Category Archive: Asia

1. Witchcraft and Malaria

   August 31, 2023 8:42 am Leave a Comment

   

    

   Jhari (photo) had transformed the area around her cottage into a work place, diligently removing husks from rice and cooking a vegetable stew on an open wood stove. Old age and smoke from the burning embers made it hard for her to see. But the sunlight was strong and this helped her to use a sieve in cooking.

   As I walked up to her, Jhari was humming a folk tune in a melodious voice. A sense of peace came over me but it was mixed with melancholy. The song was about Krishna, a deity revered by Hindus, and this eminent lord’s descent into the shallow waters of the abyss after being struck by an arrow, followed by his death.

   I wondered why this old lady was singing such a tragic song, associated with trauma and pain. As we sat and talked I began to understand.

   Jhari has seen a lot of misery in her life since her husband died early in their marriage and left her alone with her newborn child Reena. Jhari embraced the role of a single parent and set about earning a living without any concern for the social stereotypes stemming from her tribal background. One of the happiest moments occurred when her daughter Reena married Bharat Nayak and gave birth to two children, Jogendra Nayak, 14, and Mousumi Nayak, 8.

   Reena was living a happy life when catastrophe struck during the monsoon. Bharat suffered came down with a terrible fever. Reena and Jhari assumed that Bharat’s fever was caused by a virus and took no action, thinking Bharat would be fine in a few days. But his condition worsened. His fever grew worse and he suffered from fatigue, nausea and a loss of appetite. A few days later, he began to have seizures.

   Jhari and Reena assumed that an evil spirit had entered Bharat and took him to a sorcerer living on the outskirts of the village. This witch doctor claimed that Bharat had been plagued by an evil force that had to be removed. He took Bharat in for 3 days and performed a series of rituals that were unorthodox, cruel, and terrifying.

   The sorcerer boasted loudly that he had removed the evil entity. But by the third day Bharat could no longer tolerate the pain and trauma and passed away in the afternoon. Incredibly, the villagers were still hailing the wonders performed by the sorcerer.

   But four people were standing near the body of Bharat whose lives had just been devastated. When they took the body to the medical facility to get the death certificate the doctors stated that the cause of death had been malaria and had nothing to do with witchcraft. Questioned by the distraught family, the doctor explained that malaria is caused by the bite of a tiny mosquito.

   However, his death could also be blamed on witchcraft……..

2. Thank You and Goodbyes

   August 3, 2022 1:32 am Leave a Comment

   It’s amusing to reflect on the beginning of something when you’re at the end because the hindsight we gain with time changes how we remember the emotions we felt at the beginning. In my first few days in Nepal, I was dealing with jet lag, homesickness, and food poisoning. Those things were not fun, but I do miss having a much keener eye to my surroundings the way I did when I first arrived. I think anytime you go somewhere new, there’s a process that happens where unfamiliar things around you are more noticeable and they feel noteworthy, or worthy of that extra attention, to you. After that, the same things might be noticeable, but no longer noteworthy. And eventually they are neither noticeable or noteworthy to you anymore. Knowing how this works, I’ve been drafting this blog post since day one. I wanted to mark the little moments that don’t always end up in pictures, but that leave a mental impression. 

   

   Cat acrobat extraordinaire

   • – A girl practicing riding her bike with the training wheels on the roof of her building in downtown Tulsipur. 
   • – The local peddler walking his bicycle along the street overflowing with household wares as he periodically shouts out his advertising pitch.
   • – Watching a cat use the dense bundle of electrical wires as an aerial bridge between two buildings. 
   • – A dad leaving his shop in Thamel to meet his daughter at the school bus stop. 
   • – Families of four all commuteing together on one motorbike. 
   • – Going outside to use the sink on the balcony in Bardiya only to see the neighbors already up and plowing the paddies with a team of oxen while I brush my teeth. 
   • – Being asked if I wouldn’t mind getting my palm read in Dang. 
   • – Our Tuk Tuk driver in the Bardiya national park pulling over in the middle of the forest to ask a group of men for some of the wild lychee-like fruit they were collecting. 

    

   I’ll miss measuring time, not in days, but in dal bhat and masala teas consumed.

   

   A classic

   My student’s mind was also amazed at how often these big trends I had read about and that are written about Nepal cropped up in interpersonal interactions. 

   I can’t count the number of times there was a mention of someone from Nepal leaving the country to work abroad from chats with families and women from the training to politicians speaking on economic policies. You can read about how remittances impact the economy, but it is less common for this phenomenon to be reported in terms of its impacts within a community and a family. 

   By complete chance, I also got to briefly meet someone who works as a community health volunteer. These volunteers form a community-owned initiative that has been praised for its successes in reducing infant and maternal mortality. So interesting in the broader context of community-led development like forest management groups and other management projects overseen at the local level. 

   Women’s representation in the political sphere in Nepal was also a topic I had previously read about before hearing from a woman who was a member of the constituent assembly speaking at the commemoration event in Kathmandu I attended. I also briefly met a young woman who ran for deputy mayor and another young woman who works for her municipality who spoke about local-level issues of corruption. 

   None of these experiences would have been possible without everyone at AP, NEFAD, and BASE. Thank you for the support and guidance!

   

   Dal bhat at home with Prabal and Prajita

   And, of course, the biggest thank you to Prabal, my counterpart for the summer. I’ll miss chatting about culture, politics, history, and what got us both to where we are today.

   I also couldn’t ask for a better travel buddy. I was impressed by your absolute lack of any hesitation to go to the front of the bus to figure out what’s going on on the road. I was also endlessly entertained by the way your personality must bring out something in people like the bus conductors and auto rickshaw drivers that makes them comfortable sharing their whole life story with a total stranger without any prompting. 

   

   Family visit in Chitawan

   But most importantly, thank you for welcoming me into your home. I can’t express how touching it was for me to spend time with your family. 

   Thanks for everything and until next time, Nepal!

3. The Tharu Cultural Museum

   July 20, 2022 8:06 am 1 Comment

   In the previous post, I shared a very general introduction to bonded labor. In the late 18th century, Nepal was newly unified as one state, and ruling families were given land grants in the Terai. The land grants entitled these new landowners to collect revenue from those who cultivate the land which is how the Kamaiya system developed. This impacted the indigenous Tharu ethnic community who lived in these regions. 

   You wouldn’t think that malaria would have much to do with this story of bonded labor, but the eradication of malaria in the western Terai led to the unexpected consequence of furthering land grabbing by new migrants. The Tharu people have greater genetic resistance to malaria which was a great superpower to have if you lived in the lowland plains regions of Nepal.

   When the Nepalese government worked to eradicate malaria in the 1950s and 60s, non-Tharu migrants moved in and occupied land Tharu people lived on, but may not have had written records for. Settlers could register the land in their own name and force Tharu families to work the land as agricultural laborers. 

   Visiting the Tharu Cultural Museum in Dang is an interesting experience knowing this background. The site of the museum used to be a boarding house for freed Kamlaris, a form of bonded labor specific to women and girls. As the girls grew up and moved away, the site was being unused.

   The location was a reminder of the legacy of marginalization of an indigenous ethnic community. By turning it into a cultural museum, the site was transformed into a place of cultural pride and memorialization. 

   The name “museum” may not actually be the most accurate characterization. BASE is leading the conversion of this space into a multipurpose community gathering site, income-generating attraction, and center for cultural preservation. BASE runs livelihood training programs from the location with some of the products produced destined for sale in the museum’s gift shop.

   

   Park area of the museum

   We visited a tailoring training where women practiced creating traditional Tharu dresses for sale at the museum. Visitors also help pay for the latest construction developments through the museum entrance fee, traditional dress rentals, and an on-site restaurant.  

   In the museum exhibits, various traditional tools were on display that I recognized from the designs the embroidery training participants chose to depict. 

   

   Grain sieves

   

   Grain baskets

   Paintings on the walls showed different life stage events and community events. 

   

   From birth …

   

   … to death

   It was interesting to learn more about the communal governing system where households vote for the local leader who serves a one year term. These elections always coincide with the Maghi Festival in January or February. 

   I was encouraged to try on one of the traditional dresses available for rent at the museum and I’m so glad I got to wear not just the dress, but all the embellishments and jewelry that make the whole outfit. 

   

   With Pinky, BASE staff member

   

   Trying on a traditional dress

   We ordered some traditional items off the menu to try out. Our shared plate included some cooked and spiced snails, breaded and fried river fish, steamed rice flour bread sticks, crunchy fried lentil and rice patties, and some rice beer. 

   

   Lunch for the day

   All-in-all, it was a really fun day! 

   A big takeaway for me on the visit was the exciting potential for multi-use public spaces in community building. A physical location that serves multiple goals seems well positioned to cater to both in-group and out-group guests such as, in the cultural museum’s case, both Tharu and non-Tharu visitors. 

   This theme would carry over a few days later during a visit to the Disappeared Persons Memorial Park in Bardiya.

4. Women’s Work and Theories of Change

   July 9, 2022 2:11 am 2 Comments

   I have been thinking about theories of change recently. Individuals have them and so do organizations. These theories guide our problem solving and refine the lens through which we see an issue. What started out as a seemingly straightforward intention between two partner organizations to work on a project together that addresses labor rights violations, ended up being an interesting dive into how theories of change can make things more complicated than intended.

   

   Meeting at the BASE office

   BASE as an organization has a long history of fighting unjust labor practices in Nepal. First formed in 1985 and incorporated in 1990, the group helped organize a non-violent movement against traditional systems of  bonded labor particularly practiced in the western Terai regions of Nepal.

   The Kamaiya system of bonded labor required people without land to take loans from landowners to allow them to cultivate some of the landowner’s land for their own basic subsistence. Landowners would raise loans to such exorbitant debts that whole families were trapped into selling their labor in exchange for subsistance land access and thus living and working on the landowner’s land in what amounted to slave labor. Families could get stuck in these bonds of indebtedness for years or generations. 

   Through BASE and other partners’ efforts, the Kamaiya bonded labor system was officially abolished in 2000. The organization continued to fight against the system’s informal continuation and they became a social services provider to rural and marginalized communities, especially for ex-bonded laborers. 

   

   Inside the BASE office

   The next big fight against bonded labor came in the form of the Kamlari system where girls and young women were sold into indentured servitude under contract to work as domestic workers in rich and high-caste households.

   The government affirmed in 2006 that the practice was illegal, but it wasn’t until 2009 that freed kamlaris began receiving financial support, greater access to education, and rehabilitation. And it wasn’t until 2013 that the Kamlari system was officially abolished. As with the Kamaiya system, BASE continues to fight against the informal perpetuation of bonded labor and support the needs of ex-bonded laborers. Today, BASE is continues to work towards a society that respects the labor rights and human dignity of all peoples. 

   From my own observation it seems to me that with time it gets more difficult to dissociate campaigns for human rights and campaigns against poverty; a distinction which may have always been arbitrary but at least helpful in organizing campaign action items.

   For example, we talked with BASE about issues of child labor at a nearby brick kiln where workers will travel from out of town during the peek labor season to work there. As children accompany their parents and move away from their hometown, they end up missing school and working in the kilns alongside their parents.

   Based one one’s theory of change, an organization trying to address this challenge could suggest many different kinds of interventions such as using legal means, providing alternative educational opportunities, or advocating for a social norms shift. But ultimately, the root cause is still poverty. 

   The other important note to remember is not all forms of labor are created equal. There is a huge distinction between the case of child labor at the brick kiln, for example, or the bonded labor of the Kamaiya and Kamlari systems that are so unsavory to human rights and dignity that they deserve wholesale eradication versus just labor systems that honor the dignity of workers.

   For example, a system that respects labor rights and that compensates housekeeping or domestic work with proper financial remuneration cannot be eradicated on the basis that domestic workers would rather work another job instead. A demand for domestic work such as dishwashing, laundry, cleaning, etc. will continue so any focus on this line of work must also include working towards the proper application of labor rights. 

   A lingering thought I’ve had on this subject is how in working towards a system of labor that ensures workers are protected against various abuses and improper work conditions, the historical legacy of egregiously unequal power relations in society makes this all the more complicated.

   If the worker’s and employer’s social group affiliation have not changed with time, how do you ensure that old patterns of inequality are not perpetuated? Does it become harder to measure what proper labor relations that respect labor rights look like if entrenched power dynamics have not shifted since before the abolishment of bonded labor, for example? I’m no expert in these issue areas, but I do think spending time in Dang, with BASE and at the embroidery training, I’m growing much more aware of how thorny everything can be.

   In 2019, BASE was looking to wade into this prickly topic by focusing on women who work informally as dishwashers mostly for household employers, but also for hotels or at one-off events. The project was delayed by COVID-19 which, of course, changed workforce patterns around the world. 2022 looks a little different than 2019. Demand for housekeeping work dropped during pandemic lockdowns, and certain women’s life situations changed in the past couple of years as well. 

   For example, some of the women we spoke to at the embroidery training used to take on dishwashing jobs, but now they have a young child at home. Or another woman who used to work as a dishwasher recently opened her own small grocery store from her house. Different adaptations have been made.

   On the other hand, women shared that they were not currently working dishwashing or housekeeping jobs, but anticipated returning to the work once they could as they didn’t see an alternative for themselves. Someone else shared that since she got married, she took over her mother-in-law’s job working for a household doing their dishes and other domestic tasks.

   Lots of the challenges facing women who take on these jobs seem somewhat universal to many wage labor workers. These gigs are under the table and informal meaning pay is not consistent. And with informality there is no accountability mechanism for potential labor abuses or legal recourse for not abiding by labor laws.

   The participants in the training all described the composition of their household income. The range in each woman’s experience stemmed from complete self-reliance on subsistence farming on your own land, to share cropping, to complete dependence on wage labor from all adult household members. Most commonly, households were in some mix between agricultural and wage work (including wage labor outside the country that returned to the household as remittances).

   The women at the training are pulled in many directions, and while it seemed easy to use one identifier of “women who work as dishwashers,” in fact women are juggling multiple paid and unpaid work streams and entering in and out of certain job classifications. But a common thread amongst the women who currently work, previously worked, or anticipate working in dishwashing is their disinterest in the work itself. They want to be doing something else. 

   This demand has informed how BASE offers their programming as a big focus of theirs is on reskilling and continued education. I think the situation is challenging, but while one woman’s circumstances might improve, I worry about the next woman who will take the job she leaves behind. Is it possible to lean into two separate theories of change at once – one that finds alternative employment and one that improves the status of the current line of work? 

   I think part of that answer will come with time from the women themselves. Embroidery trainings are a lesson in a new skill set, yes, but more than that they are meant to function as, one, an opportunity to build community and solidarity amongst a group of participants and, two, to acclimate participants towards growing one’s voice through visual storytelling first and public engagement second.

   Based on the experience of working with BASE, it seems that open discourse on labor practices amongst this group of women may be the most challenging first step as domestic work is looked down upon and there’s social stigma to identifying oneself with the work. There are a lot of potential next steps in the labor rights journey for this group of women, and I hope that speaking out about their experiences, perhaps amongst themselves in these initial stages, brings greater momentum to engaging in greater public discourse on these issues. 

   I know I’ll miss spending those training day with ladies like my miniti. As the two tallest women in the room, it was decided that Rukumi and I are bonded in a miteri friendship, like a kindred spirit or friend turned sister kind of relationship.

   

   Miteri friendship

   And of course, I can’t forget my Tik Tok director and co-stars.

   

   The Tik Tok team

   I have a lot of confidence in the team from the training and hope I can follow the group’s progress over time.

5. Master Trainers and Post-Training Reflection

   July 2, 2022 1:24 am 1 Comment

   To give you a sense of what Kanchan and Kushma are like as co-leaders, I have an anecdote to share.

   On our way from Bardiya to Dang we first took a local bus to a neighboring town to catch a van that would take us to Dang. On that first local bus, it was Kanchan who verbally wrestled out the price with the bus conductor (all the buses or vans have at least one driver and one conductor who takes the fares, tries to bring in more passengers along the roadside even when it doesn’t look like there are any available seats left, and jumps in and out of the vehicle at each army or police road stop). They had quite the back and forth as she negotiated a lower price for the four of us; me, Prabal, Kushma, and herself. She settled down into her seat once she was satisfied with the results of her haggling.

   Meanwhile, on the second van ride Kushma sat on her own in the front row to avoid getting car sick while the other three of us were further back. I could see her delicately rearranging her scarf to place a barrier between her nose and the incoming dust from the road. Later she told us that she was using that time in the car to think through her teaching strategies and how best to structure their upcoming training sessions. Both of these observations really make sense when you know that Kanchan is the treasurer for the co-op and Kushma is the president. 

   

   Kushma and Kanchan scanning the Tulsipur skyline

   Upon reflecting on the training experience, both Kushma and Kanchan shared that they felt nervous on the first day, but I can confidently say that they hid their nerves very well. From their initial introductions on day one, their voices and gaze were steady. They provided instruction in an even tone and over the course of each day figured out how to transition from general instruction for the whole group to trouble shooting while each trainee worked on their own embroidery square.

   They were unafraid to tell someone they needed to redo a portion of their work, or even to pull the stitches out themselves. Based on how Kushma and Kanchan learned to embroider, I think the most foreign part of leading the training was standing in the front of the room and giving directions to everyone at once. When the course of the training transitioned more to troubleshooting, they seemed more used to that from their own embroidery journey with the Bardiya cooperative. 

   Especially in the beginning when the training participants were still uncertain of themselves, they would call over Kushma or Kanchan (called them “miss”) much more than later on. Sometimes guidance would require Kushma or Kanchan to physically rearrange the way someone was holding their embroidery hoop or hold their hand through a stitch to feel the proper form. 

   

   Kushma guiding a trainee through a stitch

   Kushma and Kanchan shared after day two that they were getting called over when the thread would fall out of someone’s needle, but that the participants needed some tough love so that they would stop doing that since rethreading the needle is the most basic task. Each day, the trainers were exhausted after spending hours jumping back and forth between people. I think it was helpful for Kushma and Kanchan to have the other there so they could cover more territory as a team. 

   

   Kanchan helping to rethread a needle

   The two trainers worked together in their instruction process in other ways as well. There was one woman in attendance who did not know the Tharu language, so during the first day’s general overviews, Kanchan sat beside that participant and translated what Kushma was saying from the Tharu language into Nepali.

   On the last day when Prabal and I were conducting participant interviews, Kanchan noticed that one woman was struggling to understand one of Prabal’s questions in Nepali, so she stepped in and translated the answers back into Nepali for Prabal who then translated into English for me.

   

   Kanchan translating into Nepali

   I assumed that maybe the two languages were similar to each other, but Prabal shared that when Kushma and Kanchan would chat between themselves he had no clue what they were talking about. Not only is this bilingualism so impressive, I think it’s also a good example of how important their Tharu identity is in their lives. I found this to be reflected in visual format from one of Kanchan’s embroidery squares.

   When the training plans were finalized for Kushma and Kanchan to lead the training with BASE in Dang, Kanchan designed an image representing her and Kushma coming to Dang and encouraging a woman working as a dishwasher to join them. The trainers are confidently standing upright, but rather than representing a power hierarchy, Kanchan specifically dressed all the figures in traditional Tharu clothing to show their shared identity and community membership. 

   

   Kanchan’s design of the trainers’ arrival in Dang

   Beyond embroidered representation, during our meals together at the hotel I learned that Kanchan owns a ceremonial dress and sometimes performs in group dances traditional to the Tharu community. Kanchan is bringing that pride you gain from celebrating your identity to the training in Dang by supporting other women from the same background to find strength in community and power in sharing your story.

   Speaking of storytelling skills, after witnessing a training for the novice stitcher, I’m convinced that what makes the embroiderers in the Bardiya cooperative artists of their craft is not just about their stitching skills but about their ability to create a design that tells a story that is simultaneously universal and incredibly personal. The storytelling design was hands down the most difficult step in the process for the trainees in Dang, but the embroidery cooperative members are pros.

   As a further example, take Kushma’s recent depiction of the Daishain festival. She shows a common scene of the festival, but also includes a “what if” alternate reality of this festival living in her mind’s eye. She is able to show how the loss of her father lives within every holiday celebration. Sharing the background behind her design was emotionally overwhelming for Kushma and she had to take a step back. But despite the difficulty in sharing a story verbally, she knows she can always share what is on her mind in a visual medium. 

   

   Kushma holding her work

   After asking Kanchan and Kushma to compare when they first started the embroidery project in Bardiya to today, what they shared shows how the confidence to tell your story that developed through the fiber arts visual storytelling process years ago translated into using your voice in the community. They both credited the experience with bringing them out of their shell and out of the home.

   Today, Kanchan works at an insurance company where she has to have the confidence to interact with clients and put herself out there to gain new customers. Kushma is a regional lead for a NGO focused on empowering Tharu women, and in this role she has to be comfortable in the spotlight as a community organizer.

   Even members from the cooperative who are no longer active have stayed involved in initiatives that support women raising their voices in the community. As an example, Sarita, despite working a full time job as a psychosocial counselor, still collected about 100 profiles from women in the Bardiya district about their experience during the COVID-19 pandemic for a NGO whose goal is to raise the voices of women in Nepal. 

   

   Writing profiles of the trainers

   I’m continually amazed by this group of women, and feel lucky to meet them at a time when their experience in the cooperative is translating into skills and involvement in the broader community. 

6. The Dang Embroidery Training

   June 28, 2022 1:07 pm 1 Comment

   Before coming to Nepal, I kept hearing from AP that the embroidery technique used by the Bardiya cooperative was something of a mystery as no one from AP had yet witnessed the designs coming together in real time. I feel that I got a behind the scenes look over the course of a four day training seeing not only the embroidery process, but also the best practices being conveyed from trainer to trainee. 

   

   Anticipation on day 1

   On day one of the embroidery training with BASE, as could be expected, the mood was a little nervous and serious before things really kicked off. Everyone went around the room giving introductions, and then it was up to Kanchan and Kushma to lead the way. They used their own embroidery squares as examples passed around the room so participants understood the end product. And the AP catalogs about the embroidery blocks from Africa also made an appearance as inspiration. 

   

   Sharing an AP catalogue with participants

   Materials were distributed and trainees were instructed to draw a design for their embroidery square with pencil on a sheet of paper. The hesitation in the room was heavy. References were made to the catalog. Women looked over each other’s shoulder at the other’s paper. Some people started googling ideas on their phone or searching their phone’s photo albums.

   Despite the hesitancy, by the end of day one everyone had an initial design ready. Most chose imagery that reflected traditional Tharu culture and lifestyle. The women were then shown how to transfer the design from paper to their cloth using carbon paper. 

   

   Designs transferred to fabric with carbon paper

   Kanchan and Kushma created two test designs that the trainees could use to try out the stitches before they went at it with their own hoop. This was a fun step to watch as collaboration between the women grew. One person would try their hand at a stitch while the others formed a circle around them watching their progress before the trial hoop was passed along to the next person in the circle. Stitches were torn out of these two hoops quite ruthlessly when Kushma or Kanchan didn’t think that the stitches were even or close enough to each other to make a good border for the image’s design.

   

   Getting the right tension on the hoops

   Stitches needed to enter the fabric incredibly close to each other to give a “colored within the lines” look at the end. And the punch needle couldn’t be brought too far away from the cloth or else the excess thread would bunch and the stitch would no longer be flat and even – kind of like how when you forget to put the foot down on a sewing machine the thread isn’t taunt and stitches end up loose requiring you to restart. 

   

   Kanchan modeling proper stitches

   The stitching illustration process starts with black thread used to outline the major features of the design, before switching to different colors to color in the spaces within the outline. Once everyone got a hang of how the stitching would go, some people took a look at their initial design they drew on day one and said nope, not gonna happen. A few designs were reworked to accommodate a novice stitcher’s aptitude. 

   

   Providing feedback

   The next part of the training that really got people working together was the process of splitting the threads. Embroidery floss is sold as six thin threads twisted together into one string. For the purposes of punch needle embroidery, we needed that floss divided into three strings of two threads each.

   The fastest way to split the threads was to work in teams of four. Three people would wrap their two threads around a makeshift paper spool while the fourth would hold the end of the embroidery floss taunt to avoid all the twisting and untwisting threads from getting knotted. Watching Kanchan and Kushma, there was a technique to the fourth person’s job who could expedite the whole process by constantly running the floss through their hands while they kept the floss tight to loosen the twirl the six threads were in. Since this process worked better in teams, trainees had to ask for help and take turns collecting their needed colors from each other. 

   

   Splitting embroidery floss into threads

   Once everyone had the threads they needed, people started to hunker down. The process was more familiar so less troubleshooting emergencies arose. The mood became more relaxed and everyone could enjoy one another’s company. Certain women particularly keen on the process would stay a little longer after the end of the day’s session or bring their hoop home to make more progress during the evening. 

   

   Checking arch others progress

   We had to shake ourselves out of this calm mood on day four when we realized it was our final day together. Interviews were conducted, and even more photos were taken. In every follow-up interview, all the participants had nothing but great feedback for the trainers! Kudos to Kanchan and Kushma for leading their very first training session!

   

   A job well done!

7. The Future of the Bardiya Embroidery Cooperative

   June 25, 2022 3:00 am 1 Comment

   If I’m being honest, finally meeting the Bardiya embroidery cooperative felt a little bit like meeting celebrities. I’ve heard so much about them, read about the time previous Peace Fellows spent together with them in years past, and seen the group’s storytelling embroidery blocks. While my motivations to pursue an AP Peace Fellowship were many, in a lot of ways, I flew to the other side of the globe to see this group. Unlike projects in Dang, this was an established community with their own history and character, and I was excited to witness it for myself. 

   I also found myself entering the scene at an interesting time for the group. At this point, it has been five years since the group formed, and many of the original members have taken a step back. Today, the group is composed of a friend group from the youngest generation of the initial cohort. To interpret this outcome, I think it’s important to think about the purpose of embroidery in this context.

   This form of fiber art is special in that it facilitates storytelling using materials and processes that are more logistically and culturally accessible than other art forms like painting. And unlike painting, fiber arts have a communal nature to them; especially amongst women. These two qualities of embroidery, the communal nature and storytelling potential, are what made it so important to the Bardiya co-op.

   The transition of members out of the embroidery side of the group is a sign that the storytelling and community-building goals were met. Embroidery acted as a facilitator. With time, the members who stayed on were interested in other aspects of embroidery work such as the income potential of this skillset, keeping up a hobby amongst friends, or the artist’s desire to refine their art form. 

   As another note on timing, it was an interesting time for a visit due to the agricultural calendar as well. Generally speaking, there are three geographic regions in Nepal – the mountains, the hills, and the Terai; lowland plains regions along southern Nepal and northern India. This area is a rich agricultural region and during the summer monsoon season planting has to be timed just right around the rains.

   When Prabal and I first arrived in Bardiya we commented on how dry the rice paddies looked. There was also a noted difference between paddies that were connected to groundwater irrigation systems, noticeable because they were planted first, and ones that relied purely on the rainwater. Within just a week’s time we witnessed a flurry of action in the fields as everyone took advantage of the rains.

   In both Bardiya and Dang, both districts in the Terai, it’s an all hands on deck affair as whole families spend the early hours of the morning before it gets too hot pushing rice plant sprouts into the mud in neat upright rows with incredible speed. Families rely on this process for their own personal subsistence farming if they have access to their own land, or as sharecroppers planting a landlord’s fields. Either way, it is of essential importance to the household.

   

   Freshly planted rice paddies

   We scheduled our time together so as to not interfere with the Bardiya group’s planting responsibilities. During that first get-together I met Kushma, Kanchan, Geeta, and Binita for the first time. I enjoyed watching the dynamics between these friends. They joked with Binita for joining us when she hadn’t made any embroidery blocks herself, and teasingly accused her of just wanting to hang out. They told the story of how Alina, another younger member like themselves from the cooperative, was being coy about the boy she was seeing and would later marry. Lots of laughs ensued. Following up on that story, they shared some photos of Alina from her wedding ceremony.

   The easygoing comradery amongst the group makes it easy to forget that these women who met as girls are bonded to one another through friendship, yes, but also through their shared loss and the trauma their families experienced through the forced disappearance of a relative. Unlike the older members from the original cooperative, the younger members who get married move away from their birth family to live with their husband’s family which disperses the cooperative members geographically. But despite the inevitable physical distance between them, there’s a sense that the bond between them remains unbroken. 

   

   Inspecting embroidery materials

   
   Prabal and I showed the group the embroidery supplies we bought in Kathmandu for the training in Dang. The assessment of each item was thorough. The punch needles received particular attention as the needles couldn’t be bent or broken, and extras would be needed since first-timers at the Dang training are likely to break a few needles here and there.

   I brought some AP catalogs of quilting projects in Africa, and it was interesting to see the intensity the review of the photographed embroidery received. I had spent so much time thinking about the role of embroidery in bringing together this group in Bardiya, but those catalogs showed how embroidery was a common denominator amongst women around the world.

   

   Looking through an AP catalogue

   As we got on our way to go to Neeta’s house to visit with her, Kanchan wanted me to try out her bicycle. A mix of biking and walking later, we reached an auto rickshaw driver who would take us to Neeta’s. Since he was going to drive us back as well, the rickshaw driver ended up sticking around in Neeta’s neighborhood. Neeta shared some delicious mangos with us from the tree growing behind her house, and although the rickshaw driver tried to politely refuse the mangos, we all joked that he was another guest at this point.

   

   Visiting with Neeta and her mother

   Without any probing or questioning at all, Neeta’s mother shared the story of her son’s disappearance. It was as if any home tour necessitates the retelling, as she began sharing by pointing to the houses where each of her surviving sons now live and the house where her lost son used to live. It was a natural element of the surroundings. It was the house from which the army took her 18 year old child and the house to which he never returned.

   At Neeta’s home and while walking through the neighborhood, it was exciting to recognize sights of Tharu daily life that I had seen in stitched form in previous embroidery squares from the Bardiya cooperative. The cooperative’s first forays into embroidery commemorated their personal loss during Nepal’s armed conflict, but those losses were also intertwined with the families’ identities as Tharu community members. The Bardiya district was most impacted by forced disappearances, and the majority of those disappeared were Tharu.

   

   Laughing through our photo shoot

   Upon later reflection, I think spending time with the training participants in Dang helped me understand the Bardiya cooperative members better and spending time with the Bardiya cooperative members helped me to understand the training participants in Dang better. A big theme in that process was the role of Tharu cultural identity in community building. Beyond ethnic identity, I felt working with both groups also highlighted the importance of developing one’s voice and the power that individuals, especially women, have in directing how they personally understand and translate empowerment into their lived experience.
   

   But before I could make those observations, we had to pull off the first ever storytelling embroidery training organized between AP, NEFAD, and BASE. Onward to the Dang district!

8. How Many Hours On a Bus?

   June 20, 2022 10:58 pm 1 Comment

   I had been warned of the infamous bus ride from Kathmandu to the Bardiya district. I was told to expect around 17 hours on the bus. (For reference, Google Maps estimates the drive from point a to b at 14 hours without disruptions.) I had even heard the story of past AP Peace Fellows getting stuck when a monsoon season mudslide blocked the road. 

   

   Leaving the Kathmandu bus station

   In preparation for our journey, Prabal had been checking the weather reports to avoid too much rain. As we made our way to the central bus station in Kathmandu to catch our 2pm bus we even congratulated ourselves for the recent spat of dry weather that should have boded well for our journey. Our trip ended up being a good lesson in not celebrating your victories too early. 

   

   A “road king” truck

   After pulling out of the bus station we made rather slow progress leaving the city. Roads are quite traffic filled and we were still making stops to pick up passengers. But from my window seat I could enjoy the gradual transition as the city morphs into the countryside. The slightly elevated vantage point offered some great people watching and truck spotting. (All the commercial trucks are decked out with the best designs.) Although as we got further into the mountains, I found it best not to look too closely at any parts of the road that dropped off down the mountainside. 

   

   Leaving Kathmandu valley

   Within that first hour a little kid sitting on his mom’s lap behind me was clearly not feeling well and ended up being sick out the side of the moving bus window. It probably wasn’t a great omen for the beginning of our trip, but at the time it seemed like a small bump in the road for our merry band of bus mates. Soon we were picking up speed and the bus drivers turned on the radio. Now we’re talking!

   Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more fun, the drivers switch to playing music videos on the tv. The party bus is officially on its way! While some of the songs were more serious, the majority were duets in an almost call and response format. The leading lady is accompanied by her gang of friends and the leading man has his mates with him. Spirits were very high as I spent the time deciphering the video storylines and admired the choreographed group dances. 

   

   Music video entertainment

   We started to hit patches of unpaved roads which slowed our progress. In the stretches of traffic, snack vendors hopped on the bus and walked up and down the aisle selling cucumber slices covered in spices, and fresh lychees. 

   

   Bus snack vendors

   At 6pm, 4 hours after we left the central bus station, our bus came to a permanent stop on the road. After some moments of confusion, our bus mates started exiting the bus. From the road you could see a never ending line of vehicles parked bumper to bumper stretching far out as far as the eye could see in front of us. And as we stood there on the side of the road more and more cars started arriving and stopping behind our parked bus until you couldn’t see the end of the line in that direction as well.

   The party bus had come to an abrupt end. Prabal and I had been so pleased with ourselves to avoid mudslides on the road, but our hubris had led us to a (dry) landslide road blockage instead. 

   

   Parked on the road

   From the side of the road we tried to see when cars in front of us started moving so we knew when to jump back on the bus. After an hour stopped at that same spot on the road, our now caravan of vehicles started inching forward but the progress was minimal. Every time the bus was stopped the engine was turned off which meant no ac. The humidity was excruciating and I’m pretty sure my back was essentially glued to the fabric of my seat chair.

   As this very slow progress continued, night fell and it started to rain. The only way to get some breeze was to stick your head out the window and wait for a truck driving the other direction on the two lane highway to drive past. Through all this, the little guy behind me who had been sick was in surprisingly good spirits. I could hear him chatting, shifting around, and looking out the window like me. If he could keep a positive outlook, so could I. 

   

   Parked on the road, but at night

   At this point I started to doze off, but I distinctly remember around 2am looking out the window to see a group of men, presumably all passengers on a neighboring bus, collectively observing and attempting to direct traffic, not that I could imagine that would help much. Even late into the night, the bus vendors were out in full force and we had a couple more sellers hop on the bus. My best guess of how we got out of the traffic jam was that buses and trucks were taking turns passing vehicles in our lane by using the oncoming traffic lane. 

   At around 4:30 in the morning, Prabal woke me up to say we were making a stop. During the night we finally extracted ourselves from the worst of the caravan-level traffic. Our rest stop didn’t have any electricity so the pit latrine break and the roadside restaurant visit were all conducted in the dark right before sunrise.

   Some of the other bus mates had some morning dinner. In total on this trip our bus only stopped three times for food. Being afraid of getting food poisoning from one of these stops, I stuck with processed snacks and tea. But not too much tea, because I was looking to avoid the bathroom on the bus which, based on the smell, was not equipped to handle an unexpectedly long ride like ours. 

   

   Before sunrise stop

   The radio started again post sunrise on the bus, but I don’t think I heard a thing. Driving consistently meant consistent ac. I don’t think I’ve slept as deeply while sitting upright as I did after that sunrise stop. 

   Feeling as refreshed as one can given the context, I got to enjoy a new stretch of traffic, but this time accompanied by near constant bus honking. The horns have an almost melodic ring to them and when multiple vehicles are honking at each other it actually sounds a bit like they’re talking to one another. (I was looking for some fresh entertainment since the music videos never came back on the tv.)
   

   Getting into the heartland of the Terai (or plains) region of Nepal was quite exciting to explore through the view of the bus window. This southern region of Nepal has such a different topography than the area around the capital. And this is the area I’d traveled around the world to visit. Rolling grassland, rice paddies waiting for planting, goat herds along the road, clay walled and thatched roof houses – all really distinctive and beautiful.  

   

   Changing scenery

   By the time we finally made it to our destination, it was just before 5:30 in the evening. From start to finish, our trip took just about 27 and a half hours – 10 and a half hours more than estimated.

   

   Made it to the hotel

   Once we were finally off the bus, the last surprise of the ride was noticing my ankles had doubled in size partially from all the sitting and partially from some insect bites at the ring of exposed skin they could get to. But all in all, no other damage. I was ready to wipe the soot out of my nose, take a shower, and eat some food. 

   We had arrived in Bardiya.

9. Disappearances and Stories Without an End

   June 18, 2022 8:36 am 1 Comment

   A dear friend of mine recently lost her father quite suddenly right before I came to Nepal. I’ve been thinking about that friend recently and about what it means to be there for someone else and witness just a fraction of their grieving process. Through this most recent example and really in all forms of grief, I’m noticing myself coming back to the idea of narrative. The story of a loved one’s final moments and the story of our own final moments with that loved one if the experiences were separate are narratives we retell surprisingly often.

   Not only that, we notice that other people, rightfully or not, will even inquire with the lost person’s loved one about that story. This back and forth retelling starts to nestle itself within the overall memory that we hold on to about our loved one until it too becomes another chapter in the story of their life. I think there’s a search for meaning in that story and hopefully, eventually, catharsis in its telling. 

   But what happens when that narrative, that story, doesn’t end? When it perhaps can’t end because there is no ending? 

   Ram, the director of the Network of Families of the Disappeared (NEFAD), kindly invited me to an annual commemoration event held in Kathmandu for two out of seven people who were disappeared on the same day from Kathmandu. The families of the two students being honored at this event established this tradition of memorialization and gathering.

   Representatives from all different facets of society were invited to pay their respects and speak on the status of the transitional justice process in Nepal. Each invitee came forward to the portraits of the two disappeared students and paid their respects. Afterwards, the whole room joined in a moment of silence in their memory. 

   

   Paying respects

   I was struck by the collective meaning-making happening in front of me. There is the first injustice of the crime committed against the disappeared themselves, and the secondary injustice to their family and friends who are denied the truth about what happened to their lost loved one. In the absence of an alternative, families and advocates were coming together to somehow write an ending to a story that has no end.

   

   Civil society and government speakers

   In honoring the memory of individuals, a new story is being written – the story of the transitional justice process as a whole. Willingly or unwillingly, everyone in that room is a part of the struggle for justice that after 16 years since the Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA) was signed in 2006 still has no ending. 

   

   Roomful of attendees

   Speakers took to the podium one by one and we heard from family members, civil society activists, the new law minister, and representatives from the various political parties, the former constituent assembly that wrote the constitution, the government’s commission on enforced disappearances, and the human rights commission.

   The attitudes, emotions, blame, and suggested courses of action expressed stretched across a full spectrum. Some speakers used the opportunity to further a political agenda, while others prioritized explanations for the delays. Lots of challenges are present, but it seemed to me that a growing villain, so to speak, in this story of transitional justice is the passage of time.

   Time normally would be a byproduct of the other underlying challenges, and not be its own separate entity. But with all the time that has passed since the peace agreement was signed, trust erodes, priorities change, frustrations grow, and hope for answers and solutions wanes. Through this turmoil, I respect voices like Ram’s which remind us to find a true north in the needs and priorities of those most closely affected by disappearances. 

   

   Family members with the portraits of their loved ones

10. Hello from an AP Peace Fellow in Nepal

    June 13, 2022 8:59 am 1 Comment

    Being a graduate student, my life has returned to the annual rhythms of the academic year again. And all students know that summer is a particularly unique time –  a reprieve from usual coursework, but an exciting time for learning nonetheless. Before I left the US for Nepal lots of conversation with classmates in my masters program naturally included questions about summer plans. I’d like to take a moment here to start off with a general overview.

    

    A peak of the Himalayas

    As a 2022 Peace Fellow with The Advocacy Project (AP), my project scope has three broad goals. 

    The first third of this fellowship is focused on supporting income generating activities for a group of women from the same district who each experienced a forced disappearance of a family member during the Nepal civil war from 1996 to 2006. The association of wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters first began working with embroidery as an art form to provide visual aids to advocacy efforts, commemoration activities, and solidarity building within this conflict-affected community. Over the years the group has refined their skills and the youngest generation of members are interested in continuing to use their sewing skills to bring in some extra money. 

    The second component of the fellowship includes a cross-over between two long standing AP partner organizations, NEFAD and BASE. Two embroidery artists from the association for families of the disappeared in the Bardiya district will act as trainers for the first time and teach a group of women who work under unfavorable labor conditions in the Dang district on how to produce embroidery for advocacy storytelling. The training intends to build the facilitation skills of the trainers, teach a new skill set to the trainees, produce firsthand accounts of the lives and concerns of the participants, and offer a community building platform for mobilizing next steps with the women in Dang. 

    The final component of the fellowship goals is to explore the place of local commemoration in the transitional justice process; hopefully through a paper submitted to the UN. Nepal has struggled to move forward with concrete measures that address the various needs of conflict victims from the civil war. There have also been noted differences in the ways various parties have prioritized different transitional justice goals from prosecution and reparations to recognition and truth-seeking. In the absence of satisfactory top-down progress, local-level commemoration efforts led by those affected first hand provide positive outcomes in a way that other countries could learn from. 

    All of these fellowship goals are both standalone priorities and interwoven issues. I think the international affairs and international development world can silo itself into various sub fields where everyone feels a need to profess their particular speciality, but these projects at the grassroots level really show how interrelated things are between human rights, income generation, women’s empowerment, advocacy, justice, and so much more.

    

    Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu

    When I think of my place in this process, I recognize that I am a visitor and a learner. I’m looking to support the work that is already being done by great people at a very localized level who could gain from greater international attention to their work and priorities. That makes me partly a reporter and photographer of sorts during this summer. On the other hand, I also see the Peace Fellow’s role as one side of the organizational capacity building that happens when similarly-aligned organizations collaborate domestically and internationally.

    I am very much looking forward to meeting and learning from new colleagues and friends!
    

     

11. Families of the Disappeared in Nepal Take their Case to the UN

    September 23, 2019 3:20 pm Leave a Comment

    Families of the Disappeared in Nepal Take their Case to the UN

12. The End to Amazing and Life-Changing Experience

    August 15, 2019 2:40 pm Leave a Comment

    As a Fellow or intern at an organization, you know that your time with the organization is limited. It’s like an unseen timer that continues to count your days, your hours, and your minutes until your time is up. It’s astonishing to me that I am finishing up my 10 weeks in Vietnam and will head back home. When I arrived, I was delirious, anxious and nervous about being abroad. I had never been out of the country and after leaving the Dulles airport so many thoughts came into my head about how I would make it. I, like many people, imagine the worst scenarios and my experience, although not without its moments, has been the exact opposite of what I could have imagined. Even with a slow start, I was able to experience something that many people around me may not ever see. 

    I have been able to work with a group of women who are welcoming and caring. Working with AEPD was like working with a family that wanted to ensure you never went hungry and always felt safe. From the moment I arrived and had to stay with Ms. Hao (The Program Manager), I knew that I would be okay. She and her family made me feel warm even though I was very anxious about everything. Once I was able to work in the office, it was nice to see the day to day activity. The office was full of people once the Taiwanese interns came and it gave us multiple opportunities to eat dinner together and learn about each other’s cultures. 

    

    The visits to beneficiary families really opened my eyes to people I would have no way of knowing if not for this opportunity. With each family I tried to make sure I was completely prepared with my emotions pushed to the side because I knew that some heavy topics would be brought up. Naturally, I smile a lot and before leaving I always tried to remember to shake their hand. Many of the families would give me a hug before leaving. I felt saddened by their plights but I could not dwell on them for long because each family brought a smile or laughter to the conversation before we left. And I would always think to myself, “If they are still able to smile then I can smile as well.” 

    

    Along with meeting these strong families, I have also been able to meet so many people from around the world. Travelers from Sweden, England, Scotland, The Philippines, Germany and more. I think it was most exciting to meet people from the U.S. because I felt like a piece of home was here with me. Getting to know the Taiwanese interns and the Canadian intern also help with my journey in Vietnam. It was great to experience new things with other people who were also foreigners to Vietnam. I am grateful for each and every moment with them and getting to know them. 

    

    The city of Dong Hoi is beautiful and the people are so friendly, always saying hello and asking where I am from and how I got here. I have now gotten accustomed to walking everywhere and finding new places to eat by looking at the pictures when there is no English, traveling on the Vietnam train, and going on local tours to learn more about the great places in Vietnam. But out of all the places I have visited in Vietnam, Dong Hoi seems to always be good to me. The beach and park always have an amazing view of the city. 

    

    During my time here, I have also been able to watch the construction of AEPD’s social enterprise Talk Cafe and its opening. Contributing to the invitations and marketing products was a great opportunity to be a part of something that will be used long after I am gone. The memories and stories I have from my time here will last a lifetime. I can only hope that I have made the same impression on AEPD and the beneficiary families.

13. Resilience

    August 13, 2019 2:39 pm Leave a Comment

    One of the things I have been very amazed by is the resilience of the Vietnamese people–especially the 11 families that we have supported. Though their plights are heavy and they are filled with constant struggle, they continue to move forward.  Learning the history of Dong Hoi, Vietnam has been essential to my knowledge about the families here as well. It has been less than 100 years since the war that struct so many families and yet the community here continues to thrive after much reconstruction. Many speak about how this place was nothing but a crater and it has been able to find its way back to a productive community. The conversations with our families have been humbling. In every encounter, the families are very welcoming and open to the many questions that Ngoc and I ask them. They are happy to show off the cow or buffalo that they were given.

    

    Mothers like Ms. Vo Thi Toa who at the age of 72 years old has to take care of the entire household on her own continues to stretch her resilience by ensuring that both of her sons and grandchildren have food and medication. Ever since her husband died, she has been a single mother and the main carer for not just her family,  but also her new cow and calf which are growing well.

    

    Mr. Tran Thi Tha and his wife Mrs.Ngo Gia Hue are another example of family resilience. Their three daughters are the joys of their life and they know that their conditions are permanent. Yet when I visited this family, I saw no sadness but laughter and smiles and a sense of pride for cows that Mr. Tha has raised. Their strength comes from ensuring their children are okay and they can maintain their household.

    

    Mr. Pham That and his wife, who is also a landmine survivor, are increasing in age and things are becoming harder and harder for them. Their son and daughter both live with serious disabilities, and caring for them is essentially a full time job for the parents. I can tell during our visit that it saddens them that they have to keep their daughter restricted to the back of the home and that there is not much help they can give to their son. And yet they still manage to find a way to support their family and not focus on their worries. 
    

    These caregivers have sacrificed everything to take care of their disabled children. It is very interesting that with so much construction and building in the city, there is not a facility where the disabled children affected by Agent Orange can be treated. Another disadvantage is that their symptoms vary widely, and even with all of our technology, many victims cannot trace their symptoms directly to Agent Orange. I know from our conversations that there is a clinic and a mental facility but both of these are difficult for families to visit multiple times. For most families, just travelling to get there is too expensive.
    

    After visiting with these families, I was so humbled by the amount of work they are able to get done with the little they have. They are so determined to make better outcomes for their lives. I think it’s important that more advocates help and support organizations like AP that work to find sustainable plans for vulnerable communities. I also think that we must now begin to take advocacy to a new level in order to help more Agent Orange affected families. Maybe we should start thinking about ways to change the environment for disabled people or think about the transportation that many families spend so much money on. I am not sure what the next steps will entail but I know that these families will continue to be resilient. 
    

