respect, become friends with them, and understand the situation from the inside. I wrote, “Who am I to help these people? I have NO idea what they really need or what I have to offer. Sure, I can do the things like tutor, or serve at a soup kitchen, but there’s no way to know about the long-term effects of said help without joining the people and becoming one of them.”

I also described the house very clearly as, “We want our house to be a hospitality house full of love… We want to know our neighbors and just become part of the community on Beekman Ave. We want to treat the people with respect and worth. I’m hoping we will have kids over for game nights and tutoring nights, and friends from the neighborhood over for dinner. One room, the hang out room, is full of games and books. People can bring a book in exchange for another (obviously people who don’t have books can just take one). And already, we are putting together a closet with our friends extra clothes and toys.”

I am trying to understand how this is patronizing. Please help me if you read this. When she implies that we are treating the people as zoo animals, is it because of my writing? I recorded some of my experience that day almost word for word. It’s just how my day went. Yes, I throw in some opinions and feelings that are certainly from an outsider’s point of view (the view of a white woman from a wealthy area), but that’s because I think they are important. Some of them I might not be proud of. In a few years, I might look back and laugh at how ignorant I am right now. It’s all part of the learning process on this journey of mine. A journey where few people go. I think a lot in my life will be learned through trial and error because there isn’t a “how-to” for many of the things I want to do (trust me, I’ve looked!). This move (that as of right now I am not taking anyway) might be an error, but I don’t think it is.

Anyway. Why I’m not actually living there. (This is long over-due). I love the girls who are living there very much. Our vision for the apartment was very much the same, but I stopped feeling comfortable with my decision to live there. Not safety wise- just if that’s where I’m supposed to be. I lost the peace (but not the excitement) of living there, and did not want to follow through with something that didn’t feel right. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it ended with two weeks of hard-core prayer and contemplation. And maybe a few fights with God. I don’t understand why I felt so sure about living there (I hadn’t made the decision lightly the first time) for so many months. Then, all of a sudden, thing’s felt very different. Something wasn’t right about it. I yelled at God, “God, I am trying to do what You want me to do. I am trying to spread Your love. This was all for YOU. I thought this was what you wanted!! Why would You take it away now before I’ve even started!!!” After a few sleepless nights, I stopped talking and just started listening. All I could hear was just trust me. So, I still don’t understand it all. What good could come out of living at home? I’m away from my friends. Not living in the South Bronx- ah, my year just looks entirely different. I will update on how it’s going in another entry though.

Right now I want to ask you what you think of all of this. I still don’t think anyone reads this, but if you are reading- please leave a little comment about everything you’ve read. Thank you.

By Paulo Coelho

“I am willing to give up everything”, said the prince to the master. “Please accept me as your disciple.”

“How does a man choose his path?” asked the master.

“Through sacrifice,” answered the prince. “A path which demands sacrifice, is a true path.”

The master bumped into some shelves. A precious vase fell, and the prince threw himself down in order to grab hold of it. He fell badly and broke his arm, but managed to save the vase.

“What is the greater sacrifice: to watch the vase smash, or break one’s arm in order to save it?” asked the master.

“I do not know,” said the prince.

“Then how can you guide your choice for sacrifice? The true path is chosen by our ability to love it, not to suffer for it.”

ANYWAY

People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
Love them anyway!
If you do good, people will accuse you
of selfish, ulterior motives.
Do good anyway!
If you are successful, you will win
false friends and enemies.
Succeed anyway!
The good you do will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway!
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway!
What you spend years building may be
destroyed overnight.
Build anyway!
People really need help
but may attack you if you help them.
Help them anyway!
Give the world the best you have
and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you’ve got anyway!

Written by: Mother Teresa

On Mott Haven, Bronx, NYC, New York, United States, America

When you enter the subway in Manhattan, you are in the seventh richest congressional district in the nation. When you leave, you are in the poorest (3). One woman’s reflections: “There are pockets of hell in our inner cities, and that even as an entire sector of America is condemned to burn in them, we insist on looking the other way.” Mott Haven is stuck in poverty. Most of the housing is low income housing the government sticks poor people in to get them out of Manhattan. Originally, I think it was supposed to be a temporary fix, but they’ve been here for years. With poverty and lack of education comes the crime of robberies, jumping’s, shootings, and drugs.

“It’s not like, ‘Well, these babies just aren’t dying fast enough. Let’s figure our a way to kill some more.’ It’s not like that at all. It’s like—I don’t know how to say this…” She holds a Styrofoam cup in her hand and turns it slowly for a moment. “If you weave enough bad things into the fibers of a person’s life—sickness and filth, old mattresses and other junk thrown in the streets and other ugly ruined things, and ruined people, a prison here, a sewage there, drug dealers here, the homeless people over there, then give us the very worst schools anyone could think of, hospitals that keep you waiting for ten hours, police that don’t show up when someone’s dying, take the train that’s underneath the street in the good neighborhoods and put it up above where it shuts out the sun, you can guess that life will not be very nice and children will not have much sense of being glad of who they are. Sometimes it feels like we’ve been buried six feet under their perceptions.” (p. 39)

My first full day in the South Bronx…

Denny, a tall strong friend, who could be mistaken for Puerto Rican with his Indian skin, keeps me company for the day. He is one of the many friends worried about four white girls living in the south bronx, in the worst police precinct, in New York. We get off the subway at Brooke Avenue, and walk up to 139^th street. We stand for a few minutes, just taking in the sunlight and activity.

“Welcome home.” I look up at him and smile, and he looks back at me with a face stuck between a grimace and a smile. As we walk, I point out that there are no white or Indian people in sight. Finding a person who is neither black nor Hispanic becomes a game neither of us win. We pass an elderly man, tall and big wearing shorts and white socks rolled all the way up. He carries a bright pink backpack and is moving slightly to the beat from his headphones. We keep walking.

We stop two over-weight policewomen walking down the street to ask the location of the police station. The women are clearly curious as to how we got so lost that we ended up on “this” side of town. The woman on the right smiles and says, “Just one block up and two avenues over, on the corner of 138^th and Alexander. You’ll see it.” After pointing us in the right direction, they leave us and continue their stroll. We follow them before cutting over at the school on Willis Avenue. Before we arrive at 138^th and Alexander, we see the police cars parked along the street and know we must be getting close. It’s a busy cross road, but a woman in beat-up green car stops to let us all cross. The light is green for her, and there’s a big red hand telling us not to walk, but she waves us across anyway. Denny pulls open the big double doors and we walk into the police station.

The police station for Precinct 40 is a happening place. We wait at the huge sign five feet from the door that says:

UPON ENTRY, STATE YOUR BUSINESS HERE.

There are two women in front of us and a few people waiting over to the right. There’s a young man and a pretty woman behind the desk. When it’s our turn, we tell them the address and ask about the neighborhood. The man looks at the woman and looks back and says, “It’s a pretty rough block.” Denny and I nod. I hesitate, but Denny doesn’t, and he tries to get him to say more. “Can you give us any more information on the safety there? You know- what precautions they should take. Will they be targeted because they are four white girls living in a predominantly black and Puerto Rican neighborhood?” I continue, and ask specifically about how worried we should be about someone breaking in, murder, rape, and the gang situation. The policeman shrugs and tries again, “Well, it’s a really rough block. Me telling you that is a lot. Take every precaution you can. Don’t be stupid and use common sense. Be careful.” But I want more, so I push harder. It seems like he’s holding a lot back. “Listen, all I can tell you if you want the honest truth is that it’s one of the worst streets in our precinct. Our precinct stretches from (insert here) and Beekman Ave. is one of the worst blocks. It isn’t suburbia.” I look to the pretty woman and ask if she has anything to add about ways to stay safe. She smiles and apologizes and says she just moved there. I laugh and ask if she’s just using that as an easy way out. She laughs too, but looks at me and says “maybe. I heard there was a homicide or stabbing or something there a few days ago. That’s all I know.”

We walk out the front doors. I’m frustrated. I feel like they haven’t told us anything. I complain to Denny that we just wasted our time. Denny stops a man and woman just getting into their cruiser and asks if he can have a minute of their time. The older man ignores him, climbs in and buckles his seat belt, but the woman gets back out of the car and asks what’s up. We tell her the situation and explain how we are worried about moving in on Beekman Ave and we want the honest truth about the area and advice we can give them on how to stay safe.

“Which side of Beekman are we talking about?” I tell her the apartment is at 321 Beekman right at the corner of 141^st and Beekman. She nodes, “Yep, that’s the bad corner. I’ve been here for eighteen years, and that side of Beekman has given us a lot of trouble. The area is picking up though. Things were definitely a lot worse when I first started here. In the past twenty years we’ve been doing a lot of work to clean up the area and most of the gang leaders who control the drug trade have been arrested. But there are still problems. Right now, we have someone there around the clock because of the shooting a few days ago.”

I ask about safety measures, and she decided we should definitely talk to the officers in charge of community affairs- Mira or Cortez. She leans down and asks her partner if they are in the station. He thinks so, so we run back inside. Someone tells us Cortez was the man walking by us as we walk in, so we run back out to catch him before he goes for lunch. We can’t find him anywhere. We come back inside and ask for Mira. After waiting for a few minutes, a young, really pretty woman comes over and asks how she can help us. I share with her the situation and she looks at us and just shakes her head. I ask her to please not hold anything back.

“Honestly, I would tell my friends to stay away from there. I’m not going to tell you not to move there, but I will tell you that it’s a dangerous block. Which side are you on?” Again I tell her our exact location and she shakes her head some more. “We’ve had a lot of trouble with that corner.” We just did a sweep though and kicked out 60 people with felonies that had drugs in their place from the housing projects. So that’s good. You know, always be aware and careful. Don’t go out at night. Always use the buddy system. Be careful going in and out of your door. Look outside if you can before going out to see what’s up. It’s good that you have your own apartment and are not in a building. I don’t know what else I can tell you. Call us if you have any problems. We patrol the area, but we don’t see everything.”

I ask if I should carry pepper spray with me when I’m walking around. She shrugs and says, “Well I understand if you decide to, but I can’t tell you to.” I asked her why not and she looks at me and laughs and explains, “it’s illegal!!!” Denny and I start laughing and thank her for her time. She wishes us luck.

We walk to 321 Beekman and I give him a quick tour of the place. We lock it back up and go for a walk to St. Mary’s park. We pass a few people on the way. It’s not yet three o’clock and there aren’t many kids sitting outside. A few old men sit by the corner store chatting and nod at us as we walk by. Before getting to the end of Beekman Ave. the shouts of young children can be heard drifting over from the playground. Their sounds make me walk a little faster. When I turn the corner, I see little children with their mothers running around. Their laughter and squeals energize me and I climb up to the highest peak in the park and look out. I feel like Simba from the Lion King standing atop Pride Rock and remember the line of advice from Simba’s father, “being brave does not mean you go out looking for trouble.”

Denny climbs a little slower and stands back a ways. I always forget he’s scared of heights, but I’m not budging. The view is too beautiful.

Two kids go by on bikes. They are clearly racing, and we make sure to stay out of their way. Over to the right, there’s a pipe pointed up that sprays water everywhere. While the mothers watch from a distance, the kids run around and get totally soaked. To my left, I can still see Beekman Ave. It’s such a short block, I can’t stop the chills when I think of how many people have died on the street.

We continue on our walk around and pass a quarter jogging track. Inside, there are young men on the work out equipment doing push-ups and throwing a ball around.

That brings me to the gangs…

I’m looking out for the colors I now know symbolize different gangs. The Bloods started in Los Angeles in the 1960’s and focused mainly on neighborhood protection and opposing their rivals the Crips. A founding Blood member, Omar Portee, started the gaing for the purpose of “brothers getting together, people getting together, fighting oppression.” The original intent was not to create trouble, but now the gang deals in murder, conspiracy, credit card fraud, extortion, prostitution, and drugs. In 1993, the Bloods started up on the east coast and now control most of the prisons in New York. There are hundreds of factions of the Bloods. One of which is the “Treyside Bloods” named after the 300 side of Beekman Avenue where they operate their drug network. In 2005, 28 members of the “Treyside Bloods” were indicted.

Our apartment is located at 321 Beekman, so we are most definitely on the “300” side. Everyone keeps asking (as a joke) if I’ve chosen a gang to align myself with- the crips or the bloods. I haven’t, of course, and I hope we don’t have to. But when I look out my window the Treyside Bloods are the ones who control our end of the block.

The Wild Cowboys also dominated our block for a long time in the 90’s. In one sweep everyone was arrested from the top leaders to the lookouts. The gang went to trial for 30 grisly murders (think disembowelment and torture). They held a seven-year reign of terror over Mott Haven, and their headquarters at 348 Beekman Ave. made $16 million a year in drug trafficking.

But that’s all history. More recently (2005), 600 police officers, F.B.I. agents and other investigators fanned out across the Diego-Beekman housing complexes and dismantled 12 violent drug gangs. Almost a hundred people were arrested that year. Good stuff.

So what do we hope to accomplish.

We want our house to be a hospitality house full of love in this place of such corruption and death (not necessarily dead people, but just dead futures for too many). We want to know our neighbors and just  become part of the community on Beekman Ave. We want to treat the people with respect and worth. I’m hoping we will have kids over for game nights and tutoring nights, and friends from the neighborhood over for dinner. One room, the hang out room, is full of games and books. People can bring a book in exchange for another (obviously people who don’t have books can just take one). And already, we are putting together a closet with our friends extra clothes and toys. I made the point that we shouldn’t just be handing out stuff (because I’ve seen how that can go wrong), but let’s say we have our neighbor over for tea and she’s sad that she can’t buy her daughter a sweater and it’s getting cold, that’s when we would be like, “well, I have some of my sister’s clothes that she’s outgrown, maybe they would fit your daughter.”

Please pray

I want to be a part of this community so badly but I don’t know if it’s the right thing for me right now. It’s my dream to live in a place like this, but i don’t feel at peace with the decision to live there. I am having trouble putting my finger on why. I don’t know if it’s the danger that’s scaring me, or that my parents don’t want me living there, or that it’s just where i’m supposed to be right now, but it’s really frustrating. I’ve moved all my stuff in, and right now the plan is to hang around a lot, maybe sleep there a few nights, and get a better feel for the neighborhood, and everything. Tomorrow I’m going to church at Promiseland, a few blocks away from us. Pray that I can figure out what I’m supposed to do.

“I don’t think of it as working for world peace. I think of it as just trying to get along in a really big strange family.”

“Justice at its best is love correcting all that stands against love.” – MLK Jr.

On Me…

Many years ago I figured out where I am happiest. It’s Africa. I don’t know if it will always be Africa, but right now it’s Africa. This summer’s experience in Kenya reinforced what I knew to be true but did not want to believe. I had to return home to learn more before committing fully to a life of service abroad. I know I have more to learn before I can go back. I want to accomplish the most that I can in this short life.

As George Bernard Shaw said, “This is the true joy in life … being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one … being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy … I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. For the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It’s a sort of splendid torch which I’ve got to hold up for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing on to future generations.”

A year ago, I figured out where I want to live while I’m in the US preparing to go elsewhere. I believe we are all made to live in fellowship and close communion with each other and we ARE our brother’s keepers. What does that mean? Well, according to Jesus it means that we are supposed to love our neighbors as ourselves. Except it’s more than that too, it’s putting others needs and desires before my own. Always thinking about what is in the best interest of others- even at my own expense. So that’s what I’m trying to do with my life. I know it sounds difficult, but sit for a second and think of how different the world would be if everyone loved everyone and everyone put everyone else’s best interest first. Wow. What would that look like, and would it even work? That’s what I want to find out.

How does this translate into every day things? Well, if I want food to eat, I have to be just as concerned that all my neighbors have food too. Or shelter, a good education, safety, loving relationships, you name it. Some people think a neighbor is someone living next door, or in the neighborhood, or even in the country. I like to think of the world as one place, and the human population as one big family where we are all brothers and sisters just trying to get along.

So, I figured I’d go to the poorest area I could find. Well, with three friends, I found it! Mott Haven, located in the South Bronx, is less than 20 miles from my home in Rye, New York. More than 50% live below the poverty line. More than 35% of them are children. The idea was to move in, live very simply, make many friends, really get to know the people and become a part of the community, all while going to school. Why? We can accomplish more that way. By living in the community, and becoming part of the community, we aren’t just coming in and saying, “ok, here I am, let me help!” and then packing up and leaving a few hours, days, or weeks later. Who am I to help these people? I have NO idea what they really need or what I have to offer. Sure, I can do the things like tutor, or serve at a soup kitchen, but there’s no way to know about the long-term effects of said help without joining the people and becoming one of them.