14. The Drought

    August 12, 2019 12:38 pm Leave a Comment

    

    Many of our supported families have suffered big losses due to the drought happening across Vietnam. I started to notice a pattern every time I asked the question about how much their farms were able to produce and how much money they made off the rice, corn, or other crops. In each instance, a family would share that there is no extra money left over from farming but that the crop goes to food for the home. When most explained this, they would also mention that the crop was less than it has been in the past due to the drought. After clarification from AEPD coordinator Ngoc, I learned that the drought has been an imposition to many of the farmers here in Vietnam.  I have done some research and according to some of the Vietnamese news outlets the central region where Dong Hoi is located has faced very high-water shortages. The National English Language Daily for Viet Nam News, in a July article said “Prolonged hot weather in the central region has caused low water levels in reservoirs and dams, seriously affecting agricultural production and the daily lives of local residents.”( You can read more about this here).

    When I speak with consistent farmers like the Tran Thi Thao’s family who farm rice, peanuts, and beans, or the Phan That and Nguyen Huu Phuc families who strictly farm rice–they all mention that their crop is much smaller than what they usually have and it’s barely enough to provide food for the family, not to mention selling it for money. Even families that have fruit trees like Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Thin and Duong Thi An are afraid that their fruit trees will not produce as much because of the drought. I found it very interesting that even though this part of Vietnam is known to have pretty much the same four seasons as the U.S., they are currently suffering from a drought. However, I also think about my time here and I have only seen it rain 5 or 6 times in the last 21/2 months, and when it does rain it’s for short moments and then the sun is back with a vengeance. For these families, farming is a very important part of their livelihood. They live off of government compensation alone and the food from the farm truly helps them survive. Without their farm producing enough crops, they are forced to spend more money at markets or borrow money from relatives or neighbors to ensure they have enough food.

    They are also the sole caregivers for their disabled children. Everything falls on the parents, many of them wives and mothers. They are forced to figure out how to make ends meet. In many communes there has been no rain in months, threatening their line of work. But as I discuss this with many of the families, they are not saddened by the results from the drought but amount it to the highs and lows of being a farmer. Farming is clearly not an easy job and in America we can easily take for granted the smallest things as rain or freshwater or machines that can water your crop for you. My grandparents live in a small town in North Carolina and I always see plenty of farms and crops growing but the difference there is that they have machines to water the crop and rain is frequent. I feel for these families because as someone who is always hot and sweating from only being outside for 10 minutes or less, I know that the crops are in jeopardy of dying which means our supported families have yet another struggle to consider. I am hoping that as their summer season comes to an end, the rain will come, and the harvest will be restored. 

15. Is Saving an Option

    August 8, 2019 12:11 pm Leave a Comment

    The partnership between AP and AEPD has allowed families to have another source that can increase their monthly income or help their gardens with fertilizer. AP’s last fellow, Marcella, had the opportunity to see if certain families were able to save and if a microcredit program would work for them. This year we have the chance to dig a little deeper and try to understand if saving is possible for Agent Orange families. Many of the Agent Orange Families are aging and unable to work a consistent job or even farm their fields and take care of their children. For each family, we go into a deep dive about the possibilities of savings.

    Mrs. Duong Thi Hue who is a 66 year old mother and caregiver for her two daughters and granddaughter. She deals with constant struggles and continues to overcome the toll that domestic abuse has had on her family. Although her plight is heavy, her main concern is always finding a way to ensure that her family will be okay if she dies. She spends about 3M VND ($130) per month on household necessities and her main income is the government compensation that she gets for her two mentally disabled daughters. Although she lives in poverty, she still can save some money for her family. She fears that no one will be able to take care of her girls, so she has currently saved 37M VND ($1,597) and when times are hard, she is able to pull from this instead of getting a loan. However, she tries very hard not to have to pull from her savings. When we ask her if she would be interested in a savings group, she tells us yes. Unlike many of the other families, she seems to really understand that having something for her family is better than having more right now. Any extra money she has gotten in the past year, she has placed in the savings account.

    

    Another similar example is Mr. Phan That and his family. His wife has been able to save a smaller amount of 2M ($86) but also shared with us that saving for families like those affected by Agent Orange is hard but even as she cares for her children she understands that it is important to save or try to save. She is a part of another family that wants to ensure that there is something for her children after she and husband have passed on. Although she and her husband are not interested in participating in the savings group due them not being able to contribute consistently, they were very helpful for us to gain more insight about a savings option for these families.

    

    Out of the 11 families that we met with these are the only families that have saved any amount of money. There were 3 families that seemed interested in participating in a saving group, but the rest were definitely not. The consensus I have found is that saving in most cases is not an option for Agent Orange victims. Many of them are older and their focus is on taking care of their children and doing their best to maintain their household. It’s hard to really think about a way to get these families more interested in saving money. Saving can be very complicated for them because every amount is spent on what is needed now. Understanding this is hard because as a volunteer, you want to help, and not being able to promise anything can be hard to do in these circumstances. However, I am still hopeful that the data I have collected will help to inform an option for these families to have something more in the future.

16. Sources of Income for Agent Orange Families

    August 5, 2019 12:28 pm Leave a Comment

    After visiting all eleven families I have come to some interesting conclusions. The Advocacy Project, with help from AEPD, has been able to give the majority of the funded families a buffalo/cow and a calf for the rearing business model. This will likely help them with farming rice, corn, etc. or when an emergency happens gives them the capital to sell the animals for money. Along with these provided animals, many families have chickens, ducks, and pigs. Some also have fruit trees. During my visits, I have learned that in Dong Hoi there are multiples communes, like the districts or wards in the Maryland and D.C. area. Each commune is different in how they operate from the council or local government to the markets and fruit trees they have and are able to grow. I realize that there is some difference in the sources of income or animal investments that each family has. I found the differences in animals very interesting because each animal can be a source of income and in many cases help the families in an emergency –especially when they are trying not to get a loan or borrow money from a relative.

    

    For some families, especially mothers who are the sole caregiver for their children, they appreciate having a buffalo or cow especially for capital and emergencies. However, raising pigs, chickens, and ducks is a little easier for them to manage. Since these mothers are usually over the age of 50 , it can be hard on their bodies. Mai Thi Loi and Duong Thi An (You can read more about both of their stories here) are the leads in their households and with little to no help they find that raising smaller animals is easier to manage—especially pigs. However, currently there is a deadly pig disease going on and in many cases the pigs die before one can sell them or use them for food. This disease is so bad that many places across Vietnam have stopped serving pork. Even still, many would rather buy mother pigs for breeding and selling piglets. Based on my visits, I have learned that pigs can sell for 3M-6M VND ($130-260).

    Other Families like that of Le Than Duc (You can read more about his story here) would prefer to get more chickens. Chickens produce multiple sources of food. A family can use the eggs, the actual meat from chicken and can make some money from selling it to others. It appears that almost every family that I visit has at least 5 to 10 chickens because they are easy to manage. During the visits with our Agent Orange families I would always see at least one chicken walking around outside. This seems to be the same for families that also have ducks or geese, the only difference is that most families that have ducks or geese have some source of water nearby. Chickens and ducks seem to sell anywhere between 6M-10M VND ($260-432).

    

    Buffalos and cows are a bigger source of income for the families. They help to produce fertilizer for their farms, as well as some plowing. To gain some insight on this I asked one of the families that have had multiple business ventures over the years. The Nguyen Ngoc Thin family lives about two hours from the city center. He currently has cows and a garden for his fruit trees. He shares with us that the fertilizer from the cows is the best one for farming. Having cows also helps his capital even if he is not selling them. Once the cow and calf get big, he could sell one, but he does not know yet when and if he will sell because he wants to increase the scale of cows. He explains that if he has more cows, he will have more fertilizer and have more capital. He says the only way he will sell a cow is for an emergency but for now, he will keep them. Mr. Thin says that cows are also more reliable because it makes him credible and if he is unable to pay for something the banks, relatives, and neighbors know that he can sell the cows for money.  He says if he did not have the cows he would have to walk to his neighbors and ask for fertilizer and growing his garden would be hard. It is also easier for him to get a loan if he has cows. In this case we realize the having cows is very lucrative for a family like Mr. Thin (You can read more about his story here). Once a cow is ready, a family can make anywhere between 20M-30M VND ($863-1295) or more.

    

    Buffalos are similar to cows in terms of helping with fertilizer and farming. However, the buffalo is a little harder to manage for women. Out of the eleven families supported, only 3 have buffalos. A buffalo can also sell for 15M-25M VND ($648-$1080).

    

    Selling all of these animals for any amount of money helps to cover a hospital bill or purchase household essentials for a couple of months.The amount of money a family makes can depend on the health, weight, and age of the animal. The ranges can easily shift, and I think for most families, especially Agent Orange families, they try to keep as many animals as possible for emergencies. Cows overall are the best investment for these families, even with the increase of families using machines to plow and farm, the fertilizer from the cows is still the best to use to help the crop grow. So, I guess right now, I would say cows and chickens are the most helpful for families like these. They give the best outcomes for the household.

17. The Burdensome Loans of Agent Orange Families

    July 21, 2019 10:54 am Leave a Comment

    After visiting some of the Agent Orange families, I learned that high-interest on Personal Loans can be quite burdensome, especially if you’re pursued by lowell group of debt collectors. While many in America deal with the same plight of having to pay high-interest rate loans that come from student debt or credit card purchases, these loans are quite different. Many loans that Agent Orange families have include no clear deadline or interest rate. I have now visited more than eight families and almost every family has a loan that they are struggling to pay back. For an Agent Orange family or caregiver to even acquire a loan is difficult in the first place because there is a heavy stigma that they will not be able to pay it back or afford the interest. For this reason, some are forced to ask their relatives or children for financial assistance.

    The majority of the families that we work with get some sort of government compensation. However, they are still consumed with the cost of food, household essentials, and any medical visits. From my conversations, I have gathered that loans are often used for hospital visits or medication. While health insurance in Dong Hoi, Vietnam is completely covered for Agent Orange families, the medications for surgeries and travel for hospital visits are not covered through the insurance plan. It is right in doing so, for some websites (like https://www.marketreview.com/insurance/life/) advocate that the rest of the expenses would be borne by other kinds of insurances in some countries.

    My first family visit was with Mrs. Miet, somber because of her husband’s hospitalization. She shared with us that she currently owes 2M VND ($86) to her relatives for the help she received in paying for hospital visits. She doesn’t know how she will pay this amount; selling the cow is an option but even that is difficult since she is not able to walk around on her own to find a good buyer. Although this installment loans do not have a deadline or interest, she still has no way of paying it. 

    Ms. Pham Thi Do and her family also have a loan total of 7M VND ($302) with a 200,000VND ($9) interest rate per month that incurred after the death of her son, Tuan. She is the only one in her family that can maintain the land, and even with the government compensation that she and her family receive, she will not be able to meet the deadline: the end of the Lunar year.

    

    The mother in one of our newly supported families, Mrs. Vo Thi Toa, had to take out a loan of 10M VND ($432) when her eldest son once had to go the hospital. The loan was provided by her children not affected by Agent Orange, so there is no interest or no deadline.

    In an even more precarious situation is Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Thin, who has a loan in the amount of 30-40M VND ($1,300-$1,700) for chemical fertilizer to help his garden and mix it with the cow fertilizer. He pays no interest and has no deadline since he has the capital of his cows. For Mr. Thin, having cows as capital allows him to be valuable to the banks and if they ask for the money back, he can sell one of the cows.

    

    Mr. Tran Thi Thao has a loan of 70M VND ($3,022) with no interest or deadline that was used for repairs on his home, he did not have home insurance back then, now he is covered by the First American Home Warranty. Since he and his wife have multiple cows now along with farming, he can have food and supplies for the home but not enough to put a dent in the loan amount. To receive guidance from our high-value home insurance experts go through https://www.morisoninsurance.ca/home-insurance/high-value-home-insurance/ . For them, paying the loan is not the priority but it still hangs over their heads as they try to focus on the health of their daughters.

    Some of the more extreme families are the Phan That family and Le Than Duc’s family. Mr. That has a loan of 100M VND ($4,317) and Mr. Duc has a loan of 200M VND ($8,635). Both loans seem to be very high with very extreme interest rates. Paying these loans seems like an unimaginable goal for both families when most of their income comes from the government and anything extra goes toward food or household essentials.

    

    These families  have shown me that even though some of their loans don’t have interest or deadlines, they still weigh heavy on their household income and their ability to afford to save or have any money besides what they get from their government compensation. Each time I meet with a family and we talk about their loans, I can see the burden in their eyes and I think about how and what we can do to help these families that may never be able to pay their debts and continue to live month to month on nothing but the amount they receive from the government.

18. First Mission… Field Visit

    July 17, 2019 9:42 am 4 Comments

    We had planned for me to start visiting the families immediately since so much time had already been lost. Ngoc has it scheduled that we visit at least 3 families a day. I have 3 families to visit today. The first morning we leave at around 8:15am for the first family. In the car that day was Dahlia (AEPD Mines Action Canadian Intern), Ngoc (AEPD Coordinator), Hoang Thu Hien (New AEPD Project Officer), and the driver.  We drive about 30 minutes toward more farmlands than city life to my first family, Le Van Dung and Dang Thi Miet. Around a winding road we pull up to a small but very quaint house. Ms. Miet was smiling when we arrived. She is so small that, at only 5 feet, I am nearly twice her size. She welcomes us in her home, but it seems very quiet based on the previous blogs I have read. I see one boy who seems to be a teenager and I assume that he is the grandson. 

    

    As we sit down, I now see signs of her husband. Later during our conversation, we would find out that he has been in hospital and is scheduled to have surgery in Hanoi. (For more information on this family’s story see their profile). Once we leave, I tell Ms. Miet that I will be praying for her husband’s surgery and their family. I left feeling a little melancholy. I know that we were not able to answer many of our survey questions because her husband was in the hospital and that’s all she could focus on. During the session, I am glad that the Canadian intern Dahlia is there to take pictures during our conversations that day and I ask that she uses my professional camera during the next family visit. We drive about 30 minutes to the next family. In the car I am a tad nervous because this family has suffered hardship. During our last visit, we found out that the son, Tuan, had died. It has been a year since that visit, and I am interested in what the environment will be like. 

    

    Passing the open road, we turn down to Pham Thi Do and her family home. As we get out the car we walk toward the husband and wife, who seem distant at first and startled by our arrival. The father has on shorts and t- shirt but immediately goes to put on his uniform from when he was in the military. I can tell he is proud of his service. We take our shoes off as is done every time we enter a home. This family has suffered great tragedy in the past year with the death of their son Tuan. The family still has the altar up in remembrance of him. The emotion in the room is very much different from that of the first family I visited but still quite somber. 

    Ngoc prays at the altar before we begin to remember Tuan. We sit down together and begin to talk about all that has happened since the last visit. During our conversation Ms. Do was overwhelmed many times when she talked about her son. As we gained more insight into the conversation, we could tell that she misses him very much as he was the only one to help her around the house and with their daughter. Now that he is gone, she is left to doing everything herself. (Read more about this family here.) 

    

    My last family of the day was that of Le Thanh Duc. This visit was more conversational. After introductions and a few opening questions, Mr. Le Thanh Duc shows us his fish sauce, chickens and ducks and then talks about the possibility of one day owning his own grocery store. The interview ended on a nice note, not being able to promise anything but still giving hope for the future. Tomorrow I will visit more of the families that will answer my survey questions in a different way. 
    

19. First Week of Hard Work and Bliss

    July 15, 2019 10:27 am 4 Comments

    I wake up around 5:30 every morning, which is very weird for me since at home that would probably never happen unless I am traveling with family or friends. I lay there for a second, realizing that today I actually get to go in to the office and be around the staff. I leave my room to get breakfast from downstairs in the hostel. Once I turn the corner to get to the office, I see Ngoc and we laugh upon seeing each other, both thinking about the weekend we just had together, and then Ms. Hong smiles at us both. I walk up and Ms. Hong gives me a big warm hug and says “Finally!” And I say, “Yes, Finally!” We all walk into the office and I meet Thao (AEPD Accountant), who has also been working with her husband to help with my work visa process.

    The four of us then head off to get some coffee to start the day and allow Ngoc to tell them about our journey. As I sat there and listen to Ngoc explain the story to them in Vietnamese, I began to think about all the things I had to get done now in less than the ten weeks allocated. I started to make a list in my head and think about the questions and when we were going to the field which would be next week. I knew that today would be a long day for me. The desk space that they have for me was nice. There is a beautiful plant in the window that reminds me of my own plant my grandmother gave to me (I named her Beatrice and have been making sure my mother is watering her while I’m gone). After the lunch break, I continued to work on creating templates for the families we would interview in the following weeks.  Later that day, the Canadian intern and I were asked to help with some ideas for the new café that AEPD was building. The paint had gone up and we were asked what colors they should use and if we thought the inside was nice. We gave our opinions and then discussed ideas for about 30 minutes then went back inside.

    

    After work, Ngoc, Thao, Dahlia, and I went to get some tasty snacks that I had never had before. The drink had different types of sweet beans in it and then we ate spicy dumplings. We enjoyed each other’s company before hopping in a taxi and ending the day. My first week went by so fast. Before I knew it, Thursday was here, I had finished the family templates, went over a little with Ms. Hong the plan for the weeks we have left together and prepared for my visits that would officially start at the end of the week. I made sure that I knew each family story by heart and was prepared to ask the survey questions that the teams had agreed upon. Each family is so different, so I am hoping that we are able to find ways to create a sustainable plan for them and other families affected by Agent Orange. 
    

20. Strong and Stubborn Sunita speaks out against Chhaupadi

    6:19 am 4 Comments

    Directions: Walk straight, past three houses and a small snack shop. Descend into the valley, where people farm rice. Be careful! Rice is grown in a mixture of mud and water and there are no paths between the different rice fields or across the valley. Instead, you must balance on the thin slices of mud that divide the rice fields, careful not to fall to either side and into the watery, muddy mixture. This is easier said than done if you are tall with proportionately large feet, like me. Nevertheless, don’t fret! You will make it, even if your shoes don’t. Check out my video here. 

    

    A Rice Field in Gutu, Surkhet. 

    Right in the middle of these rice fields, you will find a small but well stocked hut selling beauty and hair products. The owner is a friendly and ferocious young woman, dressed from head to toe in pink, named Sunita.

    Sunita is 23 years old and has been married since she was 18. She has one small child and spends most of her time running her shop. She also spends a lot of time with her family, who live just a few minutes away. She tempts us in with an eclectic collection of hair accessories (because really, who doesn’t want to make sure that their hair looks good when they are soaking wet and covered in mud?) and tells us all about life, love and laughter in the village.

    

    Sunita shows us her beauty products. 

    It doesn’t take long for us to start chatting about menstruation. Sunita believes that Chhaupadi is a harmful and dangerous practice created by man. She refuses to stay in Chhau Goth, and instead remains in her home when she is menstruating. Unlike other girls in the community, she doesn’t believe that menstrual blood is impure: instead she sees the process as a natural and healthy one. In fact, she tells us that: “I think menstruation should be celebrated. It is a sign that a girl has become a woman, and that she is fertile. It represents a new stage of her life in which she can have her own family. How can this be perceived as wrong? It is a blessing!”

    I am impressed by her resolute tone. Her view is certainly not one shared by many members of her community, and yet she is adamant that she is right. I ask her about the reaction of her family and friends to her distinct point of view. She tells me that “Of course, many people tried to convince me to stay in the Chhau Goth. They tell me that the gods will get angry if I stay inside… but nothing has happened to me so far. I hope that other people will also stop practicing Chhaupadi in the future.”

    Nevertheless, Sunita continues to follow certain rules when she is menstruating. She doesn’t go into the kitchen or cook any food. She also doesn’t drink water from the same water source as her family. Not like she can purchase automatic rice cookers from Kitchen Home, but she has to make do with what she has. She brings it from another water source, further away. She also doesn’t go to temple or pray for the seven days when she is menstruating each month. I ask her why she does this, and she tells me it’s just to please others. “I don’t want to upset anyone any further, so it’s easier to abide by these rules. They aren’t so difficult to follow – unlike staying in the Chhau Goth, which is very dangerous.”

    This is, of course, natural. In a community where family is so important, she has to retain good relations with the people around her. In fact, it is traditional for Nepali women to move in with their husband’s families when they are married. These women must respect and obey the rules of their mothers- in- law. It’s almost impossible to expect someone to go against these rules.

    After a delicious milk tea, I decide to ask Sunita about what she thinks of the law against Chhaupadi. She is critical of its success: “I think the law is a great idea, but it’s not enough. The government should educate families, and there should be an awareness programme about Chhaupadi. I think we need to educate family members, as well as the girls, because a girl can’t change a tradition by herself.”

    Sunita’s story shows that it is possible for young women to break free from the tradition of Chhaupadi – but it is hard. People believe that Chhaupadi is the only way in which to protect communities from the impure menstruating woman. Many times, they are critical of a woman who does not stay in the Chhau Goth. It takes a strong and independent woman such as Sunita to break free from this tradition, to stand her ground and to stay at home during her period.

    

    A traditional home in Gutu, Sukhet

21. Seema and Parbati: Fearing God

    July 11, 2019 2:20 am 4 Comments

    Seema is 17 years old and lives with her mother, Parbati, and the rest of her family on the outskirts of Gutu, Surkhet. She is a lively young woman and is currently in Year 10 at the local school, Giwan Gyoti. Seema spends most of her time studying and helping her family out on the fields. She loves school and gossiping with her friends, as well as spending time with her family. When I meet her, she is enjoying a delicious traditional breakfast of Dal Bhat and Tarkari on the porch with her mother.

    

    Parbati and Seema 

    I am apprehensive about breaching the subject of Chhaupadi, as I know many young women feel uncomfortable talking about menstruation, especially with a stranger. But Seema and her mother are very welcoming and open, immediately offering us ripe mangos and cold water to quench our thirst in the 40-degree heat. Feeling more at ease (and hydrated), I decide to find out more about Seema’s experience of Chhaupadi. First, I want to understand her perception of menstruation. She explains that it all boils down to impurity: “When you are menstruating, impure blood comes out of your body. This means that you are also impure, and you have to make sure that you aren’t going to contaminate anyone else, especially men. This is why you stay in a Chhau Goth.”

    I have read about Chhau Goth’s before. A Chhau Goth is generally a hut, specifically constructed for menstruating women. These huts lack even basic protection: the doors do not lock and sometimes there are no walls. This is particularly problematic in the winter, when temperatures drop and women are left at risk of pneumonia. In the summer, women face sweltering temperatures, augmented by the lack of ventilation within the tiny space in which they must stay. Monsoon season brings new challenges, as there is no shield from the frequent rain and thunderstorms. In addition to this, women are vulnerable to wild animals, insects and snakes. All in all, a Chhau Goth  is an extremely unpleasant space in which to stay every month.

    I ask Seema to show me her Chhau Goth, and I must admit that I am even more shocked when I see it in reality. I can barely imagine spending even one hour in such a confined, unsanitary and unsafe space, and Seema tells me she has spent 5 days in her Chhau Goth every month since she got her first period.

    

    The family Chhau Goth

    So why exactly do women feel that they have to stay in such conditions every month? Parbati, Seema’s mother, explains that: “We don’t like practicing Chhaupadi, but we have to do it. It’s not a choice. I used to stay in inside but then I got sick. I went to the Dhami (traditional healer) and he told me that it was because I had been staying inside, and God was punishing me. So I started staying outside. I hate it, but I don’t want God to get angry with me again…. I am afraid that he will send snakes to my home. So I would rather just endure these conditions every month.”

    

    Seema’s mother, Parbati, talks about why she follows Chhaupadi

    And Seems agrees:  “I don’t like it… it’s very dangerous, animals can attack you or strangers can come in. But what can I do? If I stay in the house, God will become angry and He will send snakes and tigers to attack us.”

    Through their words, it becomes clear that these women do not want to practice Chhaupadi. Staying in a Chhau Goth is associated with many physical and mental risks. It is also uncomfortable and incredibly dangerous. But for them, this is a decision of God, and failing to follow Chhaupadi can lead to negative consequences. Seema and Parbati are willing to spend 5 days per month in these conditions in order to protect their families. 

    Listening to Seema and Parbati, the difficulty of changing a cultural practice hits me. But it also inspires me. I am left hopeful that awareness, education and time will allow them to stop this harmful practice and to stay in the safety of their homes when they are menstruating.

22. Never Leave Home Without…

    July 10, 2019 10:18 am 4 Comments

    Xin Chao (Hello) Friends, 

    As I was closing my suitcase before leaving for my trip, I thought that everything had been checked off the list. All except… my work visa. During the week of training I spent practically every morning trying to obtain my work visa. Then on the last day before leaving, I had to get a tourist visa because the correct paperwork had not come into the embassy so they could only grant me with a tourist visa.  Once in Dong Hoi, my host organization AEPD worked tirelessly to gain my work visa. Now, after four weeks, it was Friday the 6^th of July. Ngoc (The AEPD Coordinator) and I were off to Laos; I could leave Vietnam and come back in the morning and obtain my work visa. That morning we took a 3-hour bus to the Vietnam border. The bus route was a little scary for someone like me who does not really like heights or driving up a mountain and has motion sickness on rides like this. We arrived at the border gate of Vietnam.  After Ngoc talked with officials, we sat there for about 20 minutes and then got on another bus to the Laos border gate. There I got my Visa on site for a single night in Laos and then got back on the bus heading to a Laos hotel for one night. 

    My anxiety was reeling. I was so anxious about everything, about the visa, about staying in the random hotel in Laos, but I was with Ngoc so I felt like whatever happened we had each other.  She was so prepared which made me feel good. That night we both decided to just sit in the room and while she read her books and articles on her phone, I listened to audiobooks. The next morning, we got ready for what would be THE LONGEST day for both of us. We didn’t know how we were going to get back to the Laos border gate and the official from yesterday was not answering the calls that Ngoc made so Ngoc asked, “You think we should walk?” I thought for a second and then decided why not. So, we dry our shoes with the best boot dryer and we put on shoes and our back packs and began walking. We started walking and tried to get a ride to the border gate. Laughing now while writing this blog, it’s funny that we thought someone would pick up a small Vietnamese woman and an African American woman. Well they didn’t, if you are wondering. We walked past a home that spoke Vietnamese and Ngoc began to explain what we needed. 

    

    After about 5 minutes, Ngoc got a call that the nice office at the Vietnam border gate had sent a car and it was at the hotel for us. We both looked at each other and released a huge laugh! Once in the car, Ngoc began to explain who I was, where I was from and all the details up to this moment. I felt a little bad as she had to do this often for me since everyone wanted to know who this black girl was and why she was in Vietnam. Now in the car, we rode in the back as the driver made numerous stops to drop off or pick up some material that he would then take through the border gate traveling back to Vietnam from Laos. On the way to the border gate, I turned to Ngoc and said, “There’s no way we could have walked all the way back, it would take us hours, maybe even a day to get to that border.” She chuckled and agreed. Getting through the border gate of Laos was easy compared to what we endured next. Once we got to the Vietnam border gate, we thanked the driver and I said goodbye. 

    We entered the building and Ngoc said that the paper we were waiting on should be delivered soon. Once we had the needed document, we went to the officers located behind the gate and gave them our passports, my tourist visa, all the documentation we have with us and they looked through all of it. The police/immigration officials left and came back then left again and then began to speak with Ngoc. After their conversation, Ngoc translated for me what had just happened. She said, “The person that has to sign off on your paperwork is not here and he is the only one that can do it.” I was in shock. I asked her, “So in this entire building, there is only ONE person that can sign off on foreigner work visas?” She responded yes, and that she did not understand this protocol either.  She sat down and I could see her upset and frustrated at it all, so I tried my best not to show that I was feeling the same. It had been 4 weeks, a three-hour bus ride over here and an overnight stay in Laos just for the person that can sign my paperwork not to be here. I was in disbelief. She walked back to the officials and began to speak with them. I am not sure what was said in that conversation, but she came back and said they are going to see if they are able to sign off anyway. About 40 minutes later we were taken in the back room for me to fill out the paperwork. We both made a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t over just yet. 

    I had to then take my photos and get my passport stamped. One of the immigration officials took me to meet a guard. He was a short, kind of stubby man who had a beard but not like the ones most people I know have. It was just below his chin and that was it. I could already tell he didn’t speak English. The official says, “Go with him”. Now I must admit this was all a little sketchy to me (The American girl) who is used to walking the streets of Washington D.C. where trees are becoming scarce. I took the picture, and we headed back. Then as I get back, Ngoc says okay we must catch the bus. I forgot to mention earlier that there is only ONE bus there and ONE bus back and we had to make the bus back. I don’t think either one of us could have spent another night in a strange place. We ran to the bus, but as we were running, I looked at Ngoc and said, “My passport!” She said we must go and pick it up from the other gate. I was confused. I looked at her with confusion written on my face and she said don’t worry. We got on the bus and then we stopped at the other gate, anxious and waiting for the passport that would have an official stamp. Finally, we saw a man running toward us and I let out a sigh of relief. After all we had been through, it was finally over. We got back on the bus, catching our breath and trying to calm our nerves for the five plus hour trip back to Dong Hoi. Monday would be my first official day in the office. 
    

    
    

23. How to Change a Cultural Practice?

    July 9, 2019 1:12 am 5 Comments

    Greetings from Gutu!

    After having spent one week in Kathmandu adjusting to the Nepali pace of life, combatting cultural shock and immersing myself in work at CAED, it was time to embark upon yet another adventure. On Friday the 21^st of June, I set off into the field accompanied by three delightful members of staff: Indira, Ram and Krishna. We embarked upon a gruelling 18-hour bus journey to the region of Surkhet in the West of Nepal.  After spending a few days in the town of sunny Surkhet recovering from the journey, we were ready for the second leg of our bumpy ride. From Surkhet we went to the village of Gutu with the purpose of studying the practice of Chhaupadi, which remains prevalent in this region.

    

    Home in Surkhet: A Lovely Guesthouse

    We stayed with a friendly family who welcomed us into their home and cooked us delicious meals every day. Their home was our base, from which we visited different families every day, conducting a survey about the practice of Chhaupadi. I was accompanied by three lovely people: Indira, an intern at CAED this summer who is studying Public Health at MMIHS in Kathmandu, acted as my translator and general buddy throughout the trip. Ram, a member of staff at the Surkhet office, used his expertise and experience to help us interview people. Our third team member was Gersha, an ‘MCC’ (Modal Couple Campaigner) in Gutu. MCCs are those people who are affiliated with CAED but are members of the local communities. They promote the values and work of CAED within these communities, and reflect the strong field presence of the organisation.

    

    Home in Gutu!

    Before we got started, I decided to find out more about what had encouraged my enthusiastic team members to join CAED. Indira was keen to elaborate upon her motivation to join, and she explained that “CAED has always worked for women and girls so I was really excited to work with them and go into the field. I am really grateful that they provided me with the opportunity to come to Surkhet and find out about the situation of Chhaupadi.”

    

    Indira and I embarking upon the adventure!

    As a student, Indira finds it important to learn about the implementation of development projects in practice. She highlighted that “learning about a problem in a classroom and observing the problem in practice is totally different. CAED has a strong field presence and finds solutions to these issues through the locals themselves.” This is something that I am also interested in learning more about. Studying in Geneva and observing development working in International Organisations and NGOs is fascinating, but I have always wanted to understand how the concepts promoted by these organisations are implemented in practice.

    I then had a chat with Ram, who is from Surkhet and has worked with CAED for a number of years. He told me about his interest in women’s health issues, highlighting the value of the work that the organisation is doing in promoting women’s reproductive rights all over the country. Ram emphasised how much he adores working in the field, elaborating upon the particular role of young people in changing and challenging social norms: “I love working with young people, especially adolescents. I want to educate them from childhood because that’s how we can bring about real change. The field helps me to understand the intricacies of the actual problems that we are facing.”

    

    Ram has a lot of experience working in the field!

    I asked Ram to elaborate upon why the issue of Chhaupadi is so relevant and important in today’s society. “Chhaupadi goes against the fundamental human rights of women,” he elucidated, “It stops them from prospering and maintaining their physical health.” Ram also talked about the complexity of changing a social norm. “Chhaupadi is a dangerous tradition which has a part of many people’s lives for a long time. It is therefore incredibly hard to change people’s minds, and to end this practice.”

    I decided to ask Ganesh, the local MCC, about his opinion on the issue of Chhaupadi. He insisted upon the importance of getting women out of the Chhau Goth, but suggested that certain things should not be allowed for a menstruating woman. “I think that women should not be kept in the Chhau Goth. They should stay in a separate room inside their homes, and they should not cook food or go to the temple.” His view reflects the Hindu belief that women are impure during their menstruation, and that touching food or men may contaminate them.

    

    Ganesh reflects on his experiences with CAED

    I asked both men about the law against Chhaupadi, which states that if you insist upon the practice of Chhaupadi you can face up to three months in jail or a 3000 rupee fine (about $30).  Ram pointed out that the law was limited because “only making a law does not work. There must be proper implementation of it, which is not happening today.” Ganesh chipped in that “The fine should be increased and it should be implemented. There hasn’t been a single case reported and nobody has been punished, so the law has not been taken seriously.  I think the the local government should work for the implementation of this law, but also that people should report the practice of Chhaupadi in their communities.”

    So does is there any hope for the future? Ram concluded that: “I think Chhaupadi will be eliminated in the future. But we need to promote and implement the law, so that people stop practicing this damaging tradition.” “It will be eliminated but it needs time,” Ganesh added, “Our forefathers used to stay in a Chhau Goth for 7 days, and now its only 5 days. A new generation will bring a change in people.”

    On this hopeful note, we continued our quest to find out more about the issue of Chhaupadi in Gutu.

    

    Ram, Krishna, Ganesh and Indira (right to left) on the road!

24. Dust, Dreams and a Dreadfully Long Flight

    June 15, 2019 9:41 am 5 Comments

    Namaste! Welcome to my first blog, written as I drink my third coffee of the morning on the balcony of my new home in Kathmandu, Nepal. As I overlook the bustling and boisterous roads of the city, I realise how much I have learnt in my few days here. I arrived on Wednesday after a dreadfully long journey from Washington D.C. with a mission: to work as a Peace Fellow for The Advocacy Project and the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development (CAED) for the next 10 weeks this summer.

    The Advocacy Project is an NGO which aims to give a voice to the voiceless and to assist marginalised communities in taking action to protect their rights. This is done by partnering with community-based organisations, such as CAED, and supporting them in numerous ways. We have been trained extensively on how to use our skills and knowledge in order to strengthen the organisation by telling their story, developing their programmes, assisting in fundraising efforts and promoting their work on the international scale. This year, I am the only Fellow based in Nepal: others have gone to Uganda, Zimbabwe, Kenya and Vietnam. After an extensive week of training and preparation, we have been sent out to our respective locations, ready to put our skills and knowledge into action!

    CAED is an NGO working to create more just and equitable societies in remote and disadvantaged areas of Nepal. It uses human rights principles, policies and norms in order to further its cause on issues including food sovereignty, the empowerment of women and girls, sexual and reproductive health and rights, child rights and indigenous identity and education. During my Fellowship, I shall be focusing on the particularly damaging practice of menstrual banishment (Chhaupadi), which remains extremely prevalent in Western Nepal.

    

    The CAED office in Kathmandu.

    So what exactly is Chhaupadi?

    Chhaupadi is the practice of prohibiting Hindu girls and women from participating in normal family activities while menstruating. They are banned from the house and are forced to live in a chhau goth (cowshed or hut) during this time because they are deemed ‘impure.’ Most of these are comprised of one small room, with a door but no windows. They do not have sanitation facilities, such as toilets, running water or proper light or ventilation. They also do not provide adequate protection from the elements, a grave problem during monsoon season. And not only do women lack safety, nutritious food and oftentimes water, but they also face other risks: attack by wild animals and snakes, theft of their belongings and rape. Chhaupadi is illegal and was outlawed in 2006 by the Supreme court of Nepal. Nevertheless, it continues to take place, and it is estimated that 58% of women in Western Nepal still practice this tradition.

    CAED has implemented a community-level programme to prevent the perpetuation of gender-based discrimination among current and future generations. In this programme, they encourage young people to abandon harmful practices, such as that of Chhaupadi. During my Fellowship, I shall be contributing to their work which promotes the end of this harmful practice in numerous ways. My tasks shall include profiling the girls and publishing their stories (check out my Flickr account here!), developing social media and marketing strategies through which to encourage the end of the practice and assisting with fundraising for the organisation – but more of that to come!

    

    Indira, Kalyani and Renu (left to right) are three of the lovely ladies working for the CAED office in Kathmandu.

    I am very excited to get started on all of these projects and to bring a meaningful contribution to CAED. I hope to use my competencies to help end this dangerous practice, and I am sure that this will be a positive and fruitful experience. In the meantime, I shall concentrate on getting accustomed to Nepali life – which includes learning to navigate streets with no names in a city where google maps ‘doesn’t really work,’ eating vast quantities of Momo and Dal-bhat-tarkari and visiting the glorious temples of this dusty, but dreamy city.

    .

    A decorative plant-pot outside the office!

25. The Glorious View Ahead

    June 13, 2019 6:18 am 5 Comments

    (Xin Chao) Hello, From Dong Hoi, Vietnam! Welcome to my blogging corner of the Advocacy Project website.

    My name is Mia Coward, a current Graduate student at the University of Maryland, obtaining my master’s in Public Policy with focuses on education policy, social policy, and non-profit management.  This summer I am please to work with the Association of Empowerment for Persons with Disabilities (AEPD).  I am very excited about the work I that will be doing here to help create a prosperous and sustainable plan for both AP and AEPD.  I am happy to report that I made it to Dong Hoi on June 10^th. It is beautiful here, and although there is much going on around me with motor bikes and honking horns, and the fast paced hustle and bustle, there is still a sense of calmness and focus here. Everyone seems enriched with a sense of family and culture. My initial encounter with the team at AEPD occurred on the very first night after I arrived in Dong Hoi, but before I talk about that, I think it would help to start from the beginning.   

    I began my journey on a late Saturday evening leaving from the Dulles, Virginia Airport in the United States. Nervous and excited, I took my backpack and checked my bag. After nearly 30 hours of traveling, I made it to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. The Ho Chi Minh City airport is one of the largest airports that I have ever seen. My luggage was lost for a moment when transferring, but since I was about 7 hours early for my next flight, I waited in the airport trying to coordinate with the local Vietnamese attendants to find it. Thankfully, it was not long before I was able to track my luggage down and head off to the next flight. After arriving in Dong Hoi, I got off the plane and ride with the AEPD driver to the office where I meet the team.

    Everyone was so friendly and showed real excitement that I was there. On my first night, I stayed with Ms. Nguyen Thi Phuong Hao (AEPD program manager) and her family. Her house is a beautiful two-story Egyptian blue color with a big garden surrounding the property. While I waited for what the next day would bring, Ms. Hao and I connected over our both being dog-owners and the exhaustion that flights can bring. While I continue waiting for my work visa, I’m able to soak up the essence of Dong Hoi and hit the ground running by conducting research to help AEPD and hopefully more families.

    As a Peace Fellow, I serve as the liaison between the Advocacy Project and AEPD working on the Agent Orange Campaign. AEPD manages a broad range of programs such as self-help groups for landmine survivors, a youth development program that trains persons with disabilities in mechanics and other vocational programs, projects for women with disabilities, microfinance endeavors, and, lastly, the AP-AEPD Agent Orange Campaign. The Campaign has successfully funded about 11 Agent Orange-affected families. You can read more about their stories here.

    I am excited and grateful to help this Campaign progress. I look forward to sharing my successes, goals, and experiences with you. Check back here weekly to see more of the work that AEPD and I will accomplish. Thank you for joining me on this journey.

    

    If you would like to see more of the work that AP and AEPD have done, click here to view the Campaign Page.

    ---

26. How to Become a Naike

    October 24, 2018 12:54 am Leave a Comment

    

    During the dry season, when the brick factory is in full flow, Nabaraj supervises the section of workers producing bricks. For 10 bricks produced, one brick is for him. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    As a child, Nabaraj wanted to become a driver. Today he is a naike. Every spring he is hunting for possible brick labourers to work for his factory once the brick production season starts, from October-November to March-April. Swet Bhairab is one of the largest, and most secured brick factories of Bhaktapur Valley. About 300.000.000 bricks are produced in one season, by more than 1000 labourers who mostly live within the factory located in the village of Phaidhoka.

     

    The role of a middleman

    “Naike” is the Nepali word that designates the kind of middleman that is managing the relation to the brick factory workers and their working conditions. The labour within the kilns would be a single chaos if there were not a few naikes that supervise the work forces. For every production stage there is a different naike in charge of the labourers, that ensures the quality and rapidity of the work. From the very beginning with mixing mud, until the end with carrying dry bricks to a storage area, there are as much naikes as the brick production process has steps.

    

    Piling bricks while making sure they are evenly spaced, in order to make them dry faster, is a task that falls to women and children. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    A naike has many responsibilities in a brick factory. As such, he is not only supervising the workers during the brick season, but also in charge of recruiting labour forces for every new brick season start. From April to June, naikes are traveling to villages from Ramechhap district, to seek for single workers or whole families to come to work to the factory in Phaidhoka. Once Nabaraj receives the yearly recruitment amount of 25 lakh (1 lakh is 1 hundred thousand rupees, or around $1.000) to be shared between possible recruits, he takes one of his foldable electric bikes and goes to Ramechhap. It is a two hours drive to the villages where he can usually quickly convince possible labourers to work for him. It is not difficult for him to persuade villagers who are mostly living in poor conditions and who get completely dazzled by the rupees that Nabaraj is providing to those that promise to be future labourers, as an advance of the season’s first salary. The temptation of immediate consume these rupees are generating, attract many people that are dreaming big, have children to feed, or simply have debts to reimburse. Usually Nabaraj is lending about 1 to 3 lakh to a worker in return for a working promise in the kilns for the upcoming season. To ensure these possible workers will really show up at the factory, Nabaraj is collecting their citizenship card along with a contract on which the worker signed with his fingerprint – the villagers being most of the time illiterate, even though illiteracy dramatically decreases with the new generation of young adults. However, this precaution is not an ultimate protection for the naike and Nabaraj already experienced a few times the embarrassing situation of losing millions of rupees entrusted by the brick factory owner. It is not uncommon that some recruits disappear with the money and never show up again.

    

    Every brick factory has its own acronym that is affixed on all the bricks produced in the kilns. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    

    Security is controlling all vehicles and visitors coming in and going out of one of the largest brick factories of the region, Swet Bhairab Factory in Phaidhoka. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    A career in the kilns

    Nabaraj and his wife Ganga Maya have also been recruited by a naike 20 years ago when they were living in the village of Koahla in Ramechhap. Instead of the hundreds of thousands provided today, he was attracted with a few thousand rupees, that he reimbursed within a period of two months. For 3 years, they travelled to the kilns for every season start. They eventually decided to stay in Bhaktapur to enable their children to go to the same school during a full academic year. Both were simple workers for years, and after 12 years of hard work, Nabaraj was finally promoted to a naike. To achieve this status, the most important is trust. According to him, the brick factory owner needs to trust the possible naike since years and only the combination between seniority in the factory, hard work and reliability increases a worker’s chance to be chosen by the brick factory owner. It is all about trust insisted Nabaraj.

    

    Nabaraj is one of the 5 naikes supervising the workers in Swet Bhairab Factory. He is in charge of the brick making stage, the most important step in the whole brick production process. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    

    Most of the brick factories are running 6 months of the year, from October to March, when the dry season begins. Swet Bhairab Factory is one of the few that have a machine producing bricks during the rainy season, therefore the brick factory is open all year round. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    The difference between a simple worker and a middleman is striking. Entire families work for as much as 16 hours a day, for a salary of one rupee and a half for every brick produced (17 rupees is the fixed rate for a brick at the very end of the production process). Nabraj proudly explained that his wife and him can afford not to work anymore, because from 10 bricks produced by the factory’s workers, one brick goes to him, free of charge. And exactly here lies the problem. The equation is simple: the more bricks are produced by workers, the more money the naike is receiving. A couple needs in average one month and a half to produce 90.000 bricks, earning about 1 lakh, resulting in free 10.000 rupees for the middleman. Nabaraj said that when parents are making two of their children to work, they only need one month to finish the 90.000 bricks. This becomes particularly tricky when is calculated the considerable financial benefits a naike is having from letting children work with their parents.

    

    Brick labourers mostly live within the factory, in own houses that they are building at the beginning of every new brick season. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    Not without the naikes

    Naikes are not only crucial for the smooth running of the brick factories, they are also key actors in the fight against child labour. Because they are the decision-makers during the recruitment process, they have the power to ensure that either only adults are hired, or if families with children get employed for the upcoming season, they can ensure that parents understand and agree that it is forbidden for them to make their children to work with them in the kilns. Because the middlemen are also in touch with families on a daily basis, they know what binds the family to the factory, what are the reasons behind making their children to work, or if there are any debts to reimburse to a third party. Because naikes are monitoring the parents and children, they know the working schedules of children, their tasks, their difficulties at school and in the kilns. Because they are the first ones who will be informed in cases of migration, of school dropout, of any difficulties the family is facing, their collaboration in programs aimed at rescuing children from brick factories is necessary. Through their knowledge of the ground and their relationship to the families, their help in assessing the main challenges or successes of a program such as the 50 Children Program is of great importance.

    

    Naikes live with their families within the factory, as do most of the labourers. Even though their housing seems precarious, they live in luxury compared to simple brick factory workers. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

     

    However, since the naike lives from the family’s brick production, either he understands that child labour is against the law and that it has to be banned completely and definitively from brick factories, or he must be given incentives for him to support families not to make their children work anymore at all. Given the high rate of children who are working in factories, middlemen can not be the only ones controlling the kilns to ensure a child labour free factory. This situation can only occur if brick factory owners and naikes, along with schools and organisation, work together hand in hand to eradicate child labour in the brick production sector. A naike is such a precious asset that his role needs to be integrated programs aimed at fighting child labour in brick factories. Without the middlemen, breaking the circle of child labour within the kilns seems to be very very challenging.

    

    Once bricks are completely dry, they get burned and lose their typical mud-grey color for a strong and luminous rust-colored aspect. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

27. #7: Ms. Duong Thi Hue and family

    October 17, 2018 6:22 am Leave a Comment

    Ms. Duong Thi Hue’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s seventh beneficiary! Her family received a cow and calf in 2017.

    I’d like to preface this post by saying this visit was the most emotionally challenging for me. Ms.Hue is comfortable and has consented to sharing her story and life updates, but even so I’ve hesitated to write this because it contains sensitive information about her family and their history with gender-based violence (especially as it relates to Agent Orange exposure).

    

    Ms. Duong Thi Hue and her granddaughter. 