Here are some examples from around the world to illustrate what I mean. In the winter of 2002, I handed out Christmas gifts to the children living in the garbage dumps of Mexico. These kids live in cardboard boxes or abandoned cars, and live on what they can salvage of other people’s trash. So, I go and hand out whatever I have to give them- little toys and food. The kids and the mothers are thrilled. They give us hugs while murmuring “gracias” over and over again with tears in their eyes. Sounds great, right? Wrong- really wrong. The 500 toys we handed out that Christmas had a negative effect on the community as a whole. While the kids went to bed happy that night, the father’s (the providers for the family) lost respect in the eyes of the children. We stepped in, took the father’s place, and gave the family’s more than the father’s could- thus usurping them of the power and respect father’s need to raise a family. There was an easier way we could’ve done this, and a better way for the community as a whole. The next year, the Christmas toys were kept at the community center, and a few nights before Christmas, the father’s came, bought their children Christmas gifts (for a very low price), wrapped the gifts themselves, and then gave them to their kids Christmas morning. Problem solved. Because Tim lives there all the time, he could see the effects of our “help” and make changes accordingly.

Very few people need hand outs- people need hands! Many times, handouts just reinforce the cycle of poverty and the power divisions between the haves and the have-not’s.

One missionary friend brings me stories from Honduras where do-gooders come in with toothbrushes and pens and pencils to build a school building. They hand out their gifts to the children; take lots of pictures, and leave. The long-term missionaries are left fixing the wreckage left behind. The next day kids whack each other with their new gifts and fight over them. The children who did not get any are upset and mad that God has been so unfair. Next time visitors come, the kids ask for more. If the new visitors are unprepared to give out gifts, the kids ask, “What’s wrong? Do you not love us? The visitors before gave us gifts.” If a mission team builds a long-term relationship with people, they must be careful NOT to reinforce a cycle of have and have-nots.

In Kenya, the kids on the side of the road have gotten so used to receiving sweets from visitors. Whenever you walk by, hundreds of kids run out screaming, “sweets, sweets, sweets please!” I look and smile and shake my head and keep walking.

What I’d like to do is live in one community for a few years before tackling social problems that right now, I am only beginning to understand (poverty, welfare, drugs, gang warfare, school drop-out rates, health issues, etc.). In the meantime, I just want to learn, learn, learn, and learn some more! And love all the people I meet.

Jillian, who is a total saint, spent the summer finding the perfect place. Our apartment is located at Beekman Avenue at 141^st street. Beekman’s notorious for being one of the deadliest and most dangerous streets in the city- and it’s a very short block! In the past few days I’ve spent time walking around and getting to know the people. The next entry will contain what I’ve learned from my conversations, observations, and the book “Amazing Grace” by Jonathan Kozol.

Right now I am in Burnside, Kentucky with my family visiting my grandparents. A few years ago, I counted up the weeks and months I had spent here as a child and came to the conclusion that it had to be at least two or three years. But, the times have changed. The long lazy summers of boating, waterskiing, tubing, VBS, southern cooking, and family and friends has been reduced to a short week of somewhat frenzied visits, and one or two fun-filled lake days.

Because we are only here for a week this year, I put my computer and phone away. I’ve decided that this age of communication and technology is really incredible, but it’s dangerous! Yes, dangerous. And not because someone might post negative pictures of me or because someone could stalk my every move and murder me. Don’t get me wrong, I think the benefits of technology far out-weigh the negatives. The internet, social networking, cell phones and digital v/cameras connect people and information around the world. But, for over-users like me, it’s a distraction from life. My aunt Rosemary calls it “the sin of over-communication.” When I’m using my phone, I am too distracted to fully focus on the people around me! I might be in touch with more people at once through texts and facebook, but I’m never fully present.

Same thing goes for when I try to follow the news. This year, I started waking up early to give myself time to read through the New York Times and the Drudge Report. At first, I was so excited (and dare I say it, proud) to be up on all the current events around the world. I could spend all afternoon reading and not get anything productive done. I thought what I was doing was VERY productive. But, I could only read so many articles talking about the rising price of oil, the declining economy, political conflicts, natural disasters, diseases, and political speeches before things started sounding pretty repetitive. What’s the point of knowledge without action? Who cares if I know Mugabe or Kibaki’s most recent activities or the death toll from the Tsunami if I’m not acting on what I’m learning. I’ve decided that while the news is important, it takes a back-seat to my life and my dreams.

I love the idea of always being connected, but it’s too much. I have enjoyed spending time with my immediate and extended family and friends without my cell phone/computer/the news distracting me. When I get home, I am going to keep my cell phone on vibrate for emergencies, but I will only pick up/read and respond to texts when I am alone or it’s important. No more dinners or hanging-out conversations where I apologize while I look down to text someone back. I can imagine this might be really frustrating for someone trying to get in touch with me, but it’s just the way it’s going to be. If I don’t text back immediately, I’m not trying to be rude- I just am busy! You’ll have to leave a message and I will call you back when I have time- same thing goes for e-mail.

Anyway, I am SO sore from water-skiing and tubing down on the lake so today I visited the local bookstore. It’s nothing like Barnes & Noble, but there was still a good plethora of books to look at. I let myself wander over to the self-help section. You know, the area of the bookstore with titles like, “Ten Steps to a New You!” “Hottest Sex Positions” “Why Men Cheat” or “The Secret to Happiness.” I looked specifically for books about young women and men making a difference (with an eye out for anything on Africa). There were plenty of books about losing weight, thinking positively, and how to live a better life, but I certainly did not find what I was looking for. Where are the books about changing the world? Three of my favorite books ever are Mountains Beyond Mountains, Three Cups of Tea, and Infidel. But those three are all about older folks, and the other ones about teens are fictional (Angel of Mercy). Please recommend any books you can think of! Anyway, after looking around the bookstore for one such book, I am thinking I should write my own. Of course I’m not a writer, and I’ve never really taken any advanced writing classes- but I could try. Here’s what it could say on the back:
I am on a quest to save the world.
It’s an impossible quest.
But the journey is unlike anything else.
I am not alone.
There are many who have gone before me.
Many who are with me now.
And many will come after I die.
It’s a hell of a trip.

What are the goals?
There’s only one-
Love.

Does the quest sound hard?
It’s easier than you might think.

Join me?

Haha, does it sound like something you might want to read- or is it just totally corny? I want to share my experiences and the stories of those I’ve met. I don’t care so much how. I just want to bring attention to real people with real need and the importance of LOVE/God. It could be through writing, video, photography, or presentations. All four would be cool too. And I want to encourage other people to follow their dreams. Is there anything else more important?

My sister (age 10) just picked up a book- How to Win Friends and Influence People. She really does not need any help with either of those BUT she just looked at me and said, “Julia, did you know, people are most interested in themselves? Not other people. I don’t think you knew that. You always tell me to do the opposite. Well, the New York telephone company made a detailed study of telephone conversations to find out which word is the most frequently used. It is the personal pronoun- I, I, I. It was used 3,900 times in five hundred telephone conversations. Think about it, when you look at a picture, who is the first person you look for?” I looked at her and was like oh, hm… because I was busy writing. Then, I made her repeat the whole thing again. I told her that’s true, but that it’s possible, and more fulfilling to think about others first. Ohhhhh man…

When you judge someone else, you do not speak anything to who they are, but only speak volumes about yourself. – not sure, maybe me?

There ain’t no use in right or wrong, a heart must go where it belongs. – Thriving Ivory

It’s one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it’s another to think that yours is the only path. – Paulo Coelho

I can’t accept that there are people around the world suffering needlessly. That’s the keyword- needlessly. Suffering is inevitable. Pain happens. We hurt. But, people dying from lack of clean water? From a curable disease? This is unnecessary! And it’s impossible for me to accept that “that’s just the way it is.” But, what I find unacceptable others might not think twice about. In fact, they might even think about it, shrug and say “that’s just the way it is.” Whatever they do or do not do to help out their brothers and sisters around the world, it is not my place to judge. And really, I don’t. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and if we end up going the same way, it’s beautiful, and if not, that can be beautiful too.

A friend and I discussed this a few weeks ago in London, and I couldn’t express this right, but now I think I’ve got it. The conversation started from talking about whether or not gender inequality is wrong. She argued that I cannot say what is “right” or “wrong” for anyone else, only myself, and that gender inequality is often a cultural thing. I disagreed, giving an example of a man who rapes his three-year old daughter, then brings her to the hospital because she won’t stop bleeding, and he doesn’t see anything wrong with his actions. He considers his daughter his property. I do not hesitate to say that the man raping his daughter is wrong. She asked who gets to decide then what’s wrong and right? I said God. And she said, “And if not God, who for those who don’t believe in God?” I said, “I don’t know, I guess they let themselves decide… maybe society? But, society can be wrong. Even if a community or society thinks something is right, if it’s not, then they’re wrong.” Talk about confusing myself! Anyway, that’s one of the reasons I believe there is a God. I feel very strongly that there are right and wrong things in this world.

Love is good, hate is bad- but that in no way means that things are black and white or that people are either good or bad. What about the abused child who grows up to abuse? The hungry who steal food? The husband who “murders” his terminally ill, suffering wife? I’m getting off topic, but my point is just that things are never black and white, we live in a world of not only gray, but a world of color! When we are approached by the unknown, it’s human nature to feel afraid (unless we condition ourselves otherwise- which is definitely possible). We want to label and categorize things to help ourselves understand and know how to act.

By embracing it, we’re opening our minds and seeing more in life.

I’m not really sure how we finished our conversation, but, this was where I was getting confused. She asked who gave me the right to judge other people, and I’m not sure I had anything to say back. But now I do, I don’t judge others. I judge other people’s actions, and not the people. Therefore I do not hesitate to say when someone is doing something wrong because it is their action I am judging. Killing someone because of their race, gender, sexual orientation – whatever, is wrong. Abusing kids- wrong. Of course not everything is as clear- but some things are. It’s time we stand up and talk about what’s wrong with our world, because things are not right, and we need to change.

Someone referred to me recently as a “voice for the voiceless.” That makes me cringe because every single person I’ve met has a voice. And a lot of them are using it. They are crying and singing and shouting. It is certainly not that they are voiceless, just that people aren’t listening.

Two elderly missionaries working in Kitale, Kenya were attacked with machettes and clubs earlier this week. John and Eloise Bergen came down a few months ago to work with children affected by the political violence. Together, they started a school in a refugee camp with Hope for the Nations. They plan to stay. John (70) was attacked outside his house, and Eloise (65) in her bathtub. Read the article for all the details (they are very disturbing), but in short, John suffered from multiple fractures of the skull, arms, leg and knee, while Eloise was raped, tied up and beaten. After the attackers left, Eloise freed herself and found her husband in the bushes nearby.

“I wasn’t conscious of overwhelming fear I was just conscious that I must do what they told me to do and I must remain calm and have my mind about me so I would know how to cut myself free and so that I could figure out how to save my husband.” – Eloise

Some of the Bergens children and grandchildren are flying to Nairobi to convince their loved ones to return to Canada. But the couple has already forgiven their attackers.

“Despite this terrifying ordeal, she and John have no plans to return home to Canada. This crisis has given her more strength to help those in need. “When I woke up this morning, I was picturing the time will come when John and I are physically well again,” Eloise said. “It’s in both of our hearts to go to the prison and tell them about our forgiveness.”

What makes two people, brutally attacked and left for dead, forgive? Only one thing. Love. God. Jesus. I know many who would call them crazy and stupid. I don’t. I think their stories are beautiful examples of God’s love. I pray that I will have the courage to make the same sacrifices. They will definitely be in my prayers as they recover and return to work.

Every time I sit down to write, I get a few words out before I am completely overwhelmed by all the things I want to say. I end up leaving the computer to do one of the other many things on my to do list. Here’s a glimpse: start my job, make a movie, visit with the twenty people staying at my house, write a book, organize a thousand pictures, find a house, move into that house… and the list goes on. But even though I am finding it really challenging, I know it is very important to update you. However, I must warn you, there will be many quotes of other people saying the things I am trying to say.

I really enjoyed my time in London. When I booked my ticket, I found it cheaper if I stopped over in London for a few days before going home. Having never seen Europe, and with a best friend offering a place to stay, I booked a six day layover. I also hoped London would ease the pain of leaving Kenya. I’m not sure it did anything about the pain, but London DID give me a chance to rest and reflect before heading back to New York. I planned to dedicate my short time in London to hard core exploring, learning, and sightseeing. Instead, I spent more time in the parks watching the clouds and drawing flowers. Every minute was wonderful. One morning I decided there were some things I really DID want to see so I found a “music of london” tour that went to all the important places of famous musicians (namely the Beatles). But, I missed it. So I started out on my own walking tour with a few long reading breaks in various parks. I chose my direction at random depending on the beat of the song playing. I was pleasantly surprised to find that London’s a really small city and I ended up accidentally wandering into exactly where I wanted to be. Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the Thames River, the old Shakespeare theatre, and more.

I’m missing Kenya, and I spent yesterday thinking about why I must go back. I’ve come to no conclusions, but I know it has everything to do with love. There’s love in the United States. I am surrounded by the love of my parents, my brothers, my sister, my friends, and my entire family. But it’s harder to find a different kind of love- the love of life. Every time I’ve returned home from a trip, I’ve told people about how these people have nothing, yet they are happier than my friends who have everything. But they are DYING, so how are they happy? Money does not bring always bring happiness. It’s not like that’s groundbreaking news to anyone. But can you have happiness with no money? I mean no money for food, shelter, clean water, or education.

Psychologists say poor people are happy because our happiness is a result of measuring our success to the success of those around us. In Westchester, there is no lack of very rich, successful people and everyone always has more “successful” people to compare themselves to. People are not happy. People certainly appear to be happy, because that’s part of the whole facade. People have three or four houses, memberships at multiple country clubs, more than a few cars, and outfits that could send a kid to the most expensive US colleges, but no love for life! Somewhere along the way we’ve lost it.

We are “slaves to luxury, to the appearance of luxury, to the appearance of the appearance of luxury. Slaves to a life not chosen, but which we have decided to live because someone has managed to convince us that it is all for the best. And so our identical days and nights pass, days and nights in which adventure is just a word in a book or an image on the television that is always on, and whenever a door opens, we say: ‘I’m not interested. I’m not in the mood.’ How could we possibly know if they we are in the mood or not if we have never tried? But there was no point in asking; the truth is we are afraid of any change that would upset the world we have grown used to… I know that freedom has a high price, as high as that of slavery; the only difference is that you pay with pleasure and a smile, even when that smile is dimmed by tears.” (The Zahir, 10)

That’s from a book I’m reading right now by Paulo Coelho. He brings up the question of happiness, and can we ever find true happiness. I agree with his thinking that the only way to achieve happiness is by fully embracing the divine energy that is Love. This leads to joy- which is a kind of happiness so pure that it withstands tragedy and sadness. But, it’s not easy, and it’s really not easy in New York. We are so busy and distracted from the simple things. It takes a consistent effort to remember to relax and enjoy life every day. It’s so difficult to remember to thank God for the gift of life every single day we wake up. If you haven’t stopped reading yet, I apologize, but I’m going to keep going.

My experience in Kenya was in no way an easy one. The things I saw on a daily basis were heartbreaking and frustrating. But, while I was there, I felt such a peace. I lived in the moment- I celebrated the moment, and I never took a minute for granted. Spending a few hours every evening in the hospital made me constantly aware of my brothers and sisters dying around me. While I was in a place where death is REAL and present (it’s real for everyone in the world but in the Western World we have ways of delaying it, hiding it, and forgetting about it), my life has meaning. I joined an amazing team of people who work every day so that others may have basic needs for survival and that makes me live, really live. I mean, loving every minute, every second of every day. There’s no room for sadness, doubts, nothing; there’s just a great love for life. “It’s as if there was a divine light shining in the midst of that worst of all possible situations. Fear exists before and after, but not while you are living it. You see men at their very limit, capable of the most heroic of actions and the most inhumane. The world has meaning. Total power or sacrificing themselves for a cause gives meaning to their life. They are capable of limitless love, because they no longer have anything to lose. We’re always at war with death, and we know that death will win in the end. In armed conflicts or developing countries, this is simply more obvious, but the same thing happens in daily life. We can’t allow ourselves the luxury of being unhappy all the time. Pure, absolute love must flow through our bodies and spread around us. The love of God manifested – is shown through a man loving his neighbor or one sacrificing his or her life for another. If a man or woman loves his or her neighbour, he or she will love himself or herself. If he loves himself, then everything returns to its proper place. History changes. “

I have so much more to say, but it will have to wait. All quotes are from Paulo Coelho!

“It is the pleasure of searching and the pleasure of the adventure. You are nourishing something that’s very important-your dreams. We must never stop dreaming. Dreams provide nourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body. Many times in our lives we see our dreams shattered and our desires frustrated, but we have to continue dreaming. If we don’t, our soul dies… …The Good fight is the one we fight because our heart asks it of us… …The Good fight is the one that’s fought in the name of our dreams. When we’re young our dreams first explode inside us with all of their force, we are very courageous, but we haven’t yet learned how to fight. With great effort, we learn how to fight, but by then we no longer have the courage to go into combat. So we turn against ourselves and do battle within. We become our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams were childish, or too difficult to realize, or the result of our not having known enough about life. We kill our dreams because we are afraid to fight the good fight.

The first symptom of the process of killing our dreams is lack of time… The Busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The Truth is, they are afraid to fight the good fight…

The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the good fight.

And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams-we have refused to fight the good fight. When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being. We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves…What we sought to avoid in combat-disappointment and defeat-came upon us because of our cowardice. And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breath, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from out certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of Sunday afternoons.” The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho P. 58

Song: Colin Hay – Waiting for my real life to begin

I’ve made it safely to London. Friday at 5am, I left Tenwek by matatu. Petra, Patti and I arrived at Patti’s house around 11am. We spent the day bopping around the city, but made sure to fall asleep EARLY. Yesterday morning, Patti’s mom drove me to the airport. I sat next to a man from the Lake Victoria region who is practicing to be a social worker in London. The 8 hour trip never seems so long when you make friends!

Finding Chelsea wasn’t too hard. I wrongly assumed I’d get a chance to check the internet for an e-mail or fb message with the address on it. Even at the airport the internet wouldn’t work down in the security/baggage claim. So, I grabbed all my stuff and headed down to the tube. I looked at the  map to figure out how to get to Brixton. Carrying all my stuff was the hard part- and definitely a reason to get luggage with wheels!! I arrived in Brixton and asked for my way to the nearest internet cafe. The man behind the desk laughed when I walked in (I mean it’s definitely at least 60-70 pounds of stuff). I found a phone and called her cell phone, and sent an e-mail home telling my mom I’d arrived safely. She and Molly were two streets down and found me pretty quickly

I will definitely be updating some more when I get home. Just reflections. I’m looking forward to seeing my family, but, I did not want to leave Kenya. That’s usually true anywhere I go, but this time it was a different feeling. This time, I realized I could stay.

This morning was our last recording day. I have about 15 songs now saved away to bring back. I don’t know the first thing about recording music, but I used Apple’s very easy software GarageBand and they turned out OK. As everyone sang and danced around me, I desperately clinged on to my last few minutes with my beloved friends and walked out of the office with tears in my eyes.

Right into a room filled with the entire TCHD office. TCHD surprised me with send off chai and cake time to say thank you. A few spoke about me and my time here and the impact I’ve had on their lives. And I just cried and cried and cried. I kept trying to say something back- but I just ended up crying some more. Eventually I did, but there was no way to explain how they have impacted me.

My time here has been short. Five weeks is definitely not enough time, but neither is a lifetime. I’m using some equation that might not make sense unless you’re in my head:

5 weeks = not enough time, a lifetime = not enough time. Not enough time= not enough time. 5 weeks = a lifetime = exactly enough time.

Do you get it? I learned a LOT, and I plan to go home and do a lot more. Although I do not know what the future holds, I would love to come back for a lot more than five weeks.

All that said, my work here is NOTHING compared to what they do every single day!!! I felt so unworthy of their praises. THEY are the heroes. Not me. I may have “magic fingers” that can connect them to people around the world and teach them how to reach more people with the use of technology but they are the ones devoting every day to improving others lives. When I say they are my heroes, I do not use the term lightly. I am going right to our best idea of hero. “In brief: a hero goes far and wide through great peril, achieves his goal and brings back with him the fruits of victory for the good of society or humanity. Often the journey entails a passage into an other-world in which the hero represents order amid chaos, virtue vs. vice, in short the culture of Man vs. untamed natural (or preternatural) forces.” I will not begin to shorten everything TCHD does into this “hero” formula, but if you’ve read anything about what they do- you will see how everyone fits the hero definition.

Jane had me crying the most. She spoke about my “freeness” and “openness” explaining how I have become a great friend to her. She said she would be honored to call me her daughter. Then, she asked me to be her first child. She already has four children, but I would be the oldest, or the “first born” as she put it. I gladly accepted and gave up on trying to wipe away my tears.

TCHD is a community that works to build up other communities. But they do it in such an amazing, beautiful way- by being a coherent community first among themselves.

The new covenant is a community-building, mustard-seed covenant of forgiveness, love and hope in which the temples are people and where God dwells in the midst of them during their gatherings for prayer, worship and mutual edification. In the new covenant people are taught by God and have the law written on their hearts as new beings and transformed creations who are connected to God in the depths of their spirituality (Hebrews 8:8-13).

Anyway, so, what have I learned? Well, I still have never read or seen the LOTR series, but again I will use Frodo as a role-model and quotes from the book (someday I hope to actually read it- I could be pretty wrong, but either way, just use what I am saying and not the rest of the story). I will put it in terms of a quest that I am on because it’s the easiest way to do it.

It’s a quest undertaken out of love. It is very simple really- to save the world. I see now how that can and probably will be at my own expense- even the expense of my life. I know that I am wholly inadequate for the job, but I will just do what I can, try to find a way, and go as far as my mind and body will allow. All of that I already knew, but now I know it more. Working with people here at Tenwek has shown me first hand that I am not alone on this quest- many have gone before me and many are with me now. I do not know the way, but I know there are many paths for different people to take.

A great dread fell on him, as if he was awaiting the pronouncement of some doom that he had long foreseen and vainly hoped might after all never be spoken. An overwhelming longing to rest and remain at peace… filled all his heart. At last with an effort he spoke, and wondered to hear his own words, as if some other will was using his small voice.
“I will take [up the quest],” he said, “though I do not know the way.” (324)

And, I do not know how Frodo’s journey turns out, but I know I will fail. There is no way for me to “save the world” but that doesn’t change my quest to spread love around the world. This love is the divine energy source of the world- God. Knowing that I am devoting my life to a mission I can never accomplish could be considered daunting- but I think it’s more freeing.

The special morning was SUCH a humbling experience. I did not deserve the attention they gave me. I think that’s why I was really crying. Imagine Mother Theresa thanking you for visiting Calcutta during your summer break, or a prince washing the dirt off your feet. Okay wow, it’s 1am and I have such a busy day tomorrow. On to my actual day!

After that, Josh and I joined Reuben to first Jane’s home, then on to Kabosam in the Sigor district (about 40 km away- WE COULD SEE TANZANIA). First, we went to a school and met with the teachers and grandparents/adoptive parents of orphans. I interviewed them, and got to learn exactly how “Equipping the churches” works (they equip adults to take in the orphans- by giving a cow to the family or paying for school fees or uniforms). I met a grandfather who cares for eleven orphans. I met other grandparents who take care of two or three kids- but eleven, wow! And again, they thanked me for coming. From there, we went to a mama’s house and saw the cows and crops and stuff. We went to like 6 different places today, so I can really only write the most memorable ones. We stopped at Reuben’s village and met his father and family. His father has three wives, so it was kind of confusing to keep track of everyone- but they were preparing for a party and had just slaughtered a goat. They really do use EVERY part of it, and I looked at Reuben and was like, “Reuben, I trust you enough to tell me if it’s rude for me to decline this.” And he said, “yes I would definitely tell you, you do not have to eat it, someone else will.” I still TRIED because Josh was eating his. We sprinkled salt on it. My first bite (and it’s not like this is my first time with foreign food- it’s just I could actually tell what the intestines were and stuff)- felt like when you buckle in for a scary roller coaster (kind of what it’s like watching a baby being born). I chewed that first bite for ten minutes before swallowing, and then pushed my bowl in Reuben’s direction. From there we went to a few more places, then to a satellite office of Tenwek where they provide hospital care. It’s much smaller than Tenwek, but people can still receive care and emergencies are accepted at all times. Theeen, we went to an all girls school. I had such a great time getting to talk to the teachers and the girls, and Josh got to join in on a game of volleyball. What was supposed to be a “quick stop” turned into a two hour visit. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, AND at Reuben’s house by Tenwek to meet his kids and wife. Serious off-roading the whole day.

We got back around 8pm, and I headed down to the Gainey’s, but then left to go up to see the mothers. Sarah Baskin and Abby went up before they left this morning, but I hadn’t been up all day. I didn’t have anything with me (like my computer for music), so I just sat and talked with them. I really took it all in as we sang Hakuna Mungo Kama Wawa. I really wanted to stop in at the nursery, to say goodnight to the nurses and babies. I walked in and there was a new baby (just born) with fetal hydrocephalus. I have seen babies born and babies die, but I have NEVER seen anything like that baby. Daniel explained to me how it occurs because the cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) in the ventricles of the brain do not drain. The brain then expands and expands and the bones grow with it- the only reason the baby is still alive is because he’s a baby. If that happened to an adult they would die almost instantly. To give you somewhat of an idea- this babies head is about the same size as the rest of the whole body. Anyway, I got to hold some babies that were crying to get them to stop crying (which they did). And I decided with the nurses that I should be a professional baby holder.

Okay, that’s just some of my day. And I don’t think I ever posted anything for yesterday. It’ll have to come later.

Please pray for my family.

I am down to three days. On Friday, Petra, James, Patti and I are heading up to Mount Montigo to watch the sunrise, then to Bomet to catch a matatu to Nairobi. We are sleeping at Patti’s house, and then I have to be at the airport at 7am Saturday morning. It’s strange!! Six weeks is the longest time I’ve ever been in another country- and I thought by the end I’d be ready to go back, but I’m not. I feel like I’m just getting settled here. In the first few weeks things were kind of calm. I was busy from 8-5 every day, but it was work I enjoyed and I definitely felt comfortable saying, “oh well, we can do [whatever] tomorrow that we don’t get done today.” And I loved saying that. Because everyone is always on the hospital compound, people are always able to be found and quick pick-up soccer games really can be pushed to the next day.

AH! Anyway this morning I recorded music. We’ve got nine songs recorded. Tomorrow Richard is bringing his keyboard, and I’m going to try to get a guitar up there. I’m really excited to have these songs in Kipsigis. Swahili you can buy anywhere- Kipsigis I’m not so sure about! Then, it was all computer stuff. After lunch, I donned scrubs and headed up to the nursery and the mothers ward. We spent a good amount of time there. I had a really tight schedule but I ended up staying longer because everyone wanted to sing. There just isn’t enough time in the day! Good news about the website. It’s still not up, but I did get to move it from TCHD’s computer to the one up at the hospital that can connect to the satellite or whatever. I would love to see it uploaded before I leave.

After doing that I headed down to the OR. Wasn’t too busy. Tomorrow I am determined to see a c-section. I talked to the head-nurse today and I’m gonna check in with her in the morning. This evening we all took a wonderful walk down to the waterfalls. Quick dinner at about 7, and then back up to the hospital until 930. I just got in from playing games down at the wallyball court.

I can’t believe I’m going home!!! I am so excited to see my family and friends, but it’s just a little unreal. These last three days are going to be intense- filled to the brim with last minute stuff that really could be a full-time job for anyone who wants to take it! Chelsea, when I meet you in London, I will hopefully be totally used up and exhausted.

I am trying not to get frustrated. I do not want to have any regrets, and looking back and saying, “I shouldn’t have taken that afternoon off to rest” will not do anything now. It’s just- there’s so much still to do!! Even if I had a whole lifetime here- I couldn’t love all the people I want to love. I wouldn’t be able to make everyone smile and ease everyone’s pain. That’s an awkward way to put it, but what I’m getting at is that I MUST keep the higher goal in mind.

And this is all that I can say right now. I know it’s not much. And this is all that I can give. Yeah, this is my everything. I didn’t notice You were standing here. I didn’t know that, that was You holding me. I didn’t notice You were cry’n too..

And now I will show you the most excellent way:
If I speak in tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give up all I possess and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind; it does not envy; it does not boast; it is not proud. It is not rude; it is not self-seeking; it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will pass away; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.
– I Corinthians, chapter 13

The entire law is summed up in a single command, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
- Galatians 5:14 (NIV)

Sorry I haven’t had time to update! This weekend was very very busy. Saturday morning I slept in (until 8am, woot) and during the day I joined in on a surgical conference hosted by Tenwek. There were slides of the most interesting cases seen around Africa (but I only saw a few). We also talked about the post-election violence and discussed future emergency procedures. Here are some random things I wrote down.

• Most people perished before reaching the hospital. People were burned inside their homes or were killed in the streets from hand to hand injuries.
• “Receiving victims is not enough, we need to speak out. We need to educate the politicians on health care!” – Someone
• The numbers of injured and dead are higher than reported by the media (although I do not know how much higher) for two reasons, 1. Only the bodies identified are reported and 2. People who were buried alive were not counted. Only now are the graves starting to be found and people buried alive a few months ago are being dug up.
• El Doret sent a distress call, but no one could travel on the roads so it was impossible to reach them. Someone from Nakuru suggested that we need to be more prepared with government and military security to fly doctors into the hardest hit areas during the next emergency* (follow star below). Someone from Tenwek explained that we had done just that. John Wright was in touch with the MP’s and had military personnel escort those who needed to be evacuated (Kikuyu’s) with armed vehicles to a helicopter. Have I mentioned how incredible he is?

*I cannot say enough how amazing it is to be surrounded by people who risk their lives and sanity to serve the Lord and those around them. I say sanity because living here- well, just read my experiences- and I’m not even in the hospital most of the week!!

Other parts were way over my head, but I still learned a lot. At dinner, it was cool to meet people from Nakuru and Kijabe, and hear their stories. I also got some quality soccer playing time with the White boys- although definitely not enough!

Spent most of today in the hospital with Sarah Baskin and Abby. I borrowed their camera and we went up to the nursery to hold the babies and take pictures. I really would love to be a professional photographer but I still have so much to learn! It’s difficult because I do not know how to say, “Can I please take your picture” in Swahili nor Kipsigis. So, it’s like a five minute game of charades every time- because I really do not want to be rude and just snap it! There is certainly a picture paradox and I’m still trying to figure it out. I don’t want to be the rich white tourist just walking around snapping pictures around the hospital- but at the same time, a part of why I’m here is to bring back stories and share with people what is going on. I think the five weeks here really has allowed me to get to know the mothers, the children in the ped’s ward, and their families. When I go in and I ask for a picture (I waited until this week to ask) I actually have a reason, a name, and a story to go with their face. But it’s hard! The image of a tourist leaning out of a bus with a camera to photograph the almost naked, starving children walking along the road barefoot, not in school, carrying dirty water for who knows how many miles- it just makes me cringe. I don’t want to be that person.

But I can’t figure it out!!! I will write more tomorrow when I’m not so tired!

I did just want to say that I am feeling much better than Friday. I really needed some down time- and although it was only a few hours of late night card games and soccer+wallyball- it certainly was just what I needed. Hanging out with Josh, the Champions, and Tia has really helped. Someone asked how people do it- deal with the harsh realities here, and not go crazy- and this is how- being crazy with friends and family and LOVE. That’s really it. AND the Whites are back, so I showed up at their door to return some DVD’s yesterday morning and was like, “hey, we met on a canoe in New Hampshire…” We figured out it was 1997 to be exact! More on surviving in Africa and photographing and everything tomorrow!!!

Yesterday was a bit hectic. I spent the day out at an immunization clinic with Tia Patrick and Josh Roose. Before the babies arrived, I learned to drive stick shift (like the car gears) up a mountain. We spent most of the time in gear one because there simply was no road. We took a quick trip to see a hot spring. A hot spring is exactly that- a hot spring- but the water actually comes out of the ground really HOT!! And you can see it bubble up out of the dirt! I thought it was awesome. Yesterday feels like a year ago, so I’ll keep it short. We stopped at a grocery store on the way home and treated ourselves to some ice cream. As we walked in, a guy greeted us with “MZUNGUS WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” (The equivalent of, “WHITE PEOPLE, what are you doing here?) but in a very friendly way.

Today was a long day. Parts of it were awesome so I’ll start with those. The clinic was held at a health facility in Kanusin (in the Sotik District). The community built the health center and handed it over to the government to run, but every year the government stalls on opening it and providing services. There is one government staffed nurse but she is not equipped well. TCHD will continue to give out immunizations and encourage the people to live healthy until the government gets their act together. Playing with the babies is always fun, and I learned a lot about giving immunizations and even got to give a few (the oral polio ones- I just prepared the shots for tetanus, whooping cough, dypheria, hemophyillis, influenza B, and hepatitis B).

Playing with the babies is always fun. Apparently every mom complains about this, but I swear, these babies would smile and laugh and I’d take the camera out and they’d suddenly stop. It wasn’t that they were scared of it- I think they would just prefer to eat it. A mentally retarded girl who did not want to get her shots really hit me hard. Both physically and emotionally. Through Florence, I found out from her grandmother that her mother had died giving birth to her at Tenwek Hospital, and there had been a month period where no family members had been there to take care of her. As I helped hold her for her vaccines, I couldn’t help but think of the babies up in the nursery right now, and of Joseph. The doctors and nurses are incredible people- and they really do love the babies, but of course being motherless for those first few months will have an impact.