    Mr. Vinh (AEPD driver) parked the car outside her gate. We weaved through her front yard, minding the tarps covered in drying grain, toward her home. Quietly, we shuffled into a room with a bed, tables, chairs, and an aquarium with a bamboo plant shooting over the glass walls. The fish in the aquarium are not pets. They are Ms. Hue’s plan B on days the family does not have enough to eat or wants to supplement their meal.

    Ms. Hue is strength personified. The wrinkles on her face and her swollen hands concede her life’s challenges. She has had six children, five of which fell victim to dioxin poisoning from the war. An elderly widow, she’s the sole caregiver and provider of three of her Agent Orange-affected children and one grandchild*.

    Her daughters, Duong Thanh Binh (29 years old) and Duong Thi Hong Thanh (27 years old), live in padlocked structures behind her home. They developed mental disabilities and began exhibiting violent fits of rage when they turned 14 years old. At which point, Ms. Hue became incredibly scared of her daughters. Left with no recourse to help them and keep everyone safe (including neighbors), Ms. Hue was forced to lock them in separate rooms in 2013. She explains that she gives them medicine with their breakfast in the morning by slipping it into the rice. When they realize there is hidden medicine “they throw the food and break the bowls”.

    There is no alternative to this. She would greatly prefer that her daughters live freely but in the times they’ve convinced her to release them, they’ve acted violently–going so far as to pull out a knife and threaten Mr. Thuan (AEPD Outreach Worker).

    I struggle with this: I try to walk the fine line of observant learner of cultures and behaviors but sometimes feel the urge to ask unanswerable questions. Is it ethical for her daughters to live contained for the rest of (at least) Ms. Hue’s life? What about their human dignity? Can Ms. Hue’s and her daughters’ suffering be addressed? By whom? How?   

    There is no question that Ms. Hue deeply loves and cares for her daughters. There is also no question that she wouldn’t do anything to help them. And yet, I’m left confounded and irked at my privilege. A privilege that allows me to sit here and philosophize about her life. The harsh truth is that Ms. Hue does not have any other option. Morally, these questions should still be asked. Practically, they do nothing to help her.

    
    Ms. Hue’s granddaughter

    Ms. Hue speaks in hushed tones. Her ten-year-old granddaughter is sitting on the floor below the doorframe playing with an empty plastic chair. She asks her to adjust the fan in the other room before sharing the following:

    Binh became pregnant with her when she was 19 years old. Ms. Hue implies that her granddaughter was born from the sexual assault. Her granddaughter attends school and is quite astute. Despite her best efforts, Ms. Hue is unable to raise her. She applied to the SOS orphanage village in the province but was rejected. The village administration is worried that she will begin exhibiting the same behaviors as her mother in a few years and cannot bear the liability and/or safety risk she may become.

    Ms. Hue is desperately looking for somewhere safe to send her granddaughter.

    A long conversation ensues between Ms. Hue and Mr. Thuan. Her granddaughter returns to sit in the same spot. He promises to support her in finding a suitable and safe place for her granddaughter. Ms. Hue continues to speak in whispers.

    Through the door, I see that her son Duong Viet Thanh (24 years old) has returned from feeding the cow and calf in the fields. An uncanny sort of tension stirs in the room. Thanh has recently been released from prison. Ms. Hue fears he has become more violent now than when he was first imprisoned. She suspects that his violent outbursts are the result of Agent Orange exposure and wishes he had been exposed to rehabilitation rather than corrections.

    Thanh walks into the home and through the doorframe where Ms. Hue’s granddaughter is sitting. He greets us and asks her to move over, when she does not, he assertively moves the plastic chair out of the way with his foot. Thanh retrieves something from the room and walks to the front yard. We’ve all fallen silent.

    Quietly, Ms. Hue explains that her home is not safe for her granddaughter now that he is out of prison. There are moments when he gets very upset and lashes out. Like other caregivers we work with, Ms. Hue understands that these violent outbursts are symptoms of the exposure but that there is nothing that can be done to help him. Mr. Thuan reiterates his pledge to help her granddaughter and respectfully asks why she does not ask him to leave. She explains that she has come to rely on him for help with the cow and calf in the fields. Ultimately, however, Ms. Hue loves her son and wants him with her. She candidly admits, though, that she is worried about what his reaction would be.

    
    Ms. Hue and Mr. Thuan speak at length. Due to the sensitive nature of the conversation, Ngoc forgoes translating until there are more appropriate pauses in their conversation.

    I notice the scab across Ms. Hue’s cheek and ask Ngoc if she is also a victim of his violence. Ngoc was unsure but based on context and the stories she had been telling Mr. Thuan (many of which were lost in translation), said it could be possible. And again, I silently thought to myself: What policies, institutions, support systems are available to Ms. Hue and her granddaughter beyond an orphanage and the Campaign? How will her granddaughter’s mental health be impacted by her current reality? What about Ms. Hue’s mental health? Is there any way to support Thanh and prevent the violence?

    Nonetheless, Ms. Hue’s most pressing concern is her children’s wellbeing after she passes away. Of all the other beneficiaries whom we work with to foster sustainable incomes and eventually savings, Ms. Hue is (to me) the most financially savvy. She is the only one that is currently actively saving money for the future and has explicitly mentioned saving now as a priority. The other beneficiaries we work with are still cultivating their sustainable income-generating-mechanisms that will allow them to save in the future (but don’t always quantify when that future is).

    She proudly tells us she has saved 45M VND.

    She sold the cow in early 2018 for 7M VND and the original calf just had a baby in mid-August. Ms. Hue decided to sell the cow because she was worried about string of cow disease that was plaguing the commune and felt more comfortable caring for a calf. She was also featured on a TV program earlier this year and received 38M VND from supporters. Having a good handle on her income generation and finances, she decided to save 100 percent of the charitable money and income from the cow sales to support her children’s future.

    Ms. Hue’s life has been ravaged by the effects of Agent Orange. I sympathize deeply with her plight and admire her resilience.

    ***

    AEPD is supporting Ms. Hue in looking for an alternative and safe place for her granddaughter and methods to deal with the violence.

    *Name omitted

28. #3: Mr. Le Thanh Duc and family

    October 10, 2018 1:08 am Leave a Comment

    Mr. Le Thanh Duc’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s third beneficiary! Mr. Le Thanh Duc and Ms. Ho Thi Hong care for their daughters Le Thi Phuong (35 years old), Le Thi No (32 years old), and Le Thi Lanh (30 years old). Phuong, No, and Lanh are three of their six children to be affected by Mr. Duc’s Agent Orange exposure during the war. All three women began exhibiting degeneration and neuropathic disorders after their 10th birthday and became paralyzed; they suffer intellectual disabilities in addition to their physical disabilities.

    

    Mr. Le Thanh Duc sits with his daughter, Le Thi No (32 years old). No shares this bed with her sister, Le Thi Phuong (35 years old, not pictured). 

    Phuong is the first person to see us as we park the car in front of their home. Mr. Duc welcomes us inside and we sit on a mat in their common space. Phuong and No’s and Lanh’s rooms open toward the common space.

    Ms. Hong is not at home during our visit. Mr. Duc candidly describes her mental health decline after the death of their youngest son in 2014. At the time of our visit, she had been in the Hue hospital for nine days tending to her mental health. Mr. Duc mentioned that she “ends up in the hospital every few months, about 2-3 times per year” and that her niece accompanies her during those times.

    Despite her absence, Mr. Duc’s positivity and charisma fill up the room. It is no wonder that he and his family were selected to appear on a charity television program advocating for disability rights. (Of which, he says pointing to the TV, he was gifted his TV from by a company in Ho Chi Minh City that was deeply moved by his family’s story.)

    

    Le Thi Lanh (30 years old) lays on her bed overlooking the common space. Mr. Duc explains that she understands things well and is even able to use a smart phone to select videos she wants to watch. Lanh flashes a sheepish smile and puts her head down.

    While she Ms. Hong is away Mr. Duc is responsible for everything and seems to have a very small (if nonexistent) support system–he seems to prefer it this way. He is proud to tell me that his youngest daughter has gotten married and is now a teacher on Phu Quoc Island and his only surviving son has become a policeman in the commune. Phuong, No, and Lanh are doing well. While chuckling and looking over at Lanh (who had been engaged in the conversation), Mr. Duc remarks that she is able to use the smart phone and look up videos she is interested in watching. Lanh flashes a sheepish smile and puts her head down.

    

    Mr. Le Thanh Duc walks us to his new chicken coop and feeds his chickens. He was able to improve this area using the income from the pig sales.

    Since the Formosa environmental disaster in 2016, Mr. Duc has been raising chickens and pigs to supplement his income. He sold all of the pigs in 2017 for 15M VND (~$650 USD). There was a rampant pig disease at the time and he wanted to get out ahead of it. Mr. Duc used the profit to invest in his chicken-raising business model and relaunch his fish sauce business in early 2018.

    The government facilitated an environmental clean-up and has since declared the water in Quang Binh clean and clear of pollutants. Interestingly enough, Mr. Duc had started to plan to open a grocery store but did not have enough capital to get the business off the ground. Once he learned the ocean was clean again, he leveraged the capital from the pig sales and existing knowledge to pick up where he left his fish sauce business in 2016.

    

    The blue barrel is where Mr. Duc makes his fish sauce. The barrel is full of fish sauce and he hopes to sell it this fall. He would like to expand this business and hopes to qualify for a loan from the AEPD-Zebunet micro-credit program to do so.

    Mr. Duc explains that it takes nine months to make fish sauce and he anticipates being able to generate 5-6M VND per year from it. If he were able to produce more sauce, he would be able to generate a greater profit. Unfortunately, however, he does not have any additional capital to invest at this moment.

    As Mr. Duc was recounting and sharing his experiences, Mr. Thuan (Outreach Worker) mentioned the credit program AEPD currently implements with the support of Zebunet, a French nonprofit organization. Mr. Thuan believes Mr. Duc could qualify for a 10M VND loan and offered to connect him to the program and/or Zebunet to scale the business and thus, improve his annual income. Currently, the family makes 15M VND per year (which includes the 500,000 VND per month generated by chicken sales) and it is just enough for food and their expenses.

    But a bigger question and worry remains for Mr. Duc: “What will happen to my children in the event of my passing?” Like other Campaign beneficiaries, Mr. Duc is thinking toward the future and wondering how best to set up a contingency plan in case of an emergency. And that is truly the big and very real question that haunts these caregivers.

    

    Le Thi Phuong (35 years old) is Mr. Duc’s oldest daughter. She shares a bed with No and is constantly peeking out of the window. She was the first to greet us when we arrived at Mr. Duc’s home. 

    The best he can do is save enough money such that his daughters can live at the only home for persons with disabilities in Quang Binh after his passing. In the meantime, though, the best we can do for/with them is to support his sustainable endeavors, provide guidance, and advocate for “contingency plans” and holistic institutional support.

    Mr. Duc is prepared to do it and we are confident in and inspired by his abilities. It is a true pleasure to work with Mr. Duc’s family.

29. #8: Mr. Phan That and family

    October 3, 2018 4:31 am Leave a Comment

    Mr. Phan That’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s eighth beneficiary! Their family was the first of three beneficiaries to officially implement their business plan in 2018.

    

    Ms. Que, Pham Thi Linh (daughter), and Pham Van Linh (son) pose for a portrait. 

    We visited Mr. That’s family on an exceptionally hot Wednesday afternoon. We spoke with Ms. Hoang Thi Que (his wife) while he was out working in the fields and feeding the cow and calf. Mr. Thuan (Outreach Worker) seemed a little surprised that Mr. That was not available but we all understood that their livelihood will and should take precedence over a visit.

    Unlike other visits, however, this one felt rushed and almost foreboding. Perhaps, it was the result of the unrelenting heat and the sum of our fatigue, or learning about the difficult situations they are confronted with, or it was, more plainly, a meeting between persons who are still building a rapport (see Jacob’s post for his initial interactions with the That family), or all of these things combined, or none.

    This is not to say though, that the meeting went badly or Ms. Que wasn’t the epitome of a kind host because she most certainly was. She went out of her way to set up a table and chairs so that we could all sit and chat but throughout the conversation, even within her patient answers and explanations, I could feel a subtle hint of distress and mild irritation in her voice.

    

    Pham Van Linh (32 years old) sits nearby and listens in on our conversation. He flashes a big smile in our direction every so often. Ms. Que explains that he is friendly with and curious about new visitors. (Pham Thi Linh, his sister, does not like visitors and remains inside the house for most of our visit.) Ms. Que and Mr. Thuan believe that they will gradually become used to “outsiders” in time (like many of our other beneficiaries’ children).

    Ms. Que and Mr. That face great challenges (now and in the future): they are aging persons with disabilities responsible for caring for their adult children that have been severely affected by Agent Orange. Pham Thi Linh (38 years old) and Pham Van Linh (32 years old) are their daughter and son, respectively, that have dioxin-related mental disabilities so severe they depend on their parents entirely. Although both Thi Linh and Van Linh are in good health, they cannot support the family in any capacity. Ms. Que and Mr. That depend on neighbors and their other daughter, Luyen, for any additional support.

    Coupled with this, Ms. Que shares, is her husband’s declining health condition. Mr. That had severe problems with his lungs a few months prior and went to Dong Hoi’s provincial hospital for a consultation. Two months ago the problems worsened and he almost passed away. The doctors have advised him to seek help in Hanoi but the family cannot bear additional economic burdens at this time.

    Ms. Que is worried for her husband’s health and for her household. They had to get a loan of 40M VND (approximately $1,700 USD) from the local Women’s Union to pay for his treatment and are now in significant debt. Depending on market value, the couple plans to sell the cow or calf to repay the loan in part.

    In addition to this, the family had to hire someone to help them harvest rice this year. This was an expense they had not anticipated as they are usually able to work the fields themselves. The rice they farm is strictly for consumption and the harvest lasts all year.

    

    The rice pictured in the bags are harvested from the family’s rice field; it is used strictly for their consumption and lasts them all year. Ms. Que is proud to show us this year’s harvest perched on their front porch.

    Nonetheless, Ms. Que is still hopeful and proud to show us the large bags of rice they have collected in 2018. She reminds us that in addition to the cow or calf sale, the family still raises fish for income and that it is going well with the help of the cow’s manure as fish food. Despite the adversity they face, the That family has developed a sustainable cycle of income generation and consumption that they are comfortable and confident with. We look forward to strengthening our relationship with them and supporting them for years to come.

30. #6: Ms. Duong Thi An and family

    September 26, 2018 12:57 am Leave a Comment

    Ms. Duong Thi An’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s sixth beneficiary. Ms. An lives in the Le Thuy district with Le Quoc Huong and Le Thi Hoa, her youngest son and daughter, respectively. Huong and Hoa have both been affected by Ms. An and her late husband’s Agent Orange exposure. Huong (39 years old) has severely impaired vision and had his right eye removed at the age of nine and Hoa (36 years old) has Down Syndrome.

    

    Le Quoc Huong (39 years old) and Le Thi Hoa (36 years old) meet with us during our visit to their home. Unfortunately, Ms. Duong Thi An was ill and in the hospital. Huong has been in charge of managing the household with help from his brother’s family while Ms. An is away.

    We visited Ms. An’s family earlier this month and spoke with Huong. Ms. An is in the hospital in Dong Hoi tending to serious problems with her gallbladder and elevated liver enzymes. Huong explained that no one realized Ms. An was sick, so she kept working in the fields and taking care of her children. He recalls that she worked so hard that her skin became yellow and eventually she could not eat anymore. Huong quietly and woefully mutters that they were all so focused on work, not health.

    Ms. An spent 1 month and 10 days in Hue hospital and then was relocated to the provincial Dong Hoi hospital during the week of September 6. The move was the result of policies and procedures that require documentation to maintain her in a bigger city hospital. From Huong’s description, it seems she was unable to get the approval necessary to stay in Hue. She will return home when she is better although they are all unsure of when that will be.

    Ms. An has health insurance but it does not cover all the costs of her treatment. The family had to sell the buffalo calf to pay for her treatment in Hue. It helped cover the medical costs no money from the sale remains. On a positive note, Huong is happy to report that the buffalo has just conceived earlier this month and will bear a calf in approximately 10 months. They are maintaining their buffalo-rearing endeavor in the best way they can but are experiencing competing needs that surpass the income generated by it.

    Her eldest son, Le Quoc Hai, does not suffer from the effects of Agent Orange and is responsible for supporting the family in Ms. An’s temporary absence. Hai spends time with Ms. An in the hospital, uses the buffalo to farm sweet potatoes and vegetables, and raises pigs, ducks, and geese. Huong mentions that they depend on his Hai’s family.

    

    Hoa smiles for the camera before flashing a peace sign with her fingers.

    While Hai has taken up the farming and field work duties, his wife has filled in for Ms. An inside the household. Ms. An taught Hoa how to do household chores but she often depends on someone to assist or task her which Hai’s wife is able to do. Beyond these interim household duties, she also goes to Ha Dinh province to purchase medicine for Huong and Hoa every month.

    Huong provides for his household through his massage parlor. He tells us that things are going well; there are slow days and days with a handful of customers. Huong would like an assistant but isn’t quite ready to hire anyone. Unfortunately, his vision is worsening. He had plans to have a consultation in Hanoi (prior to Ms. An’s treatment) but has since postponed it because there isn’t enough money. Huong will need more surgeries to save his only eye but in the meantime he can only rely on local medication.

    

    Huong shares a few final thoughts with us before heading back to work. He has a busy day ahead of him. 

    Huong did not dwell on the latter for very long he had “work to do–especially now”. We said goodbye to Hoa and Hai’s children (that had been sitting nearby) and Huong hopped in the car. We dropped him off at his massage parlor but not before he gifted us a grapefruit from their garden.

    I left the visit feeling saddened by Ms. An’s health condition but inspired by her family’s strength, union, and compassion. The Campaign will continue to support Ms. An’s and Huong’s business plans with regular check-ins by the Outreach Workers and overall guidance.

31. #4: Mr. Le Tien Dung and family

    September 19, 2018 5:35 am Leave a Comment

    Mr. Le Tien Dung’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s fourth beneficiary! Karen (AP staff) visited the family in January and I was fortunate to check in with them again this month.

    

    Mr. Le Tien Dung and his wife, Ms. Dang Thi Miet, greet us at their front door. 

    Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet warmly welcome us to their home. Mr. Dung is sporting his veteran’s cap and pin on his shirt. He pours us tea as we sit around the table. Although Ms. Miet sits behind us, she is just as engaged in the conversation.

    The family’s health

    Both Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet joined the army prior to 1969 and were directly exposed to Agent Orange. The exposure has had a significant impact on their family’s health including their children and grandchildren. The reach Agent Orange poisoning has had on this family is harrowing–12 of their 13 children suffered and died from its effects. Their surviving daughter and two grandchildren are also victims of Agent Orange.

    Mr. Dung has little to report about his own health. He remarks that he is aging but otherwise it is unchanged. Before saying anything else he begins to talk about his wife’s health condition.

    It is obvious that Mr. Dung is severely concerned for his wife’s wellbeing. Ms. Miet had a surgery to remove a tumor on her back within the last two years (they weren’t exactly sure the date). Unfortunately, she stills feels pain when the weather changes. She is currently feeling pain in her neck. Ms. Miet has a goiter and the doctor has advised her to have surgery to remove it but they cannot afford it right now. Despite these difficulties, Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet seem optimistic and determined to care for their daughter and grandchildren’s health above their own.

    

    Throughout the conversation, Mr. Dung’s demeanor was positive and often hopeful. Sometimes, usually during moments of pause however, I caught an unmistakable look of pain or hardship in his eyes. 

    Le Thi Ngoc (39 years old) is the couple’s only surviving daughter. Like her two children, she suffers from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Since Karen’s visit, her health has not changed.

    Ngoc’s daughter, Le Thi Phuong Thao, is 10 years old. She does not receive Agent Orange compensation as a third generation victim. The exposure has most severely affected her vision. It has worsened since January. Thao is treated regularly at the Dong Hoi eye center but her condition has worsened beyond their ability to most effectively treat her. She has had to go to a specialist in Hanoi twice this year. Thao is eligible for an eye surgery that will significantly improve her quality of life but must wait until she turns 18. As such, she will continue to rely on the medication to treat her symptoms for the next eight years.

    The cow and calf

    Because of their age, Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet’s income is primarily derived from the compensation they receive from the government. They are unable to farm and live from the vegetables, fruits, and herbs grown in their garden. Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet received a cow and calf in 2016 from Peace Fellow Ai Hoang’s family. Both animals are growing well and the cow is scheduled to breed once the calf has been weaned.

    Mr. Dung plans to sell either the cow or calf to purchase a motorbike for Le Hoai Nam (his grandson) to go to school. Nam lives with Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet. He is Ngoc’s son and suffers from mental disabilities related to Agent Orange. He experiences violent episodes when the weather changes. Mr. Dung adds that these episodes do not happen regularly. A motorbike would greatly help the family’s situation. Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet also genuinely seem excited to gift their grandson a motorbike and look forward to it.

    The couple believes they will sell the mother cow because the calf has greater potential for future breeding (due to her excellent physical qualities). They estimate the mother cow will sell for approximately 18M VND but will wait for the calf to grow for at least 2 more years; the calf is currently valued at 10M VND. Ultimately, however, their choice will depend on market price and need. Unfortunately, their current needs (motorbike, goiter removal surgery, etc.) are greater than the potential profit of one cow and they must prioritize their needs.

    

    A portrait of Ms. Miet: Her smile and gentle manner compounded with her obvious strength are captivating. 

    Mr. Dung and Ms. Miet will continue to meet with an AEPD Outreach Worker. When the time is right (based on market price and calf maturation), AEPD and the Le family will discuss cow sales. They are transparent about their intentions and trust AEPD to guide them in their business plan. It’s heartening to see the rapport AEPD has built with them and how invested the Campaign and the couple are in the future of their business plan as a sustainable source of revenue creation. Although their need is greater than their income production, the Le family remains hopeful.

32. #2: Mr. Nguyen Van Xoan and family

    September 12, 2018 6:30 am Leave a Comment

    This post is in memory of Tuan. Tuan’s family was the Agent Orange Campaign’s second beneficiary. His vibrant spirit and resilience made a lasting impact on The Advocacy Project. May he rest peacefully. 

    We arrived at Mr. Xoan and Ms. Do’s home a little before lunchtime. There were black banners with golden lettering hanging behind the altar and around that half of the room. Mr. Vinh (the AEPD driver) lit 4 incense sticks and handed one to each of us while the family watched. This was all happening in silence.

    We took turns praying and then we each stuck the incense into a small ceramic bowl where others were still burning. The other sticks were all different lengths and had been burning for different amounts of time. From what I gathered, community members, relatives, friends, etc. come to visit the family and then leave lit incense burning in the bowl after praying for the deceased. It was heartening to see that the bowl was nearly full.

    We sat down with them and Ngoc (AEPD staff) and Mr. Thuan (AEPD Outreach Worker) took the lead. The couple wore black pins on their shirts. The pins will be worn every day for the next 2 years; they symbolize the loss of a loved one. Ms. Do and Mr. Xoan thanked us for coming. I expressed our sincerest condolences, how fond we were of Tuan, and that we are thinking of them. Ms. Do responded that she is so grateful to AP and Iain in particular for being such a wonderful friend to their family.

    Ms. Do and Mr. Xoan took turns explaining the events but Mr. Xoan spoke with a lot of physical difficulty. Ngoc whispered to me that he has some kind of residual mental disability from Agent Orange exposure as well (but I couldn’t find anything that would suggest we knew that in our profiles of their family). Trung, their son, sat with us but came in and out of the room often to get tea, ice cubes, etc. and check on Luyen, their daughter, that was screaming outside. Both Trung and Luyen suffer extensively from the effects of Agent Orange exposure.

    Tuan had been ill since the end of last year and was spending more time in Hue Hospital than out. The Vietnam Association of Victims of Agent Orange/Dioxin (VAVA) helped support some of the expenses not covered by insurance; the family sold the buffalo calf in June for 9M VND. The calf income also helped pay for expenses. Ultimately though, his condition was worsening. Approximately 28 days ago (in early August) the doctor advised Mr. Xoan, Tuan, and Trung to return to the comfort of their home because there was nothing else that could be done. About 4-5 days after they returned home from the hospital, Tuan passed away.

    To add to this though, Mr. Xoan was in such a state of shock after his passing that Trung had to take Mr. Xoan to the mental hospital in Da Nang (a city about 6 hours south of Dong Hoi). He spent 10 days in the hospital and now is receiving medication/treatment at home. The family is having difficulty paying for Mr. Xoan’s treatment though. His medications are covered by insurance but when he goes to the hospital, he has to spend money on food, transportation, etc. and it ends up costing 3M VND per month for Mr. Xoan and Trung. The doctor recommends that he stay at the hospital for 2 months but they are unable to afford it. Notably though, both parents were really thankful to Trung for being so strong and helping his brother and his father throughout everything.

    Before we leave, Ms. Do brings the buffalo up in conversation. On a more positive note, the buffalo is pregnant and they are hopeful. Their plans for the calf are unclear. It was not the most appropriate time to be discussing future plans.

    Regardless of what is decided, we will continue to support Tuan’s family in the best way we can.

33. #5: Mr. Ngo Gia Hue and family

    September 5, 2018 4:00 am Leave a Comment

    Mr. Ngo Gia Hue’s family is the Agent Orange Campaign’s fifth beneficiary. After an interesting detour that required us to catch a ride on local officials’ motorbikes*, we arrived at their home. Mr. Hue and Ms. Thao greeted us warmly and with great excitement; they were worried we would have trouble making it due to the road construction.

    

    Mr. Hue poses for a photo with his pregnant cow and two male calves.

    The family received a cow and a male calf in August 2017. As it turns out, the cow they received was pregnant and has since given birth to another male calf. Fast forward and the cow is pregnant again! By early next year, Mr. Hue’s family will have 4 cows in total. By all accounts, his cow-rearing business model is progressing well.

    He uses the male cows for farming corn, rice, peanuts, and beans and makes nearly 600,000 VND ($25 USD) per month from their sales. He does not rent out the cows, nor does he sell the manure. He plans to sell one of his male cows in the near future but is “waiting until the market price reaches its peak”–when the cow becomes worth 30M VND. The profit from this sale will help pay off the 50M VND loan he had to take to repair his home. He talks about this debt with a relaxed and assured attitude; Mr. Hue remarks that he feels confident in the sustainability of his business model.

    

    From left to right: The youngest calf, the original male calf, and the pregnant cow. Mr. Hue has spent a considerable amount of time making improvements to their shed.

    Since starting his cow-rearing enterprise, Mr. Hue has begun to keep pigeons and chickens. He walks us through his cow shed and newly constructed chicken and pigeon coops with pride. Mr. Hoc and Mr. Hue reminisce on how things looked so much different a mere two years prior.

    

    Ms. Thao has just returned from a visit to Hue hospital. She has been diagnosed with an illness related to pain in her spine. Mr. Hue and Ms. Thao are a team: he manages the fieldwork and farm work and she cares for their three daughters.

    Ms. Thao sits with us as we discuss their enterprise and their overall wellbeing. She suffered a stroke in July 2017 and is finally able to walk again, albeit with a limp. Ms. Thao has just come back from the hospital in Hue and has been diagnosed with an illness related to the pain in her spine. Her daughter, Ngo Thi Thanh Nanh (27 years old) is unable to walk and Ms. Thao is often responsible for carrying her.

    

    Ngo Thi Thanh Nanh (27 years old) and Ngo Thi Huong (34 years old) giggle after Mr. Hoc (AEPD Outreach Worker) shares a joke with them.

    Despite this troubling news, the family’s economic conditions and health seem to have improved. Mr. Hue comments that their three daughters (of five children total) have become more social with outsiders. Their health and disabilities have not worsened although Ngo Thi Thanh Nanh (27 years old) is still completely dependent on her parents. As we get ready to leave, Huong walks us to the gate and wishes us goodbye with a peace sign.

    

    Our visit is filled to Mr. Hue and Ms. Thao’s home is filled with laughter and warmth. Mr. Hoc holds Nanh’s hand as Huong tries to comfort her sister, Ngo Thi Toan (21 years old). 

    *Mr. Hue and Ms. Thao live in an area of the Tuyen Hoa district that is prone to flooding during the rainy season. As we make our way to their home on the bumpy dirt roads that are slowly being transformed and upgraded to cement we find ourselves at an impasse. The construction crews have place several massive piles of dirt on the most direct road to Mr. Hue’s home. Mr. Vinh (the AEPD driver) gets out of the car, examines the scene and determines with great certainty that there is no way through. We travel the 20 bumpy minutes back to the main road and drive to the district’s People’s Committee. AEPD has maintained a positive relationship with local authorities in all the beneficiary’s communes and they readily lend us motorbikes. Mr. Hue and Ms. Thao’s home is nestled in a tidy corner of their commune and proves a little difficult to find. Nevertheless, we arrive!

    For additional photographs of their family and other Agent Orange Campaign beneficiaries, click here.

34. A Final Video

    September 3, 2018 11:51 pm Leave a Comment

    On my first day in Nepal, I met with Prabal to learn more about the armed conflict, the transitional justice process, and NEFAD’s work. Once I learned more about NEFAD, its current initiatives, and future goals, Prabal and I discussed the ways in which I could be most supportive to NEFAD this summer. He explained that it would be helpful if we could supplement the research, articles, and photo content on the NEFAD website with a video about the conflict, transitional justice, and NEFAD’s work supporting victim families.

    Prior to our first trip to Bardiya, we got to work outlining our goals for the video and our content ideas. We wanted to develop a short video that informs viewers who are unaware of the war or of NEFAD about the armed conflict, enforced disappearance, and transitional justice in Nepal. We also wanted to highlight stories of families of the disappeared and NEFAD’s work advocating for them in the transitional justice process. Finally, we wanted to showcase the importance of the embroidery cooperative and encourage people to donate to help grow it into a sustainable business.

    To showcase stories of victim families, we decided to interview a few family members of the disappeared in Bardiya. I generated a list of questions which Prabal translated into Nepali. Once we got to Bardiya, we interviewed Sarita, Radhe Krishna Tharu, Belmati Tharu, Kushma Chaudhari, and Sharada Tharu. After returning from Bardiya, we began the translation process.

    After listening to the videos, Prabal shared direct translations of what the family members were saying, but it didn’t always translate well into English phrases. When this happened, we would discuss what each person was communicating. Then I rephrased the translations to capture what they were saying as accurately as possible while still making sense in English.

    Once translations were complete, we got to work selecting the most poignant clips that conveyed the all the information we wanted share with viewers. After spending hours viewing video tutorials on Adobe Premiere Pro’s website, I created a first draft of the video. We decided to cut a few clips so the film was as concise as possible.

    After a lot more editing, we began one of the most challenging parts – subtitles. Although I had entered the captions in English, it was often challenging to figure out when one line began and one line ended since I don’t know Nepali. Prabal and I carefully went through each clip to adjust the timing for each caption and aligned it with what the speaker was saying in each video clip. Finally, we decided to add a few images of the embroidery and the bags to tie all the clips together into a cohesive video. After even more editing, I am excited to share the result, which you can view below!

35. #1: Ms. Mai Thi Loi and family

    August 29, 2018 4:48 am Leave a Comment

    

    A group shot of everyone present, left to right: Ngoc (AEPD staff), Border Patrol Agent, Nguyen Van Cuong (Ms. Loi’s son), Mr. Van (President of AEPD self-help group for persons with disabilities in this commune), Mr. Hoc (AEPD Outreach Worker), Ms. Loi, and Nguyen Van Hung (Ms. Loi’s son)

    Ms. Mai Thi Loi’s family is the first beneficiary of the Agent Orange Campaign. They live in the Tuyen Hoa district near the Vietnam-Laos border. Because of its proximity to the border, we are escorted to her home by Mr. Van (a trusted community leader and the president of the AEPD self-help group for persons with disabilities in this commune) and two border patrol agents. Ms. Loi’s new gate greets us when we finally arrive.

    

    Ms. Loi and her sons Nguyen Van Cuong (left) and Nguyen Van Hung (right) stand in front of their home.

    Ms. Loi was able to purchase and install the gate using profit from her buffalo-raising business and donations from relatives. The gate is an important home improvement. AquaLib is also awesome guide for home improvement. Her sons suffer from severe mental and intellectual disabilities and have a propensity to roam around the community (which often upsets the neighbors). Now, she’s able to close and lock the gate when she leaves to farm or run errands knowing that they are safe in their home. As a widowed caregiver of three persons severely affected by Agent Orange, she explains, the new gate has provided her some peace of mind.

     

    Ms. Loi tells us about the buffalo, her family’s health, and their current need for a washing machine. 

    As we walk into her home, Ngoc (AEPD staff), notices that her table is different. She asks Ms. Loi if it is new and compliments it. Ms. Loi quietly but proudly tells us that while the table is not new, she had a new ceramic slab installed which is why it looks new. Although this moment lasted but a few seconds, it was incredibly meaningful to me.

    The conversation continued to her family’s economic and health well-being. Ms. Loi explained that she still does not have enough income create a savings account and instead has to spend her income on immediate-need household and medical expenses.

    As we progressed through the visit, I kept thinking about the table we saw when we first came in. Why did that moment and conversation feel so meaningful to me? Partially, it was the look in her eyes when she realized Ngoc had noticed the table. More than anything though, it was meaningful because it was a tangible example of exercising her right to her income—her economic empowerment. It was heartening to see that she chose to spend her carefully allocated income on refurbishing her table because, while I’m sure it is of great utility in the household, it also brings her joy.

    

    Ms. Loi’s sons, Hung and Cuong, sit on the bed behind the table. 

    The health conditions of Ms. Loi’s sons remain largely unchanged since Karen (AP staff) visited in January 2018. Ms. Loi explains that Nguyen Van Cuong (32 years old) is doing much better than before; he used to be confined to a room like his older brother Kien (34 years old) but has received treatment and is now non-violent. Cuong naps on the bed behind us while we chat. Hung’s (30 years old) disabilities have stabilized and he is in the kitchen while we talk. I was unable to meet Kien but am told that nothing has changed. Mr. Van jumped in to add that Ms. Loi’s own health is declining and her stomach aches frequently.

    

    The family stands for a portrait with their buffalo. He is used for farming and is rented out to neighboring farmers.

    Ms. Loi does not plan to sell the buffalo. She will continue to rent him out and use him for farming. The buffalo is currently worth 40M VND but it is not yet an optimal time to sell him. In 2-3 years he will be worth 50-60M VND. The family may consider selling him then. The buffalo is used to farm corn, rice, cassava, and sweet potato. The harvest is used mostly for consumption but it only lasts 6 months of the year. She depends on loans and gifts from the local government to purchase food for the other 6 months of the year.

    She earns 1.5M per month from renting out the buffalo and selling some of the harvest, but Ms. Loi cannot rent out the buffalo in the summer so she earns 1M per month during the summer months. The amount she receives for Agent Orange compensation has remain unchanged (2.5M VND per month for all 3 sons). The problem with the compensation is that it is not proportional to her sons’ disabilities caused by Agent Orange exposure. The local government and Mr. Van have helped Ms. Loi appeal for the correct compensation amount but the appeals have been unsuccessful.

    As we head out and say our goodbyes I notice there are pieces of what look to be wood drying out in the sun and don’t think too much of them. It is very common to see herbs, grain, etc. drying on tarps throughout Vietnam. During lunch, however, Mr. Hoc informs us that the “wood” is actually a kind of herb used to make natural calming remedies. Ms. Loi uses them to supplement her sons’ treatment.

    She is not only head of her household but a great source of strength and resilience.

36. Kushma Chaudhari

    August 28, 2018 1:04 am 1 Comment

    During our first trip to Bardiya, Prabal, Sarita, and I visited the Bardiya National Park to see if the gift shop would sell the embroidery cooperative’s tiger bags. After going to the park, we took a short rickshaw ride to Kushma Chaudhari’s house. Kushma is one of the most talented artists in the embroidery cooperative.

    

    Kushma Chaudhari

    Kushma was working in the field, so we waited until she returned. In the meantime, we had some samosas and chai from her family’s shop next to their house. Her house is next to a school, so we watched as children visited the shop to purchase a quick treat before school started.

    

    Kushma’s family makes samosas here for their shop.

    When Kushma arrived, we went into her house. Sarita chatted with Kushma for a few minutes, introduced me, and then explained that we were making a short video about NEFAD’s work and the embroidery cooperative. Kushma agreed to answer some questions for the video, so I started asking questions in English. Prabal and Sarita translated.

    Kushma was soft spoken at first but eventually became more comfortable. Kushma begins her day by milking cows after which she starts the housework. During cropping season, she goes to the farm after the housework is complete. When she has time, she also helps out at the family’s shop.

    She was very young when her father was disappeared. Although her memories of the conflict are not vivid, she was reminded of her father’s absence when she was in school and everyone else had their father. When she was short of stationary, pens, and notebooks, she used to think about him a lot. She explains that if he were alive, he would have bought them for her. Kushma doesn’t think her father will return.

    

    Kushma and Prabal talking

    Kushma enjoys working with the embroidery cooperative. She makes embroidery squares at night after the day’s work is complete. She expresses that she would like to work on the embroidery on a regular basis.

    After we finished asking questions, Kushma continued to talk with Sarita and Prabal in Nepali, so I took some photos and then sat down to see of I could grasp a few words. After a little while, Prabal explained that they were talking about how Sarita and Kushma would love to open their own store near the park to sell their bags and other handicrafts. Rent is only about 2000 rupees a month, a cost which could be covered by the sale of 1 -2 bags once production increases. I was incredibly excited to hear about this goal for the cooperative, and I hope it becomes a reality. To support Kushma and the other women of the Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative in working towards their goal, please visit and share the Global Giving page to raise money for embroidery supplies.

37. Belmati Tharu

    12:45 am 1 Comment

    For my next blog posts, I will be highlighting two women in the Bardiya Conflict Victims Embroidery Cooperative who kindly agreed to share their stories with me. During our first trip to Bardiya, Sarita, Prabal, and I took a rickshaw to Belmati Tharu’s house in Basgadi. When we arrived, Belmati and her family were going about their daily housework. Prabal, Sarita, Belmati, and I sat outside on straw stools. Next to us was a piece of cloth with hundreds of kernels of corn. She and Sarita talked for a few minutes, and then Sarita explained that we wanted to ask her some questions for a video about NEFAD’s work.

    Belmati maintained a sad look on her face through the entirety of our conversation, so I asked Prabal multiple times if it was acceptable for us to interview her. He and Sarita reassured me that it was and added that Belmati is generally a very somber person. Hesitantly, I asked my first question, and Prabal and Sarita translated.

    Belmati explained that she lives with her two sons, two daughter-in-laws, and three grandchildren. In the morning, she cleans the house and takes care of her grandchildren, so her daughter-in-laws can go to the field for agricultural work. Belmati’s third son was forcibly disappeared in March 2001. In July 2001, her daughter-in-law was also disappeared. In September, her eldest daughter-in-law was disappeared.

    She spoke specifically about her son’s disappearance. She explained that he had a problem in his stomach and that it was difficult to afford heath care. They didn’t have an economic cushion to address hardship. She explained that the people from the Maoist party came to him and asked him for some help. He helped them with the expectation that he would receive treatment for his stomach. While he was on his way to a follow-up medical checkup, he was arrested from Kohalpur Chauraha. It’s still difficult for Belmati when she remembers them. She mentioned that her home and her family would be happier if they were alive.

    

    Belmati showing us her tiger square

    After she explained the disappearances, I asked about her participation in the embroidery cooperative. Belmati explained that it’s nice to be with other people who have had similar experiences of the conflict. She told us that she enjoys doing the embroidery, but it’s increasingly challenging due to her age. She expresses that if they could regularly work on the embroidery, it would be a better way to make money, at least to purchase some groceries.

    Despite the embroidery being a challenge for her, she is working on a tiger square. After discussing the embroidery cooperative, Belmati went into her house to get the square she is working on. She and Sarita discussed the areas for improvement. She’s currently fixing the square, which will be made into a tiger bag once it’s complete.

    To support women like Belmati in continuing the embroidery work, please visit and share our Global Giving page where we are raising money for embroidery supplies.

38. #10: Mr. Thin’s family receives a cow and calf

    August 22, 2018 5:32 am Leave a Comment

    This blog documents the official exchange of the cow and calf between Mr. Thin’s family, Ms. Hue (the cow salesperson) and liaisons of the process (AEPD, AP, and Lam Hoa Commune’s Local People’s Committee).

    As a refresher, you can find Mr. Thin’s Agent Orange Campaign profile here. We started fundraising for his family’s cow and calf in mid-July and a little over a month later, the Nguyen family has become the tenth Agent Orange Campaign beneficiary! Thank you for following Mr. Thin’s journey and generously investing in his family’s future.

    

    From left to right: Me, Ngoc (AEPD staff), Ms. Loan, Mr. Thin, Mr. Truong Quang Tan (Deputy President of Lam Hoa Commune’s Local People’s Committee), Mr. Hoc (AEPD Outreach Worker), Ms. Hue (cow salesperson), and Ms. Hue’s partner

    As soon as we had raised the amount necessary to set Mr. Thin’s cow-rearing business plan in motion, Ngoc informed Mr. Hoc (AEPD Outreach Worker). Mr. Hoc then let Mr. Thin know it was time for him to get quotes for cows and calves from different salespeople in the region.

    Ms. Loan and Mr. Thin pose for a photograph together. Mr. Tan and Ms. Hue’s partner watch in amusement from the front door.

    All Campaign beneficiaries are required to secure the resource(s) necessary to begin their business plan. The program’s model is set up this way to establish an additional layer of buy-in and to ensure that their resources, in this case a cow and calf, are 100 percent suitable for the family’s needs. For example, Mr. Thin wanted a particular breed and size of cow, etc. that would meet the fertilizer needs of his grapefruit and banana trees because the specific kind of grapefruit Mr. Thin is growing requires a larger quantity of manure.

    He received three quotes from local salespeople for a cow and a calf: 28 million VND, 25 million VND, and 23 million VND, approximately $1,200 USD, $1,072 USD, and $987 USD, respectively. He chose to purchase the cow and calf for 23 million VND because it was the most affordable and suitable and of best quality.

    

    Ms. Loan and Mr. Thin have padded Phan and Lam’s wheelchairs to fit their mobility needs.

    The cows had arrived before we reached Mr. Thin’s house. The family was so excited about the cow and the calf that Ms. Loan put Phan in his wheelchair and introduced him to the cow and calf. Phan was so elated upon seeing them that Ms. Loan put the rope in his hands. She told us that he tried to pull the cow and walk with her in his wheelchair. Lam, hearing the commotion outside, became agitated and Mr. Thin brought him out to see the new animals as well. He seemed equally as thrilled, according to Mr. Thin. To me, the effects of the Agent Orange Campaign and what it represents are best captured by moments like these.

    By the time we arrived, Phan, Lam, Mr. Thin, and Ms. Loan had spent a considerable amount of time with the cow and the calf. Their spirits were markedly different than the first time I met them in early July.

    

    Nguyen Van Phan (23 years old) smiles at us as we enter his home. We interact and moment’s later he shoots me a peace sign with his fingers. Ms. Loan says she’s not entirely sure where he’s picked up this habit.

    We entered their home to formalize the cow exchange and were met by Phan’s smiling face as he lay on the bed (rather than the hammock). Mr. Hoc facilitated the exchange and had Mr. Thin sign the contract and agreement between himself and AEPD. Mr. Tan witnessed the process and formally approved the purchase. Ms. Hue signed additional documentation and received the amount owed to her for the cow and calf.

    

    Mr. Thin signs the official business plan and his commitment to keeping the cow and calf. 

    

    Mr. Hoc and Ms. Hue formalize the purchase (over tea and grapefruits). Ms. Hue is a fascinating businesswoman. She works for the Department of Culture and Society of a neighboring commune’s People’s Committee and breeds cows for sale. 

    

    Mr. Tan signs as a witness and confirms the legal purchase of the cow and calf. 

    The family has decided to use the cow and calf’s manure to fertilize their grapefruit and banana tree plantation. Mr. Thin intends to keep the cow and calf and continue to breed them. He will generate additional income by selling calves when he has a large enough herd. He confesses that they have made this decision because they “are thinking about [their family’s] future.” The income will be used for household expenses (food, medical supplies, doctor’s visits, etc.) and to help repay the loan he took out to plant grapefruit and banana trees.

    

    Mr. Thin shares a few grapefruits with us as we are signing the documents and formalizing the contracts. 

    

    We all eat grapefruit with quite a bit of enthusiasm.

    To add to the good news, the family’s grapefruit trees have already started to bear fruit and they have earned 4 million VND (approximately $170 USD) from selling grapefruits this summer.

    

    Mr. Hoc officially hands over the cow to Mr. Thin. Mr. Tan observes.

    Once every document had been signed and discussed, Mr. Thin led us to his field where Mr. Hoc officially handed over the cow’s rope. And with this swift gesture, Mr. Thin and his family were the official and rightful owners of a cow and calf.

    …

    To ensure sustainability and longevity, we will continue to monitor and evaluate the Nguyen family’s progress as a result of their cow-rearing business plan; Mr. Hoc will continue to visit the family fairly regularly to check-in. I have high hopes for their success. Cheers to them, the Campaign, and to your kindness!

    Ultimately, I hope this post chronicled the formal exchange of the cow and the calf but also the human spirit that carries this program and its place in igniting social change with those affected by Agent Orange.

    For additional photographs of this visit and my other experiences in Vietnam, click here.

39. It’s All in the Details

    August 14, 2018 2:18 am 4 Comments

    Sarita came to Kathmandu a few weeks ago, so we went fabric shopping for the tiger bags. Before that we had check some guide from Vendel Miniatures. After discussing what kinds of bags would sell in Nepal with Sarita and Prabal and reflecting on the kinds of bags that would sell in the US, we decided to look for fabric in a variety of colors with some texture or a simple pattern. We initially purchased an emerald green and a deep brown. However, we quickly found ourselves out of luck after our first purchase as we visited many shops without finding fabric we liked. We decided that Sarita would go to Nepalgunj, a city two hours east of Bardiya, to find better quality fabric in the colors and patterns we were looking for.

    

    Fabric shopping with Sarita and Prabal in Kathmandu

    On Tuesday, Prabal and I traveled to Bardiya. Prior to arriving in Bardiya, I created a flyer and updated tags explaining the cooperative and the bags. In addition to the physical production of the bags, marketing is integral to sales which is the primary focus at this stage in the development of the cooperative. After printing and laminating everything, we attached the tags to the finished tiger bags.

    

    Flyers explaining the cooperative and bags

    

    Tiger bag with updated tag

    On Thursday, we brought some of the most recent bags to the tourist lodge that currently has the first iteration of the bags. The owner of that lodge had agreed to sell the bags without taking any profits. Unfortunately, his lodge doesn’t have any place to display the bags, so he suggested we come back with a small display case to show the bags and protect them from the dust. Sarita and Prabal will find a small, inexpensive cabinet to bring to the lodge. On our way out, we collected the first iteration of the bags so Sarita could repair and improve them. After seeing them for the first time, I was amazed by how much the women’s embroidery skills have improved.