There was also a mother who brought in a boy with a deformed foot (the left foot was turned all the way in). I explained that we can fix that at Tenwek, and it’s a very simple operation although there are follow-up operations. She explained that would be too “expensive” and it would take away from her other children. It’s weird talking to moms here who look my age or younger, but have four children.

Jane, a woman at TCHD I’ve grown really close with and the leader for Maternal Child Health, came with us today. It was such a privilege getting to talk to her about all the cultural things and what it means to be a leader here. She clarified all the different tribes. I don’t know about the spelling and I don’t have enough of a connection to check, but the three main groups are the Bantus, Nylotes, and Cushites.

The Bantus include the Kukuyu’s and Kisi, while the Nylotes include the Kalenjin, Luo, and Maasai. The Cushites live along the coast. During all the violence a few months ago, the Nylotes (Kalenjin’s, Luo’s, Maasai) and Cushites came together to fight the majority- the Kukuyu’s. Now, fighting is going on between the Kipsigis (sub-tribe under Kalenjin) and the Maasai. Some of it’s political, but it’s also about land and cows. “Blood is thicker than water” is how Jane puts it.

Because of the funeral this weekend for the MP and assistant MP who died in the crash, the clinic was slow. We listened the whole day to songs and speeches and family members talking about Labosa- and it was really really interesting. On the drive back, we ended up at the funeral (just one day of it). We had seen a helicopter fly over while we were working and one of the guys told me that’s probably what it was, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Thousands of people were out paying respects in the rain. Cameras weren’t allowed, but the nurses told me I would be safe as long as I took pictures in the car. We watched as they loaded the body back into the helicopter (we arrived at the end) and the people scattered as the helicopter took off. Everyone watched it disappear out of the valley. The amnesty issue definitely came up- people want youths arrested for the violence following the elections pardoned. They’ve been sitting in jail without trail for months now. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I agree with both, “someone who cheated a whole country is still allowed to be president, but kids who protested that cheating are put in jail, that’s not right.” BUT, at the same time- this was violence that killed, that raped and looted and displaced 300,000 people. There’s no way that can go unpunished.

I really want to go to the funeral tomorrow, but there will be ten+ thousand people there, and I doubt I’ll see anything. Also, there’s a medical conference here and some of it is devoted to how the violence affected the hospital and the types of cases we saw then. So, I think I’m going to do that.

After the funeral, I don’t know what happened but I got into a really weird mood. We got stuck in Bomet as the thousands spread out. We kept letting more people get in the car for the ride back to Tenwek. In Kenya, even if you have 12 people crammed in the back, there’s “always room for one more.” It was stuffy, wet and cold, and it was difficult to breathe because some petroleum had spilled. I was wedged in between John, Gilbert, and Clement, and the bar had broken on the top of the truck that we used to hold on- so we were all going everywhere (my neck is VERY sore).

I knew my attitude was in serious trouble when I prayed that we wouldn’t pick up an elderly woman who was limping (and we didn’t). The “New Yorker” in me started showing through crystalized in the worst form. As we bumped down the road to Tenwek, I found myself thinking for the first time, “what am I DOING here?!” Waking up in the London airport, and the first morning here was a strange, “wait, who am I again?” experience because I was around the world totally alone. Waking up to the smell of Josh and his father cooking pancakes, eggs, and bacon made me think in my dream-like state that I was actually home in New York. But today’s feeling was something totally different. It was second thoughts about coming. I didn’t have second thoughts when I (lost my luggage, ate a bug, woke up almost choking entangled in a mosquito net, forgot toilet paper+hand sanitizer when using a latrine, saw a baby die, watched a hemophiliac all but bleed to death, etc., etc.,- pick any of those or any of the other million new experiences that might make me think twice). Now, I almost think it comical that it was the traffic that ticked me off.

I remained silent the whole trip and I think everyone just thought I was tired- but in my head I was reeling about personal space, and why we stopped for drinks when we could’ve driven out of the city before everyone reached us and created traffic. It just wasn’t good, and after an hour of stop and go “traffic” (traffic isn’t even a word here I think- but today it was). I came back and did everything I could to just re-focus. I showered, put on totally new clothes and socks, and sat down for some quality me time. I set my books down on my bed, grabbed some chocolate and turned on some good music until dinner.

I was flipping through my iPod today and the song God Bless America came on. It made me so mad- not the song itself, but America and how self-obsessed we are. What would we think if other country’s did what we do. What if France touted “God Bless France” everywhere. “God Bless EVERYONE” sounds better to me. I can be very patriotic and there’s something about an American Flag, and the values we stand for, and the people who have fought and died to make those values a reality that always brings tears to my eyes, but the American Dream as I’ve seen it lived out in Westchester is not any dream.
More on that another night though.

I’m feeling better now and I’m looking forward to tomorrow. A day like today reminds me that I cannot do this alone, but only with God’s strength.

Here’s an article from the paper today.

Our sense of fatalism has risen since the General Election Story by RASNA WARAH Publication Date: 6/16/2008

CIVIL CONFLICTS AND WARS have a way of making one aware of one’s own mortality; they also prompt people to re-evaluate their life choices. I wouldn’t be surprised if many Kenyans, having witnessed the violence that engulfed the country early this year, have started to think about whether the choices they have made in their lives were the right ones. For many, including myself, the Kenya I knew and loved has become an alien and unpredictable world, where monsters lurk in the dark and where rage erupts violently every five years. It is hard to be optimistic when you know that the perpetrators of the most brutal atrocities and the beneficiaries of the most banal forms of corruption will never face justice. This sense of pessimism, cynicism and fatalism has become pervasive among Kenyans; I have yet to meet anyone who thinks that the future of Kenya is on an upward spiral. The launch of Vision 2030 and the so-called “pro-poor” Budget last week did little to lift our spirits. This pessimism, cynicism and fatalism were reflected in the words of a Kenyan who chose not to vote in last week’s by-elections. When asked by a BBC reporter why he was not casting his vote this time round, he responded: “Because last time I voted, people died.” Many people I know have also stopped reading or watching the news. Stories of unresolved mega-financial scandals remind us that justice is an elusive concept in Kenya and that if you are poor or unconnected, you have little chance of obtaining it. Take the case of the middle aged man from Bungoma, who was jailed for five years with hard labour last week for stealing a mobile phone worth Sh8,500. On the same day, we learned that the Government had allegedly set aside Sh4 billion to pay phantom companies involved in a major procurement scam. Then there are all those stories of people who die needlessly — in matatu accidents — because of medical negligence or as victims of trigger-happy robbers. This, however, does not mean that Kenyans prepare for death in any meaningful or practical way. Because we shun writing wills, funerals become battle grounds for relatives of the dead, all keen to inherit a piece of the assets they have left behind. Sometimes, the body remains in a mortuary for months as relatives fight for the right to bury it. Lately though, funerals have turned into campaigning tools by politicians. It is as if by dying, the dead offer politicians a platform to promote their agendas. It is quite sickening, really, watching a politician make a political speech at a funeral as mourners hold back their tears. THE LINE BETWEEN WHAT’S SACRED and what is political has increasingly become blurred in Kenya, just as it was in the Moi days when television stations followed the President to church every Sunday and focused their cameras on him and his entourage the whole time. (For some reason, no television cameras follow Muslim politicians to mosques on Fridays.) What’s worse, instead of listening to the sermon, praying and leaving the church to spend time with their families, politicians use up the congregation’s time by giving political speeches in church. They arrogantly believe that the word of God is synonymous with their words. At funerals, they turn what should be sombre, reflective moments into dramas where they are the main characters. Surprisingly, the clergy, the pastors and the priests don’t think that there is anything wrong with this. In fact, they relish the thought of giving a sermon which is televised and of having prominent politicians among their congregation, even if some of these politicians have links with mass looting, corruption and other crimes. In a secular democracy, which Kenya claims to be, the line between Church and State must be made clear and distinct. The erasing of this line not only makes a mockery of our so-called democracy and religious diversity, it opens up a Pandora’s box of the type witnessed in Iran in the 1980s, when mullahs ruled the nation. The good news is that few Kenyans are willing to take politicians at their word any more. For the first time, an increasing number of Kenyans are beginning to see politicians for what they are: mere mortals who are as flawed as the next guy. This awareness has been extremely empowering for many Kenyans, who no longer rely on politicians to deliver public goods to them: rather, they seek to create just institutions that would out-last any single politician. If the conflict early this year taught us anything it was this: we must grab our destiny in our own hands and turn Kenya into the country we would like to live in without depending on our politicians to deliver it to us. Yaani, the country is too precious to be left in the hands of self-serving politicians.

I went to watch surgery today but the machine that makes the oxygen is broken. I think there’s something like two oxygen machines here, one was already broken, but I think the other one broke too. A man died yesterday because he didn’t have the oxygen. They try to schedule patients accordingly. So, this afternoon- there were no cases and all I got to see was a lymph node biopsy. They are going to send the little pieces of the lymph nodes to another town for testing to see if it’s cancerous.

Then I went by the nursery. The little baby I mentioned before (whose mother died two weeks ago)’s grandmother is here now to take care of her. She still can’t leave the hospital because she only weighs 900 grams and there are complications. (That’s about 1.98 pounds). They’ve had babies survive at 750 grams, so we’re just going to keep praying! I saw beautiful pictures of a friend’s new baby, and I was floored. I’ve spent so much time in the nursery with sick babies, I forgot what a healthy one looked like!! This is really needless to say, but the difference between 2 and 10 pounds is AMAZING. So, today I went in search of the healthy babies. I found them accidentally. I thought there were only two rooms to the nursery, but there are three. Right now there’s an infection going around, so the sick ones are separated from the some-what sick ones. So I was in the some-what sick room and I heard my name coming out of this other room that I didn’t know existed. I walked in- BEAUTIFUL, HEALTHY BABIES. I almost cried from excitement!

Three of the quadruplets are still alive. 1) Can you imagine carrying four babies around? 2) And not knowing it?!!! They don’t have the prenatal care/technology available, so you think you are giving birth to one baby- and four come out- WOW. The prognosis for the triplets is not as good. The one remaining is really really sick, and watching her mother in there today was heartbreaking. This sounds insensitive, but I was with their mother today, and all I could think was, “Does she still have to pay the bill?” I can’t imagine having your three babies die, and then still paying!!! Maybe that was my way of avoiding the pain- thinking about the money part of it, but ach. For some that means selling the family cow or goat, or bringing the deed to the land. However, there is a needy patient fund, but it’s only for truly needy people. If you’d like to donate money to it PLEASE let me know. What happens is that patients will come in, and the hospital does not refuse care to anyone regardless of ability to pay. However, people are still expected to pay (it’s nothing like the cost in the US- and it’s not like Tenwek is MAKING any money from the patients). While the patient stays in the hospital, relatives go sell the cow and consult with relatives and friends in the community. Here, the custom is such that, if you have a neighbor with money- it is perfectly reasonable to ask them to help with a son in the hospital for say, a crushed skull (today apparently a little boy came in and a tree had fallen on him). And it is expected that the neighbor help. The system is not perfect- patients get stuck here for weeks while their family tries to come up with the money- and their bill goes up the whole time (for food and a bed). There has to be a better way. There are some benefits though, it brings communities together and it means Tenwek’s not falling into the trap of just providing free help.

Tomorrow Tia and Josh are coming with me to one of the busiest clinics. I can’t wait. A whole day spent making babies cry with shots. I really am excited!!

My mom just informed me anyone can access this blog from google. I’m not surprised, when it asked if I wanted to block search engines I said no. I want people to be able to find me (if they are looking) and see what I’m doing and thinking. I realize this leaves me vulnerable, but I’m okay with that. I’m also aware that some things I say might be ignorant, stupid, and simply wrong, but I am trying my best and praying that I don’t mislead anyone. While I’ve been here I’ve been trying to learn as much as possible, and unfortunately there’s no way to pass it all along. Reflecting every day has been really good for me. It’s a practice I must remember when I go home. By reflecting, I see more of what God has to teach me. But, I do get e-mails saying, “are you sure you want to say that!? Maybe you should take off that part…” Yes. I’m sure. This is my trip, and these are my experiences- as real and as raw as they are. Living life holding nothing back is too fun, and I just don’t have the time to go through and edit everything. Also, maybe people will learn from my mistakes.

When I wake in the morning, I want to blow into pieces. I want more than just ok, more than just ok. When I’m up with the sunrise, I want more than just blue skies. I want more than just ok, more than just ok. I’m not giving up, giving up, not backing down. More than fine, more than bent on getting by.

Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead. Yesterday is a promise that you’ve broken. Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes, this is your life and today is all you got now, and today is all you’ll ever have. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t close your eyes. This is your life. Are you who you want to be? This is your life are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose. (Switchfoot of course!)

I spent the day out with the Food Security team over by Narok. Lots of traveling, but definitely worth it. TCHD goes into a community, forms a group, and teaches them about saving food, food banks, and drought resistant crops. Like I already mentioned, this year has been a very difficult year. Besides the violence at the beginning of the year that made it impossible for some to plant crops, there has also been a drought.  “Total crop failure” is the term for it, and we passed farm after farm suffering from “total crop failure.” In the communities where TCHD they have some rice stored up, and will ration it out accordingly- but I doubt it will be enough for everyone in the community. The thing TCHD does do that really will help is promoting drought resistant crops and animals (food and goats that need less water to survive). Although people have been very reluctant (they kind of just say, “but we’ve always grown corn.”) Right now, they are starving. When we were there today, I was like, “Okay, so what happens now. Total crop failure- then what.” And here’s how it will go: the town people will stay as long as they can, but when they run out of food- they will have to leave and go in search of government aid until the next harvest.  Unfortunately, the next harvest (in October) has been predicted to be just as bad- there simply is no water. (Ironic considering the corn in America (Iowa) is underwater). The aid is unreliable- but it’s the only option. So that was from 8-6. Jessica and I went with Simon, Richard and Wesley and it was a lot of fun getting to hang out with them.

We came back just in time for dinner at John W.’s house to welcome a new surgeon and his son Josh. Josh is a pre-med student and I’m excited for the company. Christina and I had planned to watch Hotel Rwanda, so a group of us had a movie night. It was weird to watch it now, knowing first hand people who’s entire family’s were murdered. AND, comparing the hotel to the hospital here. We were talking about it at dinner and the similarities are just too real. Of course it was nothing to the same extent- but man, when you hear some of the stories of what went on around here- families hiding, drunken mobs stopped at the gate and begged off by the PM, and I could keep going! Well, it just really makes you thank God for peace, and gives you a totally new perspective on the movie.

I milked a goat- every place we stopped at they wanted us to milk the goats. I was just like please, one is enough! I felt like I would hurt the poor thing!!

Besides that… stopped by the nursery tonight. Juliana was working. The second of the triplets died, but quadruplets came in (one died)! I was there with Josh and he looked over at the dead baby and again, just like with Sarah Baskin, I heard, “is that one dead?” And I was like oh no… I really have to stop bringing new arrivals in here.

Please keep them (and us) all in your prayers. The lack of food is really bad and it’s getting worse. Now, almost every night at dinner someone stops by asking for some.

Hey Dad. I love you. I just got back from an omelet and chocolate waffle party over at John Wright’s house, and all the little kids said things to their dads and some things were said that made me really wish you were here with me (but it’s not the first time I’ve thought it). I hope you’re having a good day in America. We’ll go out when I get home.

This morning I went to a church service somewhere in Kenya with TCHD. I really wish I had GPS here to navigate- I like knowing where I am. I did see a sign pointing to Lake Victoria though. It was a fun but frustrating day. It was just me and Jessica and three TCHD people. The drive there took about an hour, the service was long and boring (went on for about three hours) and I was not a happy camper pretty much the whole time. We were all “guests of honor” and got the “privilege” of sitting on a couch (I put that in quotations because although the couch was really comfortable and I prefer it to the wooden benches or floor… we were starred at constantly). Everyone got up and welcomed us and we were given celebrity status. I felt really unworthy (because I am) of the attention and it put me in a really bad mood that just got worse. The singing was a lot of fun. Worship songs I knew but in Kalenjin. I loved that part. I also can’t sit still that long. It’s hard enough for me to watch a movie without reading a book at the same time so today was not an easy day.

Lunch was at a family’s house, except both the parents had died so it was just the kids. I sat in a room with all the men while the women prepared the food. I asked where the women were and when I said I wanted to go greet them, they all laughed, but I went anyway. Then someone came to get me and bring me back to the living room. I served myself in the room with the men, and sat there and ate while the women served the men. Here’s how it works: the women prepared the food (not an easy or fast process here in Kenya), serve it, then clean it up, while doing EVERYTHING to take care of the family. The men are lazy ASSES. (Takes a deep breath.) Anyway, I sat in there getting madder every second, and then one of the men finished, and he just kind of swatted a woman and pointed to his bowl, implying that he wanted more with this face that said, “WHY DIDN’T YOU ALREADY GET ME MORE.” I got up and stormed out pretty vocally.