    Following the lodge, we went to Bardiya National Park where we spoke with the manager of the main office and gift shop. He was very excited about selling the bags as they are a unique, local, handmade product. He said they would sell the first batch of bags during the upcoming tourist season without taking a profit. If they sell, the park will buy bags from the co-op moving forward and sell them for a small profit that is agreed upon by both parties. He recommended Sarita embroider the words “Bardiya National Park, Nepal” on the next batch of bags for the park. We left six bags with the National Park and a poster, which they will display in their shop. Sarita, Prabal, and I were very excited about this positive step forward!

    

    Sarita explaining the cooperative and the bags in the Bardiya National park gift shop

    After returning from the National Park, I created a google spreadsheet with a picture of each bag to track important information including which vendor each bag is distributed to, when each bag is sold, how much they are sold for, etc. In the next week, Sarita will produce 7 more bags with the remaining tiger squares. She will be bringing those bags when she comes to Kathmandu next week, so I can take some bags with me to sell in the US. While it’s not a sustainable long term strategy to sell bags in the US due to logistical challenges and transport costs, I’m aiming to sell a few to infuse the cooperative with some cash as it aims to increase its production for the upcoming tourist season.

    As I mentioned in my first blog post about the cooperative, after selling the tiger bags this year, the women want to rent a space to open their own shop near the Bardiya National Park. To support the women in growing their cooperative into a sustainable business, please consider donating at our Global Giving Page. By next year, we aim for the cooperative to be entirely self-sufficient!

40. Where are the Perpetrators?

    August 13, 2018 2:48 am 3 Comments

    On Sunday, August 3rd, Ram invited Prabal and I to attend a meeting between families of the disappeared and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP) at the Commission’s office. After brief introductory statements, Ram addressed the Commission. The Commission is preparing a final report to submit to the government with recommendations about the kinds of programs and policies that need to be put in place to support victim families. Ram expressed NEFAD’s expectation that the Commission produce a strong final report that keeps victims and their needs at the center of their recommendations for further transitional justice efforts. He continued by stating that the Commission needs to clearly outline the procedure they will adopt for investigating all of the registered cases of enforced disappearance.

    

    Ram making his remarks

    Investigating thousands of registered cases of enforced disappearance will take many years. Assuming the appropriate legal mechanisms are in place, investigations must also produce concrete evidence for perpetrators to face any legal consequences. Given how much time has passed since the conflict, concrete evidence is hard to find. Ram poignantly stated “Families are living evidence.” He expressed that victim family associations have continuously cooperated with the procedures of the Commission, therefore, the Commission’s accountability to victim families is deeply important.

    There was one moment in the meeting that continues to resonate with me. Ram asked the Commission why they didn’t they invite perpetrators to the meeting? This speaks to a larger challenge in many transitional justice processes around the world. More often than not, survivors of conflict and perpetrators of violence must live side-by-side after a peace agreement. Is it possible or even desirable to facilitate conversations between victims and perpetrators of violence and various crimes? What is the goal of those conversations? What would success look like? Of course, it depends on the context and ultimately what each person wants, but ethical questions like these are what make transitional justice so complex.

    After Ram’s statements, a woman from a victim family echoed his sentiments. The pain and anger in her voice was tangible as she expressed to the Commission that she has clearly outlined her case and named the perpetrator to no avail. “Has the Commission contacted them?” she asked.

    As the meeting continued, family members’ voices become louder and more passionate as they expressed their demands to the commission and frustrations with the transitional justice process to date. Families explained the various challenges they experienced since losing their loved ones in the conflict and made impassioned speeches expressing the need for a complete reparation packages including monetary support, scholarships to support their children’s education, health care assistance, psychosocial support, and job training and employment opportunities. One man also proposed making reservations within quota systems to support families of the disappeared. Certain jobs and scholarships amongst other opportunities maintain quotas for indigenous communities, women, and other minorities. He recommended that these opportunities also include reservations for family members of the disappeared. If families of the disappeared had ID cards verifying them as a victim family, they could verify their status for quota purposes and avoid issues with service delivery from government offices as many families have previously experienced.

    

    Family members of the disappeared addressing the Commission

    The Chair of the CIEDP, Lokendra Malik, addressed the points the families brought up in the meeting with some short remarks, after which the meeting abruptly concluded. He acknowledged their concerns and said that they would do the best they could to produce a strong report including a recommendation for the quota proposal. As he stated at the memorial event for Bipin Bhandari and Dil Bahadur Rai , he repeated that the lack of laws criminalizing enforced disappearance prevent them from holding perpetrators accountable, and the lack of financial and staffing resources from the government have hindered their progress on other fronts. While meetings provide families of the disappeared an opportunity to share their perspectives and communicate directly with commissioners, the lack of specific, concrete action steps to move victim centered transitional justice processes forward was disheartening.

    Transitional justice is a complex process everywhere. It involves many people with diverging interests and needs and often works through governments and bureaucracies. While there have been many challenges to meeting the needs of victims, the unity between various networks of victim families is one of the most notable elements of the transitional justice process in Nepal.

41. Who will pay for Manju?

    August 12, 2018 12:23 pm 2 Comments

    

    It is the fourth year Manju is supported by CONCERN and she is very much aware of the importance of education. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    Manju is 16. Most of the time she is lowering the gaze, when someone is speaking to her. She answers questions very evasively, but always with the shadow of a smile appearing on her face. She feels quite uncomfortable. We joke, speak about our experiences with school and try to make her feel safe and relaxed. It is difficult. She tells us that she likes going to school and that she helps her mom in her shop after school when she has free time. She tells us that she never worked in a brick factory.

    Buddha Mala, her mother, is more direct and makes no secret about her daughter’s past work in the kilns. She has tears in the eyes when she mentions her and her children’s life in the brick factory. We make her understand that we are not judging her, but that we ask these questions only to help her, because the monitoring and evaluating of the 50 Children Program in talking to all families supported by CONCERN and AP, is necessary for the project’s improvement. Her statement is very important to us. Even more, when I realise that her daughter did not tell us the truth. I guess she tried to protect her mother, fearing we could blame or scold her because she took her kids with her to the kilns from a very young age. These human and understandable bias distort any evaluating, that’s why crossing interviews around one person or issue is crucial.

    

    Buddha Mala (middle) is supported by CONCERN and AP since 2015. It enabled her to send her daughter to school instead of taking her to the kilns, where Manju used to work until the age of 12. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    When comes the end of the questionnaire and we ask Buddha Mala if she has any further comments or queries, comes the question:

    Will you continue to support Manju’s school fees even if she is 16 now?

    Her very pertinent question stumped me.

    Until when are you a considered as being a vulnerable child that needs to be rescued from child labour? Until when should a child, that was rescued from the work in brick factories and given access to education, be supported in order to avoid him going back to the kilns – because without diploma it is almost his only opportunity?

    It opens an even broader question, not only about free access to basic education, but also making access to high school easier, to allow a child to go through its entire schooling in the best condition, while making sure he obtains a diploma once it is accomplished.

    

    Saraswati school in Bhaktapur is one of seven schools supported by CONCERN in 2018. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    From a South-African perspective

    During my research on sponsored education around the world, I came across one interesting example on how the government takes actively part in reducing school fees for basic education. South-Africa’s Schools Act of 1996 introduced the opportunity for poor families to be exempted from paying school fees. The act has been enriched in 2007 with the no-fees school concept that aimed to abolish school fees in the 40% poorest schools according to a national ranking system including schools from grade 5 to 9.

    The education sponsorship system as it has been experienced in South-African schools has great potential. Despite the help the School Act provides to schools and families with a poor background, this school fee exemption initiative also shows its own limitations though. A case study published in 2010 by USAID shows that while this system is relieving many parents regarding the school fees, its benefits are unequal over the country. The rules are especially affecting negatively poor schools of some areas with main obstacles, such as principals that do not necessarily inform parents about the exemption application process, because provincial governments do not necessarily investigate on how and if schools respect their budget, because headmasters of poor schools are often overwhelmed by the complexity of the new kind of school budget they have to produce.

    Other articles also point out the lack of additional governmental compensations for schools that have a high exemption level, compared to the support no-fee school receives, while the first ones being in poor areas, definitely need more attention.

    

    Saraswati school’s headmaster in his office. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    If I write extensively about school fee exemption and no school fee policies, it is because I raised the question of the benefits of free access for ALL children to basic education in my last blog “The Challenge of Prioritizing”. However, the South-African example would not solve Manju’s issue. Older learners are clearly not a priority for the government that only supports children from Grade R (the beginning of basic education around 5 years of age) to Grade 9 (before beginning higher secondary school, around 14 years of age). For those from Grade 10 to 12 the total amount of school fees will have to be paid no matter their financial background. A national survey from 2005 shows that children’s attendance rates are very high (around 98%) for those between 8 and 14, but that from age 15 their attendance rate considerably decreases(around 85%). The trends clearly show that dropouts are linked to lacking support of older learners, even though it is understandable that the state prioritize the access to basic education.

    But what about all the Manjus of Nepal?

    From CONCERN’s perspective

    Manju is supported jointly by CONCERN and AP since 2015 and studied from then up to 2018 in Dattatraya school, along with her classmates Muskan and Roji, before being transferred to Saraswati higher secondary school. She loves going to school because of its atmosphere and is doing well, especially in Nepali her favourite subject. Sometimes she has to miss school when her parents are going to their village in Ramechhap. Both her parents worked in brick factories for years and took their children with them because they needed more money to eat. Manju worked and lived in the factory until the age of 10 and was shifting bricks everyday. Now, her father is a construction labourer and her mom has a little shop where Manju is helping after school when she has free time. Her parents want her to be hard-working since they did not have that opportunity themselves. She told us being happy because her parents allow her to read and write, and her awareness about the condition of her parents and their support for her education is touching.

    

    Muskan, Manju and Roji listening to the headmaster. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    Like in so many countries, Nepal’s youth faces the problem of unemployment if their college level is “only” corresponding to that of a bachelor’s degree. For young graduates from high school, the job hunt is even more difficult and leads to considerable headache about accepting jobs that are underpaid regarding their qualifications, or doing a job that is well paid – mostly in the banking sector – but that does not correspond to their aspirations at all. Young people that dropped out at 16 do not even have the choice to work in the banking sector or somewhere else, they are mostly condemned to work for jobs where no diploma is requested. Most of the time they need to go back to rough labour jobs such as working in construction work, agriculture or brick kilns.

    

    Manju is receiving her new uniform from CONCERN. Now she has two school dresses that will last for one whole year. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    For this reason, it is of high necessity for CONCERN to support children even if these are not considered as being vulnerable children anymore. It seems difficult to me to see any sustainability in the support given to these families, if their child is not supported for the crucial final years leading to the diploma. This problem is not unique to Nepal but to every country where children with disadvantaged backgrounds are most of the time falling behind governmental education policies. Breaking the circle of child labour needs a long-term support that ensures a child of being skilled enough to live in better conditions to help enable its own future children to go to school, and in advocating for a child labour free society.

    I did not know what to say to her mom when she asked me if we could continue to support her even if Manju is 16 now. I would have said yes. Unfortunately, I am not the one deciding on this.

    

    This smile is worth all education fees in the world. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

42. #9: Mr. Nguyen Huu Phuc and family

    August 8, 2018 1:06 am 2 Comments

    We visited Mr. Phuc’s family on July 4, 2018. They are the ninth Agent Orange Campaign beneficiaries thanks to the generous support of a longtime friend of the AEPD and AP partnership. As a result, the Campaign is on its way to support three beneficiaries this year!

    Meet Mr. Nguyen Huu Phuc’s family

    

    Mr. Nguyen Huu Phuc and his wife, Ms. Nguyen Thi Thanh, live in the Tuyen Hoa district of the Quang Binh province with their son, Nguyen Van Tam, and daughter, Nguyen Thi Nam. The couple had eight children, five of which are affected by Agent Orange exposure. Of these five, Tam, Nam, and Nguyen The Bay are the surviving three. Two of their siblings passed away “many years ago”. Nguyen The Bay has mental disabilities but is able to live in his own home nearby. He receives 1.4M VND (~$60 USD) per month in Agent Orange compensation.

    

    Nguyen Thi Nam is 28 years old. She was born with cerebral palsy as a result of her family’s Agent Orange exposure. Nam receives 1.4M VND (~$60 USD) per month in Agent Orange compensation. She is completely dependent on her parents’ care-taking and spends most of her time on her bed near the kitchen.

    The heat that day was unforgiving. Nam looked comfortable in the coolest area of the home with the fan blowing nearby. I greeted her as I approached and she responded with a smile, tracking the camera as I leaned in to take her portrait. Ms. Thanh smiled gleefully as she watched this interaction.

    

    Nguyen Van Tam is 25 years old. He was born with cerebral palsy as a result of his family’s Agent Orange exposure. Like Bay and Nam, Tam also receives 1.4M VND (~$60 USD) per month in Agent Orange compensation. He spends the majority of his days lying on his bed directly in front of the home’s double doors. The fan cools his skin. During our conversation, Mr. Phuc alternates between sitting on the floor with us and sitting beside Tam, holding his hand gently and caressing his hair. They have a really beautiful bond.

    Mr. Phuc received his cow and calf

    In consultation with Mr. Hoc, an AEPD Outreach Worker, Mr. Phuc elected to rear a cow and calf. Mr. Phuc explained that he and his wife are aging and their health is declining. They will use the female cow to produce fertilizer and calves for sale to supplement the income they earn from their 1000 square meters of rice field. The couple used to raise pigs but found it to be too intensive and risky. When they are no longer able to tend to their rice field, they will live primarily from the cow-rearing income.

    Visiting Mr. Phuc’s family was made even more special because we witnessed Mr. Phuc receiving his cow and calf from the cow salesman. Mr. Hoc facilitated the sale. The Agent Orange Campaign model requires that the Outreach Worker facilitate the exchange of the resource (in this case the cow and calf) and the money.

    Mr. Tam, the cow salesman arrived within minutes and joined us. Mr. Hoc and Mr. Phuc reviewed the business plan and reestablished Mr. Phuc’s commitment to it. Mr. Hoc pulled out money from his backpack and counted it in front of all of us (cow salesman included). He then handed it over to the cow salesman and asked him to count it, again out loud. Mr. Hoc took a video of this exchange as proof of payment. The cow salesman nodded in agreement and looked over to Mr. Phuc.

    

    Mr. Phuc, Mr. Hoc, and Mr. Tam (the cow salesman) pose for a photograph upon the cow and calf’s official purchase. 

    We all got up, put on our shoes, and headed to the small garden in front of Mr. Phuc’s home. Holding the cow’s rope, Mr. Hoc said a few words, shook hands with the cows salesman, and proudly handed over the rope to Mr. Phuc. In that moment, the cow and calf were officially purchased and the business plan had launched.

    

    A snap of the team. From left to right: Mr. Hoc (AEPD Outreach Worker), Mr. Phuc, Ms. Thanh, Mr. Tam (cow salesman), AEPD Staff (Ashley, Ngoc, Seanin, me, and Mr. Vinh).

     

43. The Challenge of Prioritizing

    August 7, 2018 7:42 am 2 Comments

    

    Parents and children enrolled in Phaidhoka school listening to the headmaster’s speech on the importance of education. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    They are quiet. They are standing next to their classmates or sitting next to their parents for those whose parents could skip their jobs to come to the schools. They are listening to the headmaster’s words on the importance of being a hard-working student. They are listening to my speech on the necessity of being studious to achieve their dreams, because being educated enough to chose which kind of job they desire to do is an incredible advantage – recalling the most important thing my father ever told me about education – and finally they are listening to Prakash’s comments on CONCERN’s commitment to the kids and their families.

     

    

    Distribution day 1: Prakash and Sarita waiting for the 10 children of Dattatraya school and their parents. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    On the chance to get a uniform

    Once a year, all kids enrolled in the 50 Children Program receive their new uniform and school bag. Along with school fees that include admission and registration fees, exam fees three or four times a year, CONCERN supports parents with a full range of school necessities such as stationery, school dress, tie and belt, bags and shoes. Children who devote more time to sports are provided with shows designed for running about which you can read more on the Shoehero website. Nurturing this interest will not only help the children get better at it, but it may also lead to a high earning career. When necessary, CONCERN also spends money on computer teaching classes, special and vocational courses for those schools where these classes are compulsory. Last but not least, some schools ask for a library contribution, first aid fees or snack and lunch support. As depicted, education support does not only include basic support but also the kind of services that are not coming immediately to mind when thinking about school fees, but that help a child to adapt and fit within his school environment.

    

    A schoolgirl from Dattatraya bowing her head while receiving her new school dress. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    

    Asmita is holding her brand new bag surrounded by Prakash and Sarita. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    Many parents showed us their gratitude, pointing at CONCERN’s logo next to The Advocacy Project’s logo printed on the front of their children’s new bags. It is obviously much easier for parents to deal with their tight household budget if they get support regarding school expenses. The saved money helps them to buy healthier food for their children and even to buy other clothes and shoes. Some kids have nothing else to put on than their uniforms, that they wear every day, even on school-free Saturdays. In such cases, it is an extreme relieve for families to be offered a school dress, while they “only” need to purchase another one. Kids will then alternate between two uniforms for the upcoming 365 days.

    

    Asmita’s father refuses to send his two daughters to work. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    CONCERN’s help for example, enables Manju’s mother to spend more money on her other children’s school expenses that she has to afford by herself.

    Asmita’s father on his side, is grateful towards CONCERN because it encourages him not to send his two young daughters to work once they would be physically strong enough.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    On the reflection behind lacking shoes

    This year, CONCERN’s budget was too tight to provide children with shoes. Either kids will have to wear their previous pair shoes for another year – if they still fit their feet size – or parents will have to buy a new pair. It is too easy to pretend that if one child grows out of his uniform or shoes, he can buy some second hand from older children. Since these are worn all year long, it’s obviously not easy to buy good quality school dresses and shoes from the second hand market, if one should exist. Another reason is that uniforms are tailored to meet individual sizes.

    

    Distribution day 2: Prakash, Sajesh and Sarita preparing the bags and dresses to be distributed. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    In any case, families’ difficulties to afford school garments reveals the underprivileged background these children come from. Since they are already attending public schools with high school fees, it remains uncertain where the household budget will need to be cut in order to meet the school financial requirements.

    

    CONCERN supports 7 families at Bagiswori school. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    In a country where the formal section of education does not necessarily provide full basic education for all children, many kids dropout or even fail to enter the education system, mostly because of high school fees and low incomes. Moreover, the gap left by uneven public school’s educational standard opened the market for the private sector. In 2016, there were 6,015 private secondary schools for 29,207 public secondary schools in Nepal. In 2017, the lower-secondary level of private schools accounted 17.2% of all school enrollments, compared to 13.6% in 2011. The private sector is believed to provide better quality education but the schools are very expensive and only affordable by the higher society. In any case, the question should not be about making private schools more accessible but on how to increase public school’s educational standard, while getting more governmental funds in order to help them providing good education at affordable cost.

    

    Roman, one of the youngest supported children from the 2018 program received his uniform for LKG class. (Bhaktapur/LC)

    To me, investing in a new pair of shoes that is worn every single day, in school or not, protecting feet (we should not underestimate the importance of taking care of our feet, they support the weight of our body for our whole life) should come before school dresses and co., despite the never-ending debate on benefits and inconvenient of imposing those at school. Ensuring that parents can pay basic education fees for their children in making education free or in decreasing costs should also come before the government’s decision to make uniform compulsory in governmental schools.

    In a country where public schools are poor and government funding sparse, the necessity to afford a school dress seems to be more important that ensuring access to good education for all. It’s all about prioritizing. But what to prioritize? Why and how?

     

    Would school fee exemption or no-fee policies make a difference?

    

    Prakash and I clowing around before the school dress distribution at Dattatraya school. (Bhaktapur/LC)

44. #11: Ms. Vo Thi Toa and family

    July 31, 2018 10:53 am 3 Comments

    I visited Ms. Toa’s family during my first field trip in early July. Ms. Toa met with Karen, an AP staff member, in January 2018. At the time, Ms. Toa’s family had been considered a potential beneficiary for the Agent Orange Campaign. Today, eight months later, the family’s situation has worsened and AEPD has identified them as next priority beneficiary family.

    ***

    

    Ms. Vo Thi Toa (above) is a 71 year-old powerhouse. We sit in her two-bedroom home donated by the Vietnamese Association for Victims of Agent Orange in the Bang Village of the Bo Trach District, Quang Binh. She is the head of her household and her family’s primary caregiver. Speaking softly yet firmly, she looks to her late husband’s, Mr. Nguyen, portrait every few minutes throughout our conversation. There is discernible pain in her voice and we learn that Mr. Nguyen passed away in 2005 of stomach cancer.

    

    From left to right: (top) Long’s daughter, Long, Long’s son, Long’s eldest daughter, Ms. Toa, and (bottom) Nam. 

    He joined the army before 1975 and was exposed to Agent Orange. The couple had six children, three of which are affected by Agent Orange: Nguyen Thanh Nam (40 years old), Nguyen Ngoc Thang (38 years old), and Nguyen Thanh Long (34 years old). Their other three children are now married and have moved away to live with their families. They were not affected by Mr. Nguyen’s Agent Orange exposure.

    

    Nam (above) is the oldest son. He is the most severely affected by his father’s Agent Orange exposure. Nam has cerebral palsy and is quadriplegic. He receives Agent Orange compensation of 1.3M VND (~$55 USD) per month from the government. Nam spends the majority of his time lying on his bed. Ms. Toa carefully adjusts him every so often to prevent bedsores. She admits that caring for them is becoming more physically tolling.

    Thang is married and lives with his family outside of Ms. Toa’s home. He suffers from peritonitis and cholecystitis and has had five surgeries so far. Thang receives 800,000 VND (~$35 USD) per month in Agent Orange compensation. Despite his physical ailments, Thang is doing considerably well thanks to his family’s support.

    We spend most of the time discussing Long’s latest health challenges. He is sitting with us at the table but does not say a word. He has two daughters and one son, all of whom live with him and Ms. Toa. They climb over him, the sofa, and Ms. Toa as she speaks.

    

    Long and his daughters stand in the doorway as we leave their home.

    His wife works and lives in China but does not send them remittances. Ms. Toa explains that he has mental disabilities and epilepsy. The family went through all the procedures to get Agent Orange compensation for him in January 2018. Unfortunately, the state did not accept the application. They do not consider him an Agent Orange victim because his disabilities were revealed only a short time ago.

    Long had his first epileptic episode in October 2016. Ms. Toa was forced to sell the cow that had been used to work in rice fields to pay for his six-month treatment in Hue. When Karen visited the family, Ms. Toa mentioned that their biggest expense with regard to his health condition was the cost of traveling. The medication Long was taking was covered by insurance. Fortunately, he is now able to receive treatment at the local clinic (meaning there are fewer traveling costs) but, and very unfortunately, the medication he had been taking is no longer effective. Long is now taking a new medication and it is not covered by insurance.

    Ms. Toa bears the heavy burden of providing and caring for her family. She is keenly aware that they are all unable to work in the fields and is not currently engaged in any sustainable income generating activities (although she’d like to be). The family lives of the assistance from their neighbors and the state (i.e. Nam’s social allowance and her widow subsidy).

    She has consulted with Mr. Tuan, an AEPD Outreach Worker, and would like to rear a cow. Having raised cows before, she is familiar and comfortable with the process. She feels cow rearing, more specifically, for calf and fertilizer sales, is the most sustainable form of livelihood for her family. The income generated will pay for Long’s medical treatment (traveling and new medicine), food, and other household needs. Without this business plan and the resources to implement it, Ms. Toa will continue to rely on the aid of her community and will not be able to generate a sustainable source of income for years to come.

    ***

    

    Ms. Toa and her family (missing Nam). 

    The Agent Orange Campaign model works to provide a sustainable source of income for the beneficiary families. An income they can rely on for years to come that is either independent of other income-generating activities or not. If you read through her profile (above), you likely noticed that she had a cow and sold it to support her son’s medical treatment.

    Even though she had every right and reason to sell her cow, this detail may be disconcerting to friends of AP being asked to support her next cow-rearing activity. But it shouldn’t be. Ms. Toa has steadily and (in many ways) singlehandedly supported her family for the last two decades. What she chose to do with her previous cow was her decision, and her decision alone.

    In this situation, however, Ms. Toa will be entering a partnership with AEPD and is bound to implement the business plan to its fullest extent for the next two years. The business plan helps implement the activity, ensures its longevity, and supports the beneficiary’s financial literacy and therefore longterm savings/investment. Mr. Tuan, the Outreach Worker, will check in with Ms. Toa periodically (as he does with all Campaign beneficiaries) on the successes and challenges associated with implementing the plan.

    After the two years are over, Ms. Toa will be strongly encouraged to continue the cow-rearing model in the way that suits her best. For example, she may decide to sell the cow once it has produced as many calves as possible and keep a female calf. (See here for more information on the cow-rearing model.) However, because it is a partnership, she will always be required to obtain AEPD’s permission if she decides to sell the original cow for any reason. Thus, the partnership is an important part of the model as it holds the beneficiary, AEPD, and AP accountable.

    Based on my observations and conversations, Ms. Toa is fully committed to the plan and to investing in her family’s future.

45. The Politics of Memory

    July 25, 2018 4:46 am 4 Comments

    Last semester, I took a transformative class called Memory Politics where we discussed various aspects of memory within the context of transitional justice and grappled with questions such as, ‘Who remembers and forgets?’, ‘What is remembered and forgotten?’, and ‘How and when do remembrance and forgetting occur?’. The work of memory provided a specific lens through which to analyze and deepen our understanding of transitional justice processes in Germany, South Africa, Rwanda, Peru, and Guatemala amongst others.

    One overarching theme that emerged from our conversations about the work of memory is the consistent cultural debate between those who fear forgetting and those who wish to forget. Elizabeth Jelin writes about this cultural debate in her work State Repression and the Labors of Memory. On one end of the cultural debate are those who stress the role of memory as a source of protection against the fear of forgetting. On the other end are those who condemn the pasts that live on, specifically the persistence of painful pasts that do not allow one to forget, overcome, and move forward. Jelin explains that this recurring cultural debate is significant because although the events of the past cannot change, their significance in the present and future can.

    After a time of conflict or mass atrocities, political and social actors have an opportunity to craft a specific narrative of the past through the passage of new legislation, establishment of memorial sites and commemorative holidays, naming conventions of everyday places, creation of art, the official documentation in history books, and the writing of curriculum in schools, amongst others. While the conflict is still quite recent in Nepal’s history, I am curious about how Nepal will construct a long-term narrative of the armed conflict at a national level.

    On the local level, I witnessed the cultural argument in favor of memorialization firsthand in Bardiya. Sarita, Prabal, and I visited a memory park that is being developed in Dhadwar. Niranjan Chaudhary, the chair of the Ward and also a founding member of NEFAD, told us about the decision to build the park, answered our questions, and took us on a tour. In that part of Bardiya alone, 69 people were forcibly disappeared. Chaudhary and the committee of volunteers from the community are developing the park in order to humanize the people who were forcibly disappeared and remember the individuals that make up this number. It is their hope that those who visit the park will be reminded of the atrocities that took place in the community. They hope that their disappearances were not in vain and the persistence of their memory will ensure that nothing like this will happen again.  

    

    Entrance to the Memory Park

    The park includes a monument (photo below) which will be inscribed with the names of the missing. The height and design of the monument represent the fact that their history cannot be erased. Their memories will not fade with the passage of time. There will also be a mini-museum telling the stories of each of the forcibly disappeared individuals and displaying some of their belongings. Community level memorialization allows people who were affected by the conflict to publicly share their experiences of the conflict. It can serve to legitimize their version of the truth.

    

    Monument in the Memory Park

    

    Sarita, Niranjan Chaudhary, Members of the Park Committee in front of the monument.

    One of the most poignant moments for me was our discussion about reparations. He explained that while reparations provide financial support to families to meet some of their immediate needs, their investments don’t always lead to broader development in the community. To encourage community development, the community has started a savings group where families of the disappeared use funds to invest in assets that will generate income and broader community development, such as purchasing livestock. Learning about these community driven initiatives in person deeply resonated with me as it highlighted what positive, successful, development looks like.

    The next day, we went to a nearby town called Chisapani to visit a family of the disappeared that Sarita knew. After spending the afternoon talking to them about how the disappearances had affected their family, Sarita, Prabal, and I walked over to a suspension bridge in the town. From the bridge, we saw a forest which is suspected mass grave site. Ram of NEFAD amongst others wants this forest to be declared a memory site. As Nepal grapples with questions around memorialization on a community basis, it will also increasingly face questions about memorialization on a national level.

    

    Suspected Mass Grave Site

46. With Education comes Freedom

    July 19, 2018 1:25 pm 3 Comments

    

    Tharu women taking part in the discussion about there previous life as bonded labourers and on their current needs and desires. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    After a quite adventurous travel, Michelle and I arrived safe and sound in Tulsipur. It is in this little town from Dang region, western Nepal, that is located the main office of the non-profit organisation, Backward Education Society (BASE). Michelle is the Peace Fellow for BASE and her mission is to analyse the needs on the ground in order to develop a social initiative that AP can support. Since BASE also used to advocate child labour, it was decided that I would accompany Michelle on her journey to Dang and help her to settle in.

     

    

    A Tharu woman taking part in the discussion about vocational training and financial sustainability in Besahi village. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    From non-violent movement to a leading “human rights” organisation

    I am quite amazed about BASE’s achievements. It first emerged as a non-violent movement advocating for the rights of the Tharu community in western Nepal, in particular to put an end to the bonded labour system, known as kamaiya, the community was trapped in since generations. Its founder, Mr. Dili Chaudhary was in his teen years when he started a small initiative to raise awareness about this modern slavery system. Its movement took shape and is now a successful organisation focusing on human rights – especially women and children’s rights – and developing various programs dealing with education, ecology, and humanitarian help. One of BASE’s main successes is the campaign to free kamlaris, these Tharu girls that were send from a very young age to work for landlords that often physically and mentally abused them.

    For more information regarding kamlari and the kamaiya system, and more generally the Tharu community, please refer to Michelle’s blog Daughters of the Tharu, that offers an excellent insight on the issue.

    

    Sushma in front of her house she could afford with BASE’s support in Besahi village. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    Rescued but powerless

    In accordance with BASE’s originate work in favour of the marginalised Taru community, our first field trip led us in Besahi village, surrounding Ghorahi, the capital city of Dang, where many Tharu people are settled. What the villagers told us, confirmed what BASE’s executive director already mentioned: the kamaiya system as such has mostly been eradicated. The kamlaris we met had all been rescued a few years after the government passed a law in 2000 forbidding bonded labour. From the vulnerable children they were, they became young women that are today between 20 and 30 years of age. However, a new form of bonded labour appeared over the time directly resulting from their previous domestic slavery. The years spend as domestic servants prevented kamlaris to go to school. Today, even though they have been rescued, previous kamlaris of Besahi village remain powerless because of illiteracy. The income generated by their work on the land is not enough and they do not have the skills to start a business or any other kind of activity. As a consequence, they need to borrow money from landlords to cover some expenses, and to work for them if they are not able to reimburse. This situation follows the path of exploitation they have suffered from over generations.

    

    Maya with her daughter in front of her house in Besahi village. She would like to become a teacher at a Montessori school. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    With education comes freedom

    The Tharu women from Besahi village are dreaming about learning how to read and write, no matter their age. Once basic skills are acquired, they hope being able to do something else than working on land or for landlords. Cooking in a hotel, making and selling carpets, teaching in a Montessori school, working in auto mecanics, opening a little sewing shop, these are all trades they wish to ply if they get the chance to attain training sessions.

    Escaping poverty and dependence through education is a fact that no one would contest. Education empowers. Sushma, Maya, Somat and Rosani are very aware of that and despite difficulties to afford school fees for their children, they make sure these are going to school. In Besahi village no child is enrolled in labour or stays at home.

    

    An elderly woman from the Tharu community living in Besahi village, not far away from Ghorahi, the capital of Dang region in western Nepal. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    Besides family awareness, this new generation of kids that has been born and grew up following the end of the kamaiya system, are benefitting from BASE’s successful non-violent movement that pressured the government and helped free kamlaris and drastically decreased child labour in this sector. The process to achieve these results was not an easy one. Over years, activists were advocating on every single level – private, local, district, region, national – to raise awareness and confront landlords and politicians with their responsibilities, they ensured children had gradually access to education and were not dropping out, used their large network of ground activists to control households and made sure than landlords and hotel owners did not continue to employ children through regular unannounced visits. These three elements, advocacy, education sustainability and regular controls, were the fundaments of BASE’s success.

    

    Two young women from the Tharu community participating in our discussion about the village’s needs and their professional wishes. (Ghorahi/LC)

     

    Now that I am back to Kathmandu, I hope that what I saw and learned during these few days with Michelle, will help me with my work with CONCERN, and help Michelle to develop a concept of vocational training and remedial classes in her mission with BASE.

    

    Moment of joy between Michelle and an elderly Tharu woman in Besahi village, Dang Region. (Ghorahi/LC)

47. So, why a cow?

    10:02 am 2 Comments

    During my first field visit to the Tuyen Hoa and Bo Trach districts I met with Mr. Thin, Mr. Phuc, and Ms. Toa’s family. To my surprise, all three families, in partnership with their AEPD Outreach Worker, have selected cow rearing as their business model. (Point of clarification: Mr. Thin’s plan is currently being funded, Mr. Phuc’s plan has just been funded in July 2018, and Ms. Toa’s family has just been profiled in January 2018.)

    So, why a cow? To be fair, each family has the opportunity to elect any business model that works best for them and their needs. The cow rearing business model happens to be popular among the campaign’s beneficiaries for several reasons. Most of the caregivers the campaign supports are aging and cannot feasibly manage intensive manual labor as well as they used to. Cow rearing represents a manageable and sustainable endeavor for them.

    How does the cow rearing model work? For these three families, it begins with the purchase of a female cow and calf. In other situations, the beneficiaries may select a male cow. The female cow and calf’s purpose and benefits are multi-faceted. Among the benefits is the utility of the cow’s manure for the owner’s land and the additional income the families can earn by selling the calves. (A female cow can typically produce up to eight calves in her lifetime.) When possible, the beneficiaries receive both a female cow and calf to help them get a head start.

    

    Part I. A graphic on how a cow is identified and selected after the cow rearing business model is chosen. The critical assumptions of this model and the Agent Orange Campaign are two-fold: (1) the family is in need of a sustainable source of income and (2) the business model is developed with three key characteristics in mind—feasibility, longevity, and sustainability.

    On occasion, depending on the circumstances and the cow’s condition, the family will decide to sell the cow and keep the calf. For example, if the calf is a male, he may be used to work in the fields (either the family’s or rented out to neighboring farmers). Or, if the calf is a female and the cow is nearing the end of her reproductive years, they may keep the calf to bear more calves and sell the cow. The cycle continues.

    

    Part II. The utility of a female versus a male cow based on the beneficiary family’s identified needs. AEPD and AP recognize that the family’s needs may change over time and that they are agents of their business plan. The AEPD Outreach Worker and AP Peace Fellow will continue to monitor the family’s progress and evaluate the outcome and eventually impact of the Campaign. The utility of the cow rearing model is non-linear and does not restrict the number of cows the family will eventually have at any given point in time.

    Thus, the cow rearing business plan is a powerful tool for sustainable development, income generation, and financial literacy. It is our hope that through this program and these outcomes, the beneficiaries – Agent Orange-affected families – will have an improved quality of life especially as they age and continue to care for their loved ones. We are committed to monitoring and evaluating the progress of this program and supporting additional families to come.

    So, why a cow? Because (simply put) it’s a sustainable and, often, familiar livelihood that is accessible and impactful to Agent Orange-affected families. Are you interested in supporting a cow rearing business model? Click here to invest in our tenth campaign beneficiary, Mr. Thin’s family, and their plans to raise a cow and a calf.

48. The Business in Bardiya

    July 18, 2018 8:16 am 5 Comments

    Over the past few years, NEFAD and The Advocacy Project have facilitated embroidery trainings for women of the families of the disappeared in Bardiya. Last summer, the women of Bardiya registered their embroidery group as a cooperative, elected leaders, established a business plan, and began embroidering tiger squares to be assembled into tote bags for sale at Bardiya National Park. The park is famous for its tigers and attracts many visitors each year. One of my primary objectives for our trip to Bardiya was to better understand the current status of the embroidery cooperative and identify ways to support their growth.You can follow insidemma for business news updates.
    

    

    After arriving in Bardiya, Prabal and I went to Sarita’s house. Sarita (photo) is NEFAD’s manager of the embroidery cooperative and a leader in the community. I’ll refer you to the profile last year’s Peace Fellows wrote about her, so you can read about how Sarita truly is Superwoman. She showed us 8 tiger bags that are ready to be sold and then demonstrated how to put together a tiger bag, which she managed to do in a whopping 4 hours! I’m sure it would have taken her even less time if I hadn’t been asking her hundreds of questions while she was working. Despite the 105 (Fahrenheit!) degree heat, the bag was incredibly precise and absolutely beautiful. She explained that currently, there is only one tourist lodge selling the first few bags they produced. Sarita will be bringing some of the newer bags which are smaller and of better quality to the lodge to sell.

    

    Superwoman at work!

    Since the embroidery cooperative is not a consistent source of income for the women yet, their primary focus is their agricultural work especially in the current cropping season. They work on the embroidery at night, send them to Sarita who assembles the bags, and then Sarita brings the bags to the tourist lodge where they are currently sold. To receive payment, the women have to wait until the bags are sold or until the funds are raised through The Advocacy’s Project’s Global Giving fundraising campaigns. Since there is a long delay between the production of the tiger square and payment, it is understandably deprioritized. Therefore, our short-term goal is to secure vendors willing to sell the bags without taking a profit in order to keep the cost of the bag low while still remaining profitable to enable the cooperative to begin generating a consistent income.

    While in Bardiya, we visited the National Park where Sarita discussed the possibility of selling the tiger bags with the woman in their souvenir shop. Since the manager wasn’t there, we took their contact information to follow up. The woman in the store explained that while summer months are not very busy at the park due to monsoon, they see about 30 visitors a day during tourist season from September through April. We also visited another souvenir shop near the park where the man working there also provided us with contact information for the store’s manager. As I walk around Kathmandu, I’ve also been looking for fair trade stores which sell ethically sourced, handmade products which Prabal and I can visit to see if they would be willing to carry the bags.

    

    Sarita discussing selling the tiger bags in Bardiya National Park

     

    

    Sarita discussing selling the tiger bags at a souvenir shop near the park.

    The women of Bardiya are now focused on expanding their production and creating 50 tiger bags to be sold at Bardiya National Park in the upcoming tourist season. One bag can generate as much income as six days of agricultural work. To raise the funds for supplies including needles, thread, fabric, and marketing materials to produce the bags, we’ve launched a Global Giving fundraising campaign. After selling their tiger bags this year, the women want to invest their earnings in renting a space near Bardiya National Park. Their goal is to build their cooperative into a sustainable business and open their own shop where they can sell a wider range of handicrafts.

    If you’re reading this, please consider donating at this link and sharing it with your networks to support the women of Bardiya in growing their cooperative into a sustainable business!

49. #10: Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Thin and family

    July 11, 2018 11:09 am 1 Comment

    I had the pleasure of going on my first field trip on the fourth of July to the Tuyen Hoa district with Mr. Hoc (an AEPD Outreach Worker), Ngoc (AEPD staff), and Ashley and Seanin (summer interns from Canada). We met with Mr. Thin’s family—the tenth and latest Agent Orange Campaign beneficiary.

    What is the Agent Orange Campaign? The Agent Orange Campaign supports families affected by Agent Orange in the Quang Binh province by connecting them to an AEPD Outreach Worker and resources. By collaborating with an Outreach Worker, they are able to develop a business plan for sustainable income generation. Read my introductory blog here for a more in-depth look into the Campaign and my role for the next six months.

    In the spirit of responsible and ethical storytelling, I thought it best to introduce Mr. Thin and his family through a photo diary. I firmly believe in the power of photography as I find that words often fail to faithfully capture reality.

    

    We arrived at Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Thin’s home around 10:00am after a three-hour drive from Dong Hoi City. The air was hot, the landscape lush, and the raw cement floor refreshing. He welcomed us into the home and instantly shared their experiences as a family affected by Agent Orange and the plans he and Mr. Hoc had developed in January when Karen (Advocacy Project staff) met with them for the first time.

     

    

    Since Karen’s visit in January, Mr. Thin has been able to secure a loan for grapefruit and banana tree seeds and plant them. During this visit, the business plan was updated to reflect these accomplishments and determine estimated revenue, costs, profits, and the remaining need. It was determined that the family needed a cow and a calf. The female cow’s manure will be used to fertilize the crops; the calf will be sold for income, as will the following seven calves she is expected to bear. The income from the calf sales and the crops will be used to support the household, purchase food and medicine, and begin repaying the loan.

     

    

    Ms. Cao Thi Loan, Mr. Thin’s wife, poses for a portrait.

    She has been listening intently while Mr. Hoc and Mr. Thin discuss the business plan and next steps. Occasionally she interrupts to add her perspective and then retreats to check in on Lam and Phan and finish preparing lunch. No one mistakes her silence for complacency, as we are keenly aware that she is a strong woman and a partner in this household.

     

    

    Mr. Thin and Ms. Loan are the primary caregivers of their sons, Nguyen Van Phan (23 years old) and Nguyen Van Lam (30 years old). Their sons’ quality of life is severely impacted by their cerebral palsy associated with the couple’s environmental exposure to Agent Orange. They had five children, all with cerebral palsy. Lam and Phan are the surviving two. Nevertheless, it is obvious that Mr. Thin and Ms. Loan take good care of their sons–keeping them clean and preserving their dignity. 

    Unfortunately, the family is ineligible to receive government-funded Agent Orange compensation because Mr. Thin joined the army after 1975. Instead, the family receives social assistance for persons with disabilities but it is not enough to maintain the household. 

     

    

    Mr. Thin carefully adjusts Phan’s head before posing for the family portrait (above).

    Mr. Thin supports the family through agriculture; in addition to the 600 banana and grapefruit trees he has recently planted, he currently maintains 20 grapefruit trees and keeps two pigs. He mentions that while there has been no change in Lam and Phan’s health, he and his wife are aging and are no longer very healthy. Unfortunately, they are only able to access treatment in the local clinic because the hospital is far away and they cannot leave their sons alone.

     

    

    Lam and Phan spend the majority of their time enveloped by their hammocks. This is the most secure place for them to stay. The family has found that they otherwise roll off beds and injure themselves. It allows Ms. Loan, as their primary caregiver, some peace of mind.

    As we chat and I take additional photographs, we notice two wheelchairs in the corner. The family was gifted them by a chapter of the Red Cross in the district. Ms. Loan explains that she fastens them to their wheelchairs and takes them outside for sunshine. Although she does that fairly often, she continues, it is difficult to ensure their safety.

     

    

    Lam is the family’s oldest surviving son. His hammock is nearest the window. The sun gently beams against his skin as he sways. I greet him as I approach and he repeats “Hello”. Ms. Loan mentions that he repeats sounds he hears but does not understand them. His eyes track the camera as we continue to engage with him, Phan, and Ms. Loan.

    Mr. Thin had slipped out at some point during our conversation with them to obtain local authority approval for our visit. Mr. Hoc explains that we will meet him at the station. We say goodbye to them and see ourselves out. As we are leaving, I glance back at them and see Ms. Loan swiftly, yet gently, lifting Lam from his hammock onto the mat where she will feed him lunch. It feels so natural, so practiced and then I remember she has been doing this for the last 30 years.

    It was a privilege to meet Mr. Thin and his family and I am thrilled to collaborate with them throughout my fellowship. AEPD and AP have launched a crowdfunding campaign to support Mr. Thin’s business plan. Please consider joining them as they invest in their future.

    For more photographs of the field visit and Mr. Thin’s family, click here.

    For an in-depth profile of the Thin family, click here.

    For more on the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD), Advocacy Project’s partner in Vietnam, click here.

50. The Problem is not the Law

    4:55 am 10 Comments

     

    

    Children representatives of Nepal’s 7 regions are taking part in the National Conference of Child Participation 2018, organised by Consortium Nepal. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

     

    One can often feel the law is not working with their best interests in mind.

     

    I wonder how true that is though. Were you the one that caused the incident you complained about? Are you lying? Are you truly not at all responsible? 

    If that is the case, you’ll want to get in touch with a personal injury lawyer to help you out. A personal injury attorney is a lawyer who provides legal services to those who claim to have been injured, physically or psychologically, as a result of the negligence of another person, company, government agency or any entity, personal injury lawyer primarily practice in the area of law known as tort law. Examples of common personal injury claims include injuries from slip and fall accidents, traffic collisions, defective products, workplace injuries and professional malpractice, but if you are ever in a car accident, then you should consider hiring a different lawyer by visiting lawboss.com.

    What do you do in the event that you get yourself involved in an car accident? No one would ever think of getting involved in accident, but the fact is that it holds the potential to happen any moment without a prior notice. As a matter of fact, vehicles can develop some mechanical faults at any unexpected moments, due to which we have less success in completely eliminating car accidents from occurring. You can contact to Angell Law Firm’ car accident attorney for further details. It is important and highly advisable that in a situation when you get involved in accident, you take certain measures to seek some form of compensation and settlements from the case. One of the very things that come into mind when this happens is the idea of consulting car accident attorneys. It is indeed a step, which will take you in the right direction as one can’t undermine the importance of attorneys on such matters. Since, they are professional attorneys specialized in accident laws, they are able to give you useful suggestions to help you in your quest for justice. The aim of this article is to discuss some of the factors, which are worth considering before choosing car accident attorneys for your prospective case. This process can be more demanding than you might think it to be. The considerations you make are to guide while choosing the right attorney for your case. Read more at https://www.lawyer-monthly.com/2022/06/the-difference-between-wills-and-trusts/ .

    In the first place, you are required to ask your family and friends. In other words, you are advised to adopt the referral system. Someone who has been in this situation will be able to make a good recommendation for your benefit. Moreover, it will help build trust on an unknown car accident attorney, who has rendered good services in the past. However, in this case, the internet could also be a good source for locating potential attorneys.

    The term “trial lawyers” is used to refer to personal injury attorney firms, even though many other types of lawyers, including defense lawyers and criminal prosecutors also appear in trials and even though most personal injury claims are settled without going to trial.

    There are many types of accidents that come under the ambit of personal injury. Most of these accidents take place because of the negligence of another person but you and your loved ones usually have to bear the brunt of it unless you can get the assistance of a talented Personal Injury Lawyers. Most companies or people who have caused accidents will not voluntarily give money as compensation, and even if they do the amount is sure to be less than what you deserve.

    These accidents range from ones that you receive while at work to others that you get while at leisure. For instance, you might be incapacitated because of certain materials you have been exposed to at work or might suffer a fall at your office because of an uneven stair. Ironically, your employer might even terminate your employment because of injuries that you have suffered at the workplace! Similarly, you might get injured because of a collision with another vehicle or because the road you were traveling on was not maintained.

    It is very important for you to contact the best possible personal injury lawyer as soon as you have suffered an accident because this is in your best interests. You should ensure that only the best lawyers handle your case because shoddy legal help can actually weaken your case. It is tragic to think about the people who jeopardized their chances to get a substantial monetary compensation for their injuries only because they failed to get a good team of injury lawyers.

    You need an personal injury lawyer who has the ability to fight your case doggedly because that is what it sometimes takes to get a person or organization to make a large payment for damage that they have caused to you. You deserve nothing but the very best legal representation, which includes a lawyer who will go to great lengths to win your case.

    The personal injury lawyer you hire should have the most comprehensive knowledge of the legal system as well as plenty of experience handling a whole lot of personal injury litigations. In addition, the personal injury lawyer needs to have empathy in dealing with your case. It also helps if you contact the best BC injury lawyers because the reputation of your legal team will help influence the other party’s willingness to offer a handsome settlement.

    Select your personal injury lawyer with a great deal of care because your future and that of your family depends on it. Besides, you are hardly asking for anything that you do not deserve. Most legal firms will not charge you for the initial consultation. In fact, there are some that will only charge you if you receive a settlement in compensation for your injuries. Go right ahead and hire the best lawyer you can find so that you get the best possible compensation for your injuries.

    It has been challenging to tolerate the dozens of street dogs fighting and yelling at each other at every hour of the night (reminds me how impressed I was as a child about dogs communicating over miles, in the Disney cartoon 1001 Dalmatians), but I generally wake up at 5am when my neighbours one after the other ring the bell for the morning puja. I got used to wear a mask, like everyone here, due to the heavy pollution and dust in Kathmandu, and enjoy the shower in the evening rubbing off all the dust accumulated over the day. I try to stay calm while walking 45 minutes to the office and being constantly horned by bikes, taxis, microbuses and trucks and trying not to be run over by these.

    One of the best things is the children of any age greeting me in English or Nepali, during my journey up the hill to the office. They are smiling and giggling when I greet back, or they look proudly up to their parents, as if it has been a challenge to talk with a stranger, that looks like a western additionally.

    

    One child representative presenting herself and the region she is originated from. (Kathmandu/LC)

    Speaking about children, I promised in my last blog to post stories about my trips to the seven schools supported by CONCERN. Unfortunately, I had to postpone the school visits because of holidays. So I will not write about the kids I planned to meet, but about all the kids living in Nepal and especially about the 1.6 million that are trapped in labour exploitation.

    Last week, I attended the National Conference on Child Participation organised by the Consortium Nepal (Consortium of Organizations Working for Child Participation) bringing together 38 organisations which CONCERN is a member of. Children representatives from Nepal’s 7 regions were also part of the conference. Child labour was part of the discussion, and during the two hours, the invited guests spoke about the difficulty to implement the many laws protecting children from work on a national and local level.

     

    

    Children representatives of Nepal’s 7 regions are discussing about ways to improve child participation in the political discourse, at the National Conference of Child Participation 2018. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

    

    Ms. Mohna Ansari, from the National Human Rights Commission, asks the Nepalese government to ensure that existing laws protecting children are being implemented. (Kathmandu/LC)

    Special guest Ms. Mohna Ansari, from the National Human Rights Commission pointed out that adults are too much dominating children and that these children need to be given opportunity to raise their voice, adding that still too many children are working, especially in brick factories. She addressed the Chief guest Ms. Tham Maya Thapa, Minister for Women, Children and Social Welfare, on the reasons preventing the government to initiate an effective process that would lead to concrete implementation of existing laws. The latter one replied that the government is working on a new law on child protection that aims to be more inclusive regarding all kinds of child labour.

    However, after hearing again and again that these laws already existing but not implemented, I wonder what a new law could improve.

     

    

    Chief guest of the Conference on Child Participation is Ms. Tham Maya Thapa, Minister for Women, Children and Social Welfare. (Kathmandu/LC)

    Since the conference was in Nepali, Prakash translated the most important points. Ms. Tham Maya Thapa did not explain how the existing laws could be implemented though. However, I recall Prakash telling me she was joking about children from rich Nepalese families that aren’t able to say where rice is produced, because they think “it comes from the local supermarket”.

    To their disappointment, once the children’ were about to speak, the guests had already left. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to stay for the panel discussion either, but I asked for the presentations to be sent to me. To my disappointment this time, the presentations kept repeating what I already heard during the whole morning, that the Nepalese government is already advanced regarding children’s protection laws. Nothing about the way to proceed to its implementation, nothing about tackling the root causes.

     

    

    After presenting himself and the child club he was from, the boy ironically joked about the sense of the minister’s intervention if she already had left when children finally picked up the word. (Kathmandu/LC)

    Speaking about law, they are many national and international agreements, conventions and legal acts protecting children from working, such as the International Labour Organisation (ILO)’s leading agreements on the issue (1973 and 1999), and the Convention for the Rights of the Child (1989). But Nepal also passed many laws itself with leading agreements containing extensive rights relating to children (Comprehensive Peace accord 2006; Interim Constitution of Nepal 2007; Children’s Act but not comprehensive enough).

    “How to make sure existing laws get implemented? How to dialogue with people who are part of the child labour industry? How to control persons, infrastructures to make sure they aren’t employing children anymore?”, I kept asking myself.

    I hope finding answers about this crucial issue during the next few weeks and hope to be able to figure out which challenges need to be overcome to protect children effectively.

     

     

    (Blog I wrote before going to Dang, a region of western Nepal, with another Peace Fellow, Michelle, who is working with BASE.)

    

    Before the beginning of the conference, Chief guest Ms. Tham Maya Thapa, Minister for Women, Children and Social Welfare, lighted the candle, a sign of a blessed and prosperous meeting. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

51. Xin Chao from Vietnam!

    July 6, 2018 4:14 am 4 Comments

    Xin chao (hello)! My name is Marcela and I’m the Advocacy Project (AP) Peace Fellow working with the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD) on the Agent Orange Campaign for the next six months.

    Welcome to my corner of the Advocacy Project’s website. I arrived in Dong Hoi, Vietnam on June 26^th and, in keeping pace with my host organization, hit the ground running. I’m excited to introduce you to AEPD’s brilliant work with persons with disabilities in the Quang Binh Province.

    The AEPD team is comprised of Ms. Nguyen Thi Thanh Hong (chairperson), Ms. Nguyen Thi Phuong Hao (program manager), Ms. Nguyen Thi Thao (chief accountant), and Ms. Le Thi Mai Ngoc (the project officer). They are pictured below from left to right.

    

    In addition to the office team, AEPD employs outreach workers—persons with disabilities that act as liaisons who connect other persons with disabilities and their caregivers to AEPD’s programs and general support. AEPD is a highly effective and impactful organization due to its support and relationship with the outreach workers. This community-based approach is one of the things I admire most about AEPD.

    

    The outreach workers from left to right: Mr. Nguyen Van Thuan, Mr. Truong Minh Hoc, and Mr. Hoang Van Luu. AEPD serves persons with disabilities in 8 districts in Quang Binh. Each outreach worker is responsible for at least one entire district. Mr. Hoc serves one of the farthest districts from Dong Hoi City; he travels nearly 3 hours on motorbike to get there. If you are curious to learn more about each outreach worker, I suggest checking out 2016 Peace Fellow Ai Hoang’s posts on Mr. Thuan, Mr. Hoc, and Mr. Luu!

    AEPD manages a broad range of programs such as self-help groups for landmine survivors, a youth development program that trains persons with disabilities in mechanics and other vocational programs, projects for women with disabilities, microfinance endeavors, and, lastly, the AP-AEPD Agent Orange Campaign.

    

    A brief graphic on how the Agent Orange Campaign works. The model depends on the collaboration between AEPD, AEPD outreach workers, AP, and AP Peace Fellows; it hinges on the beneficiary family’s participation and input. The Campaign is unique from other programs in that it offers the caregivers of Agent Orange-affected individuals an opportunity to determine the best and most sustainable income-generating activity for themselves. AP and AEPD facilitate the process.

    As a Peace Fellow, I serve as the liaison between AP and AEPD regarding the Agent Orange Campaign. The campaign has collaborated with and successfully funded nine Agent Orange-affected families. Their profiles can be found here.

    I am thrilled to support the tenth Agent-Orange affected family, Mr. Thin’s family, this summer! 

    I look forward to sharing more of my work, goals, and expectations to come. Keep an eye out for an upcoming post on my impressions after my first visit to the field this week.

    A sincere thank you for joining me in this journey.

    Cheers, Marcela

52. Daughter, Granddaughter, Sister, Cousin, Aunt, Niece

    July 4, 2018 3:22 am 6 Comments

    Daughter, Granddaughter, Sister, Cousin, Aunt, Niece. I am all of those things at once. Which one is my primary identity? Before my trip to Bardiya last week, I never thought about the answer to that question. Now, that question is at the forefront of my consciousness.

    

    On November 22, 2006, the government of Nepal and the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoists) signed a Comprehensive Peace Agreement, bringing the ten year conflict to an end. After many political challenges, the government finally established the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Commission on Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP) in February 2015. CIEDP has registered 3000 complaints related to enforced disappearances since its inception. NEFAD’s records indicate that at least 1350 people were forcibly disappeared.  

    Nyaya, or justice, includes truth, prosecutions, psychosocial support, and financial reparations. Of the 1350 families of the disappeared, approximately 300 have not yet received the official reparation amount of $10,000 USD. Quests for the truth about the forcibly disappeared involve exhumations of suspected mass grave areas which require time, financial resources, and appropriate personnel. Similarly, providing psychosocial support requires significant resources. To pursue prosecutions, there need to be laws criminalizing enforced disappearance, a drastic change in the culture of impunity, and significant political support. Therefore, financial reparations are the most concrete, least costly, and the least controversial form of justice the government can provide, hence their willingness to cooperate on that front.

    The primary reason approximately 300 families have not yet received the reparation amount is internal family conflict and complexity that creates uncertainty about the appropriate recipient of the reparation money. If a woman’s spouse was disappeared and she remarries, she is considered a part of the new family and no longer eligible for the reparations. Reparations may go to the biological family of her former husband. Her loss, her suffering, and any other hardship she may have experienced as a result of losing her spouse is immediately discounted.

    

    Radhe Krishna Tharu’s (left) daughter, Sita Tharu, was forcibly disappeared and killed. Here he is discussing reparations cases with Sarita Thapa (right) of NEFAD.

    Another complicated case involves a son and daughter who were disappeared. Both were married and had their own families. After their disappearance, each of their spouses claimed for the reparation amount to support their families. In addition, the son and daughter’s parents also claimed for the reparation amount since they no longer have children to financially support them as they age and experience health issues. All of their claims are valid. Which identity of the forcibly disappeared individual should be prioritized? Son, husband, or father? Daughter, wife, or mother? Which relationship warrants the reparation amount?

    While these cases have not yet been resolved, NEFAD has been working with the CIEDP to advocate for more thoughtful, gender sensitive policies and practices in regards to reparations. After my conversations with Sarita and Prabal, I know NEFAD will continue it’s incredibly important community-based advocacy work to ensure that each family’s case is thoughtfully resolved. If there’s anything I’ve learned about reparations policies and practices, it’s how important identity is. What happens when someone can’t be all their different identities simultaneously? Which identity should be prioritized?

53. The Movement for Nyaya

    June 22, 2018 5:50 am 9 Comments

    This past Sunday, June 17th, Prabal, Lara (Peace Fellow with CONCERN), and I attended a memorial event in Anamnagar. On our way back, Prabal kindly asked if we had any questions about what had occurred. After trying to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts going through my head, I asked, “What does justice mean?”

    Prabal explained that the word for justice in Nepali is ‘Nyaya’. It encompasses social and legal justice. It means people learn the truth about what happened to their family members and why they were taken. It means perpetrators of enforced disappearance are prosecuted and face legal consequences for their actions. It means families receive reparations and financial support as well as psychosocial support to cope with the trauma of a loss and with the stigma of being a victim or a widow.  

    In the center of the room where the event was held were pictures of Bipin Bhandari and Dil Bahadur Rai, two student activists who were forcibly disappeared in 2005. The event involved passionate speeches in Nepali, a moment of silence, and an opportunity for relatives of the disappeared to pay their respects and commemorate their lost loved ones.

    

    The day started with an emotional speech by Bipin Bhandari’s father and former parliamentarian, Ekraj Bhandari. His son was disappeared 13 years ago because of role as a student activist in the Maoist party. He expressed his fatigue. He wants to know where his son is. Is he alive? If he is dead, where is his body?

    One by one, prominent human rights activists, journalists, representatives from both political parties, as well as the chair of the human rights commission, and the chair of commission for the investigation of enforced disappearances spoke. Activists and journalists expressed their deep frustration with the commission’s inability to bring justice to the families of the disappeared. Speakers lamented that once politicians were elected, they forgot about the people who put them in power.

    While the majority of disappearances were committed by state security forces, some were committed by the Maoists. Even though the current government consists of a communist majority, political alliances have perpetuated a culture of impunity, so those responsible for disappearances on both sides have not been prosecuted. As a result, speakers advocated for the criminalization of enforced disappearance. Without a legal mechanism criminalizing the act, nobody can be prosecuted.

    Many speakers encouraged everyone in the room to come together in solidarity and pressure the government for justice, or nyaya. The chairs of the human rights commission and the enforced disappearance commission expressed their frustration with the Nepali government’s lack of financial and staffing support for their work.

    The most poignant speech of the day came from a 69 year old woman named Chandrakala. Her three sons were arrested for 27 months and then released. A few months after their release, two of her sons, Dhirendra and Pushpa, were forcibly disappeared. She is still waiting for them.  She has not accepted their death. What has happened to them? She expressed that there was hope when the Commission began their work searching for the disappeared, but they have since forgotten the issues of the families of the disappeared. She asked the audience what the crime of an innocent mother is. She explains that everyday is gloomy, and the movement must continue until they get justice.

    Her speech reminded me that one of the many challenging aspects of transitional justice is that although the conflict ended over a decade ago and society moved on with their daily lives, the loss of loved ones will haunt families of the disappeared and missing forever. The hard reality is that there is nothing that can be done to bring loved ones back to life, but I still believe that need-based, victim centered transitional justice processes can alleviate some of the pain and suffering experienced by families post-conflict.

    After the event, we went to the Mandala Theater, the site of a mural painted by Martin Travers in 2016 in honor of Day of the Disappeared on August 30th.

    

    In the center of the eyes are shadows of people symbolizing family and friends searching for their loved ones.

    

    As the years pass and the conflict is increasingly removed from society’s consciousness, the search for truth and the movement for nyaya go on.

54. It happened last Week

    June 19, 2018 1:03 pm 9 Comments

    

    The three girls from Sarasweti School are laughing because of one of Bijaya’s jokes. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

     

    It was the previous week.

     

    It was Week 1 of my Nepalese adventure and my first week at CONCERN’s office. So many new smells, new words, new tastes and faces. As expected, I got lost several times, Bijaya told me I looked too much like a tourist, I tasted the famous curd from Bhaktapur added to chiurra (it’s delicious!) and I was again approached by a local hash dealer but this time (oh joy) I was also offered cocaine…

    What I want to talk about though, is that an important moment happened last Tuesday, exactly one week ago, for the global fights against child labour.

    Each year on June 12th, people around the world are highlighting the devastating condition of child labourers during this International Day Against Child Labour. The goal is of course to raise concern about Children’s Rights and about how to develop and implement solutions to stop their plight. It’s quite ironic, that the Convention on the Rights of the Child from 1989 is the most ratified Convention in the world (from the 193 states recognized by the UN, only the US did not ratify the treaty), but that child labour remains present in so many countries!

    CONCERN is experiencing one program to eradicate child labour in brick factories from the Kathmandu valley. They work with 7 brick factories and 7 schools. Teachers and headmasters have been keen to receive these children against funding, and participating brick owners have been open to change.

    

    The 10 children supported by CONCERN, their parents, the headmistress and Bijaya, at Dattayara School. It was hard to make them laugh but somehow it worked out! (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    We went to Bhaktapur where CONCERN supports three schools. We visited two of them to submit the checks covering the school fees: the Dattaraya School and the Saraswati School, where 10 and 3 children respectively are funded by CONCERN.

    There is not free primary or secondary education like in France, Germany or the US. In Nepal, parents need to pay for the education of their child from class 1 (more or less 6 years old– depending on their level in school) onwards. Thus, many poor families, of whom some have also lost their home in the 2015 earthquake, are not able to fulfil the financial requirements of the education system. That’s where CONCERN is helping them, in paying school fees for children that used to work in brick kilns with the agreement of their parents. The checks cover admission fees, sanitary, exam fees, uniform and shoes, for a total of $140 per child a year.

    

    Bijaya giving the check to the headmistress of Dattaraya School. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    Since the 50 children program started in 2014, there have been a few drop-outs by children supported by CONCERN. However, it is critical for the wellbeing of the child to continue to go to school, as it is one of their fundamental rights and because it will gradually enable to break the circle of child labour through education. Drop-outs are majorly related to the family’s migration to another place, to a lack of awareness regarding the benefits of education, and simply because of ongoing poverty with the consequence that sending children at school prevents them from earning a few rupees a day.

    

    The three mothers of the three girls enrolled at Saraswati School. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    To avoid this kind of situation in the future, CONCERN worked on an mutual agreement form between parents and CONCERN about their child’s enrolment in school. It stipulates that if parents interrupt the 5-years support program, or if they continue to let their children work before or after school, they would have to pay back the annual fees. According to CONCERN, fearing the repayment would decrease the number of drop-outs and enable the supported children to go to school for at least the 5 years covered by the program.

    

    Prakash explaining the agreement intended to prevent drop-outs. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    

    One mother being helped by another one to sign the agreement with CONCERN. (Bhaktapur/LC)

     

    If that solution works out, if the children do well at school, if they have been completely rescued from the kilns, and last but not least, if they are happy and healthy, you may discover it in my next posts! I will be visiting schools supported by CONCERN over the next few weeks and will come back with many stories and (hopefully) children’s smiles.

    And for those who read that blog to the end, here’s a little surprise: the children from Dattaraya School singing the Nepali national anthem called “Sayaun Thunga Phool Ka” (Made of Hundreds of Flowers). I needed to cut the file because of its too large format, so there is only the beginning and the end. But it is nice!

     

     

55. With Storytelling Comes Great Responsibility

    June 15, 2018 4:20 am 11 Comments

    I believe storytelling is about listening and observing. It may sound counterintuitive, but the most poignant and impactful stories I read or view are those that capture many layers of the protagonist. They are those that capture nuance and local context while simultaneously capturing the essence of our shared humanity. They are those stories where I don’t know the author or the person behind the camera, but I know they approached their role as a storyteller with respect, humility, and an unparalleled ability to listen and observe.

    As a 2018 Peace Fellow in Kathmandu and Bardiya, Nepal, I am working with a community based organization called NEFAD, the National Network of the Families of the Disappeared and Missing, to support their work advocating for Nepal’s families of the disappeared and missing and providing livelihood support to women in the district of Bardiya who lost loved ones in the armed conflict.

    Over 1,300 Nepali people were forcibly disappeared during the armed conflict in Nepal between 1996 and 2006. 224 of those disappearances were in Bardiya, the highest number in a single village. Their family members continue to seek justice and the truth about what happened to their loved ones. For many families, the loss of their family breadwinner had negative economic consequences. NEFAD established an embroidery cooperative comprised of 25 women in Bardiya. Through NEFAD’s embroidery training, the women have crafted quilt squares memorializing their stories and are working to establish their cooperative as a reliable livelihood source.

     

    

    Women doing embroidery projects together

     

    

    Memorial square depicting a man being taken from his family

     

    A major component of my work involves telling the women’s stories through blogs, photos, and videos for advocacy purposes. One of my favorite definitions of the word advocacy is the following. Advocacy is the process of supporting and enabling people to express their views and concerns, access information and services, defend and promote their rights and responsibilities, and explore choices and options.

    I like this definition because it captures what I value about advocacy work; that is, advocacy is the process of listening, observing, and amplifying the voices of people with great strength who may not have had an opportunity to tell their story. Responsible advocacy is an important part of the process of achieving positive social change and defending human rights as it sheds light on issues and challenges society may be unaware of or have forgotten about. With all of its potential comes great responsibility.

    As with all advocacy efforts, there are many ethical and practical challenges, which I’ve briefly described below:

    Ensuring the women’s safety: Politically charged issues including armed conflict and transitional justice may be sensitive issues. As a storyteller, my first priority is to do all I can to minimize the risk that they could experience negative consequences for sharing their story.

    Women with agency: The women in Bardiya are more than the trauma they have experienced or any of the bad things that have happened to them. They are the protagonists in their stories, and I aim to portray them as women with identity, agency, and strength.

    Power dynamics and privilege: As an American graduate student, I carry with me certain kinds of privilege. Perhaps some women do not want to relive their stories again. Perhaps some women feel they must relay their story in a certain way given my presence as an outsider, an American, or because of any other part of my identity. As Roxane Gay says, “You need to understand the extent of your privilege, the consequences of your privilege, and remain aware that people who are different from you move through and experience the world in ways you might never know anything about.”

    Translation: Most of the women I will meet in Bardiya speak Tharu. Sarita and Prabal of NEFAD will translate, but it’s so easy for words to get lost in translation. Prior to traveling to Bardiya, I will work with Prabal to ensure that everything I intend to ask is translated into the appropriate local context or adjusted as necessary.

    Regardless of the ethical or practical challenge of advocacy and development work, I hope that by listening and observing diligently and by approaching the work with humility, respect, and thoughtfulness, I can tell their stories with great care.

56. Starting with a Success Story

    June 14, 2018 1:24 pm 22 Comments

    

    Street vendor in Chhetrapati, waiting for change, surrounded by her vegetables. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

    I struggled a lot with writing my first blog post.

     

    Should I write something reflecting on my first impressions of the country where I will be living for 6 months, at the risk of being cliché? Should I do something formal summing-up the last few weeks preparing for my stay in Nepal, at the risk of making it very boring for the reader?

    I could write something funny about my experience being approached by 4 local hash dealer within 3 minutes one evening in Thamel, whispering in my back “I have good one, good one, hashish, my house”, because I probably stood involuntarily at the hash trade intersection of the area. I could also write about my delightful experiences being vegetarian and trying to avoid looking all the plucked and neckless chickens lying on dirty displays every 30 meters on the streets I walk along to get to work.

    

    A woman sorting out rice in front of her store in Nhyokha. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

    I decided it would be useful to sum-up the following things:

    What is AP?

    The Advocacy Project (AP) is a non-profit based in Washington that works with community-based organisations (CBOs) to help them get their message out, support their work for social change, and strengthen the organisation in order to increase their independence and chances of success. AP hired 10 Peace Fellows this summer that will work with chosen CBOs on particular projects. During our training in Washington, our group produced a 2018 promotion video, that you can visualize here as it will surely be much more effective to explain AP and our fellowships.

    Why am I in Nepal & what will I do?

    I am in Nepal for 6 months because I applied for one of AP’s fellowship with a Nepalese NGO called CONCERN (Concern for children & environment Nepal). It has been fighting various forms of child labour since 1994. I will work with CONCERN on a campaign that supports 50 children that have been rescued from brick factories and put back in school. Since CONCERN works with 7 schools in the Kathmandu Valley, I will be conducting a report on this 50 children project, meeting all the children, their families, and teachers, updating the data collection, telling stories about these children and their new life at school (without bricks), potentially producing a documentary on child labour in brick kilns, training CONCERN’s staff about IT and social media, and (of course) raising funds!

    

    The centre of Thamel, the most touristic area of Kathmandu, where “Yes Madam, Rikshaw”, and “Taxi Madam, taxi” stream in from every direction. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

    Starting with a success story

    CONCERN’s founder & director, Bijaya, and the chief of finances, Prakash, took me on a field trip right at the beginning, but it was not a visit to a school or to the families which are supported by CONCERN as I would have expected. I went to Panauti, a town in Kavrepalanchok district, because CONCERN was closing the field office there. Opened in 2008, the office was coordinated by Jayaram. Within 10 years, CONCERN managed to eradicate child labour in the stone quarries of Panauti, Khopassi and Salandu Bagar. 350 children from more than 300 stone quarries have been rescued. CONCERN supported poor families with goat farming, gardening and sewing training in order to reduce poverty and consequently child labour. To be sure that the stone quarries of Paunauti area remain free from child exploitation, Prakash, Bijaya and Jayaram are visiting them from time to time.

    

    The town of Panauti, situated in the South-East of Kathmandu where CONCERN eradicated child labour in stone quarries within 10 years. (Panauti/LC)

     

    Yesterday, as I was arriving at my office after my daily 45 minute walk by foot in the dust and exhaust emissions, one young boy crossed the street. A child-porter, far too weak to carry the heavy charge on his back and his forehead. Was it a bag of rice, potatoes, cement or sand? I don’t know, but no child should be subjected to forced labour.

    Starting with a success story might be a message of hope. But there is still so much to do. I will do everything in these 6 months to make sure that these rescued 50 children keep going to school and don’t go back to the kilns.

    

    A man is unloading bricks arriving from the factories in the courtyard from a street in Nhyokha. (Kathmandu/LC)

     

    I hope I will manage to touch you with all my further blog posts, videos & podcasts. Maybe I will bring tears to your eyes or make you smile, I hope to at but least get your attention on this deep rooted problem that is child labour.

    Stay tuned!

     

57. Reflections after Return

    September 12, 2017 11:33 am 109 Comments

    

    Swayambhunath Stupa

    I’ve returned to Washington D.C. after an unforgettable summer in Nepal, and I think I will be reflecting on it for a long time to come. I am so grateful for the friends and relationships forged through NEFAD and for the opportunities I had there. It was a true gift.

    On Vicky’s last night in Kathmandu, we were sitting at a local restaurant and I asked her to name top five memories from a summer that was so chock full of adventure. After she left, I kept trying to think about my top five memories from the summer.

    So here for my last post, are my Top Five favorite memories of Nepal.

    5. International Giving

    In such a difficult time in the U.S.’s history, when impulses of protectionism and cynicism are strong, I watched friends and family members rally to support people they didn’t know, who lived in a place unfamiliar to them.  My work in Nepal was possible only because of your care and support. You funded a project to launch a business. You read my posts. Many of you sought to learn more about a crime that doesn’t often make the newspapers back home. When headlines in the news make me wonder some days whether or not we have forgotten how to support one another, you gave. You gave financially, you gave of your time to learn, and you gave me hope.

    

    4. Learning about Nepal’s cultural and religious traditions

    

    Boudhanath Stupa

    Nepal is full of natural beauty and a multitude of cultures and religions. From Hinduism, to Buddhism, to local holidays and celebrations, I was fortunate to learn a bit about the diverse traditions and cultures of Nepal.

    3. Adventure

    From getting stuck in a bus behind a landslide to paragliding in Pokhara, my time in Nepal was never short on adventure.

    

    Paragliding in Pokhara

     

    2. An incredible team

    From Prabal Thapa, our NEFAD associate to the incredible cohort of AP fellows based in Nepal, the shared laughter and hard work made this summer possible.

     

    

    Nepal’s AP Fellows: Vicky, Cynthia, Rachel and Me

    

    Prabal Thapa

    1. The courage of the Bardiya Women’s Conflict Group Cooperative

    I will never forget their stories, hard work, and perseverance. From enduring hardship to launching a business and empowering one another, you all amazed and inspired me.

    

    The Bardiya Women’s Cooperative

    Thank you to the Advocacy Project, Georgetown, family, and friends for making this experience possible. To my friends in Nepal, I miss you already.

58. The Gender of Reparations

    August 22, 2017 9:13 am 93 Comments

    “If a man gets re-married, he continues to receive reparations but as a woman, if I re-marry I will stop receiving reparations. I would like this provision to change because I still have a long life to live.”

    

    Kirstin, Sarita and Prabal, stories from Burigaun

    The words “I still have a long life to live” resonated in my mind long after our interview and I began doing further research on gender and reparations. Reparations are defined as the effort to restore someone or something to the state it was before harm was done. Reparation can take various forms including monetary compensation, rehabilitation, or educational opportunities depending on the needs of the people upon whom harm was inflicted. The international legal framework provides provisions for remedy. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights and International Convention for Civil and Political Rights both provide that everyone has the right to “effective remedy”. Additionally, there exists the 2005 UN Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation.

    Transitional justice, however, is highly contextual; every transition has its specific dynamics, including Nepal. The reparation process has evolved over the years. In 2008, the government of Nepal issued an Interim Relief program for victims of the conflict. The benefits included 1) 100,000 Nepalese Rupee(NPR), or approximately US $1,400 in 2008, to the nearest beneficiary of those who were killed, or who were forcibly disappeared by parties to the conflict. 2) NPR 25,000 each to the widows of men who died or the wives of those who were forcibly disappeared during the conflict (in addition to the NPR 100,000 above). 3) “Scholarships” for children of persons killed, forcibly disappeared, or seriously disabled during the conflict. 4) Reimbursement of medical expenses or treatment at a government hospital for a specified level of disability or injury resulting from the conflict. 5) Skills development training for eligible conflict victims. 6) Compensation for persons and institutions whose real or personal property was lost or damaged during the conflict (IRP guidelines). The reparations policy has since expanded and the first round of reparations totaling NPR 500,000 ($5000) has gone out and the next round is underway.

    There is currently limited data on how exactly reparations have been distributed in terms of gender. The information that we do know based on a few case studies shows that women often receive less financial compensation than men. By the end of the Timor-Leste truth commission, its operations had provided urgent interim reparations in the form of cash grants to 516 men (73 per cent) and 196 women (23 per cent). In Sierra Leone, the Year 1 project, financed by the UN Peacebuilding Fund, paid out $100 each to 2,918 victims of sexual violence and 4,745 war widows. In addition, 235 women received fistula surgery or medical treatment for health issues arising from sexual violence. The ICC Trust Fund for victims is currently assisting 13,700 victims of specific crimes in northern Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Of these, 3,100 are female victims of SGBV

    

    NEFAD Team 2017

    It is widely acknowledged that men and women experience violence differently depending on the dynamics of the conflict. Numerous factors can contribute to gendered reparations. It often depends on the level of participation of women in the negotiations and reparations program design, as well as the defining violations or social will in certain societies. We listened to stories from two different women who are hoping to change the re-marriage provision regarding reparations which states that re-married women can no longer receive reparations. Margaret Urban Walker introduces the concept of a continuum of violence in which oppression and violence against women fluctuates. Women lack control over property in peace time and this persists post conflict.

    

    Prabal, Tiak Rani, Sarita, Prem Kumari and Kirstin at Prem Kumari’s home

    As aforementioned, the Nepali transitional justice process has been working hard to incorporate gender-sensitive policies including clear definitions of sexual gender-based violence against women and no amnesty for the same. However, certain provisions that are clear double standards could create an unequal environment and derail the transitional justice process. Wives of the disappeared have suffered economically, legally, socially and culturally as a result of their husbands’ disappearances. Certain societies in Nepal deeply marginalize women with widow status and yet the reparations law restricts re-marriage leaving a tough choice for the women. The conflict in Nepal was sparked by various social, economic and cultural inequalities, therefore striving for gender equality in the post conflict process is crucial to preventing future cycles of violence.

    “Nepal is a patriarchal society and it is unfortunate that this is reflected in the some of the provisions and law, but we are working to ensure gender is considered in the process.”

    – Sri Krishna Subedi, Committee Member of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)

    

    Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Nepal

59. Tiger Tote Bags

    August 21, 2017 9:52 am 108 Comments

    

    Visiting A Co-op Member’s Home

    Vicky, Prabal, and I made one last visit to Bardiya to conduct a series of interviews and to finalize a few parts of the cooperative. With the leadership team, we were able to open a bank account where the women opted to invest half of their wages to grow the business. I was in awe of their decision, and it will give them significant freedom going forward to make choices about how they invest their money collectively. It is also a sign that they really believe in it and are now invested in the project. It is rare to see literal community buy-in for a livelihoods program, and it was gratifying to assist in the process.

    

    The NEFAD team after interviewing Prem and Tilak

    We were lucky to do several home visits to meet with women and ask them for their takes on the transitional justice process. They shared their grief and frustration with the process, all while showing us generosity and hospitality. I am constantly amazed by the way they opened their homes to us. As we visited co-op members’ homes, we picked up completed tiger squares. I loved turning the corners at Sharada’s and seeing her tiger square hanging on the clothes line outside her home.

    

    Sharada’s Tiger Square

    As we went from house to house we exchanged wages for the tiger squares. It was great to see the progress everyone had made since our training in June.

    Next it was time to visit several Bardiya tailors. The goal of the project is to localize it as much as possible so that the positive economic effects of the business can be felt by the local community. Eventually, the cooperative hopes to produce the bags entirely in Bardiya, so we had to visit several tailors to see if they were equipped to craft the tote bags and attach the tiger designs. We learned that until we had created some samples, the tailors didn’t feel ready to take on the project.

    

    Instead, the sample tote bags had to be crafted in Kathmandu. Vicky led the charge in visiting tailors in Kathmandu. We compared quality and design and ultimately picked our favorite tailor. This week, after Vicky left, I picked up the first set of Bardiya tiger tote bags. I can’t describe how exciting it was to see the finished product after knowing the crafts-women so personally and watching their hard work over the summer.

    Coming to a shop near you, I present the first Bardiya Tiger Tote bags:

    

    The first batch of Bardiya tiger tote bags

60. Transitional Justice: A Primer

    August 20, 2017 6:11 am Leave a Comment

    

    The NEFAD Team

    After meeting Sarita, Sabrita, and Fudiya, and hearing about Bipin and Dil,  you may be wondering what can be done for the families of the disappeared. The fate of the families and their ability to receive answers about their loved ones is dependent upon a successful transitional justice process.

    Transitional Justice (TJ)  consists of a series of mechanisms implemented in countries after violent conflicts. It is a relatively new process that responds systematically to mass atrocities and war crimes to help communities and societies both acknowledge the past and move into the future. One of the primary goals of transitional justice is to keep a conflict from repeating itself. If the conditions that led to a conflict are not addressed and altered, it is more likely that the conflict will reignite.

    For more information, the International Center for Transitional Justice has a great brief here: What is Transitional Justice?

    Part of my work here this summer has been to get acquainted with the TJ process in Nepal and to write a report on the current status of the process as it relates to affected families. The current TJ process has been boycotted by many international organizations due to an amnesty clause included in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act of 2014. This clause, granting amnesty to those found guilty of war crimes, would completely undermine the process and perpetuate  a culture of impunity. A Supreme Court case has since overturned the clause, but Nepal’s TJ process remains at risk of failing to complete its mandated responsibilities to victims.

    

    Vicky and Kirstin visited the Truth and Reconciliation Commission office

    

    Kirstin and Vicky interview Shree Krishna Subedi, one of the five members of Nepal’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission

    Mechanisms for transitional justice vary based on the context in which a conflict occurred. I have spent much of the last few weeks interviewing family members of the disappeared and leaders in charge of implementing the TJ process in Nepal.

    

    Kirstin and Prabal also interviewed Lokendra Malik, Chairman of CIEDP

    The most critical mechanisms being demanded by the 1,475 families of the disappeared are four-fold:

    1. Truth: Families want an answer to two basic questions:
    (1) What happened to my family member?
    (2) Who is responsible?

    2. Exhumations: Families wish for the exhumation process to begin so that evidence can be catalogued to answer the above questions. More importantly they wish to hold funerals to honor the lives of their loved ones, and must wait for the bodies to be returned.

    3. Criminal Prosecutions: Once DNA evidence is catalogued and triangulated with witnessed reports, the process of criminal prosecutions can proceed. Nepal’s criminal justice process has been incredibly delayed. Nepal’s peace agreement called for the creation of two councils to lead the TJ process: The Truth and Reconciliation Commission and Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP) which have been roundly criticized by observers for delays in implementing their mandates. They have been functioning for three years and are only now beginning their investigations. Ram Bandhari, NEFAD’s founder, contends that this is because the commissions are serving political interests rather than the interests of the families. The delays have protected perpetrators.

    4. Reparations: Perhaps the most misunderstood of transitional justice mechanisms, reparations have been requested to aid families who lost their family’s breadwinner. A disproportionate number of conflict survivors are women who have difficulty joining the job market due to gender discrimination and who have fallen into a cycle of poverty. Following the conflict, the primary request of survivors of the conflict is assistance related to economic issues and poverty. Reparations are not merely monetary payments. They can consist of sustainable livelihoods programming, educational pathways for victims’ children, and other similar assistance programs as well as memorials to assure remembrance in regions most affected.

    

    Simon Robins and Ram Bhandari report on the needs of families of the disappeared

    While this post has been a bit technical, I assure you that the ‘mechanisms’ of transitional justice have profoundly human consequences. In a country whose civil war was fueled largely by economic feudalism and gender inequity in rural regions, it is incumbent upon the government to address the root causes of the violence. The reasons for committing to the transitional justice are not only moral (although they are that) but also a national security imperative to prevent the recurrence of conflict.

    My interviews over the last few weeks in Bardiya and Kathmandu have highlighted the vast gulf between the high-level political mechanisms and the day to day lived experiences of conflict survivors. Bridges of communication must be built to cross this chasm, or the process runs the risk of failure.

61. Some Final Thoughts

    August 18, 2017 5:08 am 1 Comment

    While thinking about how to approach this reflection about my time at AEPD, I went back and revisited the post I wrote about my first visit to a beneficiary family almost two months ago. Looking back on my conversation with Mai Thi Loi brought home two key points: I’ve gotten better at taking photos since then, and I’m as affected by her story today, my last day working at AEPD, as I was the day she told it to me.

    

    Mai Thi Loi with sons Hung and Cuong.

    I’ve met a total of seven families (some more than once) who have at least one member disabled by Agent Orange. In most cases, even if only one or two members of the family are disabled, the whole family’s lives are contorted because of it—parents, or healthy children, must focus on caring for the disabled person while still working hard to support their family financially. That’s not even getting into a case like that of Pham Thi Do who has to support herself and her daughter while the rest of her family lives elsewhere with her ailing son.

    Vietnam as a whole isn’t especially poor compared to some of the other places where the Advocacy Project works—but Quang Binh is a poor region of Vietnam without a lot of economic opportunities, and the curse of Agent Orange makes it even more difficult to make a living. These people have been through a lot and struggled with more adversity than most of us will ever experience—but the fact that they’re part of our program means they’re still striving for a better future and working hard to create better opportunities for their families. I’ve consciously tried to avoid uplifting, feel-good clichés in my writing, and done my best to just report on what I see and my feelings about it. (That’s included a few details like Mrs. An’s tears when thanking us for her new buffalo, which, while powerful in the moment, felt sappy enough when put in writing that I was tempted not to include it at all.) Nevertheless, as unoriginal as this sentiment might be, I truly have found these families’ responses—their perseverance and willingness to keep hoping and dreaming—tremendously inspiring. The director of the Advocacy Project, Iain Guest, told me during our training in Washington, DC a few months ago that everyone there who’d worked with Agent Orange victims had become emotionally invested in the work, and I’ve certainly found that to be the case.

    

    One of AEPD’s outreach workers, Truong Minh Hoc (right), talking with beneficiary Ngo Gia Hue.

    I haven’t talked about this enough on this blog, but I’ve also come to tremendously respect AEPD’s staff and all the work they do on behalf of disabled people here in Quang Binh. I’ve seen evidence of their work everywhere I’ve traveled in the province in the form of AEPD’s self-help groups, which create a space for disabled people to organize and work together for the benefit of all. AEPD’s outreach workers, all of whom are disabled war veterans themselves, travel throughout Quang Binh (which is slightly smaller than Connecticut, but with much longer travel times due to the rugged terrain) to form relationships in towns and villages around the province. Their clear dedication to their work, at an age where many would think about retirement, motivated me to work harder as well. AEPD’s director Hong and her sister and program manager Hao are talented, tireless advocates for the rights and dignity of the disabled, and the rest of the staff seems to share this motivation. They’ve also been tremendously welcoming and helpful throughout my time here. The families I’ve worked with and other people with disabilities in Quang Binh can be proud to have helped build up this organization as a resource and source of support.

    

    Meeting with Mr. Phan That.

    This is meant to be a personal reflection—so what can I say about the work I’ve done here, and how it’s affected me? I admit I was skeptical of what I could accomplish here when I took the job, as an outsider with no Vietnamese language skills, very little familiarity with the culture, and limited expertise or work experience. The idea of me “helping” to alleviate such a complex, insoluble problem as Agent Orange seemed naïve, perhaps even a bit arrogant. I can’t be certain of the extent to which I’ve helped (and prefer not to dwell on how the families I’ve worked with could have used the money spent to get me here), but I’ve at least accomplished or exceeded most of the goals I set when I arrived. I’ve made some of AEPD’s proposals and literature more effective through my writing and research skills, and I’ve helped inaugurate AP’s program for local college students with Dat, our associate, who’s taking over some of my responsibilities now that I’m leaving. I put together our campaign for Mrs. An and saw it through to completion, an experience I expect will continue to resonate long after I leave here. Most importantly, I’ve done and will continue to do my best to spread the word about Agent Orange and its continuing impact on the Vietnamese people, a subject with which many Americans (including me, before I came here) are unfamiliar. As I’ve said previously, I think this is an important topic for us to confront as people of conscience and as informed citizens, and if I can make a small contribution to that, my work here has at least meant something.

    Also, this hasn’t really come up much on this blog, but I’ve had a lot of fun here in Vietnam. I had never been to Southeast Asia before, and it’s been amazing to get to explore the country and particularly Quang Binh (a part of Vietnam with gorgeous mountains, forests, and beaches) and become acquainted with the culture. Considering the fact that I originally applied to the Advocacy Project fellowship program with the idea of going to Kenya, and had no special knowledge of or affinity for Vietnam, my time here was an especially eye-opening experience, and I hope to return before too long to explore Vietnam further (Full disclosure: I’m taking a short vacation before returning home to do some of this). I’ve discovered lots of new foods, explored cities and villages and caves, and gotten to know people in Quang Binh and elsewhere. I even got a nice suit.

    

    A nice suit.

    I’ve never lost sight of why I’m here, though. And I have no doubt that my work at AEPD is going to be an experience that I look back on and think about long after I return home.

    I am someone who’s periodically struggled with anxiety and depression throughout my adult life. I don’t mention this to point out that working with people whose lives have been molded by hardship has made me feel fortunate in what I have—that’s certainly true, but I don’t think it has much to do with mental health. Still, I’ve been blown away by the generosity of the people I’ve met in this job, who’ve welcomed me so warmly and shared their experiences—and especially by the resilience of the caregivers I’ve had the good fortune to talk with, people who remain devoted to beating the odds and fighting for a better future for their children, all while doing the emotionally and physically draining everyday work of caring for a disabled relative. Even though I’ve had previous jobs that focused on serving others, having the chance to share these people’s stories with the world and to make it easier for them to achieve their goals will probably be one of the most fulfilling experiences of my career even at my career’s end. I don’t know what this will mean for my career or for my personal development, but I can certainly say I’ll be bringing a lot more than souvenirs home with me from this trip.

    

    Mrs. Duong Thi An with her newly purchased buffalo.

62. A Buffalo, A Calf, and an Opportunity

    August 15, 2017 5:56 am 337 Comments

    

    Mrs. Duong Thi An with her new buffalo.

    I first visited Mrs. Duong Thi An and her children, Huong and Hoa, around six weeks ago as I prepared to launch a fundraising campaign for them. I was impressed at the time by her obvious strength and resilience, and her willingness to take chances on her children’s behalf even with a “1% chance of success”. But I knew there was no way I was actually going to complete the campaign during my time here. My goal when I arrived in Vietnam was to raise $500 for Mrs. An’s family, and leave AEPD in a strong position to raise the remaining $1000 we estimated would be needed to buy her a mature buffalo and a buffalo calf (with the goal of developing a source of income that this family desperately needed). Personally, I thought even that was a bit ambitious, and $300 or so would seem more likely.

    Of course, I was completely wrong. Thanks to an outpouring of support from a total of 30 donors, we were able to not only blow past my initial goal but actually raise the entire sum for Mrs. An in an astounding two weeks. My own efforts to get the word out exceeded my expectations, with people ranging from family and close friends to acquaintances and indirect contacts feeling compelled to help Mrs. An—but plenty of support also came from complete strangers, who heard about the campaign through the Advocacy Project or our fundraising platform, GlobalGiving, and decided to help without knowing me or AEPD at all. I can’t express how overwhelmed and grateful I am, and after returning to Mrs. An earlier this week, and seeing the results of everyone’s efforts, I can safely say that she shares these feelings.

    

    Our group talking with Mrs. An (at right) and her son Huong (at left).

    After greeting our group, Mrs. An tells us that the seller of the buffalo and calf, who also lives in her village, will be walking the animals over soon, so we sit down to talk while we waited. We are joined by the president of AEPD’s local self-help club, himself a disabled war veteran—he and Mr. Thuan, the AEPD outreach worker serving this district, will be checking in on this family and providing whatever support they can. I start by asking Mrs. An about her plans for using the buffalo and calf; she speaks for a while before any of her response is translated.

    Mrs. An begins by profusely thanking the Advocacy Project, AEPD, and everyone who gave, before going on to detail her plans. Her son Hai, a healthy adult who lives nearby with his own family, will be primarily responsible for raising the buffalo and calf, with the help of his brother Huong, who is disabled and lives with Mrs. An. Hai also has his own male buffalo—since Mrs. An’s new buffalo is female this will make it easy to breed a new calf, hopefully soon. Mrs. An then hopes to sell the older calf and raise the new one—the profits will help her buy food for her family, save money in case of a medical emergency, and fund the surgery Huong needs to halt the decline of his eyesight. She’ll also use the mature buffalo to work her fields, and use its dung as fertilizer to feed her crops. The animals will be fed from Hai’s and Mrs. An’s fields.

    Mrs. An also gives us another bit of unexpected good news—since our last visit Huong has opened up a small business as a masseur, which he’d previously described to us as a long-term goal. Huong explains that a local businessman (who is also a big donor to AEPD) helped him by securing a location near the village market, where he’ll be able to operate rent-free until he starts making a profit. There’s not much traffic yet, only a couple of customers a day on average, so he’s only making enough for basic life costs—but he hopes that within a year his massage parlor can become a viable business whose profits can be used for medical expenses. (Massage parlors with sight-impaired masseurs are a frequent sight in Vietnam.)

    I ask whether Huong’s condition had changed since our last visit, and he shakes his head. Huong says he’s hoping to eventually raise the 50 to 70 million dong ($2200 to $3000) needed for the surgery from the added income generated by the buffalo and calf, as well as his massage parlor and perhaps other assistance or loans, but it’s unclear whether the problem with his sight can be reversed at this point—the surgery is his only chance. If all goes well, Mrs. An adds, 2 calves will be born in the next 3 years; each buffalo calf can sell for around 10 million dong ($440), and each full-grown animal can sell for around 23 million dong ($1010). In an emergency, or if Huong or his sister Hoa (who has Down syndrome) worsens, Mrs. An says she could sell the mature buffalo at once and just raise the calf, but this would be much less profitable long-term so she’s hoping to stick with her own plan.