I found all the women eating outside in the dirt and sat down with them. The group found me later, their “guest,” but I was disgusted and wouldn’t look at them. I had a lot more fun out in the dirt anyway. I held babies while their mothers ate and talked to the other girls my age (all with kids). One woman asked me to take her baby girl for a “small something.” I said I couldn’t, and she said, “fine, just take her for free.” Again I told her I couldn’t and she started begging. The others were more curious about my skin, and if my hair was real. They tugged at it, and pinched at my arms, asking “Is it really warm where you’re from?” I was like “nope, cold. Well, warm half the year and cold the other half.” And they asked “if it was so hot the sun had bleached my skin and hair. Or was it the cold that made it grow long?” They couldn’t understand it, my skin or my eyes or my hair. They gave me a Kalenjin name that means “happy girl who spreads joy”. I thought it was ironic because I was probably the most pissed off I’ve been all summer.

They asked about my husband and why I’m not married. I told them I’m still young by America’s standards, and waiting to meet the right person. (Here with the life expectancy age at 45- my life is about half over.) They laughed and said, “How old are you?” I said nineteen, and they gave me their ages and showed how many kids they had by holding up fingers and pointing to children around the yard. Most were my age with 4+ kids.

They told me I should marry a Kenyan. I told them that wouldn’t be a good idea because I would never make a man here happy (there are a few exceptions that I’ve met- men raised in good families where the values are based on the Christian idea that a man should love his wife like Christ loved the church- aka he should DIE for her). I explained I would never cook or wash dishes or clean, and they thought that was hilarious, “well you’ll just have to learn, we’ll teach you!” I told them no- I KNOW how to do it, I just wouldn’t do it for them. They really got a kick out of that and said, “but you can’t expect MEN to do that.” And I said, “yes, I do, and I’m not going to marry a man who expects me to clean up just because I’m a woman.” I started getting pretty heated about it but then we had to go. Everyone pulled on my arm to get me to stay. A woman had a camera, so everyone wanted their picture and to shake my hand. Jessica and I ended up coordinating an escape.

On the car ride home I complained to Andrew, another man, and Emmy about it. They said “that’s just how it is- it’s part of the culture.” And that’s the response I’ve gotten from a lot of people. But, one thing I like about TCHD, is that this is one of the things they are trying to change. They go into communities and meet with the men and encourage them to get more involved and to treat their wives with respect. It’s hard- wives can still be “inherited” and really are nothing more than property.

I hate when other’s (non-Kenyan’s especially) tell me that “it’s one of those things we might not understand because it’s a cultural thing.” Well, even if disrespecting women is “part of the culture” it’s still WRONG and I have no problem saying it. In terms of Christianity- it’s still a sin, and it needs to change. I don’t feel comfortable coming in and just yelling, “my way’s the right way”- that’s not why I’m here, but when any human is treated as less (whether it’s because of race, gender, ability, or ANYTHING), it’s simply wrong. And it PISSES ME OFF and makes me really mad and I can’t stay quiet about it. At home I don’t go around yelling at men if they carry my stuff, open a door or pull out my chair, but here I have no problem roaring.

And it’s not like I really won’t clean. I just won’t do it because my husband thinks it’s my “duty.” If I do wash the dishes, or cook or clean- it’ll be because I want to, and he will most certainly help. RAWRRRRRRRRR.

I have never been more sure that the future of this country, and many other countries, lies with the empowerment of women. I’ll go into this more another day.

The baby that came in yesterday evening passed away. One little girl’s mother died three days after giving birth to her. She had come in with meningitis and TB, and when she went unconscious they did an emergency c-section to save the baby. The girl’s been here two weeks now and the father has not come into visit.

Things I want to talk more about later.

1. The empowerment of women, and how it CANNOT be ignored.
2. Community. The idea of “taking care of one’s own first.”
3. What it looks like to really live a “Christian” life

So Dad, after all that venting. I just want to say again how much I miss you and how sad I’m missing out on Father’s Day. And thank you for treating me with respect and instilling in me this idea of WORTH. Kids need more father’s like you here.

Tia Patrick, here with her husband Joey and her daughter Bethany for the next seven weeks, just informed me that another baby was found in a latrine a few hours ago. He already had maggots all over him when someone found him. I don’t know any more details than that, but I’m going to try to go visit tomorrow after I get back to the hospital compound. Please keep him in your prayers.

Today I joined the TCHD Maternal Child Health Immunizations team somewhere in the middle of Tanzania. Actually, I really have no idea where we were. I think we were still in Kenya, but we could’ve been in Rwanda, Ethiopia, Somalia, Sudan or the DRC for all I know (and for the time it took to get there!). A few times the truck got stuck in ditches and behind fifty cows (give or take a few, i didn’t actually count them!). Sarah Baskin, Abby, and I were in the back with four Tenwek nursing students rocking out to my ipod the whole time. Then, we accompanied the team as they gave immunizations to about eighty babies and twenty expectant mothers. The six pictures above are some of my favorites from today! I finally messed around with the manual settings enough to take some decent pictures. Abby took the two of me with the little girl. It’s been so wonderful to have the Champion family here. Today we were out from 9-6, and I’m sure I would’ve burned out if I hadn’t had the girls with me!

On the way back we stopped at a VCT center (Voluntary Counseling and Testing), and Nancy (the woman who works there) was telling me about all the services they offer. Free and confidential testing is the main one, so I, really excited was like, “Awesome! Can I get tested?!” Of course I could. So I followed her into the room and she showed me how the kits worked. I would find out within 15 minutes, and if I tested positive, they would do a second, more accurate (but expensive which is why they don’t do it on everyone) test that only takes 5 minutes. She started taking out the packets and drops of solution. It was all going too fast for me. I started changing my mind, wondering, “Could I be +? What if I do test HIV+? How will I tell my family? Would I wait until I got home? Yes, of course I would wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Doesn’t Greenwich Hospital test for this during routine blood work stuff?!? Wouldn’t they have told me? But I never asked, wouldn’t the still tell me? Maybe not. Maybe they aren’t allowed to automatically test for that without asking. Could I test positive?! What if I do? Well, then, I should know. But how would I tell my family and friends!?” All that I ended up saying was, “Is the equipment sterile?” Nancy patiently explained, “Yes, we open the packets right here, they come sealed in the box, and I open a new packet for every patient so there’s no contamination.” Good (for some weird reason I was still afraid I could get HIV from the test- irrational fear, I know, but I feel like I should be honest). It was such a weird experience that I never actually went through with. Nancy started talking about the finger prick and that did it. My pediatricians who have known me for 15 years still have trouble with that one. No way was I letting a stranger near my thumb. I begged off. On the way out, I thought about how anxious the experience had made me. And if I, who really has almost no chance of testing positive, got so anxious, what must someone who ACTUALLY might test positive feel like going in there?!?! I see now why people might refuse to get tested. I have to think about it more. It would’ve taken five-fifteen minutes to find out my status, and I chose not to. Mmmm….

I’m gonna miss you
I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone
She says I love you
I’m gonna miss hearing your songs

And I said please don’t talk about the end
Don’t talk about how every living thing
Goes away

She says friend
All along
Thought I was learning how to take
How to bend not how to break
How to live not how to cry
But really I’ve been learning how to die
I’ve been learning how to die

- From Jon Foreman’s Winter EP, Learning How to Die

]]> http://juliadesantis.wordpress.com/2008/06/13/theres-a-fire-in-my-bones-im-not-afraid-to-go-alone-youre-all-i-need/feed/ 1 Julia http://juliadesantis.wordpress.com/2008/06/12/let-the-nations-be-glad/ http://juliadesantis.wordpress.com/2008/06/12/let-the-nations-be-glad/#comments Thu, 12 Jun 2008 20:06:17 +0000 Julia http://juliadesantis.wordpress.com/?p=55 ]]>

Pretty calm day. Just finished playing a good game of PIT with Tia, Abby, and Sarah Baskin. I was sitting outside today trying to warm up in the sun when some kids came by. They didn’t ask for sweets, but I really wanted to play with my camera and take pictures of them. So I came inside, got my camera, and grabbed some chocolate chips. It’s kind of just known that you don’t give sweets out to kids around Tenwek, because then, whenever they see a mzungu, all they say is “sweets, sweets, sweets, sweets.” But, as most of you know, chocolate is not a sweet to me. A hard little candy is a sweet or starbursts or skittles are sweets. Chocolate is CHOCOLATE. John W came walking by like, “oh, you kids are getting some sweets!” And I froze making the connection for the first time! I said, “no, it’s chocolate.” “Sweets,” John said. Ah!! Five more kids ruined.

I’m reading a book by John Piper, Let the Nations be Glad! I’ve been mulling over some things from it. Whatever you believe about the world and God, it’s worth reading and it’s not too heavy!

Albert Einstein’s Indictment

Charles Misner, a scientific specialist in general relativity theory, expressed Albert Einstein’s skepticism over the church with words that should waken us to the shallowness of our experience with God in worship.

“The design of the universe. is very magnificent and shouldn’t be taken for granted.” In fact, I believe that is why Einstein had so little use for organized religion, although he strikes me as a basically very religious man. He must have looked at what the preacher said about God and felt that they were blaspheming. He had seen much more majesty than they had ever imagined, and they were just not talking about the real thing. My guess is that he simply felt that religions he’d run across did not have proper respect for the author of the universe.

The charge of blasphemy is loaded. The point is to pack a wallop behind the charge that in our worship services God simply doesn’t come through for who he is. He is unwittingly belittled. For those who are stunned by the indescribable magnitude of what God has made, not to mention the infinite greatness of the One who made it, the steady diet on Sunday morning of practical “how to’s” and psychological soothing and relational therapy and tactical planning seem dramatically out of touch with Reality-the God of overwhelming greatness.

It is possible to be distracted from God in trying to serve God. Martha-like, we neglect the one thing needful, and soon begin to present God as busy and fretful. A.W. Tozer warned us about this: “We commonly represent God as a busy, eager, somewhat frustrated Father hurrying about seeking help to carry out His benevolent plan to bring peace and salvation to the world. Too many missionary appeals are based upon this fancied frustration of Almighty God.”

Scientists know that light travels at the speed of 5.87 trillion miles in a year. They also know that the galaxy of which our solar system is a part is about 100,000 light-years in diameter-about five hundred eighty seven thousand trillion miles. It is one of about a million galaxies in the optical range of our most powerful telescopes. In our galaxy there are about 100 billion stars. The sun is one of them, a modest star burning at about 6,000 degrees Centigrade on the surface, and traveling in an orbit at 155 miles per second, which means it will take about 200 million years to complete a revolution around the galaxy.

Scientists know these things and are awed by them. And they say “if there is a personal God, as the Christians say, who spoke this universe into being, then there is a certain respect and reverence and wonder and dread that would have to come through when we talk about him and when we worship him.”

We who believe the Bible know this even better than the scientists because we have heard something even more amazing:

“To whom then will you compare me, that I should be like him?” says the Holy One. Lift up your eyes on high and see who created these (stars)? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name by the greatness of his might, and because he is strong in power no one is missing. (Isaiah 40:25-26)

Every one of the billions of stars in the universe is there by God’s specific appointment. He knows their number. And, most astonishing of all, he knows them by name. They do his bidding as his personal agents. When they feel the weight of this grandeur in the heavens, we have only touched the hem of his garment. “Lo, these are but the outskirts of his ways! And how small a whisper do we hear of him” (Job 26:14).

That is why we cry “Be exalted, O God. Above the heavens!” (Psalm 57:5). God is the absolute reality that everyone in the universe must come to terms with. Everything depends utterly on his will. All other realities compare to him like a raindrop compares to the ocean, or like an anthill compares to Mt. Everest. To ignore him or belittle him is unintelligible and suicidal folly. How shall one ever be the emissary of this great God who has not trembled before him with joyful wonder?

Instead of taking John’s word for it, I checked up on some quotes from Albert himself. The above sounds about right.

A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty – it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man. (Albert Einstein)

A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. The true value of a human being is determined by the measure and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self. We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if humanity is to survive. (Albert Einstein, 1954)

The most beautiful and most profound experience is the sensation of the mystical. It is the sower of all true science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead. To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their primitive forms – this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true religiousness.
( Albert Einstein – The Merging of Spirit and Science)

Interesting stuff to think about. The hills surrounding Tenwek are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. So every morning when I wake up on my way out of the guest house, I have to stop in awe of the magnificent creator.

Short messages to my family, because NYU mail always takes forever to load, and they are probably the only ones reading this: Sophia, feel better my love, i hope your fever goes down! Christian, I just imed you online but I guess you aren’t by your computer. Nick, come on more! James and Louis, I loved the pictures from graduation- I’m really proud and excited for you, and I’m trying not to think about you going away! Mom, keep thinking about that e-mail question I asked. Dad, send me an update- the city still moving without me? Also, what are our plans for 4th of July AFTER 8pm? And, I think it will just be me, Sara and Jillian living in the South Bronx next year. LOVE YOU ALL!

My friends- Write me e-mails, I love hearing from you!

and some story people because I’m not tired…

There was a single blue line of crayon drawn across every wall in the house. What does it mean? I said. A pirate needs the sight of the sea, he said & then he pulled his eye patch down & turned and sailed away. – Brian Andreas

And this one is dedicated to all the wonderful people I’ve met at Tenwek. I didn’t know they knew the link, but since they do, I’ll start doing shout outs here. (Because I never do remember to tell them how awesome they are in person.)

Anyone can slay a dragon, he told me, but try waking up every morning & loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero. – Brian Andreas

Feeling a little nauseous though. Right after eating a HUGE lunch, John F. was like, when are you coming to the OR? do you have time right now? I scrubbed in and had the choice between a few surgeries. An enlarged goiter/thyroid removal, a blocked abdomen, an endoscopy, and a few others. Of course chose the thyroid one!! I was so excited to get to see everything! I stood like a foot away and Mike explained everything as he went along. Petra warned me that most people feel dizzy or nauseous and faint the first time, but I was determined. I was burning up though. And then Mike slit the persons throat from one ear to the other and I moved to the wall. After a few minutes of focusing on the floor, I was like, “Julia, you are NOT going to faint. You are not allowed to faint. Stop. Now. This is awesome. Do not miss this. Do not faint.” (At this point I was seeing mostly black). I kept taking deep breaths thinking that would help. It didn’t, but after a little bit I could stand and Mike was explaining something so I walked back over. He was burning the blood vessels so the patient wouldn’t bleed out, and it was the sound and smell that finally got to me. I walked out and sank against the wall and curled up- SO disappointed in myself. You know, for a little bit earlier this year I had considered being a doctor, and even though chem took a lot of it out of me- I hadn’t TOTALLY crossed it off. So, I sat with my head in my knees- trying not to pass out in the hall, just feeling like a failure. I watched some more of it from behind a glass window. I can do that easily. As long as I don’t have to hear or smell it- it’s cool. I finally got up enough stamina and went back in, but to a different surgery. One on the stomach. I could see the intestines moving up and down as the patient breathed, and there was red stuff coming out so I walked out again.

I went back to Community Health & Development where I had an emergency write up thing that someone needed immediately. Worked on that until like 6:30- feeling really crummy the whole time. But, after dinner with John, Sam and the Patricks (who all tried to convince me it was TOTALLY normal) I felt a little better. Then, I went down to bible study at the Gainey’s, and Julie told me how she had passed out watching her first surgery and woke up with the surgeon leaning over her holding up her feet. Carol (a surgeon), also told me how in Nigeria, when she was considering becoming a doctor, she was observing and the doctor had been like, “you cannot faint, there is only one patient in this room and it is not you!” She had to leave the room pretty quickly that first time too. SO. I am going back. Maybe tomorrow if I have time, maybe the next day and the next after that.

I’m sure something else happened today, but I’m still thinking of Mike cutting the persons neck. My head KNOWS that he’s actually saving her life, my stomach still thinks otherwise!

I said the prime minister in my last post about the plane- he’s a minister, not the prime one. Sorry about that- I didn’t confuse him with Odinga, i just thought there were a few prime ministers. Idk… and then what else happened today. Flags were flown at half mast. The guy was from this area- so people were expecting things could get out of control (not here at Tenwek but in Bomet), but they didn’t.

I miss you all at home. Keep praying about funds for immunizations. I’ve really been thinking over the issue I raised in the post about funding. As long as the rest of the world continues throwing money at Africa nothing will get done. The people really do need to demand services from their governments.

I heard this explanation today: If a president needs 2 million to feed people, he needs to raise it from the people, and then the people will feel a sense of accountability for the money. If they don’t see the changes, they will ask, “what are you doing with my money” and they will get upset! If he only raises 1 million, and the US gives the other million, the people lose 1/2 that accountability. Africa doesn’t need handouts, it needs hands. But, I do believe a lot of this mess was created back when America/Europe etc. came in and colonized Africa. Drawing lines for countries where no lines should exist, cutting up Africa like a cake.

I just don’t know what the answer is. Yes, stopping all aid might force people to demand things from their government and demand change and action. But how many people will die? But in the long term will it benefit more people? I think I really like the micro-finance programs. I’m still figuring them out though, so I’ll get back to you.

I heard a funny story about when the hospital first opened- a man needed blood, so an Asian man, a white man and an African all had O negative (or whatever the universal one is), and donated blood to this man. The people here had never seen anything like it, and people crowded around expecting him to change colors as the blood cursed through his veins).

Simple education might be the best place to start. But one thing I do know, only Africa will save Africa. Those who will help them in their task must be accountable to only them- not some capitalistic company from the Western world trying to make a buck.

Chelsea Rossetti- start preparing for our discussions about this in Europe in a few weeks!!

I’m exhausted. This probably makes no sense. My head hurts. I must sleep. Here’s an article I found on the computer in the guest house. I don’t know who wrote it, it was just there . Enjoy!

Last fall, shortly after I returned from Nigeria, I was accosted by a perky blond college student whose blue eyes seemed to match the “African” beads around her wrists.

“Save Darfur!” she shouted from behind a table covered with pamphlets urging students to TAKE ACTION NOW! STOP GENOCIDE IN DARFUR!

My aversion to college kids jumping onto fashionable social causes nearly caused me to walk on, but her next shout stopped me.

“Don’t you want to help us save Africa?” she yelled.

It seems that these days, wracked by guilt at the humanitarian crisis it has created in the Middle East, the West has turned to Africa for redemption. Idealistic college students, celebrities such as Bob Geldof and politicians such as Tony Blair have all made bringing light to the dark continent their mission. They fly in for internships and fact-finding missions or to pick out children to adopt in much the same way my friends and I in New York take the subway to the pound to adopt stray dogs.

This is the West’s new image of itself: a sexy, politically active generation whose preferred means of spreading the word are magazine spreads with celebrities pictured in the foreground, forlorn Africans in the back. Never mind that the stars sent to bring succor to the natives often are, willingly, as emaciated as those they want to help.

Perhaps most interesting is the language used to describe the Africa being saved. For example, the Keep a Child Alive/” I am African” ad campaign features portraits of primarily white, Western celebrities with painted “tribal markings” on their faces above “I AM AFRICAN” in bold letters. Below, smaller print says, “help us stop the dying.”

Such campaigns, however well intentioned, promote the stereotype of Africa as a black hole of disease and death. News reports constantly focus on the continent’s corrupt leaders, warlords, “tribal” conflicts, child laborers, and women disfigured by abuse and genital mutilation. These descriptions run under headlines like “Can Bono Save Africa?” or “Will Brangelina Save Africa?” The relationship between the West and Africa is no longer based on openly racist beliefs, but such articles are reminiscent of reports from the heyday of European colonialism, when missionaries were sent to Africa to introduce us to education, Jesus Christ and “civilization.”

There is no African, myself included, who does not appreciate the help of the wider world, but we do question whether aid is genuine or given in the spirit of affirming one’s cultural superiority. My mood is dampened every time I attend a benefit whose host runs through a litany of African disasters before presenting a (usually) wealthy, white person, who often proceeds to list the things he or she has done for the poor, starving Africans. Every time a well-meaning college student speaks of villagers dancing because they were so grateful for her help, I cringe. Every time a Hollywood director shoots a film about Africa that features a Western protagonist, I shake my head — because Africans, real people though we may be, are used as props in the West’s fantasy of itself. And not only do such depictions tend to ignore the West’s prominent role in creating many of the unfortunate situations on the continent, they also ignore the incredible work Africans have done and continue to do to fix those problems.

Why do the media frequently refer to African countries as having been “granted independence from their colonial masters,” as opposed to having fought and shed blood for their freedom? Why do Angelina Jolie and Bono receive overwhelming attention for their work in Africa while Nwankwo Kanu or Dikembe Mutombo, Africans both, are hardly ever mentioned? How is it that a former mid-level U.S. diplomat receives more attention for his cowboy antics in Sudan than do the numerous African Union countries that have sent food and troops and spent countless hours trying to negotiate a settlement among all parties in that crisis?

Two years ago I worked in a camp for internally displaced people in Nigeria, survivors of an uprising that killed about 1,000 people and displaced 200,000. True to form, the Western media reported on the violence but not on the humanitarian work the state and local governments — without much international help — did for the survivors. Social workers spent their time and in many cases their own salaries to care for their compatriots. These are the people saving Africa, and others like them across the continent get no credit for their work.

Last month the Group of Eight industrialized nations and a host of celebrities met in Germany to discuss, among other things, how to save Africa. Before the next such summit, I hope people will realize Africa doesn’t want to be saved. Africa wants the world to acknowledge that through fair partnerships with other members of the global community, we ourselves are capable of unprecedented growth.

After spending all day at TCHD, I went up to visit the Ped’s ward for a few hours. For the first time, I wasn’t welcomed by Chep Rotich flinging herself at me screaming “JEWWWWIAAAA!” She has been discharged, and I am glad, but I miss her and her smiling grandmother. I usually don’t make it through half the room, but today I had enough time to talk to everyone. I hadn’t made it to one bed, when a mother came over and said, “can you please greet him?” When I got there, the little boy who couldn’t move his legs took my hand with a huge smile on his face and wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t talk but he just kept shaking my hand and smiling!

For a bit, I got to sit with my friend Mercy and her little boy Dennis. Every time I’ve been in there he has a bandage in his mouth, and today I actually had enough time to figure out why. He’s a hemophiliac, but all Mercy told me was that he has a “blood disease.” Dennis really wanted his picture taken, but his mom wanted to change the bandage first because he was dripping blood. So, I moved back a little to give her room, but when she removed the bandage blood just came gushing out. AH! I’ve never seen a hemophiliac bleeding, and I wasn’t quite prepared for it! She quickly replaced it with a clean bandage, and we played around with my camera, but eeeeeah. He’s still bleeding from two lost teeth and an operation removing a growth on his tongue a month ago. I learned about all the other complications hemophiliacs have, especially those that arise in rural Kenya.

In the Western world, tests would be done to figure out which type of blood clotting (insert medical word here) he’s deficient in. Here, they don’t have that luxury, so all they can do is pump him full of blood to prevent him from going bleeding to death. Except even that poses problems. Today, the vein the catheter used collapsed (or stopped working), and they had to insert a new one in his hand, except they had to leave the other one in to stop blood from coming out. AH. Anyway, he was probably the kid in the best shape, if that tells you anything about the others .

After that, I headed back to drop off my stuff and go up to the nursery. I took Sarah Baskin with me, she’s thirteen and here with her family. Her mother asked if she could come with me and I was like of course!! When we got to the nursery, we scrubbed in and started walking around. Two new twin babies had just been delivered by c-section ten minutes before so I was distracted by them when Sarah Baskin was like, “look at that one.” I thought she was pointing to Ester, one of the premies who is just incredibly tiny, and she was sleeping peacefully (she’s usually the one screaming), so I was just like “yeah, so precious.” Then my gaze shifted to where she was really pointing. A baby lay sprawled out, almost white, totally dead. We walked over, and I tried to see if he was breathing- he wasn’t. I guess they tried to resuscitate the little guy, but there was nothing they could do. Sarah Baskin was pretty shook up, and I kind of was too, so we left and headed to the mothers ward for a quick visit before heading home. I’ve felt sick since (but it could also be the milk).

We have a new family at the guest house- Joey, Tia and Bethany. They are from South Carolina. Bethany is 17 months and is constantly smiling! We ate at Mercy’s house for lunch, and I was treated to “Morsick” for the first time. Curdled milk that sits for 3-5 days. I added two heaping spoons of sugar so it wasn’t that bad, but my stomachs feeling it now. I can’t complain, if I was out with the Maasai, they mix it with blood from the jugular vein of a cow for certain ceremonies. (The cow doesn’t die, they just patch it back up).

Gross, you might say (and I did), but (unless you are a vegetarian), as you judge them, think about what you eat. Baby cows taken right from birth, tied up, prohibited to move and denied proper nutrients so their meat stays tender (veal). Which ones crueler/more disgusting to eat? I think I’d choose to eat a healthy cow’s blood than a baby cow’s (tortured) meat.

Big news of the day: A few hours ago a small plane went down pretty close to here. The plane was on its way to Narok and was carrying Roads Minister Kipkalya Kones and Assistant Home Affairs Minister Lorna Laboso. People are upset and blame Kibaki for not improving the roads. Not unsaid is that both politicians were members of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) party, which had opposed President Mwai Kibaki and advocated public protests after he won a disputed re-election in December.

Unsaid for right now, is the idea that it’s more than an accident. It literally just happened an hour ago so I will keep you posted. Here’s one idea, I will start at the beginning, I hope you can follow. The roads here are terrible. It’s easier, safer, and more comfortable to drive NEXT to the roads in the ditches. Tourists coming to the game reserves avoid some of these roads by flying to their resorts/safari parks. Why haven’t the roads been fixed? Some think there’s something fishy going on between the top guys who own the PLANE services. If the roads are fixed, tourists won’t pay to use their planes. Eh, I don’t know how much of it is just talk- but the fact that the “Roads minister” died in a plane crash makes me wonder.

I have the answer! TCHD gets some funding from Samaritan’s Purse, and that wasn’t cut. The main sponsor, the German based institution- EED, is in the process of refocusing their attention. Here’s what they say.

“Africa is currently in a state of radical change and transformation…Civil society institutions cannot not replace functioning government structures, However, they can be effective motors of innovation and mobilization of self help potential and thereby contributing to establishing public institutions and facilities. Therefore, EED focuses its efforts on establishing and strengthening civil society institutions, especially those involved in the provision of and lobbying for basic social services, and promoting democracy and human rights.”

That last part is the key, although it does not really begin to explain their switch. In the past, EED provided money for immunizations, subsidized mosquito nets and water filters, etc. (just read back). They are no longer providing money for “primary” care. Instead, they will provide money for CHD to go into a community to educate and equip the people to demand these things from the government. It’s a really good idea and long over due. I have no problems with it. These are things (HIV/AIDS awareness, food security, immunizations, clean water) the government is responsible for and has neglected in the past. If organizations continue to just dump aid on countries, governments have no problem sitting back and doing nothing and stealing money. Their new way is a much more (to use the hip word) “sustainable” way of providing continuous help.

So what’s the problem? They aren’t providing any assistance in the transition from primary care to their new plan of attack. They are going cold turkey with one, to start up a new one. Leaving many, especially CHD hanging. CHD is more than willing to include an “equipping people to demand their rights” or some sort of “government focused” department, but CHD can not stop (immunizing kids, providing HIV testing and awareness, etc.) in the process!! Also, in Kenya specifically and some other countries, there is no stable government to demand these things from.

It begs the age old question, do you help some people immediately or focus on the bigger picture, not help as many people now, but change things long-term. Isn’t there some way to do both? Help the people dying now or prevent people from dying with immunizations, and challenge and encourage the government to get involved? I believe there’s a way even if I haven’t figured it out yet.

In Kenya right now, it’s more complicated than that. In a lot of the regions TCHD operates in, there is no government present. It’s not even that it’s not stable, these places don’t exist on any maps. There is no government official elected to make sure the people are represented, and many tribes are slow to trust people. CHD goes into these rural tribes to provide invaluable services to the community, and it can’t just stop! The results have been outstanding. For example, with measles, the hospital used to see more than 500 cases a year, soon after CHD started going and giving immunizations, the number of cases was reduced to less than 20 a year. This is true for all diseases. Even the percentage of people testing positive for HIV/AIDS has decreased.

As John Wright, the CEO of Tenwek said over lunch, “This fund raising stuff would be very interesting to study academically, if there weren’t real people, right now, dying. If there weren’t real diseases that will kill kids.” To give you numbers on average, we immunize 120,000 kids a year. This year, with no funding, the number has dropped to 60,000.

Do you want more numbers? Whooping cough, that used to kill at least 30 kids a year, (and there would be epidemics where 100’s of kids would be sleeping on benches or under beds at at time being treated for it) has practically been eliminated!!!! Now, the hospital sees one or two cases a year. With the clean water bio-sand filters, diarrheal diseases went from 1101 to 147 (and that was back in 2004).

Back to the “slow to trust” thing. Sam, at lunch, explained how among many tribes, especially the Maasai, trust has to be built up slowly. He worked here for thirteen years and spent six of them very slowly building up that trust. He’ll go in with CHD and set up a tent, and provide his medical services to patients (most of the time for free- especially for women and children. The men think of them as property, and a cow is certainly much more important than a wife or child’s life). A lot of times, “I can’t even get a bracelet for restoring a person’s eye sight. The man looks at me and shrugs ’she’s just my wife- don’t do the surgery, she’s not worth it.”

One time the WHO (World Health Organization) came in with all these as Sam describes them, “fancy trucks with fancy equipment.” And they were there to take a survey and treat a specific disease- they found hundreds of people with (a disease that is part of the gonorrhea family but is not sexually transmitted and causes the eyelashes to bend in and scar the eyes eventually causing blindness. It’s very prevalent in dry places where people can’t wash their faces.) Then, they disappeared without doing anything except writing down numbers. They returned three weeks later and could not find anyone. The WHO, without knowing it, had ruined the trust Sam had spent 6 years building up. When Sam returned, no one would have anything to do with him. It didn’t take him long to figure out why, but it’s taken years to build back up.

This is kind of a mid-day update. I have to get back to the office. We’ve gotten the go ahead to put up a “volunteer ad” (Tenwek does not usually actively recruit any volunteers) for someone who can come and write up proposals to send out to potential donors. I spent the morning writing that, and now it’s time for editing and uploading. PEACE!

On Tuesday, I get to observe a C-Section!!! I’ve been advised to start with a “joyful” surgery instead of something like an amputation, but I’m excited for those too! John W. and I are learning to suture (stitch). We are going to practice on real meat too . Over the weekend we had a new very very sick baby admitted to the hospital, he’s a triplet and there were complications that I will only begin to tell you about because I don’t know much more- we were just asked to pray in church. (Also there’s a history of every middle triplet here being left to die because of superstition). There was a blockage in his intestines somewhere and his bowels got inverted and, I don’t know the medical terms for it but he was close to dying. He survived the night and pooped this morning (a miracle hah), but keep him in your prayers.

Today was a very lazy Sunday. Church this morning started at 9am. Eh. I don’t really know what to say about it. The music was great (led by Ben R. and John F., with Petra on the piano) but I didn’t really connect with the message. I’m spoiled by Tim Keller at Redeemer. The service I attend is in English, but many people attend from all different tribes. Africa Gospel Church is a big supporter of Tenwek Hospital, and many people go to their services after. John led a group down to the bat cave with some bats. Like tennis racket bats. Apparently they send Emma (the dog) in to stir things up and then try to hit them as they come out. I hope he was just playing with me. :-\

Before speaking, everyone here will stand up and say, “I want to give thanks to God for the privilege of being alive.” I really like it because I always stop to think about how I should appreciate life

Part of the service included talk about the food situation. The food crisis around the world is greatly affecting Kenyans. Earlier this year, partially the result of violence and partially the result of droughts, many people did not get their crops planted. Around the Great Rift Valley region, everyone relies on maize, and that won’t be available until September. Almost daily, someone comes asking for food or money. A few days ago, I was sitting and eating my lunch when a woman holding ababy accosted me. She yelled at me for a good 5 minutes and was very pushy. Kenyans are rarely pushy, so this really caught me off guard. Although I could hear her quite well, I had no idea what she was saying because she was yelling in Kipsigi. She was very angry, and I might have given her some of my lunch (and I probably SHOULD have, and in the future I will if I can), but she was so demanding and mean. John W. and I were talking about it a few days later and he said that maybe it’s the hunger and the desperate need that makes them so forceful. (Although it’s rare, people do stop us around the hospital asking for “just a little”). This woman specifically told someone else that before a mzungo (white person) had given her money, so I should too.

In Nairobi, crowds have been protesting the rising food prices and food shortages. Just lowering the price for maize (corn-Kenyan’s most common/basic food) would help greatly. The police said the protest was illegal and people were arrested. In Senegal, Cameroon, and Somalia the food shortages have led to deadly riots. Pray that doesn’t happen here!!

Now, I want to address some specific questions.

I am off today, so this morning I joined the Roberts and their family friends the Champions, and mudded Cecilia’s house. Cecilia works at the guest house, so I know her well. She is from Rwanda, and 10 years ago when the Hutu’s and Tutsi’s were fighting, her husband and her five children took refuge in Kenya. The rest of both of their families were murdered. Like Cecilia, Cecilia’s sisters had each married men from the other tribe, and the husbands killed their wives and children because they were “unclean” before being murdered themselves. So, she speaks Rwandanese (if that’s what it’s called) and French, and then she moved here and learned Swahili, Kipsigii and English. Wow. The church bought her some land, and over the past week we’ve been building a house. Today was my first day helping, and I probably won’t be free to help again until next week- but it was fun! My job was to “mud”. The men put up all the posts and sticks (carefully picked tree branches), and bring the water, and the women use their bare feet to make mud and fill the walls. This will be the first time Cecilia and her kids have had their own house, so it’s very exciting! My hands and feet are VERY dry now though! There will be about three more layers of mudding going up until it’s ready.