    

    Mrs. An’s new buffalo and calf.

    At this point we are told that the seller of the animals, Mrs. Phuc, arrived during our conversation, and we go out to see the buffalo and calf. They’re mingling with Hai’s buffalo in Mrs. An’s small barn, located behind her house, and seem healthy and strong to me. After taking some photos, I ask, through my translator Ngoc, whether it’s customary in Vietnam to name farm animals. Ngoc’s reaction suggests that it’s not, but she still asks Mrs. An the question. Mrs. An thinks for a moment, then responds that the mature buffalo would be named “Tinh” and the calf would be named “Nghia,” a combination of words that Ngoc isn’t sure how to translate. While revisiting my notes in writing this post, I decided to do it myself—it turns out tình nghĩa means “gratitude” in Vietnamese. (I’m not changing the sequence of events for dramatic effect, by the way—this is really how it happened.)

    

    AP Peace Fellow Jacob Cohn with Mrs. Duong Thi An and her new buffalo.

    We go back inside and Mr. Thuan, the AEPD outreach worker, reads the terms of Mrs. An’s contract with AEPD and the contract of sale with Mrs. Phuc, both of which are signed. Mr. Thuan hands a stack of 500,000-dong bills, totaling 27 million dong ($1188), to Mrs. Phuc, who examines them and pronounces herself satisfied. The deal is done—our work has paid off. Perhaps because this is my last week at AEPD the moment feels like a culmination of everything I’ve done here.

    Before we go I tell Mrs. An how happy everyone at the Advocacy Project is for her family, and that I’ll look forward to hearing good news about her family from AEPD. I explain that since I know many of the donors to her campaign personally I will be reaching out to them to describe my visit, and ask her whether there’s anything in particular she’d like me to say to them on her behalf. Mrs. An’s voice is generally fairly quiet, but it noticeably wavers and becomes more emotional during her response, and I see tears in her eyes.

    

    Mrs. An with her daughter Hoa and son Huong.

    Mrs. An, through Ngoc, tells me that she wants to thank all of the donors who helped make this possible, as well as the Advocacy Project for launching the campaign. With their support, she says, her family can raise the income needed to take care of Huong and Hoa’s basic needs, and will eventually be able to afford medical treatment that could make a big difference for Huong. The willingness of strangers to help her family means a lot to her, she says with as much emotion as anyone I’ve met here.

    Mrs. An and her children thank each of us again as we say our farewells, and I reflect on what our donors have accomplished for this family, all of whom seem more confident and happier than I remember from my last visit. My work here can’t possibly “solve” the problem of Agent Orange—I can’t even solve all the challenges faced by this one family. But Mrs. An and her children wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity without our campaign, and I’m grateful to have played a part in that.

63. Meeting Superwoman

    August 14, 2017 1:38 am 94 Comments

    Whether navigating the streets of Kathmandu or guiding us along the lanes of Bardiya, Sarita Thapa strides with energy and purpose. Her natural posture is fielding phone calls on her mobile which buzzes regularly. The first time I heard about all of her activities, working with NEFAD as well as the Conflict Victim’s Committee and the individual support she extends to all members of her community, I said to Prabal and Vicky, “She sounds like Superwoman.”

    

    Sarita instructs members of the cooperative

    Sarita is an embroidery expert and singlehandedly led the trainings that taught the women of the cooperative how to craft their quilting squares in past iterations of the quilting project. Now the squares that are becoming tote bags. She is a tremendous support to women in her community and example of leadership in Bardiya. As Prabal put it, “She has an earned authority. She is respected.” It’s a type of leadership that is based in service and care for those around her.

    Sarita’s leadership has been forged through tremendous difficulty. She remembers her childhood as “Very good. I was closest with my father. I was good at my studies. We had a very prosperous childhood.” Her life transformed on the Day of Nepal’s Sacred Thread Festival in 2001 in the midst of the Civil War. “It was the day of the Holy Thread,” she said, and “there was a four day attack.” Her father, Shyam Bahadur Thapa had a small business and as he was going to the market to sell his goods, he was detained on his way to work and then was disappeared. Sarita remembers watching helicopters circling overhead for two days as the attack went on. She was 11 years old. Her family searched for her father. She says that the men who had taken him eventually came to her home and interrogated her mother, taking her to the police. These events haunt her family to this day.

    Until this moment, I hadn’t heard her story in it’s entirety, but I had met and Sarita’s mother, Sabrita, who everyone calls Amma – a word that means ‘Mother’ in Nepali. Amma has had Vicky, Prabal, and I over to her shop in Bardiya for countless cups of tea, donuts, and samosas. As Sarita shared her story, I learned that Amma had started her shop out of necessity after the loss of her husband. Her family was hungry and she had a small son and daughter to feed, so she started the small business in the midst of her loss, after trying to make ends meet by selling firewood for some time. They tell this story as Amma rolls out dough for samosas and wordlessly hands them off to Sarita to cook on the stove. You can tell this is a rhythm they have kept for years. Even as they tell such a difficult part of their history, they fall into the comfort of rolling, passing, and frying up treats to feed the people around them.

    

    I asked Amma how she learned to make samosas. Prabal translates from Nepali as she replies matter of factly, “I saw, and then I did.” She watched someone make the samosas once, and then practiced until she herself became  a master of the spice and potato-filled pastries. As we are chatting, a three-year-old boy comes toddling into the shop and makes a beeline for the bag of samosas, a familiar route. Amma hands him one, her face lighting up with a smile, and he toddles away with a dimpled fist full of treats. Sarita shakes her head and mentions that this happens regularly, Amma is known for her generosity, especially to children. As I watch their interactions, I surmise that Sarita may have inherited her can-do attitude and generous spirit from Amma.

    Having distributed the treats, Sarita and Amma return to their story. The turbulence caused by her father’s disappearance disrupted Sarita’s studies. Three years after he was disappeared, she married at the age of 14 and moved in with her in-laws, as is traditional in the region. Her son was born a year later. Only four months after her son’s birth, her husband, a school teacher, died tragically in an accident. Attorneys from Nehora Law Firm on the crash site concluded that the accident was completely fatal, according to the motorcycle accident attorney nothing could have been done. As a 14 year old single mother, Sarita recalls once carrying her ailing baby on her back as she trekked to return to her mother through the Bardiya National Park (which is filled with wild tigers, elephants, and other animals). She says it was the strength of her mother that got her through that time period. You can visit the website https://munley.com/ for more information.

    During these struggles, Sarita found a sense of purpose when a man named Nirani from the Conflict Victims Committee (CVC) came to her family and offered her a position in the CVC office. She said, “He was the first person to empower me.” Through her work with CVC, she learned computer skills, and about the importance of documenting the crimes committed against families in Bardiya. Sarita was quick to learn and has since expanded her work from CVC to other local organizations that support conflict victims and families, eventually partnering with NEFAD to lead trainings in embroidery skills to empower others.

    Sitting in awe of this woman and her story, I ask her, “Where did you find your strength?”

    She responds after some thought,

    “It is all about the experience and the needs. I had bad experiences and those experiences provoked me, sensitized me to do something new, something important, something significant to show them. To rise and to be strong inside and to react. These are the outcomes of needs and experiences. And most importantly, my mom. I have seen her sorrows, seen her troubles…her strength, and this is very important to me.”

    When I interview other women in Bardiya and ask which organization has provided them with the most relief from their grief, and the most assistance, many skip right over organizations and just reply, “Sarita Thapa.”

    

64. Meet Prabal, NEFAD’s First Associate.

    August 12, 2017 6:53 am 88 Comments

    

    Prabal at Prem Kumari’s home in Bhasgadi, Bardiya.

     

    Arriving in a new country and context can be overwhelming, and having someone to welcome and help through the process is definitely a relief. Extremely kind, smart and resourceful, Prabal welcomed us and has worked hand in hand with Kirstin and I from our first week on a listening tour, during our time in Kathmandu to our travels to Bardiya.

    Prabal Thapa is a student at Kathmandu University majoring in Development Studies. He is particularly interested in Economics and has been working with NEFAD since 2015. He initially served as a volunteer and worked in a logistical capacity with various victim and family networks alongside Ram Bhandari, founder of NEFAD and his mentor. Since then, his role as developed to translation of interviews and program assistance. He is now the first NEFAD Associate and will be responsible for a variety of tasks including website management and coordination of the Bardiya Embroidery Cooperative. His technical skills and language proficiency in English and Nepali will be an asset towards improving the NEFAD’s website and online presence. Beyond IT and language, Prabal’s dedication to the mission of NEFAD, innovative mindset and familiarity with the context in Nepal make him well-suited for the role.

     

    

    Prabal and Sharadha, chairman of the Bardiya Tiger Cooperative at her home in Bhasgadi, Bardiya.

    

    Prabal and Sarita Thapa, coordinator of the Bardiya Embroidery project.

     

    Prabal is a native of Lamjung district in Western Nepal, where he grew up with his siblings and parents. Most of his family now resides in Chitwan. He often recalls that he had a unique upbringing because he had the opportunity to see his country through various transitions; from conflict, to peace negotiations, amendments to the constitution, the end of the monarchy and now through the transitional justice process. He was around 10 years old at the height of the conflict and recounted one of his most profound memories: an encounter on a grape tree with the army and the rebel groups. Within just 45 minutes of each other both groups passed Prabal as he sat on the tree and asked for grapes, a request Prabal obliged to in both cases and both the army and Maoists went their separate ways. Prabal recalls that “They were so close to each other, in time and in distance, and if they had met, there would have been a big fight.”

    

    Prabal, Kirstin and Vicky, work day at Himalayan Java.

    Prabal’s name means maximum potential and through our interactions with him, it is clear that he intends to achieve just that. He hopes to pursue a post-graduate degree in Ireland and his long term plan he says is “to be a researcher and later become a professor.” For now, Prabal dedicated to giving a voice to victims of the conflict as well as supporting their livelihood and economic programs. “NEFAD remains a key organization in helping victims speak about about their marginalization.”

    It has been a privilege getting to know Prabal and working with him throughout the summer. In many ways, he defined the work we were able to accomplish. It has been a mutual learning process and I’ve learnt a great deal about Nepal’s history and culture from Prabal. Leaving Nepal in  a few days, I’m confident his work will continue to strengthen NEFAD and hope to see him achieve his personal and professional goals in the coming years.

    Listen more below as Prabal speaks about working with NEFAD and shares his insights on the transitional justice process in Nepal.

     

65. Reflecting on my time working with CONCERN-Nepal

    August 10, 2017 1:37 pm 91 Comments

    I still cannot believe my last week working for CONCERN is here. Summer just flew by! Even though I’m happy to go back to DC (after spending some days in India), I’ll miss Kathmandu, coming to the office and most importantly the friends I made at CONCERN. I think I’ll even miss the rain and the dust that are now part of my everyday life.

    

    With Sarita and Manita at Buddha Park

    I want to use this last blog to reflect on what I did this summer and what I learnt through this experience. But before that, I want to say thank you. To AP, for trusting me and partnering me with CONCERN; and for always being on top of my needs during my time in Nepal. To the team of CONCERN (Bijaya, Prakash, Sundar, Manita, Sarita and Pemba) for making me feel at home this summer. All of the team welcomed me into the office with arms wide open and helped me to accomplish all the deliverables I had on my work plan. I’ll miss my conversations about soccer and politics with Sundar, the comparisons between Nepal and Argentina with Bijaya and the field visits with Manita…she always knew how to take the perfect picture! The good news is that we are all Facebook friends now, so I know we’ll keep in touch =)

    I also know I’ll always be part of CONCERN. Before coming to Nepal, I was looking forward to working with this organization, particularly because of the work they do with children. But the reality exceeded my expectations. I found in CONCERN an organization that has been working in the field of child labor for a long period of time (more than 20 years!). I discovered during my time in Nepal that the fact that CONCERN has existed for so many years is a key asset. Not only because its past allows CONCERN to differentiate itself from a lot of fake NGOs that appeared in this country, particularly after the earthquake, but also because it is the reason why their program works.

    

    With the children of Dattatraya Lower Secondary School and their parents, after they received their new uniforms and bags

    As I said many times in previous blogs, CONCERN is now targeting children who work at brick kilns. It’s programs is centered not only in providing educational support for those children, but also in advocating with brick factory owners, parents and naikes (who are the ones that connect families in villages like Ramechhap with employment opportunities in brick factories in the Kathmandu Valley) for the end of child labor in the brick industry. In order to do that, CONCERN relies on the relationships and contacts they have built over the years with the owners of 4 factories in the districts of Lalitpur and Bhaktapur. It also relies on the contacts they have with community leaders and naikes in the district of Ramechhap. The trust built with these stakeholders over the years allows CONCERN to identify beneficiaries, to keep a constant contact with them and their parents and to do all the activities related to their program – from doing surveys to distributing uniforms.

    The importance of trust is something that I learnt in this process, and a lesson I will carry for my future professional career.

    I also learnt a lot about storytelling, fundraising and field-work. Not only I was able to share my experiences during the summer through my weekly blog posts, but I also produced a MASSIVE number of pictures that reflect my time here (check out my Flikr album) and, with the help of Sundar and Manita, made a new webpage for CONCERN. In order to produce these deliverables I had to use skills I though I didn’t have! In terms of fundraising, as you all know the Global Giving microproject is still on…we are almost half-way from our final objective, so please keep those contributions coming!

    

    With Manita and Sundar, after being done with interviews at Faidhoka School

    And finally, the most rewarding experience of all: interviewing children, parents and teachers. I have to say I enjoyed every moment related to this activity. From making the questionnaires, trying to be sure to include all the indicators that we wanted to track (family structure and problems, health, education, employment, self-esteem, characteristics of the dwelling, etc.), to preparing the databases where the information gathered on the field is kept, to doing the interviews and coding the data. And of course preparing a report with the results! Everything was a rewarding experience, especially meeting the children. As I said in another blog post, I had interviewed people in the past, but never children and never using a translator. Manita and I made a great team, and she was able to convey exactly the questions I wanted to ask in a very professional and kind way. The stories of these children are sad many times, not only due to the fact that they are working in brick factories, being constantly shouted at and exposed to dust, extreme temperatures and noise, but also because many of them live in very poor conditions and have problems at home like alcoholism of a parent. However, all of the children received us with a smile on their face and were extremely happy to take pictures and play with us. The warmth I got from those encounters will be with me forever.

    Now is time to say goodbye. To go back to DC, to school, and my life there. But I leave happy knowing that I made great friends in Nepal and that I spent my summer working for a fantastic organization!

     

     

     

66. A Quick Word on Agent Orange

    6:10 am Leave a Comment

    

    Mrs. Duong Thi An with her children.

    In my conversations with friends and family back in the US about my work and AEPD’s work in Vietnam, one question seems to come up a lot: how do I know that the often horrific disabilities suffered by the people we’re working with were specifically caused by Agent Orange? The honest answer is that I don’t, not for certain.

    The debate over the extent to which Agent Orange affects humans, and whether these effects are passed down to their children, has been raging for decades, and from what I can tell there don’t seem to be any truly definitive answers. The Vietnamese Red Cross estimates that as many as 3 million people in Vietnam suffer from the effects of Agent Orange, including over 150,000 children of those directly exposed, but of course some would argue that Vietnamese organizations, and the Vietnamese government, have an incentive to exaggerate the problem (though I’m not sure how true that is).

    The US government has consistently resisted attempts to connect Agent Orange with more health problems, but legal battles over the years have forced the government to gradually open health benefits to American veterans of the Vietnam War who are suffering from one of a list of conditions causally linked to Agent Orange exposure (though not their children, yet). But the government denies that Agent Orange causes the same diseases in Vietnamese, and official proclamations on the issue have been intentionally vague, emphasizing the lack of consensus on Agent Orange’s health effects and particularly its effect on future generations. As I mentioned in a previous post, the US’s aid for persons with disabilities in Vietnam has gone out of its way to not specifically focus on victims of Agent Orange, since that would imply that the US is responsible for their condition. The implications of admitting that Agent Orange’s effects can be passed down make it unlikely that this will happen; for their part, some American veterans’ advocates believe that the government is cynically attempting to “run out the clock” by delaying a definitive answer to the question until the veterans demanding it are dead.

    So much for the scientific debate. I’ve been reading a lot about this topic, and I don’t feel like I’m much closer to understanding the actual details of Agent Orange’s effects and the different views on the subject. I’m no expert, and definitely no scientist, so I can’t give an informed answer or evaluate anyone’s symptoms to figure out where their disability came from. But I can give my impressions having met seven of these families (with more to come).

    I’ve felt that all the beneficiaries I’ve met have been sincere. I’ve spoken to them about their experiences, and they all seem convinced that Agent Orange is responsible for the disabilities suffered by them or their children. They’ve all served in areas where Agent Orange contamination is known to have been a problem—a couple actually described having the chemical dropped on them, while others were simply stationed in contaminated areas or participated in cleanup operations. None of them dwelled on the use of Agent Orange as a weapon or any outside responsibility to care for its victims, but they also never expressed doubts about Agent Orange’s role in their troubles. AEPD, the Vietnamese government, and in some cases other advocacy organizations or NGOs have all recognized these families’ status as Agent Orange families, and in the end, I believe them too, even without “hard” evidence. After all, in the end, these beneficiaries would be worthy of compassion and support no matter what the cause of their disability. The fact that these disabilities are man-made only makes their stories more tragic and the benefits of supporting them greater.

67. Tiger Talents of Bardiya

    August 9, 2017 5:11 am 103 Comments

    If you have been following along my blogs, you will know that a few weeks ago we officially launched the business cooperative with 25 ladies who have been training in embroidery in Bardiya. Since then, we’ve been taking the next steps to get the business off the ground and running.  Our second trip to Bardiya was an integral part of the process. The trip was much smoother, and we arrived earlier than expected, to the completion of beautiful embroidery. There were multiple designs and sizes of tigers that could be crafted into various types of bags and we were impressed by the talents of the ladies. Over the course of two years, their embroidery skills have clearly advanced.

    

    Artist: Geeta Chaudhari

     

    The priority now is to expand the production line and to begin production of tote bags for the first cycle. We were very impressed by the quality of tiger squares and hoped to find a qualified tailor that could create something worthy. We began our search for tailors in Kathmandu but decided to focus in on Bardiya as a way to promote the local economy as well as reduce costs. We visited two tailors in Bhurigaun, Bardiya,both recommended by Sarita. The first tailor was willing and able to attach the squares to ready made tote bags as well as include a separate fabric border to add unique design to the bags. We therefore bargained a price for stitching bags  as well as looked through some fabrics that could complement the bags. I added the tailor to our procurement list and we hope to get a sample bag from him soon. The second tailor we visited was willing but unable to make tote bags as she did not feel well-equipped and recommended the first tailor as a more suitable options. Comparing prices between tailors was interesting and helped us understand our estimated cost of production. It is also key that we compare as many tailors as possible given that quality and cost efficiency are our two priorities.

    

    Sarita compares different fabrics.

     

    

     

    During the second part of our time in Bardiya, Prem Kumari, a member of the business cooperative and Sharadha Tharu, chairwoman, invited us to their homes to get a sense of the pace of life in Bardiya. We traveled to Bhasgadi early morning and enjoyed the view of rice farms on the bus ride. Kirstin, my partener on the business cooperative who is writing a policy paper on the voices of women in Bardiya also had the opportunity to interview Prem Kumari, Sharada and Tilak Rani and we had the privilege to hear some of their stories before and during the conflict. We were also able to collect more tiger squares and as chairman, it was great to once again hear Sharada’s vision for the business. She reaffirmed the importance of working together as women in Bardiya district as well as re-affirmed her committment.

    

    Prabal, Tilak Rani, Sarita, Prem Kumari and her son and Kirstin outside Prem Kumari’s home in Bhasgadi.

    

    Examining tiger squares in Sharadha’s home

     

    Another priority during and after production will be creating a market for the bags both in Bardiya, Kathmandu and in the U.S. We hoped to use our time in Bardiya to look for same outlets in hotels as well as target the tourist market at the Bardiya National Park, that is famous for tigers. We unfortunately weren’t able to achieve this as there was flooding in Bardiya and mobility was limited. This however gave us more time to strategize and think about which hotels and individuals should be included in the marketing and contact list. Sarita will pay a key role in advertising to the various locations in Bardiya as well as her individual networks once production is complete. The process so far has been incredibly inspiring particularly seeing the commitment and dedication that goes into the work and the planning. If implemented properly and if a market can be obtained for the business, it will create an opportunity for the women in Bardiya to earn an income despite the challenging and complex environment of transitional justice. Start-ups a generally not smooth sailing and new entrepreneurs will likely always say that the first few moths or years are the most difficult as you learn the business and the market as well as cover start up costs. The challenge therefore in Bardiya will be to firstly to produce quality bags from the tiger embroidery but also to remain positive and motivated as the business cooperative emerges and finds its name and space.

    

    Sarita hold us Sima Tharu’s square, secretary of the cooperative.

68. Buying a Cow and Calf

    August 7, 2017 10:06 pm 128 Comments

    

    Ngo Gia Hue celebrates the purchase of his cow and calf.

    Last Tuesday I traveled with AEPD staff to the home of Ngo Gia Hue and Tran Thi Thao, in a rural village around two hours north of Dong Hoi.

    We’re here to complete the sale of a cow and calf, funded by the Advocacy Project and its donors, to Mr. Hue, which will bring in vital income for the family and allow Mr. Hue and Mrs. Thao to buy medicine for their three daughters, all of whom suffer from severe mental and physical handicaps due to Mr. Hue’s wartime exposure to Agent Orange. It’s an exciting occasion for this family, as well as AEPD and the Advocacy Project—this is the fifth family to be funded through the organizations’ partnership (we’ve also finished raising money for a sixth, which we’re currently working with to select a buffalo).

    

    Ngo Gia Hue with his cow and calf.

    Mr. Hue’s family was one of the first I met working for AEPD, and they greet our group warmly. The cow and calf have already been delivered when we arrive, and Mr. Hue takes us out to look at them. They look hale and healthy, at least to my untrained eye, and Mr. Hue clearly takes pride in showing them off. Mr. Hoc, the AEPD outreach worker serving families in this district, tells me that the cow is pregnant with another calf (it does look noticeably larger than I’d normally expect) and is expected to give birth in November. Mr. Hue will raise the new calf and look to sell the older calf to bring in money for his family.

    We go back to the courtyard of Mr. Hue’s house, where a fairly large crowd sits down to conduct the purchase. Mrs. Thao sits off to the side with her daughters Huong, Nhan, and Tuan, who I met during my last visit. They look over at us from time to time, but don’t seem to understand what’s happening. Still, they seem much more comfortable with our presence than they were during our last visit, when Nhan and Tuan would not leave the house—Mr. Hoc later tells me that this is the least shy he’s seen them with visitors.

    

    At the signing of the sale contract, with Mrs. Thao and her daughter Nhan in the background.

    In addition to Mr. Hue and Mrs. Huong, a middle-aged woman who is selling her cow and calf to Mr. Hue, the group includes representatives from AEPD (Mr. Hoc, Ms. Ngoc, our AP associate Dat, and myself) as well as the vice president of AEPD’s local self-help group, one of many across Quang Binh province that organize persons with disabilities to support each other. An official from the communal People’s Committee (local government) is also present—as a witness to the transaction, I’m told. Since Mr. Hoc works with many families and can’t check in with Mr. Hue’s family more than once a month or so, the local government will help keep track of how this family is doing.

    

    Mr. Hue signing the contract of sale.

    Mr. Hoc reads the contract between AEPD and Mr. Hue aloud, and Ngoc, who is translating for me, says that it’s a list of the expectations for each party. In exchange for the cow and calf, and for continued support from Mr. Hoc and AEPD, Mr. Hue is expected to follow the business plan he developed beforehand with AEPD’s help. After reading this contract, Mr. Hoc passes it to Mr. Hue, who signs it.

    

    The completed contract certifying Mr. Hue as the owner of the animals.

    At this point, the family’s dog begins making noise near where I’m sitting, and Huong, the oldest daughter, gets up and walks with difficulty over to the dog and shushes it (she apparently cannot speak). She looks over at me curiously for a moment, and it dawns on me, as it did during my last visit, that Huong, who appears to be a fairly tall preteen girl, is 33 years old. It’s hard to reconcile that fact with what I see.

    I turn my attention back to Mr. Hoc, who is now reading out the contract of sale between AEPD, Mrs. Huong (the owner of the animals, not the daughter), and Mr. Hue. Once he’s finished, Mr. Hoc takes out a stack of blue bills worth 500,000 Vietnamese dong each (the largest denomination in everyday use) and hands it to Mrs. Huong. I am told that there are a total of 60 bills, adding up to 30 million dong—around $1,320. Mrs. Huong makes a show of counting the bills, pronounces herself satisfied, and signs the contract of sale. Mr. Hue, a grin on his face, does so as well. The transaction is complete, and Mr. Hue is now the official owner of the cow and calf.

    

    Mrs. Huong (center) counts the money she received as Mr. Hue and Mrs. Thao look on.

    Our business is finished, but I still have time to ask Mr. Hue a few questions before we leave. Mr. Hue tells me that he plans on selling the calf once it matures, and that he’ll continue to breed the cow as well as raise the unborn calf and, hopefully, future calves as well. Having livestock has other benefits as well—the animals’ dung can be used and sold as fertilizer to help crops grow. He’s hoping for a total net profit of 20 million dong ($880), which he says will make a big difference for his family.

    Mr. Hue’s longer-term goal is to pay for stomach surgery for his daughter Nhan, but even with the cow and calf the estimated price tag of 120 million dong ($5,279) is well beyond the family’s reach. Still, Mr. Hue believes that the extra income from the new animals will help him save money to eventually afford the operation, and AEPD will continue to look for new ways to support him in this goal. Mr. Hue says that he will now be more consistently able to afford enough food for his family, as well as medication to keep his daughters’ condition from deteriorating further. He had previously raised a cow but had to sell it to pay for the schooling of his (healthy) oldest daughter; he’s very excited to have his own animals again.

    “Is there anything in particular you’d like to say to people who donated?” I ask, and as he responds I pick out the Vietnamese phrase cam ơn (thank you) several times while waiting for the translation. Speaking through Ngoc, Mr. Hue tells me that he wants to say thank you to the donors, and wishes them and their families good health and prosperity. “I am very thankful to all the donors,” he says, and he hopes that they will “continue to support families like mine” that suffer the impact of Agent Orange. Mr. Hue promises that he will keep up his end of the bargain by using the cow and calf as a jumping-off point to develop his business.

    As we prepare to leave I have a few words with Mrs. Huong, the woman who sold her cow and calf to Mr. Hue’s family. “How do you feel about supporting this family?” I ask her. Mrs. Huong tells me that since meeting the family she’s been “upset about his children” and the condition they’re in, and she’s grateful to those who generously stepped in to help them. She says that she gave Mr. Hue a discount of around 1 million dong ($44) to help make it easier for Mr. Hue and AEPD to buy her cow and calf.

    As we leave, Mr. Hue expresses gratitude for the donors once again and says that he’s optimistic about his family’s future. Having a cow and calf won’t make his daughters’ illness go away, or make the family’s lives perfect, but I can’t help sharing that optimism.

69. My visit to Ramechhap

    August 3, 2017 2:49 am 2 Comments

    

    Manita and I in the office before our departure, with Bijaya and Prakash

    Last week I made a visit to the most remote place I’ve ever been in my life: Ramechhap. Even though Ramechhap is only 140km away from Kathmandu, getting there is not easy at all. Ramechhap is a village in the middle of the mountains, and even though it looks beautiful once you are there, in order to arrive you need to get into a jeep that can drive through the one-way mountain ledge that acts as a road.

    Manita and I embarked in this adventure in order to visit the 13 children that are currently in the CONCERN program in that district, and give them the uniforms and backpacks they will use during the academic year.

    After our jeep broke down in the middle of the mountain and we had to use all of our drinking water to fix it because it was apparently overheated, we arrived to our destination. We were both exhausted, not only because our trip lasted 3 hours more than expected, but also because in order to get there we went through so many curves that we no longer knew where we were. After eating a delicious dal bat, we went to bed, excited for finally meeting the rest of the children of the program.

    

    Panchakanya School, Ramechhap

    The next day we all met at the local school: children, parents, the headmaster, the owner of the house we were staying at (who helped us organize the interviews), a middle-man or naike (who is usually the one who makes the contact between locals and the brick factories at the Kathmandu Valley and arrange their employment there during the brick making season), Manita and me. It was all a little overwhelming at the beginning. No one speaks English in Ramechhap, which meant that Manita had a double job: translating for me as well as organizing all the administrative paperwork with the headmaster. Moreover, even though we try to maintain confidentially when we do our surveys, the fact that EVERYONE was in the same room meant that such thing was impossible.

    

    Giving Asmita her new uniforma and backpack

    Manita and I had to act fast. If we let all the members of the community hear the answers given by the children and the parents, the data we collected would probably suffer from big biases…and we wanted to get the most reliable information possible. That is when we decided to split jobs: Manita did the interviews in Nepali (she is an expert now…she translated for me so many for Lalitpur and Bhaktapur’s beneficiaries that she knows the questionnaire by hard) and I was supposed to entertain the crowd to avoid them overhearing people’s answers.

    Entertaining people when you are not able to verbally communicate is a challenge. Not even the mention of Messi saved me this time! After taking a thousand pictures, children and parents started to get impatient. And then I remembered some hands games I used to play in primary school…and decided to give it a try. In 5 minutes, I had all the children and parents playing with me! They even started playing with each other after they learnt the rules.

    

    Chakra Bdr Manandhar. His house was destroyed by the earthquake and is still waiting for the government’s subsidy. He is a naike at a brick factory and the father of Sarita, one of CONCERN’s children

    After the interviews were done, we did a small ceremony where we gave the children their new uniforms and backpacks. The smile on their faces made the entire trip worth it. Ramechhap is a remote village, which means that most of these children do not live close to school. They usually have to walk for hours in order to get there. The fact that they want to study, that they like going to school and learning new things is something to highlight. Also, many of the children of the program lost their home during the earthquake, and now live in improvised tents made out of metal sheet and dirt floors. And they still study, they still have goals and dreams in life, and I was honored to be a small part of it.

     

    

    Goat from local farm

    I was also shocked by the fact that most of the children in the program live with their parents only half of the year. During the brick-making season, parents migrate to the Valley and the children stay in Ramechhap with their grandparents or older siblings. In some cases, children also migrate and are employed by the brick factories. CONCERN knows about this reality, and that is why they are launching a new project: animal husbandry. Its nature relies on the fact that Ramechhap families report that they would not be forced to migrate during the brick-season if they had enough goats as to have a successful goat farming business in their district of origin. Manita and I also visited some goat farms in order to understand this initiative better.

    After an intense day, Manita and I went to bed. We woke up very early the next morning in order to go back to Kathmandu. We were tired, but happy to have accomplished all of our goals!

     

    

    CONCERN’s beneficiaries in Ramechhap

70. Keeping Their Heads Above Water

    August 2, 2017 6:23 am 122 Comments

    

    From left to right: Phan That, his daughter Phan Thi Linh, and his wife Hoang Thi Que.

    Phan That and his wife Hoang Thi Que live along the Gianh River, in a village around 35 miles north of the provincial capital of Dong Hoi. Their house lies in a cluster of houses across the road from the river itself, a location that has been a blessing and a curse for this family. As sea levels have risen, the Gianh has overflowed its banks more and more frequently. Mr. Luu, the AEPD outreach worker who serves families in this district, points out the second floor of Mr. That’s house as we arrive, telling me that it was added with AEPD support in 2015. This is a big help for the family, since when the house is threatened by floods—as happened late last year—the family can take shelter upstairs. But as I’m about to learn, this hasn’t made everyday life any easier.

    Phan That is a man of around seventy, and unlike most Vietnamese men I’ve met he is bearded, sporting a Ho Chi Minh-style goatee. Mr. That and his wife greet me politely, but are somewhat less talkative than other AEPD beneficiaries I’ve visited. As we sit down to talk, another man arrives on a motorbike, and he is introduced as Mr. Loc, a policy officer for the local government, who is in charge of working with this family and other persons with disabilities in the area. During my conversation with Mr. That I notice that Mr. Loc is giving some of his responses for him, to a degree that’s never happened in any of my other visits, and for the first time since coming to Vietnam I briefly wonder if the government is trying to interfere with my work somehow. (Mrs. Que also doesn’t speak much, but that reflects a pattern I have seen in other families.) I don’t bring this up during the meeting, but afterwards Mr. Luu tells me that Mr. That’s mind is slower than it used to be, and he sometimes has trouble keeping up with questions—since Mr. Loc’s job is to work with disabled people, he knows this family well and is qualified to answer some questions on their behalf.

    

    In conversation at Phan That’s house. From left to right: Phan That, Hoang Thi Que, Ngoc of AEPD, Mr. Loc of the local government, and AP peace fellow Jacob Cohn.

    I ask Mr. That about his first experience with Agent Orange. He tells me that he was exposed to the poison during the American War while serving in the North Vietnamese military in Quang Tri, a province to the south around what used to be the Demilitarized Zone. He only came to realize the effect it would have on his family in 1979, when his first child, his daughter Pham Thi Linh was born. She was severely mentally handicapped from birth—she has never been able to speak to or understand her parents, can move only with difficulty, and has always required constant care.

    Mr. That and Mrs. Que would go on to have two more healthy children, who are now married and live with their own families, but their fourth child, their son Pham Van Linh (born in 1985), has experienced the same symptoms as his sister. (Their youngest child, who lives on his own, has suffered from a mental condition that thanks to Google Translate I’m able to identify as schizophrenia, but the family isn’t sure that this is connected to Agent Orange.) There’s no cure for Pham Thi Linh and Pham Van Linh’s condition, but doctors from the local clinic regularly check on them, and medication can make their lives more comfortable. (The tonal marks that distinguish their given names are not used in English, so I will use their full names to avoid confusion.)

    I ask about the family’s financial situation, and Mr. That tells me that he has a small farm, which only brings in enough income to cover around six months’ worth of basic expenses—the rest of the year, they’re dependent on government support and Mr. That’s military pension. Mr. Loc adds at this point that Agent Orange victims in this district receive a monthly welfare payment of 1,417,000 Vietnamese dong (around $62) per person as well as free health insurance. Nevertheless, Mr. That says that the family’s income only covers their day-to-day needs; they’re unable to put money aside for the future, and would be vulnerable to a future medical emergency or natural disaster. Mr. That and Mrs. Que also have disabilities and have become less and less mobile with age, so taking care of their children is a struggle for them. They’re dependent on their healthy daughter, Luyen, who lives nearby with her own family, and she comes every day to take care of her brother and sister. Mr. That and Mrs. Que are anxious about what will happen when they are no longer able to care for themselves, let alone their children.

    The topic turns to the support plan we’ve developed in partnership with Mr. That. AEPD and the Advocacy Project plan to raise money to buy the family a breeding cow and calf, which Mr. That will raise (with help from relatives and neighbors). He plans to eventually sell the calf and breed the cow again so that it will give birth to a new calf he can raise. The cows’ dung can also be used and sold as fertilizer for farm fields. Mr. Luu says that the income from this will depend on the type of cow and calf they end up purchasing, but that the animals could generate as much as 20 million Vietnamese dong ($880) per year. Based on what I’ve already been told, I can tell that this would be a big deal for the family.

    

    Mr. Loc points out the waterline during last year’s flood.

    I ask about the problem of flooding, and Mr. Loc walks to the side of the house and points at a part of the wall around six feet above the ground—this was the water level during last year’s flood, and looking more closely I now see that the paint below this point looks slightly darker than above. Thanks to the improvements made with AEPD support, Mr. That says, the house is safer now, but the family needs to reinforce its tile roof with steel or iron to prevent water from getting in during future storms, something they currently can’t afford. I ask whether Mr. That has any particular goals, and he says, through Mr. Loc, that he hopes to develop a self-sustaining business starting with the cow and calf—this will make it easier for him to take care of his children for a long time and to maintain their health and well-being as best he can. After he and his wife become too old to care for them, however, Pham Thi Linh and Pham Van Linh’s care will depend on their sister Luyen. (Luyen eventually arrives as we are leaving to check up on her siblings.)

    

    Pham Van Linh in his bedroom.

    Before we leave I ask to see the two children (even as I write this I’m reminded that, despite my use of the word “children,” both are in their thirties). Pham Thi Linh has her own small room on the first floor; Pham Van Linh’s is on the second. Pham Thi Linh sits on her bed, looking off to the side as we arrive; she turns to look at us, and eyes me as her parents join her for a picture, but I can’t tell how much she understands. When I go upstairs I see Pham Van Linh lying on his own bed, eyes wide open and mouth agape. As his father enters the room, he gets up and walks with what looks like great difficulty—again, I can’t tell how much he understands of what’s happening, or how he feels about the situation. I leave without being able to promise anything to the family, but I tell Mr. That we’ll do what we can to get the cow and calf.

71. Ambiguous Grief

    July 31, 2017 6:18 am 116 Comments

    How do people grieve? How do people grieve when they live in a perpetual state of waiting?

    

    On June 17th, 2017, NEFAD’s Director Ram Bhandari invited us to a memorial event hosted at the office of the Attorney General in Nepal and we bore witness to some of the ways families are coping. Bipin Bhandari, pictured on the left, was 22 years old when he was disappeared during the conflict. Dil Bahadur Rai was about the same age. Their fathers spoke at the start of the memorial service. Bipin and Dil had so much life left to live. As people filled the room at the office of the Attorney General, Prabal told us that all had a family member who had been forcibly disappeared. To see a room filled with mothers and fathers gazing at portraits of these two boys, draped in marigolds, offered a mere glimpse of the magnitude of grief faced by Nepali conflict survivors.

    A series of speeches commenced, and I was surprised at the speeches’ political bent. The loss of Bipin and Dil is inextricably linked to the ten year conflict and subject to structural holdups. Because of this, survivors’ grief has been forced to encompass not just personal loss, but collective trauma and advocacy for political action. Speakers gave their testimony, some had temporarily been detained and disappeared themselves. Mostly, I sensed exhaustion. One woman expressed anger at the efforts of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to “restructure itself rather than respond to victims.” With force she said, “We are tired of speaking on these issues.”

    Charam Prasam, a prominent human rights activist in Nepal said something that resonates with people in all countries: “There must be a certain level of honesty in politics. Where is the honesty? Where is the accountability of the state?” as he critiqued Nepal’s transitional justice process.

    There is a cruelty to the waiting families are experiencing. Enforced disappearance is illegal under international law, per the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance. Some say that the crime of enforced disappearances is a particularly cruel form of torture, withholding from them any truth about how or why their loved one perished. The Center for Victims of Torture describes the ambiguous loss that compounds grief,

    “Indeed the psychological suffering associated with disappearance, a type of ambiguous loss, is an immense burden on the family members. Ambiguous loss differs from ordinary loss because it lacks closure or clarity without understanding of what happened or whether a loved one is actually gone.  As a result, many question whether they should grieve the loss of a loved one or continue to hold out hope.”

    Memorial services like the one we attended are one way that families have sought to remember their loved ones while processing their emotions. Grief is a profoundly human experience, and rituals for acknowledging it are passed from generation to generation – an unending link to traditions of the past.

    When I arrived in Nepal, I felt ill-equipped to step into someone else’s grief, to ask families prying questions about something so personal seemed terribly intrusive. People’s grief is sacred. I didn’t want to cause them any more harm based on my ignorance. I worried about not knowing traditional grieving rituals. In an effort to familiarize ourselves with Nepali traditions on addressing death, Prabal Vicky and I visited Pashupathinath Temple, a place unlike any I have ever experienced before.

    

    Pashupatinath River Bank

    While not all families who experienced enforced disappearance are Hindu, many of the families I work with in Bardiya share the Hindu tradition. Prabal explained to us that in Hinduism, humans are said to be birthed at the river and to return to the river upon their death as they await reincarnation. Pashupathinath temple is a holy site for devotees of Shiva. It is built alongside a river bank that is lined with funeral pyres where bodies are cremated. Prabal guided us through the space, a place in which society is invited to share in death rituals.

    I asked Prabal if it was ok for us to be there, sharing in the most difficult and emotional moments of people’s lives. Prabal said that it was, so we sought to be very respectful witnesses. It was striking how communal an experience funerals are at Pashupathinath. It is a place that invites reflection. We were very quiet, and I thought frequently about how families in Bardiya had been denied the right to these rituals. While terribly painful in and of themselves, rituals matter in grief. They don’t fix the pain, but as Prabal told us, cremation allows families to see that their loved one is gone. There whereabouts are no longer ambiguous.

    I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our trip to Pashupathinath. It is a place that must be experienced, and not necessarily understood, but rather respected as a deeply holy place.

    Learning about the ways families have shouldered grief without access to their rituals renewed my admiration for the ladies of Bardiya. They are resilience personified. While we were in Bardiya, we asked the members what they would name themselves. They chose The Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative. The Nepali translation of cooperative has a stronger connotation than the English word. It means mutually supporting and uplifting one another. I asked them more about their choice to identify as “Conflict Victims” rather than survivors. I admit that this decision initially surprised me. They said the choice was not because they considered themselves victims, but because the crimes committed against them were the platform that brought them together.

    Fudiya Chaudhari, who I wrote about previously, explained, “Before we were united, it was very difficult to express our grief. We were alone in our homes. We became much stronger [after] sharing our grief to advocate with the state.” They  named themselves, and I respect their name. The Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative is transforming their grief into mutual support and care. If that isn’t resilience in the face of grief, I don’t know what is.

    

    The Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative

    

    The Vote to Officially Constitute the Bardiya Victims Cooperative Photo by Vicky Mogeni

72. The Guilt Question

    July 25, 2017 8:49 am 3 Comments

    

    A US plane spraying Agent Orange in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. Courtesy National Museum of the US Air Force.

    In working with disabled people here in Vietnam, I’ve often had to stop and remind myself that the disabilities and diseases from which most of them suffer aren’t natural. Mai Thi Loi’s children and Duong Thi An’s children weren’t just born disabled for no reason—their disabilities are a direct consequence of US policy in Vietnam, and the military’s decision to contaminate the land with Agent Orange. (And yes, I’m aware that there’s some controversy over the extent of Agent Orange’s health effects—I hope to address that in a later post so I won’t get into it here.)

    The reason I’ve had to remind myself about this is that the Vietnam/American War almost never comes up in conversation. Back in my very first post I predicted that the war would be central to my experience here, but that hasn’t been as true as I’d assumed. Most people I talk with are interested in my life in America and American culture, but none of them bring up American politics, Vietnamese-American relations, or the war. Perhaps that’s just politeness, but I suspect it’s indicative of something deeper. Most Vietnamese don’t remember the war, and even those who do have plenty of images or impressions of the US that aren’t focused on the war. (By contrast, I’d imagine the war is the first thing, maybe the only thing, most Americans think of if the subject of Vietnam comes up.) Even my conversations with individual victims of Agent Orange haven’t addressed the reasons why they were exposed in the first place, and none of them have seemed concerned or angered by the fact that I’m American.

    In other words, during the course of my work in Vietnam, the issue of guilt or responsibility for the use of Agent Orange hasn’t really been an issue. But should it be?

    Legally, at least so far, the answer seems to be no. Chemical weapons are illegal under international law, but Agent Orange wasn’t actually meant as a “weapon”, at least not officially—it was an herbicide used to destroy forests and crops at the South Vietnamese government’s request, and its impact on humans was only understood later. (Whether, and when, the US government knew it was poisoning civilians is hotly debated.) A treaty signed after the Vietnam War (and ratified by the US) outlawed this kind of “war against the environment”—but in the 1960s, the US government says, there was no law against using herbicides in war. This argument has prevented Vietnamese victims or the Vietnamese government from claiming reparations in court.

    In the early 2000s a prominent victims’ rights group called the Vietnam Association for Victims of Agent Orange/Dioxin (VAVA), which works with many of the same families as AEPD, filed suit in a federal district court against the US companies that manufactured Agent Orange. VAVA claimed that the use of Agent Orange violated international law and that its manufacturers owed compensation to the victims. The court’s 2005 ruling, later upheld by an appeals court, found that Agent Orange “was used to protect United States troops against ambush and not as a weapon of war against human populations” and that its use didn’t violate international law at the time. (VAVA has been unable to sue the US government itself because of a legal doctrine called “sovereign immunity,” which prevents lawsuits against the federal government without the government’s consent.)

    

    Two paralyzed victims of Agent Orange, Phuong and No.

    I don’t have enough legal knowledge to properly defend or rebut this line of argument. Based on what I’ve read, it seems to make sense based on the letter of the law. But from a moral standpoint it also feels like a dodge. The fact remains that the US manufactured and used a poison that has destroyed or horribly warped the lives of thousands of Vietnamese and Americans—many of them civilians, many of them children—and that’s not something we can simply turn our backs on. Having met some of the victims, I can’t imagine looking any of them in the eye and telling them that their disabilities are simply an accident, that they don’t have a right to some form of justice. My own belief is that Americans who love their country, as I do, should have the courage to confront the true consequences of our policy in Vietnam—not so much out of a sense of guilt as a sense of responsibility to do what we can, even at this late date, to support victims and right wrongs to the extent that we can.

    American victims of Agent Orange have had some success in the long, slow battle for the recognition and support they deserve (see this excellent series for details on how that battle is being fought today). Vietnamese victims receive compensation from the Vietnamese government (usually around $17 a month in 2010)—but most of the families I’ve spoken to, while acknowledging this support, add that there’s not much assistance to go around. Many still can’t afford basic expenses, let alone proper medical care. International NGOs and foundations, including American ones, also provide humanitarian assistance to Agent Orange victims, but so far, the US government’s contribution has been minimal.

    The good news is that the last decade has seen some positive steps, especially as Vietnam and the US have grown closer diplomatically. Since 2006, the US has spent tens of millions of dollars through USAID on environmental decontamination efforts around former US military bases in Vietnam. A fraction of these funds go to support public health and assistance programs for persons with disabilities. Yet victims’ advocates say that the money contributed so far is a very small percentage of what is needed, both to compensate victims and to remove the last traces of contamination from Vietnamese soil. Perhaps more significantly, all US disability assistance programs apply to any disability, regardless of cause—the government hasn’t formally acknowledged Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange as a group.

    A few politicians have been supportive of Vietnamese victims, and a congressional committee actually invited one to testify for the first time in a 2010 hearing on the subject. More recently, Representative Barbara Lee of California introduced a bill, the Victims of Agent Orange Relief Act of 2017, which would recognize the rights of Agent Orange victims in Vietnam and designate funds specifically to support them. But I know enough about politics to realize that the chances of such a bill passing anytime soon are pretty much nil (Lee has introduced the same bill before to no avail), and that US assistance is if anything likely to decrease as the foreign aid budget is cut. Right now it’s hard enough for Americans to mobilize our government to work for us, and Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange—poor and marginalized citizens of a faraway land—are without votes, money, or other means of influencing the makers of US foreign policy.