More interesting things about Tenwek. I think I might have mentioned that people do not come here until they are very very sick, so much so that it’s “not sick, but ‘how are you not dead?!?’” I’ve also said about how there are 43 different tribal languages practiced in Kenya, so I’m never quite sure how to communicate (not everyone speaks Swahili)! Although everyone around here knows that Tenwek is a respectable hospital, there are a few very remote tribes that do not have a lot of history of sending people to Tenwek. Sadly, John was explaining to me yesterday that sometimes if we hear someone is really sick in one of those remote tribes, we will send out an ambulance to pick the person up. Unfortunately, if the very first people who come here die- no one else from that tribe will come. Let’s say 5 out of 7 die, you can bet that you will not see anyone else. It’s a vicious cycle because only the ones practically DEAD come, and if they DIE here, the people at home think we killed them. It totally makes sense, but it’s very unfortunate.
On Polygamy… Polygamy is still practiced here, but it is less common among the younger generation. If a youth does practice polygamy it’s different than the traditional set-up of wives living next door and the man just traveling from house to house every night. With that set up, the wives and children are not friends and jealous of each other. Instead, it is much more common to have wives in different towns, and instead of a scheduled “today I sleep with you-” planning is done by cell phone.

So, of course everyone knows by now Obama has officially won the Democratic nomination. Obama’s father is from Kenya- the Siaya District- an area a few kilometers away from here (by few, I think my friend Andrew means 100, but I’m not sure). I don’t know how people are reacting at home in the US, but everyone here is thrilled. I’ve heard there are even parades in his father’s home town. However, I’ve heard his family received the news with an expectant calmness claiming they, “aren’t surprised.”

Quoting from the morning paper, “For the first time ever in the western world, a person of African heritage has been chosen by the people to run for the highest office in the land… This is a moment Kenyans can savour with pride” – Mr. Odinga (prime minister, and also a member of the Luo- the same tribe Obama’s father is from!).

When I came into work today, everyone was tired from staying up and watching the speech. All asked me if I’d seen it. I replied that I hadn’t and a few minutes later someone handed me copy of it from the newspaper. Very impressive.

The truth is Obama’s father left him at a very young age and had nothing to do with his life. Obama was raised by his other grandmother in Hawaii. But Kenyan’s are still very excited. Why? Well, he’s made history as the first African-American ever to win nomination to vie for the presidency of the world’s sole super-power. He’s the son of an African. He’s the son of a Kenyan. That’s a pretty big deal. People are excited that he might implement “African-friendly” policies. I’ve been reading the newspaper here, and Bush is pretty liked, but Obama is really really really liked!

On June 11th (next Wednesday), there will be more elections here in Kenya. Five parliamentary seats were left open after the disputes at the beginning of the year. Two of the parliamentary seat members were murdered, so they have to be replaced, and then the others were rigged. Andrew’s district will be re-voting next Wednesday, and he explained that “politics are not like how they are in America. Our democracy is still immature. People can be bought and sold, and the party systems are broken down by tribe. In my hometown, the Kipsigi and Masaii will be battling for representation (hopefully this time peacefully!)”

When I was out yesterday, I noticed the huge rocks on the side of the road and the potential road blocks in place. (One of the things people did to protest was close down all the roads by covering stretches with lots of rocks about the size of a baby). Leading in and out of towns were the bigger road blocks- trees and cars on fire blocking the roads, etc.

Although I did just include a long entry about how we should look twice before dismissing everything as tribal violence- I hope I didn’t give the impression that it doesn’t exist. It is very, very real. On Tuesday, two people were hacked to death and 20 injured from two tribes fighting over land. Although Patti and James and the others had to be airlifted from Tenwek (with armed guards), a few months ago because of the violence- I dout we will see any here at Tenwek next week. If anything does happen, I can promise you we’ll see it in the casualty room! John Wright said tonight at dinner that during that time the hospital was CLOGGED with people. We had dinner at the Fitzwater’s tonight and it was a blast. Krista made a great chocolate cake!

Today I said goodbye to Joseph because tomorrow he goes to a home in Nairobi! I got to hold him for like two hours. I almost escaped getting peed on- I was so careful! But as I was putting him back in his crib… ah. I think a baby died today, the chaplin was there with the mother, and then when I was sitting outside holding Kip I heard wailing. Kip Korir and his twin sister have been here for a month, but they were discharged today! Their mother helped me practice my swahili. They left the hospital in matching sweater suits- covered from head to toe. It was adorable!

In the nursery today it was me, Julie, and Juliana. We kept trying to get Joseph to smile, but he’s just too serious!! I also got to spend a good hour at ped’s. The kids are so so so sick and so beautiful. It’s because they wait until the last minute to come in. John Fitzwater says when patients come in he looks at them and “sick isn’t the word.. it’s more of a ‘can’t believe they are still alive’ state.” Patients will wait weeks or months before coming. On a totally different note, suicide is a much bigger problem than I thought it would be.

Anyway, tonight we had ice cream! I have really been craving some good chocolate ice cream and Smartfood popcorn!! We just got back from Mount Montigo. John drove us up there to look at the stars. We borrowed the Roberts car and it was some serious off-roading, but when we got up there- wow. It’s weird to think the stars are different than the ones everyone are looking at back home because we are right near the equator. I would think it would be like half and half, but I couldn’t find any of the constellations except the Southern Cross. I remember Dave pointing it out to me in South Africa.

It’s mind blowing to think that there are 100 billion stars in our galaxy, and then like a 100 billion galaxies.

“Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can’t take it. Sometimes I feel like I’mm seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst.”

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Rather ask – what makes you come alive? Then go and do it! Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Today I spent most of the day making a website for TCHD. They already have one, but it is very old and has no page that describes how people can help. They desperately need funding. There is plenty of material to go up (I’ve been gathering it these past few days), and a gift catalogue with different ideas for money gifts- but no way for people to know what’s needed or how to help unless they specifically ask! It looks really good, but getting it hosted is a different question. Anyway, when we do get it up, I will most certainly put a huge link on here.

I also got to spend time in the nursery with the babies. I went right during feeding time, so all the moms were in the room. I fed Joseph. Please pray for his development. One of the nurses brought up the idea that maybe, even though we thought we found him in time, maybe there was already a lot of damage done. I keep comparing him with a normal baby’s development points (following a finger, smiling, reaching for things, etc.), and I always forget that he was found washed away in a latrine, abandoned. Today I left the nursery feeling a bit sick. I’m not sure if it was from thinking about a new born baby in a plastic bag in a latrine, or if it was from looking at and holding the other premie babies. Knowing that some of them just won’t survive is a hard thing to grasp.

Anyway, then I headed over to the pediatrics ward. Most of the kids had fallen asleep, so I didn’t stay long. But the ones who did see me all sat up with bright smiles on their faces- so excited. I had my finger over my mouth and acted out that people were sleeping and said I would come back tomorrow. Seriously, just seeing their smiles made my day. Today I was walking around the hospital grounds and saw the parents sitting out with their kids on the grass doting over them. Again, it just made me pause and think, parents really love their kids here. Just like many parents do in the United States. WHY that should make me pause – I don’t know. Maybe it’s because there were no parents at the hospitals we visited in South Africa. Maybe it’s because it might just be too much to think about how the parents must feel watching their kids waste away from hunger, malnutrition and disease.

But! A positive story- I did say I would keep those coming. I might have mentioned a teacher training workshop TCHD has been putting on these past few days. At least twenty teachers have travelled from up to 200 miles away, to stay at the Green House Training Center and learn how to become better teachers. Not academic stuff, but instead how to create positive social changes within the lives of their students AND how to encourage the children themselves to create positive changes within their families and communities. Yes, in Africa- teachers take days off, kids get substitute teachers and have field trips, just like in New York.

Tomorrow is Megan’s last day and she is travelling back to Nairobi. The nurses have also found a home for Joseph, so he will be going in the van leaving tomorrow. I am going to miss him! I have to make sure to get a picture of him before he goes! We are celebrating Megan’s last night with a dessert party at the Fitzwaters. Then we are heading up to Mount Montigo to stargaze. Already the stars look SOO big here because we’re 7,000 feet up. I can’t wait to see what they look like from Mount Montigo!! The Whites camped up there a few weeks ago- I wish I could do that!

Today I visited a school in the Bomet region (east of Tenwek). We did an HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention program for the 700 students. It was exhausting but well worth it. I went expecting to just observe, but they ended up understanding English and wanted me to talk. The kids here are so disciplined!! And, I’m still laughing at how much attention they give me!! For a good part of the day I was in the school yard surrounded by 500 little kids screaming, “Jewia, Jewia!!!! Sing!!!” (So I taught them a song I learned in Belize from Kate Hayman). The school also houses crippled students and has physical therapy rooms provided by the government. We asked the kids what they want to be when they grow up (pilots, doctors, teachers, farmers, lawyers. And then we talked about what obstacles were in the way (early marriage, pre-marital sex that might lead to HIV/AIDS or teen pregnancy, along with drugs & alcohol, peer pressure, etc.), how the kids could get over those obstacles, and how it was up to no one but THEM. We chanted, “we are in charge of our own lives” until it became a song. We also watched a movie about STD’s. WOW it was the most graphic thing I’ve ever seen!!!

I flipped through the kids school books when I was in their classrooms- they’re learning legit stuff! The students my sisters age (now 10!- Happy Birthday Soph!) are learning the same division and multiplication that she’s learning back in NY. I don’t know why it caught me so off guard, but it did.

I think many times people (including myself) just think of Africa as “the dark continent.” I’ve definitely seen the darker side- there’s no doubt that there is plenty of poverty. Kids are dying from preventable diseases every second, (what is it like 1 in 5 kids die before the age of 5?) and many people are never given a chance to LIVE! But what we don’t see in America is the growing side of Africa- economically, socially, politically etc. Maybe I’m just not paying close enough attention. Or it’s not newsworthy enough. Doesn’t attract the same attention maybe? I know I would look forward to seeing a news segment on how Africa is advancing. Instead though we see video after video of starving kids, child soldiers, orphans, people dying from HIV/AIDS, or villages being burned by the Janjaweed in Darfur. That DOES happen, and I’m not denying it. But where are the positive stories? I’ve seen from my stay this year (not so much when I was in South Africa), that there are MANY positive stories. And where are the normal stories? The stories of children growing up, going to school, becoming doctors and lawyers and anything else they want to be? Why don’t we hear those stories? They aren’t rare! I have many friends here from Nairobi who are interns and well on their way to becoming doctors and nurses. They do all the work and keep this hospital running, and they are Kenyans born and raised.

For example, I am still amazed by the website: ushahidi.com It’s one of those websites where I’m like, wow, I wish I could think of something like that!!

Also, check out this website: http://repacted.org/ This is in Nakaru which is very close to me. “The political crisis might be over in terms of the fighting but if the issues that caused are not addressed it might go back to that situation and even be far more worse than it was. Because communities have armed themselves and are ready for anything.” But read through the website and find some positive stories about Africa.

Check it: http://www.staying-alive.org/en/home

Sadly, I did not have time to visit the nursery today. Megan went up there earlier to hold Joseph, so that’s good. I might try to get up there tomorrow morning before work. I DID get to go to the pediatrics ward though- always fun. Tonight after dinner I was talking with Patti and James (two Kenyan doctors) and I asked about my arm. They became VERY interested and said they want to x-ray it and study it at morning report! I said okay, as long as it’s free!! So that’s pretty cool. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an x-ray of it. I asked what kind of surgery could be done to fix it and they looked at me like I was crazy. I am really glad they’re here and I’ve gotten to meet them. Yesterday I stepped on a sharp stick that broke right through the skin and was actually kind of hard to pull out! I started bleeding so, because I was surrounded by doctors, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t poisonous (of course it was a clean stick), but Patti goes, “OH woman! Have you had your tetanus shot? We should get you another one right now just in case. And antibiotics too! THIS IS AFRICA YOU KNOW!!!” And I was like :-O WHAT? And then they all laughed. I still came back and opened my first aid kit and put antibiotic cream on it- just to be safe and I will wear sneakers until it’s better! I have also found out that while I’m here I can see surgeries and babies being delivered and anything else I want. I am definitely going to take advantage of that!!

One frustrating thing today- two men arrived from out of town to stay at the guest house. It’s been really cool that I’ve been able to reach out to the girls and “empower” them (or at least encourage them), but I do get frustrated with the men and their talk of “womanly duties.” Like today, they got here and I was all ready to go to bed and they came up and asked me if I could prepare them dinner. I said yes, thinking maybe they just didn’t know where the stuff is. But as I showed them everything (it’s not that hard, people prepare dinner for us, they just had to put it on a plate and warm it up) and they just kept shaking their heads saying, “can you do it.. i don’t want to burn myself.” (It’s a microwave). So I did, and then I went to my table and sat down, where Pamela (a visitor from the Lake Victoria area) shook her head and said “men… they don’t think it’s their responsibility to prepare food for themselves.” It was such a little thing- probably only took me 10 minutes, but the sentiment behind it irked me. I don’t want to offend anyone with my (is it feminist?) beliefs that women are not on this planet to serve men, but at the same time- well, “I’m not mild-mannered.” (To quote Sarah, Plain and Tall)

Also! I’ve found a cheaper way to get back to Nairobi than the (very expensive) personal car. Petra, Patti, (maybe James), and I are going to Matatu it June 27th, and spend the night at Patti’s house. My flight leaves early the next morning.

I received an e-mail from my dad this morning about how school is just about over. It really feels like I’m in a different world over here, but NOT just because of the poverty. It’s the air, it’s the smell, the sky, being so close to the clouds. It’s how everyone in the street stops you to say hello and ask how you are doing. It’s all those things, but so much more that I can’t put into words.

Jambo, jambo bwana! Habarigani, misurisana. Wakini.. hakuna matata!!!!
Jina langu ni Julia (my name is Julia)
Jina laco ni? (What is your name?)
Habariaco (how are you?) Habari (how are you (group)?)
Misurisana (I am fine), Misuri (we are fine)
Parapara- road, laquit – child
Habariatoto? (how is your baby?)
That’s all swahili, and then I know the Kipsigi too.
I know more kipsigi than Swahili. Very little Masaii and

Because I’m going to be here for such a SHORT time, I am really spending all free time trying to learn the language either up in the maternity ward or at pediatrics! I listen to Swahili music as I’m falling asleep!

Prayer requests:
1. That I get more sleep.
2. That I do not become addicted to Kenyan Tea!
Or more serious things….
3. We find a good orphanage for Joseph

4. A little boy was abandoned at the hospital (he’s maybe 8), pray that his family comes back for him.

5. Living situation for next year! (The South Bronx!) Right now it’s down to us three girls. Please pray that we find more people or that I feel more at peace with it!

Today I spent the morning at the center doing picture stuff left over from Environmental Day. Then, I headed down to the Green House Training Center where I spent the day learning about Children’s Rights. About twenty teachers from up to 200 miles away are here for a 4 day intensive workshop (by intensive I mean 8am-6pm) about Hygiene and Sanitation and what children’s rights are. What are Children’s Rights? – We decided children have a “right” (meaning they are entitled to) – Love, Education, nutrition, shelter, security, good medical care, play, clean water, a good safe environment, and expression. But, on that note, children will note enjoy their rights unless they understand the responsibilities that come with those rights. For example, with the “right to education” comes a responsibility to go to school regularly and work hard. For the right to nutrition, children have a responsibility to help prepare it and eat it. With the right to medical care comes the responsibility of living healthy. If someone does not follow through with their responsibility, their rights are jeopardized. “The rights are not up for negotiation, but they come with conditions.” I’m still figuring out what I think about that. On one hand it makes a lot of sense. But do you not treat a smoker for lung cancer? Do you not provide care to a prostitute for HIV/AIDS? Anyway, these were some of the things we talked about at the workshop today.

Tonight was a lot of fun. We had a BBQ dinner hosted by John Wright to celebrate the Kenyan Independence Day (Madaraka Day). We did it the “American” way with hot dogs and hamburgers. Before you start thinking, “that’s so typically American!” We only did it because the Kenyan’s said there wasn’t anything particularly special that they do here, so we were like, okay well let’s still celebrate it!! There maybe were 15-20 people, mostly Kenyan doctors and nurses and interns. Most of them (just the ones there tonight) had to evacuate when the violence started a few months ago and are just now coming back

Besides the political talk, we had many other interesting conversations at dinner. Like the different sausages around the world (ew), and how to make blood soup.