    The only hope for justice, and for true reconciliation between the US and Vietnam, is for enough Americans to support it that our government is compelled to act. I’m not optimistic about this, but if I can accomplish one thing while I’m here, I hope it’s to share the stories of Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange and draw people’s attention to their plight and to this issue more generally. We haven’t really reckoned with Agent Orange as a society, but it’s not too late.

73. “Our Memories are in Our Eyes”

    4:08 am 6 Comments

    

    An art instillation by Martin Travers from the International Day of the Disappeared 2017. The painting renders a family member with their disappeared loved ones  etched in the eyes, symbolizing a continued search for answers. Photo by Prabal Thapa.

     

    It is easy to forget in the hustle, bustle, and laugher of the embroidery process that the members of the Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative have all experienced deep trauma. So often we use these blanket terms, ‘loss’ and ‘grief’ but each one is shaped like a person, just as individual as a thumbprint. ‘Enforced Disappearance’ is not really a noun. It is a verb that continues to be lived by women like Fudiya Chaudhari.

    

    Fudiya Chaudhari (right) works with a friend on her embroidery

     

    Through Ram Kumari and Prabal Thapa’s linguistic translations from Tharu to Nepali to English, Fudiya bravely shared her sorrow, and allowed me to share some quotes with you today. She is still waiting for answers about her son Krishna’s disappearance in 2002. He was 20 years old at the time. So very young. She told me that she cares more about knowing the truth of what happened to him than about who is guilty of the crime. For her, the investigation process is about truth rather than vengeance.

    

    Sabitra Thapa’s Hands

     

    In my reflections in my voice journal, I’ll also introduce you to Sarita and Sabitra Thapa. Sarita is a true leader, and she attributes her determination to her mother. The two of them are some of the loveliest people I have ever known. Sabritra’s husband was disappeared, and Sarita lost a father. After his loss, Sabrita started a shop in Bardiya to support her family. Her business serves Nepali milk tea, delicious donuts, and other treats. She reminded me of my own grandmother in her insistence that we eat more before we left. We made daily visits to her shop. Despite so much hardship, Sarita and Sabitra are leaders in their community and in the cooperative. Their hospitality knows no bounds, and they even invited us to their home for dinner, for one of my favorite nights in Nepal so far.

    

    Hospitality: Sarita and her mother Sabitra Thapa at their tea shop in Bardiya.

    Listen to Fudiya’s profound words and my (less profound) reflections here:

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    Update:

    A huge thank you to all who donated, shared, and sent good wishes for our Global Giving project. It has been fully funded!

    

74. Conversations about Hinduism.

    1:47 am 2 Comments

    As religions and belief systems go, I had limited exposure to Hinduism prior to arriving in Nepal. In the past 5 weeks, however, I have learnt some basic principles of the religion from Prabal and trips to various temples, open to visitors such as the Pashputinath and the Golden temple.  According to Prabal, “Hinduism is not a religion, it is a way of life.”

    

    Golden Temple, Patan

     

    On our last night in Bardiya, as Sarita and her mother prepared us dinner in their home, Prabal, Kirstin and I discussed some of the basic principles and problems of life. Prabal posed a question to us about the philosophies of life. Listen below as we attempt to guess the four problems of life according to Hinduism.

     

75. Success stories: introducing Ekaman Shrestha

    July 24, 2017 6:02 am 6 Comments

    Up to now I’ve been sharing stories about the current beneficiaries of CONCERN. Their background, their parents and the reality they face. I’ve also talked a lot about the importance of education, and how going to school will provide these children with a better, brighter future.

    Today I want to share the story of Ekaman Shrestha, and give a particular example of how CONCERN’s program can actually change someone’s life for the better.

    

    Ekaman Shrestha

    I met Ekaman at CONCERN’s office last week. I was having a rather low-key day updating CONCERN’s webpage when a very lively man came in with Bijaya. They both looked very happy to be seeing each other, and even though they were speaking Nepali, I could tell they were sharing exciting news.

    Ekaman turned out to be a former employee of CONCERN. He worked here for over 10 years!  But most importantly, Ekaman is a former beneficiary who is now a teacher at a local village, Ghorka. He came to Kathmandu for a couple of days…and I was lucky enough to hear his story!

    Ekaman moved to Kathmandu with some friends from his village when he finished his SLC (School Leaving Certificate) to look for better opportunities. He ended up working as a porter at a local market, carrying loads for a couple of rupees. During his time as a porter, he got in touch with CONCERN and become a beneficiary, as they had a program to end child labor in that market at that time.

    CONCERN took care of all of Ekaman’s education expenses, and thanks to his determination and hard work, Ekaman finished his education and went to get his diploma at Tribhuwan University. CONCERN also gave him the opportunity to start his professional career at their organization as a field officer. That’s where he realized he wanted to work with children and grew the desire to become a teacher.

    

    Ekaman and Bijaya, CONCERN’s director

    Ekaman has been a rural government teacher since 2010. He is determined to not let the kids in his class go through what he went through as a child worker. But he is a very down to earth man, and knows that education alone is not enough. He told me that to end the problem of child labor in Nepal, it is necessary to both educate and empower the kids. For him, it is the role of the government as well as NGOs not only to provide the means so that kids can go to school, but also to make them realize that they can achieve great things with that education. They need to know they are the owners of their lives.

    Ekaman is still looking forward to the next step in his career. His plan is to do a Masters now. Actually, the reason he was in Kathmandu was to try to get a position as a permanent teacher in the capital in order to be able to continue working and study at the same time.

    Ekaman is the perfect example of how CONCERN’s program gave a talented, hard working kid that lacked resources the opportunity to fulfill his potential. I hope there can be more Ekamans in the future!

    When I asked him if he had any messages for the current beneficiaries, he just said: focus on education first. I hope you enjoy Ekaman’s story as much as I did.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

76. Bardiya At Last

    July 19, 2017 7:12 am 4 Comments

    

    Bardiya District

    One landslide, many plates of dal bhat, and a full 24 hour bus ride later, we had reached Bardiya. For those who are counting, that’s seven hours more than expected. In the end, it took me longer to get to from Kathmandu to Bardiya than it took me to cross three continents and several oceans from the United States to Nepal.

    There wouldn’t be time to rest. In the previous weeks, we had prepared a work plan that included consulting the group about their business plan, training on embroidery quality (facilitated by tips from American quilting partners), and developing a plan for a savings group as a financial management tool.  Most importantly, we would finally meet the group of creative, strong, survivors we had heard so much about.

    

    Pictured above are Tilak Rani, Bhabisara Tharu and Sharada Tharu, just a few of the incredible women I was about to encounter. Talik arrived early for the embroidery training and told us she had spent the morning working to plant in the field, and completing housework at home. On top of all of this, she was going to put in another full day’s work of training, embroidery, and business planning. Bhabisara and her sister Puja both participated in the training. Sharada is the incredible public speaker, who I describe in my voice journal (below). Snippets of their stories are available if you click their names.

    

    I distributed embroidery hoops to start the training. Photo by Prabal Thapa.

    The ladies were about to put me through my paces. To hear about the ladies, some mistakes, and my impromptu concert, all on Day One, have a listen:

     

    Click here to donate to our  project for the Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative.

77. Living the Nepali Dream

    5:31 am 8 Comments

    We all grew up with the notion of the “American Dream”, the upward mobility trend that countries like the US experienced back in the 40’s and up to the 80’s. The American Dream is based on the idea that family background does not determine a child’s chances to success. That a child’s social and economics opportunities do not depend upon his parent’s income or social status. On the contrary, the American Dream translates into equality of opportunities for prosperity and success, and therefore a real chance for children to experience greater levels of wellbeing than those of their parents.

    

    Meeting CONCERN’s moms

    The American Dream seems to have been fading away for some time now. People in my generation think it is almost impossible to even resemble the way of life our parents provided us, and do not even think about being able to give their children a similar standard of living that the one we had as kids.

    But it doesn’t have to be that way everywhere. Sometimes there are small lights of hope. And I was able to experience one in Nepal.

    This week we went back to the field to interview the parents of the children CONCERN is currently supporting as part of their education program. We wanted to know more about the family structure and dynamics, their housing conditions, and what do parents think about education. We also needed to collect written authorizations for publishing the pictures, videos and information of the children – something crucial for CONCERN.

    

    Using fingerprints as authorization for using pictures and information of CONCERN’s children

    We arrived at the first school and almost 10 mothers were waiting for us. Excited to be interviewed but also hesitant to answer some personal questions. But the biggest shock there was the one I had when I noticed none of the mothers could read or write. These are smart women, between the ages of 25 to 40, who work hard every day either in brick or garment factories to be able to support their families….and they were just never given the opportunity to learn how to write their own names.

    This shocked me. As I said, this is not my first time working in the developing world with marginalized communities. But it certainly was the first time where most of the grown ups I interviewed were not able to read or write. In Nepal literacy rate is around 65%. Just to compare, the lowest literacy rate in Latin America can be found in Guatemala, and it is almost 80%. It is important to add that there are important disparities between genders: 76% of men can read and write in Nepal, compared to 53% of women.

    The fact that these moms were not able to read or write meant we had to explain to them what the written authorization said. After having their verbal consent it was time for them to sign. But once again, none of them could do so…so we improvised. We used our pens to paint their thumbs with ink so they can put their fingerprints where there was supposed to be a signature.

    

    Working hard!

    The interviews went well. Thanks to Manita and Sundar who were translating and adjusting my questions, we got the information we needed. All the moms agreed that education is necessary so that their children can succeed in life. One thing is for sure: thanks to their willingness to send their kids to school and the support of CONCERN who finances their education, these kids will know how to sign a document in the future. They will know how to read and write. They already are one step further in life than their parents.

    Even if it is a small step, CONCERN children are living the “Nepali dream”. They have more opportunities already than their parents had throughout their entire life. And thanks to the support of CONCERN and their families, and the fact that they are hard working and super smart, I’m sure they will also climb the social ladder and be better off than their parents. They will experience that social upward mobility that we heard our grandparents and even our parents talk about. There is hope!

    Remember that our donation campaign in Global Giving is still accepting contributions. Make your donation today!

78. Who Needs Air Conditioning Anyway?

    4:56 am 4 Comments

    

    Highway on the way to Bardiya

     

    Continued from a previous post: Landslide. 

    At this point, the bus was in desperate need of an equipment upgrade and so cut the engine, the fans, and the air  conditioning. We sat, sweltered, and waited. I was most impressed to see mothers and small children waiting out the heat and playing calmly. In the United States, I don’t know if I’ve ever witnessed that kind of patience from kids traveling. I could have just gotten a fan from the list of tower fans online if the AC broke when we were back there. After a period, Prabal leaned forward and asked us, “have you ever spent the night on a bus before?” Vicky  returned his question with another,

    “Are you trying to prepare us?”

    

    A misty mountain scene from the bus window

    Sharing a sense for the ridiculous, Prabal, Vicky, and I burst out laughing at the question. If you were going to be stuck, it was good to know I was with friends who had good senses of humor.

    As the time wore on, at least three hours passed, the lack of a fan became more  and more uncomfortable. Occasionally, the bus would move 20 feet forward before abruptly halting again, dangling the hope of forward movement. We relied on a cross breeze through the narrow windows to wait out the heat, not knowing the status of the debris removal, or if we might have to turn back to Kathmandu. Vicky fanned herself with her book, Purple Hibiscus, while I started shedding layers. Eventually, the bus drivers emerged to inform us that in order to continue onwards on a different route that would add 4 hours to the trip and pass through Pokhara, they would be charging each passenger an extra 500 Nepali Rupees (roughly 5 dollars) for the additional gas and air conditioning costs incurred. The bus erupted.

    No one was pleased, and negotiations ensued as disgruntled passengers communicated their objections. Meanwhile, the bus stayed put.

    It appeared that the bus drivers were trying to sweat us out.

    I should note here that in Nepal, on long trips like ours there are a team of bus drivers who share the front compartment. The drivers rotate throughout the trip and the team jumps out when there is debris in the road, and has signals for tapping the sides of the bus when it is in a tight squeeze or moving in reverse. The team helps watch for major pot holes too. To give you a sense for the hazards on the road, and the physicality of this bus ride, my phone’s step counter app recorded 17,000 steps that day. I had been sitting for that entire time period. It was the up-and-down of the bus that convinced my phone it had been a much more active day.

    Back to the negotiations: while $5 doesn’t seem like much by American standards (and to be honest, it was hot enough that I was ready to promise my first born child if it would get the bus moving again), 500 Nepali rupee is a very large sum of money. For agricultural workers,  it is the equivalent of almost two weeks wages. I don’t know the circumstances of everyone I was traveling with on the bus, but while I may have been ready to do anything to get the bus going, 500 rupees was an exorbitant amount to ask of everyone.

    

    Vicky and Prabal

    As the sun lowered in the sky, the bus grew quieter, caught in a negotiation deadlock. And then, through the cracked open windows, we heard a beautiful singing begin. Chanting from a Hindu temple nearby lulled the bus riders into a calm, and things seemed to cool down. Listen here:

    The bus started once more as we pulled away from the beautiful chorus, and finally stopped in front of a roadside restaurant. It was time for some Dal Bhat.

    By the time we returned to the bus, the negotiations had ceased. We would all pay 300 rupee and travel on to reach our friends in Bardiya.

    Click here to donate to our  project for the Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative.

79. Transitional Justice and the Arts.

    3:27 am 1 Comment

    “Transitional justice is not only a matter of law, but also a process of making sense of the past.” This can take various forms and one powerful form is through testimony including in the form of the arts.

    The five official mechanisms of transitional justice; criminal prosecutions, truth-seeking, reparations, memorials and institutional reform all work interdependently for a society to come to terms with a violent and painful past. However, they can face limitations including mandates, resources, political will and many more. In certain cases, depending on the culture, customs and context, the arts can be a way to fill these gaps. This is not a post advocating for the arts, as a panacea for healing. Instead, whether it be through film, theater or music, the arts provide a platform for communities to share their stories, to remember their loved ones and to speak of the unspeakable.

    I began reflecting on transitional justice and the arts after having the opportunity to attend a literary magazine launch in Kathmandu known as La Lit Magazine.  Their 8^th volume: Translations from the Margins is a compilation of literary works, translated from Nepali to English consisting of short stories, essays and poems from Nepalis in marginalized societies across the country. The literature which spans various themes was translated by professional translators and among the works translated and included, were stories from the conflict and from families of the disappeared.

    -Excerpt from ‘Where is He?’ By Durga Kaphle

    In the stillness of the dark night,

    Brandishing their black guns –

    The Armed Police

    Took him away in a black car

    For interrogation.

    That must be why, even now

    They never search for him

    Nor give truthful answers

     

    Why play with a man’s life?

    -Translated by Itisha Giri

    -Recited at the International Day of the Disappeared, August 30^th

    As development and humanitarian workers, translation is a vital part of the job. I don’t often however think of it as an art. Being bilingual, I can understand that there are some words that cannot be directly translated or stories that cannot be narrated in the same way, in two different languages. What I haven’t given much thought to before, is the power and responsibility that this in fact gives the translator. They are responsible for using different words to convey the same message. The launch of LaLit magazine was hosted at the Nepali Tourism Board and included a panel of three professional and well-renowned translators who addressed some of these issues of power and responsibility in translation.

    

    Launch of La.Lit Vol. 8: Translations from the Margins

    The panel included three prominent translators and writers in Nepal, Ann Hunkins, Muna Gurung and Sulochana Manandhar. Each panelist discussed the importance of translation and what it meant to them personally. Some of the key themes from the panelists were the fact that translating in person is quite different from translating pre-written work. Hunkins shared that particularly when translating sensitive issues, “there is an emotional bond between the translator and the person telling their story, their pain comes through you.” The panelists also spoke on the importance of accuracy in translation. This relates to the amount of power that the translator has. In situations where certain words cannot be directly translated, there can be an interference in the story and “the translator can accidentally take away agency from the writer.” Finally, was the issue of losing languages and the fact that “translation makes people want to go towards being all the same.” On our way to tea after the event, Prabal shared his own reflections on this point including the fact that “there needs to be more translations from English to Nepali as well.”

    

    Selfies with Prabal and Kirstin at the magazine launch.

    The discussion on translation was incredibly insightful but the main take way for me was that this was an opportunity works of art from all across Nepal to be able to connect to and reach a wider audience. The  short stories and poems in La Lit’s 8th volume touched on a number of aspects of Nepali society including  family, heritage and dreams. Particularly with regard to stories of the conflict, literature, film and theater have served as a way to document atrocities but also to share various understandings of what happened and interpretations of of ‘reconciliation’. According to Ram Bhandari, founder of NEFAD, “Art can be a way build the movement and the fight” in Nepal. The arts can produce new memories and experiences, mitigate politicization of memorial events, reveal hidden traumas, creating a space to grieve, forgive and heal.

    -Excerpt from ‘Disappeared’ By Anbika Giri

    They wanted to know for certain, even if he were dead. I too wanted to know, though not of his death but that he was still alive. And I wanted to twist his ear and ask, “Why did you make us cry so much?”

    -Translated by Prawin Adhikari

    Recognizing this, NEFAD and family associations across Nepal have provided such platforms and given survivors an opportunity to tell their stories through theater programs and art. The 2016 International Day of the Disappeared, on August 30th, hosted by NEFAD in collaboration with The Mandala Theater featured wall art, and staged a drama to recreate memories and serve as a form of commemorating the disappeared as well as sharing testimony of the troubles that families have faced as a result of disappearances.

    

    Painting by German Artist, in Bardiya District, Bhurigaun. The painting is a representation of families searching for their disappeared family members.

    The event also included lighting of candles and was titled, “Where are they?”  We hope to visit Mandala theater in the next few weeks and learn more about the power of the art displayed there.

    Excerpt from ‘Disappeared’ by Anbika Giri

    “I have a big mission,” I growled with a finger pointed at him. “I still have to line you up and shoot down all of you who are too busy enjoying the fruits of power instead of searching for your disappeared cadres!”

    I roared with such rage that it left me trembling. Everybody at the Party office was stunned for a moment. Then I was thrown out.

    -Translated by Prawin Adhikari

80. Landslide

    July 18, 2017 9:22 am 107 Comments

     

    

    Vicky on the bus en route to Bardiya

     

    After a couple weeks of planning and adjusting to life in Kathmandu, it was time for the trip that Vicky and I had been most looking forward to: traveling to Bardiya. During Nepal’s civil war (1996-2006), the district of Bardiya had the highest concentration of enforced disappearances in all of Nepal, though families throughout the country were affected by these crimes.

    Nepal is currently undergoing a phase of transitional justice (TJ), a period of reconstruction and reconciling as the country rebuilds following the war. In the academic world, technical jargon is often used to describe transitional justice, but at its base, TJ is about addressing the needs of people whose lives were disrupted by war, who are too often forgotten in the transitional phase.

    In Nepal, primarily men were disappeared,* and many women lost their husbands, brothers, and fathers – their family’s breadwinners – and have endured great economic difficulty alongside their grief. The families affected by the civil war are at the heart of the work we do for the Advocacy Project and we were eager to meet them. We knew that the women’s group we have been hearing about since we signed up for our fellowships live in Bardiya.

    Now we just had to get to them.

    

    Route from Kathmandu to Bardiya

    Only two highways pass through Kathmandu, limiting our route options. Our bus would traverse the Naravaangadh-Muglin road, traveling halfway across the country. The journey is expected to take about 17 hours on a good day. We had  been warned by friends to expect  buses without shock absorbers, extreme potholes and hairpin turns at high altitudes. The route to  Bardiya runs South and West and  is expected to take about 17  hours on a good  day. Luckily, Prabal, our friend and trusty  NEFAD partner would be  along for the ride. Prabal is a student at Kathmandu University studying Development. One of the great joys of being in Nepal has been working closely with him. He is dedicated to serving other people, eager to learn, and a wonderful colleague. You will be hearing more about him in posts to come.

    Prabal, Vicky and I loaded up our backpacks, hauling an additional duffle  bag  filled with 30 embroidery hoops, to bring to the ladies in the  embroidery group, and settled into the bus. Let’s just  say our  friends’ prophesies about the jarring  ride, honking buses,  and abrupt twists and  turns along  cliff edges lived up to their  descriptions. Seat belts  were generally not functional  on the bus,  so we bounced  our way through the first part of the trip, trying not to  look down too  frequently out the window.

     

    About four hours into the ride, the bus halted abruptly. As we waited, thinking this would  be a temporary pause, Vicky received the message you don’t want to see when you are  embarking on a 17 hour journey. Scrawled across her phone screen was a headline from one of  Kathmandu’s largest newspapers, the Himalayan Times: “Massive landslide blocks  Narayaangadh-Muglin road section again.”

    

    The headline from Vicky’s Phone

    The “again” tacked on to the end of that headline hints at the realities of life in Nepal during monsoon  season.  Even for Nepal, where some landslides are to be expected due to rainy conditions and steep mountainsides along the roads and highways, this landslide was significant enough to make front page news.

    

    The full article from the Himalayan Times

    After clicking the headline, we realized that there were now 8,000 cubic meters of rubble between us and Bardiya.Not having access to reliable internet, or being able to reach my notebook, I started to record our thoughts as the events unfolded. You can listen to our real time impressions and the background bustle of the bus below:

    At this point, the bus cut the engine, the fans, and the air  conditioning. We sat, sweltered, and waited. I was most impressed to see mothers and small children waiting out the heat and playing calmly. In the United States, I don’t know if I’ve ever witnessed that kind of patience from kids traveling. After a period, Prabal leaned forward and asked us, “have you ever spent the night on a bus before?” Vicky  returned his question with another,

    “Are you trying to prepare us?”

    To be continued…

     

    *A note on terminology: The action “to be/was/were disappeared” is used in human rights circles to underline the fact that enforced disappearances were not an abstract event, but rather a crime committed by perpetrators.

    Click here to donate to our project for the Bardiya Conflict Victims Cooperative.

81. We’re Halfway There

    July 14, 2017 5:27 am 213 Comments

    Today I am halfway (whoooooooah) through my fellowship here at AEPD in Dong Hoi, Vietnam. In the last five weeks, I’ve gotten to meet several of AP and AEPD’s beneficiary families—it’s been a privilege getting to know them, and learning more about the important work AEPD does on their behalf. The main thing I’ve actually accomplished so far, besides all the blog posts and photos that I’ve posted on this site, is to start raising funds for Duong Thi An’s new buffalo. I expected that I’d maybe be able to raise around $500 or so and leave AEPD to finish the campaign, but as of this writing we’d gotten over $1000 in contributions in less than a week, getting us tantalizingly close to our $1500 target. I’ve had everyone from family members and close friends to distant acquaintances to complete strangers offer their support, which has been both surprising and incredibly inspiring. (Incidentally, if you’d like to join them, you can find more information about the campaign and make a donation here.)

    My time here hasn’t been all about work, though—I’ve thoroughly explored Dong Hoi and the surrounding area as well as the larger cities of Hanoi and Hue. In a desperate attempt to keep generating precious, precious content fun departure from my last several posts, here are some tidbits from my time here that aren’t work-related.

    –People are really friendly and seem to be big fans of the US, despite all the history between us. I still get a lot of shouts of “hello” when I walk down the street—in Hanoi and Hue that’s usually a prelude to selling you something but in Dong Hoi it’s simple curiosity. Most people I have enough words in common to talk with are approachable and curious about me and what I’m doing in Dong Hoi; I haven’t been very active in what nightlife there is in town, since being in a foreign country hasn’t magically made me more outgoing, but I’d imagine I’d be the center of attention there too. People have nothing but positive things to say about America and its culture. The war rarely comes up unless I bring it up, and most of the remnants of the war I’ve seen have been museums and monuments aimed as much at foreigners as Vietnamese. People seem to be focused on the future, not the past, and historical sites seem like less of a priority, which makes sense considering how long Vietnam was engulfed in war. Also, it’s possible people are more introspective when they lose a war—think about all the American music and pop culture inspired by our experience in Vietnam. I don’t think Vietnamese commemorate the war in the same way.

    –I’ve been struck by the fact that nobody I’ve talked to has brought up US politics, last year’s election, or the Trump presidency, despite all that’s happened since I left. (I traveled a bit in Africa last summer and most people I talked with at any length brought up the election.) That could be simple politeness, or just a result of the fact that US news is obviously less important here. (None of the Vietnamese TV news I’ve seen seems to talk much about news outside Asia—English media here is mostly run by the government and dominated by such compelling stories as “National Assembly Standing Committee Concludes 12^th Session.”) That hasn’t stopped me from following events in the US, but it’s made them seem a bit less real and more distant.

    –Saigon beer is the best I’ve tried here so far, Hanoi is probably my least favorite but still OK. I haven’t braved the local homebrew yet, but I’m sure I will at some point. My favorite restaurant in town serves a dish that I don’t actually remember the name of; it’s pieces of grilled pork with rice paper, chili sauce, and vegetables, and you make your own delicious wraps. I split my meals between local places and Western restaurants, of which there are a surprising number for a small city (including not one but two places that specialize in pizza). But I’ve been learning about more restaurants that locals frequent, which tend to be cheaper and better.

    –When I was in Hue I went to a Mexican restaurant out of curiosity and it was overpriced but actually not terrible.

    –I jog here sometimes, but I don’t think local people do that for exercise. I also joined a gym (it’s a steal at $9 a month), but it’s not air-conditioned so I often find myself getting tired out more easily and sweating a lot more. (I’ve gotten a bit more used to the climate here but I’m still not comfortable in it. I’ve stopped looking at weather forecasts because they just depress me.)

    –Dong Hoi is a beach town—that’s mostly why people come here. But I’ve heard mixed reports from locals about whether the beaches are actually safe. When I’ve gone swimming I’ve seen plenty of people in there with me, including lots of families, but I think a lot of them are from out of town—last year a company called Formosa Ha Tinh Steel was accused of dumping toxins into the ocean nearby, which forced the fishing industry here to temporarily shut down and devastated the economy. Supposedly the beaches and local seafood are safe now (that’s what my hotel and the government say), but a coworker told me there’s no way to really tell. I’ve gotten itchy skin a couple of times after swimming here, so I think I’ll stay on land for now.

    –Dong Hoi doesn’t have the volume of traffic of somewhere like Hanoi, but you still need to watch your step. Lots of narrow streets means that danger can come at you with very little warning. Most Vietnamese people drive motorcycles—cars are for people with money—and there are lots of motorcycle cabs around. They usually give you helmets, but whether those actually provide protection or are just there to look pretty is anyone’s guess. My hotel also has a bicycle I sometimes borrow—when I’ve asked about getting a helmet for the bike the reaction has been confusion, as if I’d asked to wear a helmet while driving a car.

    –My beard makes people think I’m older than 26, and seems to interest kids in particular. Almost none of the local men I’ve seen have significant facial hair. (Of course one of the few exceptions is the face on all Vietnamese money.)

    I think that’s all I have, but of course I’ve got five more weeks to learn, explore and enjoy. Did I mention the climate and how that still kind of bothers me? I probably did.

82. Stories of Landslides and Launching a Business

    1:55 am 255 Comments

    In Nepal, landslides especially during the rainy season, can cause delays and restrict highways as well as unfortunately, cost lives. Last week, I had my first encounter with some of these effects of landslides. We set out to Bardiya for the first time to meet some of the ladies that NEFAD works with, as well as to hone their skills in embroidery towards creating a business. Despite the long journey ahead, I was excited to finally be heading to meet the ladies, learn from them and collaboratively discuss beginning a business in this new fourth industrial revolution.

    

    Some of the ladies admire their embroidery from last year. Bardiya is famous for tigers and the ladies specialize in tiger designs.

     

    We left Kathmandu at around 2pm in the afternoon for what is usually a 17-hour bus ride and expected to arrive the next morning at 7 or 8am, but landslide complications delayed our trip by about 8 hours. This is a story about the effects of landslides but also about the benefits of patience and persistence. At around 7pm, right around sunset, the bus came to a stop on the side of the road and we received news that there was a landslide ahead and we needed to take a detour; an additional 5 hours. I prepared myself mentally and physically for a longer bus ride and hoped to sleep through it. What I was not prepared for however, was the ensuing one and half hours of negotiations and stalling on the side of the road. In order to take the detour, the bus driver and conductor announced that each passenger would need to pay an additional 500 rupees (about $5) to cover the costs we would incur from fuel and air conditioning if we took the detour. Alarmed by what was so clearly an exaggeration of the costs, passengers quickly ‘unionized’ and stated their maximum price of 200 rupees per passenger. We were at an impasse.

    After about one hour sitting in the nearly suffocating heat and wondering with Prabal and Kirstin if we would ever move, the bus driver finally drove about a mile to a restaurant where we had dinner. Shortly after, Prabal told us that the driver was willing to accept 300 rupees, which seemed reasonable to all.

    I am not sure if it was the Dal Baat, but I was thankful that we were finally able to resolve the situation despite the fact that the trip was extended for about 6 hours, and the near heat stroke I had experienced (slight exaggeration). I was also quietly impressed by the persistence and determination of everyone on the bus. They stood their ground, and it was definitely a lesson learnt for some of my more impatient days. I also acknowledge that there are some in Nepal who experienced the worst of the landslide and I was therefore grateful that we arrived safely in Bardiya the next afternoon.

    

    Our view of the mountains and of Bardiya from our hotel balcony.

     

    Bardiya is in Western Nepal and is one of the districts in Nepal where NEFAD’s network of families of the disappeared is based and works on transitional justice. On our first full day in Bardiya we met with 23 remarkable ladies whose husbands, brothers and fathers were disappeared during the conflict and who in previous years, have created advocacy embroidery to tell their stories and honor the memories of their loved ones. They are now coming together once again, and expanding their skills to create more marketable products and to launch a sustainable business and getting new a plaque for each employerr at  this Corporate Plaque Supplier.

    

    Choosing designs for embroidery.

    

    Talik Rani begins her tiger square.

    Before heading to Bardiya, we created a budget and business plan outline to share with the ladies and Sarita Thapa, the coordinator of the group. The plan was to discuss the objectives of the business, select officials and design a production and marketing strategy jointly as well as begin making quality embroidery. We began by proposing the idea of a business and savings group and what it would entail including the long-term goals; a source of income and independence and hearing more about their vision for the business. An incredibly important first step was taking a vote to determine who would be interested in being a part of the business. For the best business marketing strategies visit Field of Words blog.  I haven’t had direct experience in designing a business from the start-up phase but knew it would be essential to ensure buy-in and commitment from the beginning. We were pleased that the vote was unanimous and that everyone was committed to the business idea. To get business ideas visit to Business blog.

    

    Taking a vote to start a business.

     

    Deciding the feasibility of a savings group was slightly more challenging as the ladies cited various barriers. Firstly, was the distance from one another and transportation costs. Savings groups require regular meetings and therefore a physical as well as a financial commitment. Relatedly, some of the ladies in the group were planning to get married soon and would move further away. A further challenge was duplication; some were already part of more than one savings group and did not feel that they would benefit from joining another one and Sarita therefore agreed that we could form a savings group on a discretionary basis. This experience highlighted the importance of ensuring consultation and transparency with every member at each step of the way, something that the ladies deeply valued moving forward.

    Selecting officials

    The next step was selecting a leadership committee. Below are some of the ladies that took on leadership roles.

    Sharada Tharu, Chairman

    

    Sharada Tharu, newest chairman of the business.

     

    Sharada was selected as chairman of the upcoming business and will be in charge of facilitating meetings, communicating work plans, allocating responsibilities and motivating the group. Many of people checks this kind of business news at Melbourne weekly eastern. The last role in particular is an ideal fit for Sharada as it was clear that the ladies heeded her advice, were fond of her and that when she spoke, she evoked respect. She is a also member of one other savings group and has had experience facilitating meetings with like-minded groups. Sharada’s husband was disappeared during the conflict and she is a strong advocate for supporting one another in all aspects, including financially.

    Sarita Thapa, Treasurer

    

    Sarita Thapa, having tea at her mother’s shop. She has been the coordinator of the embroidery workshop for the past two years and also works as an unofficial liason between families in Bardiya district, NEFAD and Truth Commissions.

     

    Sarita, also known as superwoman to some, was selected as treasurer. For the past two years, Sarita has coordinated the advocacy and tiger embroidery program by mobilizing the ladies, ensuring materials have been purchased and distributed as well as facilitating training. It was therefore fitting that she will be treasurer and in charge of purchasing and distributing materials. In addition to handling all the logistics for the embroidery workshops, Sarita and her mother, or  Ama as we called her made us feel welcome in Bardiya. She invited us to her home for dinner during our stay and at the end of each day, we had tea and donuts at Ama’s shop. Sarita’s father, Ama’s husband was arrested and disappeared during the conflict and since then, Sarita has been an activist for families of the disappeared through NEFAD and the Conflict Victims Committee (CVC) based in Bardiya. At the end of the day when all officials had been selected, she shared her sentiments of hope with the ladies in a speech, remarking that this was one of many times, they had tried to launch a business and that she was hopeful that this time around could be different; “I never thought we would be here today.”

    

    Sarita’s mum, making some tea

    Sima Tharu, Secretary

    

    Sima Tharu, gives a speech as the newest secretary.

    Sima Tharu is currently studying towards her Bachelor’s degree in Management and Statistics and having had experience facilitating other savings groups, she was selected as secretary. It was impressive to watch her immediately take on her role, taking meeting notes and making records in the ledger book. She will be in charge of all record keeping as well as ensuring transparency of the budget and other records, and is perfectly suited for the job.

     

    

    Sormila Tharu, laughter and untangling thread. She will play a role assisting Sarita with distribution of materials.

    The leadership committee are only a few of the kind and resilient ladies I met last week. The first time I heard the term ‘the economy of remembering’ was in a book by Philip Gouvernich about Rwanda and I found the term intriguing as it could mean various things. When I met the ladies in Bardiya, I thought about this phrase again. My interpretation in this context was that the ladies, brought together by their loss, and shared memories, were ready to unite towards building a business together. I was incredibly touched and inspired by their bravery and their strength to determine their future.

    The ladies chose the name Conflict Victims Cooperative Group, choosing to incorporate their identity as victims as a reminder of the loss that brought them together but also including Cooperative to highlight a foundation of cooperation, and the future they hope to secure as mutually supportive entrepreneurs. There remains a lot more work to be done to ensure the business can be successful. It will require a similar vein of patience and persistence that I saw in the bus, but laying the groundwork in Bardiya last week was an encouraging first step. Moving forward, the challenge will be to focus on production and establishing a market but also on keeping the motivation and spirits high.

    

    Please support the Bardiya Cooperative here:

    Support 40 Nepali Conflict Victims

    Your donation will go a long way towards start-up costs in the first year of business!

83. Meet Anjila Khadka, an advocate who is changing the way girls, boys, women and men understand menstruation in Nepal

    July 12, 2017 6:38 am 6 Comments

    I am constantly in awe of the people that somehow appear in my life. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting a woman who both inspires me and gives me hope that despite some of the seemingly unsurmountable challenges to securing women’s reproductive health rights in Nepal (and in the world for that matter), there are still people who are willing to try.

    

    Anjila Khadka Timalsina, President of Juneli Nepal

    Meet Anjila Khadka Timalsina, President of Juneli Nepal, an organization with the goal of creating a safe, healthy and gender equal society for girls and women in Nepal. Dr.Judith Marie Kampe, a German gynecologist, founded Juneli Nepal in April 2015 as a way of providing urgently needed relief programming to those devastated by the earthquake. Anjila took charge of Juneli Nepal in November 2015, after the organizations founder returned to Germany. Anjila contacted me after I posted in a Facebook group called “Kathmandu Expats” regarding the Global Giving campaign that I have been carrying out to raise money for Care Women Nepal. That very day we set up a meeting, and I am so happy we did!

    Anjila, age 24, spoke to me about her passion for securing women’s reproductive health rights in Nepal, particularly in Sindhupalchowk (about 4.5 hours away from Kathmandu). Anjila is currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in management, a path she thought would eventually lead her away from Nepal and towards a career abroad. Anjila explained to me that her plans changed after she became involved with earthquake relief efforts in Nepal in 2015.

    She found a new sense of connection to her country and people, and has made it her goal ever since to bolster the operations of Juneli Nepal. Particularly, Anjila recalls her experiences seeing first-hand how gender discrimination impacts all aspect of Nepali women’s lives. Said discrimination is compounded by factors such as caste, socio-economic status, and the harmful practices carried out in certain districts of Nepal. Specifically, Chhaupadi is carried out in western Nepal owing to the belief that during menstruation women are impure/polluted and therefore must live in segregation (often in unhygienic and insecure structures, sometimes with livestock so as to not ‘contaminate’ the household). Anjila made the conscious decision to dedicate her time to abolishing the taboos the perpetuate this practice in Nepal. To say I admire Anjila’s decision to work towards abolishing Chhaupadi and to take on the enormous responsibility that comes with being the President of an organization is an understatement.

    A brief introduction to Juneli Nepal

    Juneli in Nepali means moonlight. The name Juneli Nepal was thus chosen to represent the guiding force of the moon in darkness, and because in many cultures the lunar phases of the moon are a symbol of the female menstrual cycle. Ultimately, the organization acts with the mission of educating both girls and boys, women and men about women’s reproductive anatomy and menstruation to dispel harmful taboos that perpetuate practices such as Chhaupadi. Problematically, within Nepal, even though there is a chapter in the national school curriculum about women’s health, this chapter is frequently poorly taught, or completely skipped over by educators. Anjila told me that despite having attended one of the very best school’s in Kathmandu, she received no education regarding women’s health.

    The result is a society in which women are often deprived of their fundamental human rights during menstruation. I was surprised to find that education about women’s health was completely absent from government run schools, even in the capital. Anjila also explained to me that within many districts in Nepal, women are not allowed to enter the house, touch holy objects, look into a man’s eyes or eat the same food when they are menstruating. Moreover, some girls are prevented from attending school while they are menstruating by family members or because they lack menstrual products. As you might imagine, said monthly deprivations, which I believe should be called exactly what they are (human rights violations), result in long term consequences to the health and wellbeing of Nepali girls and women. Juneli Nepal, led by Anjila is working to create a future in which women’s human rights are respected in Nepal in the following ways:

    

    A Nepali woman learns to make hygienic, reusable, menstrual pads

    Sexual and reproductive health workshops: To date, Juneli Nepal has carried out 18 workshops for thousands of boys, girls and women. Workshops provide information about health, common diseases, hygiene, female anatomy, menstruation and women’s rights. You can read more about the transformative impact of Juneli Nepal here. While ultimately much of the information that Juneli Nepal provides to communities should be taught by the educational system, it isn’t. Juneli Nepal addresses this gap, empowering women by giving them knowledge about the natural processes that occur within the female body. During workshops, women are also taught to sew and provided with fabric and materials to create reusable menstrual pads with the goal of decreasing the time that girls are unable to attend school. Importantly, Juneli Nepal also teaches boys about menstruation, encouraging them to support their mothers, sisters and classmates. Workshops are led by Anjila and a team of volunteers which she calls upon to help her carry out Juneli Nepal’s mission of dispelling taboos about menstruation in Nepal and providing women access to hygienic, reusable menstrual products.

    VIA/ Uterine prolapse screening: VIA stands for “visual Inspection with Acetic acid”. In many developing countries and in areas with few financial resources, cervical cancer screening does not occur. VIA tests allow doctors to directly see lesions and other changes in the cervix that enable them to diagnose, prevent and treat cervical cancer. Anjila is looking to expand Juneli Nepal’s operations by organizing more camps in rural areas of Nepal to screen for cervical cancer and other prevalent reproductive health afflictions such as uterine prolapse.

    Juneli Nepal has already done VIA test camp in fulbari village of Kavre District which benefited 329 women. Among them, 12 were identified as having uterine prolapse.

    Currently Juneli Nepal is operating using funds raised by the sale of ethically sourced scarves (made by women in Nepal) that are being sold by women in Germany and the Netherlands.  Moving forward, Anjila is seeking long term funding to expand and bolster Juneli Nepal’s ability to empower women in Nepal and dispel myths about menstruation. Despite already having changed the lives of many women in Nepal, Anjila remains humble and focused. She told me that while writing this blog, I should focus on the women that Juneli Nepal is seeking to empower, because there “will always be so much more to do”. While this is true, I want to recognize Anjila and her work as a reminder of the huge impact that an individual can have on their community. Realizing women’s reproductive health rights in Nepal won’t be accomplished overnight (and certainly not over the course of my fellowship), but advocates like Anjila have shown me that with enough passion and continual effort, substantial positive change is possible!

     You can read more about Anjila’s work at http://junelinepal.com, or donate to her organization here.

     

84. We need YOUR help

    July 9, 2017 6:59 am 8 Comments

    I’ve been in Nepal for over a month now. I’m half way of this amazing experience…I cannot believe it! Time flies when you are doing something you love and you are committed to.

    This week I did a lot of office work, since most of the schools are closed for holidays. That means that we were not able to interview any kid, teacher or parent as most of the interviews are usually held in the school premises. But it gave me time to reflect on what I have accomplished so far and what yet needs to be done.

    

    Prakash, Manita and Sundar working hard!

    One of the main things on my work plan for this summer is to support CONCERN in their efforts to securing funding to continue with their project. And that is what this blog post is about.

    The NGO world is, to say the least, complicated. And this is particularly true in a country like Nepal, where the number of NGOs is growing rapidly (particularly after the 2015 earthquake). As of 2017, there were approximately 15,000 NGOs operating in Nepal (although less than half of them are recognized by the Government), a country of not even 30 million people. Some people call the NGO world a “parallel state”, with organizations working in different areas like health, education and agriculture.

    Having so many NGOs adds pressure to an industry that relies on donations to survive. On the one side, the outstanding number of NGOs means that there is a lot of competition for the limited funds. On the other side, it means that donors most of the time have a hard time distinguishing “good” NGOs – meaning real, established ones which are transparent and accountable for their actions – from “bad” ones.

    CONCERN has been able to navigate this complicated scheme on its more than 20 years working in Nepal. CONCERN has been established in 1994, and has maintained a legal NGO status with the Nepali Social Welfare Council since then. CONCERN has also had as partners recognized international organizations like the International Labour Organization, Unicef and Save the Children.

    But something that always helped CONCERN to keep going is the support of the local and international community. Regular people like you and me, who want to help fight the problem of child labor and many times don’t know exactly how. People who are committed to the cause of children’s rights, and find in CONCERN a partner to take care of advocating for those children whose voice is not being heard.

    As I said in my last blog post, there are always two sides of every story. The fact that children work in Nepal has to do with problems that are beyond the scope of the activities and advocacy of one particular NGO. The long-term solution involves different actors trying to promote income-generating activities for low-income families so that they don’t need children to work in order to meet their basic needs. However, there are still things we can do in the short-term, to help those kids that are working in hazardous conditions and are out of school TODAY. Supporting NGOs like CONCERN is a way to help mitigate the problem of child labor.

    CONCERN knows their program cannot solve the overall issue of child labor in Nepal. But they are committed to help kids living in brick factories today to have hope and a better future than those of their parents. CONCERN is aware that education access is the way to equalize opportunities, and the way to allow upward mobility in a society where most of the times your life is determined by the family you are born into. Supporting working children during the academic year so they can attend school is the way CONCERN is helping. And you can be part of that!

    

    Charlie and I are also happy to be working at the office!

    We need your help. Small donations are part of the way to keep this program running. We have started a campaign in Global Giving where we are seeking funds to guarantee a year of education and labor free for 50 vulnerable children. The children I’ve been visiting so far and whose stories I’ve been posting about. $140 is enough to cover the education expenses of one child for a year – but every dollar counts towards the final objective. On July 12 Global Giving will match funds by 50%…so mark your calendars!

    This is the way you can be part of CONCERN and make sure these children can have a better future. We know we can count on you!

    Donate today! 

85. Meet the Care Women Nepal team!

    6:39 am 3 Comments

    Indira Thapa: President & Founder

    

    Indira Thapa, Founder and President of Care Women Nepal

    Indira Thapa, from Muga, Dhankuta, Nepal, founded Care Women Nepal in 1998 out of a desire to serve the women of her community. Since then, Indira has worked tirelessly to advocate for the rights of women in Nepal by hosting health camps, providing emergency relief and carrying out water and sanitation projects in Dhankuta. Indira is driven by her memories of witnessing the death of women in her village during child birth because of a lack of access to reproductive health services. Indira is looking forward to expanding the operations of CWN by constructing a new office in Pakhribas to better serve the women of her community.

    Yunesh Pratap Singh: Program Manager

    Yunesh Pratap Singh has been working with Care Women Nepal in various capacities since 2012, and is looking forward to taking on a larger role within the organization as CWN’s program manager. Yunesh has obtained a Bachelors of Commerce from the Shriram College of Commerce at the University of Delhi in Delhi, and a Masters in International Relations and Diplomacy from Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu. In his spare time, Yunesh enjoys reading the news and playing cricket.

    

    Yunesh Pratap Singh, CWN Program Manager

    Throughout his studies, Yunesh has been involved in the planning and execution of numerous health camps with CWN and various organizations who have partnered with his universities. Yunesh’s work with CWN began out of a desire to learn more about the plight of women in Nepal to access health services.Yunesh feels grateful to have had the opportunity to pursue educational opportunities that have broadened his understanding of economic, social and cultural rights globally, but also to have had the ability to work towards local solutions to local problems. Specifically, Yunesh believes that the work he has done assisting in the execution of Care Women Nepal health camps has exposed him to the real-world consequences of a lack of equitable social programming. Yunesh believes that the consequences of a failure to respect, protect and fulfill women’s reproductive  health rights in Nepal are readily “there for all to see” in the form of  the “deprivation of Nepali women’s ability to achieve what they otherwise could have in their lives.” Moving forward, Yunesh is looking  to bolster CWN’s grassroots, hands on approach to advocacy, and working towards a Nepal in which vital social programming such as health and education is indiscriminately available to all persons.

    Dinesh Thapa: Construction Manager

    

    Dinesh Thapa, CWN Construction Manager

    Dinesh Thapa recently joined the Care Women Nepal team as an associate and construction manager. Dinesh considers himself to be an entrepreneur and jack of all trades, who is not only ready to assist with the planning and execution of CWN led health camps and surgeries, but also to lead the construction of CWN’s new office in Pakhribas. Dinesh has an entrepreneurial spirit and experience managing teams. Dinesh is looking forward to putting the skills that has developed throughout his career thus far towards advocating for the health rights of women in Dhankuta.

    Kamana Pradhan: Lead Volunteer 

    

    Kamana Pradhan, CWN Lead Volunteer

    Kamana Pradhan is a mother and women’s health advocate in Dhankuta, Nepal who has volunteered at many of CWN’s past health camps. Kamana believes that CWN’s health camps have an essential role to play in addressing the high prevalence of uterine prolapse in Dhankuta. As a mother herself, Kamana feels a responsibility to advocate for the reproductive health rights of women in her community. Like Indira, she has also witnessed the death of women in Dhankuta owing to an inability to access reproductive health services. Kamana is looking forward to taking on a leadership role during CWN’s next health camp to be held in October 2017.

86. A Path Forward for Duong Thi An

    July 7, 2017 6:21 am 4 Comments

    

    From left to right: Duong Thi An, her daughter Hoa, and her son Huong.