I was about to sit down and explain the history of Kenya for you tonight, but I found someone who has already done it (in my opinion fairly, and probably better than I could!) The next few paragraphs come from a man named Alex. Short history first though for those who do not have the time nor interest to read more.

A few months ago every one’s worst fears came true. After a rigged election (both guys rigged it- just the one that would NOT have won rigged it more), people got very mad and rightly so. It certainly looks like “tribal violence” (and my jury is still out on that debate) but some argue it had nothing to do with tribalism, but with the people’s rights. In the worst instances of ethnic cleansing – as in Eldoret, 50 women and children were burned alive in a church, and at roadblocks gangs dragged Kikuyus from minibuses trying to escape and hacked them to death with machetes.

At Tenwek (as I understand it), people who were members of different tribes (other than the local Kipsigis) had their lives threatened and had to evacuate. John (the CEO of Tenwek), received threats warning him about what would happen if he did not get rid of the non-kipsigee employees. John says some of the interns were very vocal about not wanting to leave, and they gave him their cell phone numbers and said, “as soon as it’s safe call us and we will come back.” These interns were very serious- and did return, and I can now boast that they are my friends (and I boast because they are really awesome!) One family was forced to secretly hide in the hospital library for a week! So, while some shrug their shoulders and say “it wasn’t as bad as the media portrayed it,” I want you to know that for some that might be true, but at least 1,000 died and 300,000 were displaced from their homes. The doctors (only the non-kispigi Kenyans) who had to evacuate by accompanied by armed guards by helicopter/plane returned to Tenwek last month – so this is all still on everyone’s minds and occasionally dinner conversation. More history…

“If it happens in Africa it must just be the primal instinct based in tribalism. The mass media has been covering the situation in Kenya as a near exclusive tribal and ethnic conflict without accounting for the history of Kenya’s political turmoil and where ethnicity is put into a colonial context. The crisis in Kenya is not solely ethnic and tribal. It is a crisis based on democracy and fueled by past divisions created by British colonial rule.

What we have seen recently is a devolution of ‘democratic’ elections into ethnic conflict. The Presidential incumbent, Mwai Kibaki, was made President in previous elections as the opposition candidate was declared unable to run by the constitution. Moving into the most recent elections Kibaki did not have the majority support. However, in the end tallies of votes Kibaki came out ahead of the opposition candidate, Raila Odinga. Odinga was running with his Orange Democratic Movement behind him. European Union observers declared Kibaki’s second term as stolen when the national vote counts came back different than the district vote counts, putting Kibaki as the winner. What we then saw was a devolution of a ’stable democracy’ in to “tribal” conflict. But, before we can even begin to grasp what this means in Kenya we have to examine and understand Kenya’s history of colonial violence and created ethnic tension.

In 1888, the British took over the area known as Kenya as part of the 1885 Berlin Conference that divided the land area of Africa between the major European powers. The Germans formerly controlled the land. The colony known as British East Africa remained uninvolved in World War I. By the twentieth century 30,000 white British settlers began establishing themselves in the fertile highlands growing coffee and tea and commanding unjust political and economic power in the country. The highlands had traditionally been home to the Kikuyu people, who were forced off of their land and had to then seek jobs on their own former land under the employ of white settler farmers for a meager wage of newly imposed British currency. This injustice set off the start of the Mau-Mau rebellion lead by the Kikuyu people and the Land and Army Freedom movement in 1952. The country was placed under martial-rule. The British Long Rifles, the Home Guard (Kenyan soldiers), and the British army backed by Winston Churchill’s command came together strongly against the movement and killed 42% of the rebel fighters. The capture and execution of Dedan Kimathi in 1956, the Mau Mau leader, essentially ended the rebellion. The Kikuyu rebellion was destroyed. The British consciously divided the Kikuyu and Luo people for fear that they would be too strong of a unifying force against their colonial empire. The Kenyan elites were able to take power with the election of the Kikuyu elite, Jomo Kenyatta.

The first elections in Kenya were in 1957. To the dismay of the British, the election was won by Kenyatta backed by his Kenya African National Union (KANU) party instead of the ‘moderate’ Africans the British had hoped for, but this was their own product of favoring the Kikuyu. Upon Kenyatta’s death Daniel arap-Moi took power, stepping up from his Vice Presidential role. His succession to president was strongly opposed by the Kikuyu elite, known as the Kiambu Mafia. He held power in uncontested single-party elections from 1978 until 2002. (Sidenote: Moi courted his wife here at Tenwek- she was practicing to become a nurse!!) Moi dismissed political opponents and consolidated his power. He put down Kikuyu coup attempts through execution of coup leaders. Moi was central in the perpetuating Kenyatta’s single-party state, reflected in the constitution. In his 2002 and 2007 election wins, Moi exploited the mixed ethnic composition of Kenya and with a divided opposition of smaller tribes – Moi won. Moi represented an ethnic minority, the Kalenjin, that kept the Kikuyu out of power for many years.

Kenya’s 36 million people are divided among 43 ethnic groups, each with its own identity, cultural traditions and practices, and separate language. The main groups are Kikuyu (22%), Luhya (14%), Luo (13%), Kalenjin (12%) and Kamba (11%), according to government figures. (Where I am is mostly Kipsigis!) Now we see the colonial policy of “divide and conquer” lives on. The tradition of corruption in Kenyan politics continues and Kikuyu is pitted against the various ethnic groups. However, this is a created ethnic conflict in a country where ethnicity and politics are conjoined. Kenyatta was a Kikuyu elite created by the British colonialism, Moi was essentially a dictator for 30 years, and Kibaki undemocratically stole power and now for a second time. Instead of a conflict rooted in tribalism this conflict, “suggests that the undemocratic historical trajectory that Kenya has been moving along was launched at the inception of British colonial rule more than a century ago.” What is most surprising is not that there is now an ethnic conflict in Kenya, but that it did not happen sooner.

Surprisingly, CNN acknowledged the roots of Kenya’s ethnic political troubles. Neither candidate in Kenya’s elections really represented the people or true democracy. Odinga’s (Luo) Orange Democratic Movement was supported by Luhya and he promised to appoint a Luhya deputy if elected. Kibaki’s government has had troubles and scandals dealing with corruption and graft since beginning in 2002. The BBC also gives a more accurate account of the conflict in Kenya. They suggest that the headlines talking of tribalism should better read: “Tribal differences in Kenya, normally accepted peacefully, are exploited by politicians hungry for power who can manipulate poverty-stricken population.” But no one wants to read that. The main stream media has decided to final cover Africa as a front page story only because it provides a striking headline. As Kikuyu flee, the news wants to make Kenya out to be another Rwanda, but I wouldn’t venture so far to say that it has become that terrible….

The US has condemned the violence in Kenya. “We condemn the violence that occurred in Kenya as its citizens await these election results, and call on all Kenyans to remain calm while the vote tabulation process is concluded,” State Department spokesman Tom Casey said in a statement. The US would like to say how terrible it is that Kenyans have been denied democracy. However, I am not sure how we can claim to know democracy. Just as Kenyans, we too have never known real democracy in this two-party system full of government control and corruption. My swahili professor is from western Kenya, he is a Luo. The other day I asked him if his family was safe. He said they were, they had fled soon enough to miss the violence. I asked him about the history of ethnic favoring in Kenya and he said that it all started with Kenyatta.”

One thing I find SO interesting is that everyone here has cell phones. Even if they do not have electricity to charge said phones- they still have them. And, when people say the equivalent of “dont just hand out money to people on the streets… they will probably waste it on drugs and alcohol” (as we might say in the city), today I heard, “we don’t just give out money- people might just spend it for more minutes!” There are places set up where you charge them. These cell phones had their own special role in the violence orchestrated early this year.

One of the hundreds of hate short text messages sent during the post-poll violence was read out in a Nairobi court on Wednesday.

The court was taken through a chain of how the short text message (SMS) was forwarded to at least six people within hours last December 31.

This was soon after the announcement of the disputed presidential election results.

The message sent from a Celtel mobile phone subscriber, was an appeal to one tribe to rise against another. The sender asked the recipients to forward it to 10 more people.

Very interesting! the article can be found here

For the past few months I’ve been musing about how technology is changing the world and will continue to do so. Being here in Kenya, it is especially interesting to see how technology is making a difference. There is also a map mash-up called Ushahidi (witness) which allowed people on the ground in Kenya to send texts and video taken via cell phone, which then appeared on an online map of Kenya for everyone to view.

Although there are many benefits to technology, as I mentioned above, the cell phones were also used to encourage hate.

“Fellow Kenyans, the Kikuyu’s have stolen our children’s future…we must deal with them in a way they understand…violence.”

“No more innocent Kikuyu blood will be shed. We will slaughter them right here in the capital city. For justice, compile a list of Luo’s you know…we will give you numbers to text this information.”

People sent these messages out to everyone in their phone books, and encouraged others to pass them on. One thing that people were not counting on- is that these texts can be traced!! The situation got so dire that the Kenyan government considered shutting down mobile phone service in the country but Safaricom’s CE0, Michael Joseph, convinced them not shut down his network. To counter the violence, they sent text messages of peace and calm to its 9 million subscribers.

9:15pm

I just got back from the nursery. A baby peed on me.. I was wondering when it would happen. (Sorry about the skirt Chels!) I spent most of the night feeding Joseph and trying to get him to smile. He’s lagging behind on development. For example, most babies smile at 3 months, but he’s already 5 months old… The nurse on duty tonight, Rispa, and I were wondering if it has something to do with the fact that he was abandoned. It was feeding time, so many of the mothers were in the room and for the first time I got to connect mothers to their babies. When I was there earlier today I got to sit and talk with Dr. Bemm and hold Ester. Ester is one of many “miracle baby’s” in that room- baby’s that in medical terms, should not have survived- but did. She has a cold right now so she spent most of the afternon screaming. Her head is so big for her tiny body! I also went to the pediatric ward and practiced more Swahili and Kipsigi. The little boy with the burns was up and moving around.

During most of my time at Tenwek, I will spend more time in an office struggling to teach computer skills than hacking my way through the tangle of jungle vines in the nearby rainforest. Being here in Africa is still not quite real. All through my time here, I will have one eye on the calendar knowing that I will go home. One interesting thing I’ve learned- even the long-term missionaries who were raised here and have chosen to raise their families here (the Steury’s specifically) do not try to live just AS the people live. What I’m realizing, is that you can’t do that. If I were to come here and leave all my wealth at home and live as the people live, they would be suspicious, and ask, “Why are you trying to cheat us? We know you have more money.” There’s no way to ever be on the same level because when it comes down to it I will always have people in America as back up. As a non-native (even if you’ve grown up here), if you get sick, you can always go back to the US to receive the best medical care. You can pretend to live “as the people live,” but they do not buy it for a second. Even if you are a poor college student in America’s eyes, here, you are super wealthy just because of the fact that you’re here. You can wear the same clothes every day and insist that you do not have any extra shillings to give away, but you had enough money to buy a plane ticket to travel around the world- and that’s a lot more than most here will ever have.

Tomorrow is Madaraka Day and we will celebrate Kenyan’s independence. Here, it’s just a day off from work, but John Wright is set on having a party. So, as Patti (a medical intern from Nairobi) went around inviting people to the bbq she explained it as, “Americans celebrating Kenya’s independence… the American way.” There will be hot dogs and hamburgers and baked beans- and maybe fireworks if John can get in touch with the Whites to find out where they’ve hidden their stash!

Yesterday I climbed Mount Montigo. It’s the highest peak in the area and offered a 360* view. It’s about 8,000 feet up. It was absolutely beautiful and the weather was perfect (as always). It was probably a few miles there and a few miles back. We crossed the river that provides all of the water for the hospital. I came back totally beat and collapsed in my bed for a few hours before heading up to the hospital. Tenwek is about 6,938 feet up. Because there’s no way I can convey the beauty, I will quote it from Out of Africa:

“In the day-time you felt that you had got high up, near to the sun, but the early mornings and evenings were limpid and restful, and the nights were cold.

“The geographical position, and the height of the land combined to create a landscape that had not its like in all the world. There was no fat on it and no luxuriance anywhere; it was Africa distilled up through six thousand feet, like the strong and refined essence of a continent. The colours were dry and burnt, like the colours in pottery. The trees had light delicate foliage, the structure of which was different from that of the trees in Europe; it did not grow in bows or cupolas, but in horizontal layers, and the formation gave to the tall solitary trees a likeness to the palms, or a heroic and romantic air like fullrigged ships with their sails clewed up, and to the edge of a wood a strange appearanceif the whole wood were faintly vibrating. Upon the grass of the great plains the crooked bare old thorn-trees were scattered, and the grass was spiced like thyme and bogmyrtle; in some places the scent was so strong, that it smarted in the nostrils. All th! e flowers that you found on the plains, or upon the creepers and liana in the native forest, were diminutive like flowers of the downs,–only just in the beginning of the long rains a number of big, massive heavy-scented lilies sprang out on the plains. The views were immensely wide. Everything that you saw made for greatness and freedom, and unequalled nobility.

“The chief feature of the landscape, and of your life in it, was the air. Looking back on a sojourn in the African highlands, you are struck by your feeling of having lived for a time up in the air. The sky was rarely more than pale blue or violet, with a profusion of mighty, weightless, ever-changing clouds towering up and sailing on it, but it has a blue vigour in it, and at a short distance it painted the ranges of hills and the woods a fresh deep blue. In the middle of the day the air was alive over the land, like a flame burning; it scintillated, waved and shone like running water, mirrored and doubled all objects, and created great Fata Morgana. Up in this high air yo breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance and lightness of heart. In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be. ” – Out of Africa description of where I am.

If there is any secret to this life I live, this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can. & there is nothing more to it than that.

My luggage came!!!!! Finally, I have a toothbrush, and a change of clothes. At first I was thinking, “Wow, I really get to live out my dream of living in Africa with only the clothes on my back,” but needless to say, that “dream” quickly got old. I spent the day with the Environmental team. We organized an “Environmental Day” and members of the community came out to pick up trash, listen to speeches, meet people, and attend a soccer tournament to raise awareness. When the actual game was over, I joined the local mens team to run around and score some goals. Environmental day here focuses on the proper disposal of trash (in kibera for example, it’s very common to just use a plastic bag to relieve oneself- and then they throw it up on the roof). So, the day was spent promoting sanitation to keep people healthy and prevent the spread of diseases. I met the health officials for Bomet and the mayor, which was pretty exciting because they spoke some English! I also spent some time at Tenwek primary school. The kids are so fun and loved the video camera. This specific day school has 500 kids and 16 teachers! They are incredibly well behaved!

Then I headed up to the hospital to hang out with the patients. That was definitely the best part of the day. Petra, Megan and I went up and brought the guitar and sang some songs in the different wards.

I love spending time with the kids, and even if it’s really hard to communicate- we can still have a lot of fun. There’s no privacy laws or anything so I get to find out about what happened to each patient and what the complications are etc. etc. so I am learning a lot!! At least one parent stays with them (the parent actually sleeps in the bed with their child), so I also spent a lot of time talking with them. And by talking, i mean laughing over my attempts to speak Swahili, Kipsigis, Masaii, and Kalegen (and many others i can’t spell). And I’m really trying to learn all of them!! When I’ve got it, I go around the entire room (maybe like 40 people) and sit down and practice.. and JUST when I think I’ve totally got it, someone looks at me funny and laughs and says something TOTALLY different and totally confuses me, and then, if the person next to them feels like saving me, they explain that the person is “from (insert one of 43 tribes here)” – and I try to learn to say it their way. THEN i have to relearn the one before, before going on and- I’m not the best at languages, but I’m really trying!

One little boy was pushed into a fire pit, and somehow managed to crawl out, but is burned ALL over his body. AAAH, after playing with him for a while I walked out and cried. Being friends with their doctors is on one hand REALLY interesting and fascinating, because we talk about their cases over lunch and dinner, but on the other hand incredibly depressing and sad because if they’re dying, well… you know.

The maternity ward is my favorite. If a mother is staying there- it means their baby is in the nursery. They are HILARIOUS, and so much fun!!! Today, after holding Joseph for a while in the nursery (the baby found abandoned in the latrine), I talked to one of the nurses Mercy. I’m still too scared to pick up the smallest babies (they really are only a little bigger than one hand), but she said it would take about a week and then I’d probably feel comfortable. I don’t know- we’ll see, I’m going to go back tomorrow. But yeah, after Joseph, I went to talk to the mothers, and had a lot of fun practicing the languages some more. We were all laughing (like 40 women) so hard a few doctors walking by stopped in to see if anything was wrong!!

Don left this morning which was sad, but we have some new families moving in next week I think.

Tomorrow is my day off, and I think I’m gonna wake up early and go climb to the highest peak around here. It’s some mountain and I can’t remember it’s name but it should take most of the day and once I get to the top I can see all the way to the Masaii Mara!! I will remember to wear sunblock this time!