    Duong Thi An lives with two of her children in a village in Le Thuy district, located near the Pacific coast around an hour’s drive south of Dong Hoi. A rural area, the district is perhaps best known for producing Vo Nguyen Giap, a celebrated North Vietnamese general during the country’s wars with France and the United States. Mrs. An’s modest wooden house lies on a dirt road, with a pond visible on the other side. The occasional motorcycle or bicycle passes by as we speak with Mrs. An, but overall the neighborhood is quiet; once again I’m joined by Mr. Thuan the outreach worker, my translator Ngoc and our AP associate Dat for this visit.

    As we sit down with Mrs. An in her living room, we’re joined by her son Huong and her daughter Hoa, adults who still require their mother’s care due to the effects of Agent Orange. Mrs. An herself is in her sixties and seems melancholy and withdrawn—she speaks in a quiet voice I might struggle to follow even if I understood Vietnamese. It takes her a few minutes to respond to my first question about her first experience with Agent Orange, and as I wait for the translation I look around the living room; it’s dark and fairly spartan, with a prominently displayed certificate honoring the military service of Mrs. An’s late husband, Le Quoc Hung.

    

    From left: Mrs. Duong Thi An, Hoa, and Huong in their living room.

    Mrs. An tells me that her first exposure to Agent Orange occurred when her son Hoi, the first of three children, was born in 1976. Hoi’s father, Mrs. An’s husband Le Quoc Hung, had served in the North Vietnamese military during the American War and was exposed to Agent Orange in the late 1960s, while stationed in the forest around what was then the border between North and South Vietnam. As a result, Hoi was born with limited mental capacity, but he grew up to be functional enough to marry and start his own family; he now lives nearby, but a couple of his children scamper around the house during our talk. At one point, one of Hoi’s daughters brings another kid to gawk at the strange visitors—they peek at us over the fence as we continue our conversation.

    Mrs. An and Mr. Hung would have two more children before Mr. Hung’s death in 1981. The first, Huong (now 38), was born normal, but at age 9 his eyesight suddenly began to weaken, forcing doctors to remove his right eye. The youngest child and only daughter, Hoa (now 35) was born with Down syndrome, and has never been able to go to school or grow into a functional adult. Mrs. An says that Hoa can only do simple household chores, but Huong was able to get a job as a masseur at a nearby massage parlor. However, his eyesight has been getting progressively worse since 2012 when he developed a detached retina in his remaining eye, forcing him to stop working.

    

    Mrs. An’s children, Hoa and Huong.

    Huong tells me that he can now only see “big things”; his left eye functions at around 10% of normal sight. He’s had four operations in the last five years to prevent from going blind, which has been a major expense for the family, but the retina becomes more easily broken after each reattachment, and Huong’s has since become detached again. He and his mother are hopeful that another operation could stabilize his vision, but the cost is more than they can afford. Mrs. An has a small farm where she raises rice, sweet potatoes and other vegetables, and she also raises, pigs, chickens, ducks and geese, but she tells me that the family has still struggled to make ends meet. There have been periods where Mrs. An’s family hasn’t had enough to eat, which is particularly damaging for Hoa; without nourishment she can suffer serious fevers.

    The solution we’ve developed with Mrs. An’s help is to buy her family a buffalo, which Hoi and Huong will care for together. Mrs. An hopes to breed the buffalo and produce a calf that she can raise and sell—she can also use the buffalo for farm work, to generate fertilizer, and to rent out to other farmers in her area. Mrs. An seems dispirited for much of our visit, but she is noticeably optimistic about the possibility of improving her family’s status with a buffalo. She’s owned a buffalo in the past, she says, but had to sell it to pay for treatment for Huong; breeding her buffalo will allow her to build a more sustainable income, which she will use to buy much-needed food and medicine for Huong and Hoa.

    Mrs. An’s longer-term goal, she says, is a surgical procedure for Huong that could stop the decline of his vision. But this would involve a trip to the eye hospital in Hanoi (over 300 miles away) and a long-term stay so that doctors can monitor him; it would end up costing 50 to 70 million Vietnamese dong (around $2200 to $3000), which even with the buffalo is too much for them to afford. Mrs. An says that selling the calf, and possibly breeding the buffalo again, would help her eventually save enough money to afford the surgery for Huong. I ask Huong if there’s a deadline for the surgery, and he responds that he isn’t sure—but sooner would surely be better, while he still has eyesight left to preserve.

    Dat will eventually talk with me about some of the nuances of this part of the conversation that don’t get translated. As he will report, Mrs. An says that she’s offered to give Huong one of her own eyes in order to repair his sight, only to be told by doctors that this wasn’t possible. She then quotes a proverb that Dat has difficulty translating, but summarizes by saying that when you have a goal and there’s a 99% chance of failure, that still leaves a 1% chance of success. In other words, as long as there’s any chance at all of improving her children’s lives, she’ll sacrifice anything for them.

    When Huong’s eyes began to fail at age 9, Mrs. An recalls, she had to carry her son into the hospital and up a long flight of stairs for his operation. Thinking about this now, Mrs. An despairs. She wondered then, and wonders now, why none of her children were spared from the effects of the poison.

    I ask about Hoa and whether there’s anything that can be done for her—Mrs. An tells me that there is no cure for her condition, but that medicine can at least make her life more bearable, and a buffalo would bring in the income necessary to buy the medicine Hoa needs. At this point, Huong adds that his ultimate dream, assuming he can retain some of his sight, is to open his own massage parlor and use his training to support himself and his family. This is well out of reach for them even with the buffalo, though, and medicine for Hoa and surgery for Huong is a much more immediate priority. Ngoc adds that this may eventually be something AEPD could help with, however.

    

    Mrs. An feeding her birds.

    At this point we all go outside to look at the animals Mrs. An has now. Next to the house is a wooden barn, which will be the home of the buffalo once it’s purchased, and the backyard includes a pond where dozens of ducks and geese live. It’s feeding time, and Mrs. An gently calls the birds to her. As she scatters food for them to eat, she tells me that her larger fear is that nobody will be able to take care of her children when she’s too old to provide for them, and that she hopes someone can help her find a place for them after she dies. I can only tell her we’ll do our best, and that I hope we can raise the money for her new buffalo soon.

     

87. Meet Sobha Magar and Pancha Maya Tamang

    July 5, 2017 9:18 am 3 Comments

    A day in the life of a woman in Nepal looks very different from yours or mine. When you and I are peacefully slumbering at 5am, dreaming of the latte that we will pick up on our way to work, or a deadline that is fast approaching, a woman in Nepal has already risen before sunrise to begin her daily tasks. What might these tasks look like? According to Dr. Elizabeth Enslin who has researched the lives of women in Nepal, they may involve milking buffaloes, heating milk, skimming off the cream from the milk, churning butter, making tea, popping corn, sweeping, picking stones from rice and lentils, cutting vegetables, hand grinding spices, cooking the morning meal, washing dishes at the water pump, laundering clothes, weeding vegetable beds, repairing earthen plasters, caring for children, walking long distances to cut and hall grass for livestock (and then carrying the grass back home on their back), cooking lunch, mending family clothes, feeding the buffaloes, shelling peas, cleaning kerosene lanterns, harvesting vegetables, cooking the evening meal, washing the dishes, sweeping and putting children to bed. And this is just the beginning…

    The women of Pakhribas municipality explained to me that every day they must start work at 4 or 5am. Since Pakhribas is a farming community, many women experienced a double work burden, carrying out the tasks mentioned above while also having to spend most of their day ploughing fields and cutting/carrying large loads of grass on their back to feed livestock. While men help with work in the field, when it comes to the household responsibilities, women work alone, without support from husbands, brothers or fathers. The women on Pakhribas explained that they face pressure from family members to complete arduous tasks in the field and in the household daily, regardless of their health status. For the women of Nepal, there is no option of taking a “sick day” without serious familial repercussions.

    

    Sobha Magar reflects on the past year spent living with uterine prolapse

    Sobha Magar, age 27, recalls how 1.5 years ago her life was significantly changed by the development of uterine prolapse. While her first and only pregnancy was without complication, she later started to feel her uterus slipping from her body when she lifted heavy loads, squatted to prepare food/ wash clothing etc. Sobha initially concealed her prolapse as she was living with her husband’s family. She sought care in private from an NGO working in the area, but was only given ointment that did little to address her suffering. Sobha has lived with pain and fear every day since developing prolapse. She fears that the next time she picks up a heavy load, her uterus may fall out of her body. She fears that if she reduces her workload, she will be rejected by her family. She fears that if she were to undergo surgical intervention to treat her condition, she may develop other serious health conditions such as cancer.

    Today, Sobha is living alone with her daughter while her husband works abroad. She is unable to live with her in laws because of the impact that uterine prolapse has on her life. She fears that if she were to continue to live with her husband’s family, they may treat her poorly because she is unable to work as much as she once did. Sobha feels rejected and alienated because of uterine prolapse, and lost in terms of the next steps she can take to improve her well-being. After we spoke, Sobha began to ask me a plethora of medical questions about her condition. I was unable to provide many answers because I don’t have medical background. A CWN health camp would provide Sobha both with the answers she is seeking, and medical treatment that would significantly improve all aspects of her life.

    

    Pancha Maya Tamang is hopeful about the future despite the challenges that she faces

    Pancha Maya Tamang has been experiencing severe uterine prolapse for the past 2 years. The condition developed after she terminated a pregnancy and has significantly impacted her daily activities. Pancha Maya has 3 children, and has experienced problems managing daily work in the field and household tasks after the onset of prolapse. While working, Pancha Maya is always on guard, fearing that her uterus may fall. Thankfully, Pancha Maya’s husband and family members are supportive of her condition and understanding of the challenges of accomplishing daily tasks while suffering from uterine prolapse. Pancha Maya is looking forward to CWN’s next health camp in her municipality, and hopeful that the care she receives may enable her to regain her ability to work, and her overall well-being.

    For many of the women of living in Pakhribas, Dhankuta, the next CWN health camp will provide them with the knowledge and care necessary to regain their health, economic and social well-being. 

88. Le Thanh Duc and Ho Thi Hong: An Uncertain Future

    12:40 am 5 Comments

    

    Le Thanh Duc, with his daughters Phuong (left) and No (right) in the background.

    This is the last of a three-part series. Part 1 can be found here and part 2 can be found here.

    The village where Le Thanh Duc’s family lives is around 15 miles north of Dong Hoi, nestled among sand dunes near the Pacific coast. In the wake of our harrowing visit to Pham Thi Do, Mr. Duc’s warm, cheerful greeting as we arrive feels a bit jarring. That feeling only increases when we see what awaits us inside the house.

    Mr. Duc’s house is fairly large, and we once again sit at a table in the foyer. As soon as we enter, I see two girls sprawled on a bed in a room to my right—these are Mr. Duc’s children, Phuong and No. Both are paralyzed and unable to speak or move; they make groaning sounds throughout our visit, which their parents can apparently understand. Another paralyzed girl, Lanh, lies on a bed in her own room to my left. Phuong and No, in particular, don’t look comfortable—their gasps put me in mind of fish out of water.

    In addition to Mr. Duc, we’re joined by his wife, Ho Thi Hong (who looks frail and says little) and the president of the local branch of the Vietnam Association of Victims of Agent Orange/Dioxin (VAVA). Mr. Duc (as described here) was contaminated while serving in the military after the American War, during a cleanup operation at Da Nang Airport; he would later suffer from fevers and other ailments linked to Agent Orange, and the first three of his six children were born with disabilities, as we can see. I’m startled to realize at this point that the three daughters, who I would have assumed to be in their teens, are all well into adulthood—Phuong is 34, No is 31 and Lanh is 25. Whatever ailment has caused their paralysis has also kept them from growing into adults.

    

    Mr. Duc with some of his chickens.

    Mr. Duc had previously gotten a loan from AEPD to start a fish sauce business, but that business collapsed last year after a mass die-off of fish in nearby waters, believed to be the result of contamination from a steel plant. Undaunted, Mr. Duc, with the support of AP donors, bought three pigs and 80 chickens to raise in an enclosure behind his house. Mr. Duc tells us that a decline in the pork market forced him to sell his pigs, but that he still made a profit of 4 million Vietnamese dong (around $175), which Ngoc tells me is a respectable amount. He’s still raising his chickens, and has made another 4 million dong in net profit from them in the past few months; if the pork market improves, Mr. Duc says, he may buy more pigs to raise. Having a variety of animals is “very useful” for making money, he says.

    

    Mr. Duc’s daughter Lanh.

    Mr. Duc seems optimistic about his business, but the tone of our conversation shifts as the subject turns to his children. Phuong, No, and Lanh are getting “worse and worse,” Mr. Duc says, and due to his wife’s weakness he’s the only one who can properly care for them and “release their pain.” The children are now unable to leave their beds. In the past he’s taken them to doctors, Mr. Duc says, but “no one can help them.” Lanh, I learn, can actually use a smartphone to send basic text messages to make her needs known, and can use it to browse social media, watch movies, and otherwise keep herself occupied. Unlike her sisters, Lanh was able to go to school until she was 9 and is thus able to read and write. Phuong and No can understand speech to some extent, but cannot communicate outside of the groans we hear.

    At this point I ask about the health of Mr. Duc and Mrs. Hong, and Mr. Duc tells me that they’ve had “many difficulties.” It’s getting harder and harder to care for his daughters as he ages, he says, and he fears what will happen when he’s no longer able to keep up with them. Mr. Duc has three healthy children, and he’s hoping they can care for their sisters after he dies, but that’s only a hope—they have their own families to care for as well. “He’s very sad when he thinks about the future,” Dat tells me.

    

    Mr. Duc’s daughters Phuong (on the left) and No (on the right).

    Throughout our conversation a few children, presumably healthy grandchildren of Mr. Duc and Mrs. Hong, run around the house, their hyperactive energy contrasting with the mood of the visit. I see one of them jump on the bed where Phuong and No, his paralyzed aunts, lie, before getting bored and heading off somewhere else.

    Despite his anxiety about the future, Mr. Duc says he’s hopeful about expanding his business; he’d like support in opening a grocery store to bring in more income, leading to more savings. He had wanted to open a grocery store before instead of raising animals, he says, but even with AEPD support the amount of capital needed was too great. In the meantime, he’s doing well raising chickens, and gets support from AEPD, VAVA and other organizations; he is active in one of AEPD’s local self-help groups for disabled people. The government has helped some, he says, but government support can only go so far—there are many Agent Orange aid recipients in this region, and a limited amount of aid to give them.

    His “last wish,” Mr. Duc says, is to start a savings account, possibly with outside help, and raise money to ensure that his children are cared for after he dies or becomes too frail to carry on. With enough money, Mr. Duc could either hire a caretaker to look after his daughters or send them to the mental hospital currently under construction in Dong Hoi, where they could be treated by professionals. But he would still have to pay for their upkeep in the hospital, so it’s uncertain how realistic that option is. In the meantime, I tell Mr. Duc that we’ll do what we can to support his family and his new livelihood.

89. Pham Thi Do and Nguyen Van Xoan: A Family Forced Apart

    12:25 am 336 Comments

    

    Pham Thi Do caring for her daughter Luyen, who is afflicted with cerebral palsy.

    This is part 2 of a three-part series. Part 1 can be found here and part 3 can be found here.

    While reading our previous posts about this family, I’d been particularly intrigued by their son Toan, who developed a talent for making handicrafts and models despite losing the use of his legs at an early age; he’s converted part of the family’s home into an artist’s studio and has sold some of his work through AEPD. I was disappointed to learn from Mr. Thuan, on the way to meet the family, that we wouldn’t be able to meet Toan on this trip. My disappointment soon turned to horror as I learned more about the family’s current situation, possibly the worst of any family I’ve met so far.

    Pham Thi Do and her husband Nguyen Van Xoan live around 15 minutes north of Dong Hoi, in a rural village—their home is larger than those in the city. The house appears empty as we arrive in the front yard, but Mr. Thuan walks over to a wooden bed next to the wall, and I’m startled to see the family’s daughter, Luyen, lying inert on a mat. Flies buzz on and around her body while a dog rests underneath the bed. Luyen is afflicted with cerebral palsy, and when Mr. Thuan speaks to her she stirs and sits upright slowly, with obvious difficulty. She can’t speak but seems glad to see Mr. Thuan, who stands with her for a few minutes until Mrs. Do arrives to invite us inside her home. The living room features large portraits of their two older (healthy) children at their weddings, certificates honoring Mr. Xoan’s military service, and commemorative plates bearing the likenesses of Ho Chi Minh and American War-era military leader Vo Nguyen Giap. Clearly Mr. Xoan is proud to have fought in the American War, in spite of all the pain that would come after.

    

    A certificate recognizing Mr. Xoan’s military service, displayed proudly in his home.

    Normally, this house would have five inhabitants: Mr. Xoan, Mrs. Do, Luyen, Toan, and Toan’s older brother Trung (who has difficulty walking). But for almost 6 months Mrs. Do and Luyen have lived by themselves. Toan, a hemophiliac, had a “shock” earlier this year—I don’t press for details about this but I gather it involved serious internal bleeding—and needed to be hospitalized in Hue, the nearest big city (around three hours away by car). Toan used to go to Hue every month for treatment, at great expense, but since his shock he’s gotten “worse and worse,” Mrs. Do says. Coming to the hospital from so far away is no longer feasible for him, and the family’s health insurance wouldn’t pay for a hospital stay longer than 10 days.

    With no other option to prevent his son from getting even worse, Mr. Xoan has rented a room in Hue, where he and Trung now live full-time and care for Toan. By being close to the hospital, Toan can remain under observation and get the treatment he needs even without staying in the hospital full-time. But this means that Mrs. Do, now the family’s primary breadwinner, must care for her daughter alone as well as keeping up the household in her husband’s absence.

    Mrs. Do tells me that one of the few bright spots for her this year has been her buffalo, bought with funds from AP donors last summer. The buffalo is in good health, and she’s used it for farming—much of her yard is taken up by okra plants. Her cousins and other neighbors have done what they can for her, helping with chores and with caring for Luyen, and she’s gotten help with money from the community and from organizations like the Red Cross, the Vietnam Association of Victims of Agent Orange/Dioxin (VAVA), and the Women’s Union. Still, this is a very difficult time for Mrs. Do, and I can tell everyone in our party is as touched as I am by what this family is going through.

    

    Pham Thi Do in her living room. She currently lives alone with her daughter Luyen.

    Mrs. Do tells me that she’s in daily contact with Mr. Xoan by phone for updates on Toan’s condition, but she cannot visit Hue herself—that would mean leaving Luyen behind since she cannot travel. I ask Mrs. Do (delicately, I hope) if she sees a chance of Toan getting well enough to come home. “I’m not sure,” she responds; even if he were able to come home, he’d need to be in the hospital a lot, and traveling to Hue is time-consuming and expensive. Though none of us say so outright, her description implies that she may never get to see her son again.

    The hot weather makes Luyen more “violent,” Mrs. Do says, but otherwise her condition is unchanged, and there’s not much that can be done for her except constant care and medication. Mrs. Do hopes to eventually move Luyen to the mental hospital currently under construction in Dong Hoi, where she can be cared for by professionals. “Does she have any understanding of what’s happening to her brother?” I ask. “Not at all,” Mrs. Do says.

    Mrs. Do takes us to visit the buffalo in a nearby barn, where we’re joined by an officer from VAVA. The buffalo is due to give birth in July, and she asks me for AP permission to sell the calf—I respond that she doesn’t need permission, since the buffalo belongs to her. I resolve to think about any more ways AP could support her, though none of the problems she faces have easy solutions.

    As we leave, Dat repeats something Mrs. Do said that wasn’t translated during our conversation but which obviously moved Dat: “Possessions cannot make humans, but humans can make possessions.” In spite of the hardships she’s already endured, Dat explains, Mrs. Do would give up all she has for her children.

90. Le Van Dung and Dan Thi Miet: A Race Against Time

    12:11 am 233 Comments

    This is part 1 of a three-part series. Part 2 can be found here and part 3 can be found here.

    Last Friday I had the privilege of meeting three more of the Advocacy Project’s beneficiary families here in Quang Binh Province, families that have been ravaged by the effects of Agent Orange. With AEPD outreach worker Mr. Thuan, staff member Ngoc and AP associate Dat, I headed out to meet the families of Le Van Dung, Pham Thi Do, and Le Thanh Duc.

    These are all families that have already received funding through the generosity of AP’s donors, and I’m mainly visiting to check up on how everyone is doing and how the businesses that AP has helped them start are faring. However, I would soon be reminded that AP’s support, while welcome, is no shield against misfortune.

    

    Mr. Dung with his cow and calf, funded by AP donors.

     

    Le Van Dung and his family live in a neighborhood on the outskirts of Dong Hoi, the provincial capital where AEPD is based, so it only takes us around 10 minutes to reach him. Mr. Dung and his wife, Dan Thi Miet, live in a house typical of the area—it has several rooms and a front courtyard. We sit down with Mr. Dung in the foyer/living room of his house; Mrs. Miet also joins us, but Mr. Dung does most of the talking, a pattern I’ve seen in other families here.

    As explained in greater detail here, Mr. Dung and Mrs. Miet both served in the North Vietnamese military during the American War, with Mr. Dung seeing active combat. While fighting in Quang Tri Province, close to the border between North and South Vietnam, US forces sprayed the dense jungle sheltering his unit with Agent Orange, exposing them to the poison. Mr. Dung and Mrs. Miet attempted to build a family after the war ended, but tragedy haunted them as 12 of their 13 children died in infancy. Their surviving daughter Thuy (who lives elsewhere in the city) and Thuy’s daughter Thao have experienced illness linked to Agent Orange.

    Mr. Dung bought a cow and calf with AP funding earlier this year, and he tells me that not much has changed since then—both are developing “very well.” He’s had to work a bit harder to take care of the animals and plant grass for them to eat, but it’s “not too hard,” and the additional income is well worth it. Mr. Dung can’t have a full-scale farm in the city, so instead he hopes to raise and sell the calf, breed the cow again, and use the cow’s manure to fertilize the plants he does have.

    Last year we’d planned to buy him a cow and a sugar cane press, which he could use to produce sugary drinks to sell from his home, and I ask him why he changed his request. Mr. Dung says that he wanted to earn money from a new source, and that he believed a calf would allow him to earn more money more quickly. Since his home is on a side street, Ngoc says, it’s not a good location for selling drinks. Mr. Dung says he’s still hoping to get a cane press for his daughter Thuy (who sometimes suffers from headaches and depression but is otherwise healthy) so she can open a business of her own, but his own health is fragile enough that he doesn’t want to create more work for himself right now. Mr. Dung tells me that Agent Orange has contributed to the worsening of his health—he’s developed a “heart condition” (Ngoc clarifies that this is not a heart attack) in the last year and now relies on medicine to keep going. He shows us some of the medications he takes—it seems like a lot for one man.

    The couple’s granddaughter, Thao, lived with them during our last visit, but Mr. Dung says she’s living with her mother now. They’d previously taken in their nephew Duc, son of Mr. Dung’s late brother, who also suffers from Agent Orange poisoning and is confined to a wheelchair—since the spring, however, Duc has lived with his own mother. Now it’s just Mr. Dung, Mrs. Miet, and their other granddaughter Nan living here; Nan is with other relatives for the summer holidays, so we don’t get to meet her.

    Thao’s eyesight is slowly deteriorating, and Mr. Dung tells me that hasn’t changed since our last visit. Mr. Dung took Thao to see a doctor in Hanoi, who said that Thao can undergo surgery when she turns 18 (she’s 9 now) to try to reverse these effects, but it’s possible that by the time she’s old enough for the procedure her eyesight might be totally gone. Mr. Dung and Mrs. Miet are hoping that Thao’s sight will last another nine years, but Mr. Dung says it’s not entirely certain the surgery will work even if that happens. Nan, meanwhile, has developed kidney disease in the last few years (she’s 14), which they are treating with traditional remedies; it’s unclear whether this has any connection with Agent Orange.

    After I take photos of the couple and the house, we leave and travel around a quarter-mile to a large collective farm field to see the cow and calf. While traversing the field we see—and hear—a passenger jet passing overhead; this neighborhood is very close to the Dong Hoi Airport. Dat later informs me that Mr. Dung complained of gasoline fumes from the airport, and of airplane noise disturbing the family’s sleep. They’ve complained to the local government, but there’s little to be done.

    We see the cow and calf, who indeed look healthy as they graze peacefully in the field next to a large rice paddy. As we prepare to leave, Ngoc tells me that this is the last collective rice field in Dong Hoi, and that there are plans to develop the area to accommodate the growing city. “If they get rid of these fields,” I ask, “what happens to the animals?” She shrugs.

91. Peace signs and ‘duck faces’ are universal, illness is universal, access to care is not

    July 4, 2017 9:47 am 1 Comment

    

    Community members wait for the CWN health camp planning meeting to start

    Yesterday I had my first taste of what one might consider “fieldwork” in the most literal sense of the term. Indira, Yunesh and myself set off from Dhankuta after breakfast to a nearby municipality  called Pakhribas. To get there, we first had to do a bit of good ol’ fashioned 4X4ing through the deep mud that for many living in the area makes up an unavoidable part of their daily commute. Along the way, we picked up a few people who were walking along the roads and transported them to their destinations – this is one aspect of Nepali culture that I love, everyone is family! If you are hungry, Nepali people will feed you, if you are thirsty they will bring you tea. When they can make your day a bit easier by giving you a ride to work, they will! Men and women in Nepal even refer to each other using familial nicknames such as Diddi (older sister), Dai (older brother), Bai (younger brother) and Bahini (younger sister).

    Once having arrived in Pakhribas, we sat down for a meeting with community members to assess the feasibility of carrying out CWN’s next health camp (to be held in October 2017) within the municipality. At the meeting, approximately 50 people (men and women alike) came to share testimony and discuss the need for a CWN health camp within their community. I learned from an open dialogue with those in attendance that Parkhribas is a close-knit Buddhist farming community, which experiences high rates of uterine prolapse and reproductive afflictions owing to a variety of factors. Community members estimated that between 15-20% of women within the community suffer from uterine prolapse at various stages of severity. This number is likely higher as many women conceal their condition.

    

    Pramila Tamang advocates for health rights in her community

    Pramila Tamang was the first individual to testify passionately about the prevalence of uterine prolapse in Pakhribas. She spoke to some of barriers that women face in accessing reproductive health care. Specifically, she highlighted how women in Pakhbribas must travel long distances and pay out of pocket if they are to access health care. For many women, these barriers are insurmountable, reinforcing the importance of health camps as a way of bringing vital health services to the women who need them most. Many community members in attendance at the CWN meeting expressed the need for a birthing center that would enable women to have access to prenatal care and trained health professionals during birth. Currently, while some women from Pakhribas are able to travel to Dharan, Nepal, in order to give birth, very few are able to regularly access prenatal care. Many women also lack access to skilled birth attendants, instead giving birth in their home. Members of the community of Pakhribas spoke  about women who have delivered children alone and died during childbirth because of blood loss.

    Significantly, maternal mortality is almost entirely preventable with access to appropriate, quality health services, yet everyday, 830 women lose their lives, 99% of whom live in the Global South (WHO, 2015). This disparity reflects a failure on the part of the international community and individual states to ensure equitable access to basic, life saving health services, regardless of sex. Rebecca Cook (2001) accurately describes this failure as “one of the greatest social injustices of our times”. Given that maternal mortality is almost entirely preventable via the provision of cost effective interventions (Cook, 2001), there is no acceptable justification for inaction with regards to the reduction of maternal mortality, either on the part of developing states or the international community. It is crucial that cooperation be galvanized between states, CBO’s and the individuals whose lives are impacted by maternal mortality and other reproductive afflictions such as uterine prolapse in order to ensure women have access to basic reproductive health services. A failure to do so will undoubtedly result in hundreds of thousands of preventable maternal deaths, and unnecessary suffering (WHO, 2015). Care Women Nepal is leading the way towards the creation of a future in which the women of Dhankuta have access to reproductive health services and do not succumb to social injustice.

    

    Women in the municipality of Pakhribas speaking to the prevalence and causes of uterine prolapse within the district of Dhankuta

    The next woman who spoke at the meeting highlighted that many women within her municipality have been suffering with prolapse for years either because their family members do not take their complaints seriously (or worse – they fear abandonment by their family if the reproductive afflictions they are experiencing are discovered), they are unaware of treatments available, or they have been told that treating uterine prolapse will result in cancer. Upon hearing this testimony, I asked the women to raise their hand to determine how many women believed that treating prolapse could result in other serious illnesses and many of the women in the room raised their hand. I then followed up by asking the women about the education that they had received about reproductive health. Unsurprisingly, women in rural Nepal, and the women of Pakhribas receive no education about reproductive health, other than that they gain from their own personal experiences or from that of others. Importantly, this led me to the realization that the barriers that women in rural Nepal face are much greater than physical, they are exasperated by a lack of education about women’s reproductive health. For me, this testimony reinforced the need for CWN and other CBO’s to adopt a holistic approach to health advocacy. I believe that CWN does this by proceeding health camps by outreach campaigns that provide education and raise awareness about women’s reproductive health issues.

    

    Indira works tirelessly to secure health services for the women of Dhankuta

    In some ways, during this meeting I felt disheartened that I could not do more for these women beyond hearing their stories and working to strengthen the operations of CWN. Many of the women were under the impression that I was some sort of health care professional who could provide advice about very personal matters, such as if it was O.K. to engage in intercourse while experiencing uterine prolapse. Importantly, the women of Pakhribas are strong advocates, ready to take their reproductive health into their own hands, if only someone would provide them with the knowledge, support and proximity to health services that they so desperately need. I believe that CWN’s upcoming health camp is a good step in that direction. CWN has also began construction on another CWN office within the municipality that will hopefully bolster the capability of the women of Pakhribas to realize their reproductive health rights long-term.

    Moving forward, to facilitate a holistic approach to securing the right to health, long-term alliances must be forged and nurtured between stakeholders who work closely with the communities who have yet to see their right to health realized such as Care Women Nepal, and the inter-governmental human rights organizations such as the UNFPA who genuinely want to support the work of organizations in upholding women’s right to health. These alliances must be positioned to treat marginalized populations as “agents of change”, rather than passive recipients of policies or programming (Sen, 1999, p.623). Ultimately, governments, scholars, civil society and individual actors need to move beyond accepting complexity as an excuse for complacency, to mobilize around imperative goals such as the realization of women’s right to health. Peace signs and ‘duck faces’ are universal, illness is universal, access to care is not. Care Women Nepal is working to change this reality for the women of Dhankuta. As an advocate for women’s health rights, I am truly grateful to play a small role in CWN’s work this summer.

    

    Kaushila Tamang spoke to her belief that having a doctor visit the community Pakhribas once a month would significantly improve the health of the women of the community and enable them to realize their right to reproductive health

    

    The peace signs were Kaushila Tamang’s idea, I swear. While we can’t communicate without the help of a translator, there are certain symbols that are universal. Peace & love friends.

92. An inconvenient truth: my first time at a brick factory

    June 30, 2017 4:07 am 267 Comments

    

    View of a brick factory in Lalitpur (Patan)

    When I was a kid back in Argentina, I remember I always looked forward to that day in the year when the school took us to a field excursion to some local factory. One time we went to the Sprite factory and I even got a photo camera with the shape of a Sprite can…it was amazing! Another time, as good Argentineans, they took us to a slaughterhouse. It didn’t have such an impact on me as I still eat meat, but I remember going back home and thinking that it was not necessary for me to see that. I was already very happy having my steak; I didn’t need to find out the process through which it went from the cow to my table.

    But I guess there are things that we need to see, even if they make us uncomfortable.  At the end of the day, it is always better to know the truth in order to make informed decisions and statements.

    

    Kilns where bricks are produced

    I had to remember that when I went to a local brick factory this week. When my friends at CONCERN first told me we were going, I got very excited. I was finally going to be able to see with my own eyes the place that most of the kids in the program call home. I would be able to understand how they live and where they (and their parents) work. I’ve been saying things like “overturning bricks inside kilns” ever since I knew I was coming to Nepal, but I don’t think I really understood the concept entirely.

    Even though it is monsoon season now and therefore the factories are not operating at full capacity, the moment I got there I had the impression that there were things that I didn’t want to see. Just like when I was a kid and didn’t want to see how cows were killed at the slaughterhouse so that I could eat meat, I guess I didn’t want to see people carrying almost 25 kg (more than 50 pounds) of materials on their backs to transport bricks from one place to the other so that buildings (like the one where I’m staying at) around the Valley can be built.

    

    Interviewing parent’s of beneficiaries while they work

    It is one thing to talk about child labor, or hazardous working conditions, but it is very different to actually see it. To see people (mostly grown ups during my visit, I have to say) doing the jobs that in other places might be done by machines or animals. I found it hard to believe that adults can spend their day inside kilns, exposed to extreme temperatures, or carrying so much weight on their backs under the sunlight. It hurts. It makes you upset. Sometimes it makes you want to look in other direction, because it is just very uncomfortable.

    But after that initial reaction, I remember that there are two sides of every story. And that is necessary to hear them both. When I started talking with the families that work in the brick factory, I realized that for them that is home. The brick factories provide a source of employment for many people that do not have any other source of income in their villages. It also provides a shelter, as families who migrate are given bricks and clay, and can build their sheds – Jhyauli- on the property. Jhyaulis are basically 4 short brick walls and a metal sheet on top of them. No bathroom. No kitchen. No separation between grown ups and children.

    

    Jhyaulis inside brick factories

    The factories also provide a source of employment for kids from needy families. For 20/30 rupees per day (around 0.25 cents of a dollar), kids overturn bricks inside kilns, pile them and carry them. Of course each kid is different, their families are different, but the ultimate reason why they are not able to enjoy a proper childhood is the same: lack of opportunities. As I walked through the factory taking pictures and hearing what Sundar explained to me about it’s functioning and the life beneficiaries have here, I couldn’t help but wonder what would be of these families without the factory. Would they work in better or even worst conditions? Would they actually have a job? Where would they live? I was not sure.

    

    Children playing at a brick factory

    It is very easy sometimes for us to judge; to say that something is wrong without knowing the context at all. That happened to me in the factory. I felt very angry that children had to live this way, that the work in the factory is so hard for everyone and that the conditions are, in my point of view, most of the time not acceptable. But instead of pointing out that this is something wrong that shouldn’t exist, or assume that it doesn’t and look in other direction, I hope I can face this inconvenient truth and do something about it. And I think CONCERN’s approach is the same as mine. They are not here to close factories, or to claim that parents are evil because they let their kids work in these conditions. They understand this is all the result of a system that is not working properly. And they try to help without judging. Providing an opportunity for those kids to have a better future – and a better present as well.

     

     

93. “It’s our right to know where they went.”

    June 29, 2017 4:36 pm 3 Comments

    On 16^th June 2002, youth activists Bipin Bhandari and Dil Bahadur Rai disappeared after being arrested from their homes in Kathmandu. On the same day 15 years later, families of the disappeared and missing, human rights groups and government officials gathered at the Attorney General’s office in Kathmandu for an annual event to pay tribute to their memory and honor their sacrifice through dialogue on the transitional justice context in Nepal today. The memorial event was coordinated and led by Eak Raz Bhandari, father of Bipin Bhandari and speakers offered a myriad of perspectives. The most prevalent viewpoint was a demand for the truth of the whereabouts of families and relatives. Almost 11 years later, relatives and activists were still asking questions about where their relatives were, unable to find peace and accountability for their loved ones.

    

    Mr. Bipin Bhandari, former youth activist and victim of enforced disappearance

     

    

    Mr. B.P. Rai, youth activist and vicitim of enforced disappearance.

    The People’s War in Nepal began in 1996 when the Maoists launched an armed rebellion against the government of Nepal with the goal of social transformation. The Comprehensive Peace Agreement signed in 2006 by the Maoists and government of Nepal ended the 10-year conflict and vowed to prioritize transitional justice including truth-seeking for those disappeared during the war. However, the two existing truth commissions; the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Commission on the Investigation of Enforced Disappearances (CIEDP) were created over 10 years later. Although a commendable number of complaints have been registered and investigations are underway, both commissions have faced barriers to effective functioning including political interference, inadequate legal structures and victim engagement. The memorial gathering served as a platform for different voices and was an opportunity to discuss these pending issues.

     

    Questioning legitimacy. Mr Eak Raz Bhandari commenced the day with the words; “What is the meaning of legitimacy?” He posed a loaded question in an attempt to challenge political leaders and the truth commissions to take action and implement policies towards justice, as well as restructure the TRC, in an effort to bring accountability. His poignant words and questions rang on to the crowd: “Is this a democracy, when will human rights be achieved?”. As the room listened, his words resonated and so did the need to address the social injustices that prevailed post-conflict.

    

    Mr. Eak Raz Bhandari; lawyer and father to Bipin Bhandari gives the opening remarks.

     

    Shared Pain. A recurring theme throughout the afternoon, was the fact that victims had different backgrounds but shared the same pain. Victims’ networks in Nepal have often cited varying priorities. While some prioritize the efficiency of the TRC, certain groups are more focused on reparations, whether economic or social reparations. They however share a common pain and seek accountability and acknowledgement, an incredibly powerful force that has strengthened mobilization and activism.

     

    

    Prabal points to some of the missing from his hometown.

     

    Truth vs, Criminal Justice. Mr. Lokendra Malik, chairman of the Commission for the Investigation of Enforced Disappearances, began by paying tribute to the victims of enforced disappearance, stating that “this was a great loss for the country”. He proceeded to make the distinction between truth and criminal justice, stipulating that there was a need to firstly find the truth and afterwards, segregate the cases for possible criminal prosecution. Searching for the truth about offenses committed can often be conflated with a desire to prosecute. However, Mr. Malik hoped to make it clear that the two were distinguishable.

    “Let them work” –Mr.  Raman Shrestha, Attorney General of Nepal concluded the afternoon on an action note by urging attendees to let the truth commissions work, let them do their job. He further urged that families play a positive role and to help the commissioners achieve their hefty goals by giving recommendations and requests.

    

     

    It was a particularly hot day in Kathmandu and as we walked home, I thought about the notion of victimhood. Enforced disappearances victimized those disappeared but also victimizes their relatives, long-term. The search for truth persists. It was the hope of the attendees on June 16^th that the ongoing efforts of the CIEDP, as well as activists and politicians grant families their right to know the fate of their loved ones.

    Read more on the memorial event for the disappeared on NEFAD’s Facebook page. 

94. Good News for Ngo Gia Hue and Tran Thi Thao

    June 28, 2017 5:05 am 5 Comments

    

    Ngo Gia Hue with his daughters (left to right): Huong, Nhan and Tuan.

    View part 1 of this series here.

    From Mai Thi Loi’s village, we head east, toward the coast, and descend from the mountains again to reach the home of Ngo Gia Hue, Tran Thi Thao and their daughters. It’s about an hour’s drive, not including a stop for lunch. This family also lives in a small village, at the end of a long dirt road. It’s still an agricultural area, and noticeably hotter than up in the mountains.

    Ngo Gia Hue greets us as we walk up to his home. It’s a much bigger, airier place than Mai Thi Loi’s house, and feels much lighter and more welcoming. We sit down with Ngo Gia Hue in his front yard, surrounded by piles of peanuts, which is the family’s main crop. Tran Thi Thao, Mr. Hue’s wife, greets us from inside the house, where she is caring for her daughters Nhan and Toan. Mrs. Thao’s legs are not in good shape, we are told, and she walks on crutches while caring for her daughters.

    

    Ngo Gia Hue (left) sits down with AEPD outreach worker Truong Minh Hoc.

    We hear a little bit of the family’s story, already told by other AP fellows, from Mr. Hue, who does the talking during our conversation. Mr. Hue fought in the war and was exposed to Agent Orange; as with Mai Thi Loi’s family, the poison’s effects appeared in his children seemingly at random. Mr. Hue has had seven children with Mrs. Thao—the fourth died in infancy, but the first, second, and fifth were born healthy, and grew up to have families of their own.

    Huong (their third child, now 33), Nhan (the fifth, now 26) and Tuan (the youngest, now 20) were not so fortunate. Mr. Hue tells me that all his children were healthy, normal babies, but as they grew up their mental and physical disabilities became more apparent. Today, all three are afflicted with severe dwarfism, have limited mental capacity and speech (Nhan has never spoken; the others can say a few words), and have a difficult time walking without assistance.

    

    33-year old Huong is Ngo Gia Hue and Tran Thi Thao’s oldest daughter.

    It’s somewhat of a shock to see Mr. Hue’s daughters and realize that, legally, they are all adults. I would have assumed them all to be preteen girls if I met them on the street, but Nhan is actually my age and Huong is several years older—I find it difficult to process that mentally. As we begin our conversation, I see one of the girls lying on a nearby hammock; this is Huong, the oldest. Huong doesn’t leave the hammock during our visit (I’m told she uses a wheelchair), but will sometimes absently looks over at our table for a moment before returning to our own thoughts. I once again find myself wondering how much of our conversation she understands. The other daughters, Nhan and Tuan, stay inside with their mother as we speak with Mr. Hue.

    My visit marks a happy occasion for this family—AP donors have raised enough money to buy them a breeding cow and a calf, which I’m hoping we can deliver before I leave in August. The family had their own cow years ago, but had to sell it to pay for the education of their oldest daughter (who is healthy and now has her own family). According to Mr. Hoc, our AEPD outreach worker, the cow can bring in an extra 100,000 Vietnamese dong (around $4.40) per day for Mr. Hue, both by renting out the cow and using it to work on his peanut farm; the calf will eventually be sold. This will be a significant step up for this family, and a grateful and optimistic Mr. Hue tells me that the extra income from the cow and calf can be used to buy much-needed medicine for his daughters, which will help make their lives more bearable.

    However, Mr. Hue tells me that even after receiving the cow and the calf he is unable to effectively treat Nhan, the sickest of his daughters. He can get medicine for Nhan from the hospital in the district, but it doesn’t help much, he says. Nhan has a stomach problem that requires surgery to fix, and Mr. Hue tells me that he’d originally planned to use the money raised by AP for this—he eventually realized that the surgery would be more expensive than he’d thought. In addition to the cost of the procedure itself, he’d also have to pay to bring Nhan to a larger hospital in the city of Hue, around 150 miles away; the local hospital can provide basic treatment but doesn’t have the resources to perform this kind of surgery. Now Mr. Hue wants to breed more cows he can later sell, and eventually save up the money for Nhan’s surgery; this could take a long time, though, and he’s hoping for more support. His other daughters also haven’t been doing very well—Huong was hospitalized last February for a goiter and other skin problems.

    I ask for more details about where the family is financially, and Mr. Hue tells me that he’s really hoping to get the cow and the calf by the end of this year. That way, he can sell the calf next year for 12 million Vietnamese dong (around $525) and breed the cow again sooner. Once again, I’m powerless to promise anything, only telling Mr. Hue that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure his family gets that money.

    

    A sample of the products of Ngo Gia Hue’s peanut farm.

    Since our visit last year the family’s roof has been fixed, thanks to a donation from the Red Cross, but Mr. Hue tells me he still has loans to pay back for other repairs. He’s also raising peanuts, but he says he only expects to earn around 7 million dong from his peanut operation this year—that may sound like a lot, but Ngoc adds in a worried voice that it’s a very small amount to support a family (just over $300). Mr. Hue has a few chickens (who skitter around the yard as we talk) and a dove, but he tells me they haven’t been that profitable; he hopes to buy more and scale up his business.

    Mr. Hue seems optimistic about the cow and calf, assuring me that those resources will be a big help to his family. Yet even after a leg up toward building a stable source of income, the family will still be relatively poor, Mrs. Thao’s legs will still be in bad shape, and Mr. Hue’s daughters will still be sick, with little hope of significant improvement. I’m reminded, once again, that when it comes to something like Agent Orange there are no truly happy endings, no triumphs of adversity. Disabilities like those affecting Mr. Hue’s daughters can’t be cured—all medicine can do, all caregivers and groups like AEPD can do, is to make people’s lives easier to cope with. The cow and calf won’t fix everything, but at least the family will have less financial pressure on them because of AP and AEPD’s support. That’s something, anyway.

    Before getting up to take pictures I ask Mr. Hue about how the community has treated him and his family, and he is quick to assure me that people are very understanding, and that they pitch in to help his family in times of need. But he adds that this is a poor area and there’s only so much help his neighbors can give, and only so much time they have to spare for his family. He does say that he’s very active in the local support group for disabled people, a project run by AEPD that creates communities of disabled people in each local commune. Mr. Hue tells me that he’s received training in animal husbandry and community-based rehabilitation through the support group, which has helped his family and his business a great deal. It’s a nice reminder of the scope of AEPD’s incredible work, of which the Agent Orange project to which I contribute is only a small part.

    

    Tran Thi Thao, with her daughters in the background.

    I photograph Huong and then go inside to photograph the other two girls with their mother; they don’t seem enthusiastic but also don’t resist being part of the picture. I’m told that during AP’s visit last year they had been much shier and refused to be photographed. Maybe this is a sign of improvement. As I prepare to leave Mrs. Thao and Mr. Hue both shake my hand and thank me; Mrs. Thao seems tired and frail, but Mr. Hue, though an elderly man, seems healthy and in fairly good spirits. I leave hoping that we can get the cow and calf to this family soon, to ensure that their daughters can get the care they deserve.

    One postscript for this visit: I did not pick up on this at the time, but Dat, our associate, later tells me that the family only has one electric fan in their home to stave off the heat, and during our visit they brought the fan outside to cool us off, leaving Mrs. Thao and two of her daughters inside the sweltering house. That day’s weather was notably hot—I hadn’t been drinking enough water, and by the end of our visit I was having trouble remembering my questions—and thinking about those people giving us their only means of staying cool made both Dat and I feel a bit guilty, and even more determined to do what we can to help them.

95. Checking In with Mai Thi Loi

    June 26, 2017 5:45 am 6 Comments

    

    From left: Mai Thi Loi’s youngest son, Hung; Mai Thi Loi; Mai Thi Loi’s fourth son, Cuong; Truong Minh Hoc, AEPD outreach worker

    As we set out from Dong Hoi for our first two family visits, I’m both excited to start meeting the people I’m here to serve and somewhat nervous, uncertain of what to expect from these encounters. I’m accompanied by Truong Minh Hoc, one of AEPD’s outreach workers (and himself a disabled veteran of the American War); Dat, our Advocacy Project associate; and Ngoc, another AEPD staff member who interprets for me.

    Mai Thi Loi and her family live in a remote village in Tuyen Hoa District, a 2 ½-hour drive from Dong Hoi through imposing mountains and lush valleys. The village lies in the “frontier area” near the Laotian border; we are required to check in with the local government when we arrive, and are joined by a police officer for the visit.

    Mai Thi Loi greets us as we arrive. She is an elderly woman, but seems strong and healthy. We enter her home, a relatively small, dark wooden house with a corrugated metal roof, and sit around a table in her living room.

    Mai Thi Loi’s story has been covered very well by previous AP fellows, so I won’t go into too much detail here. Nguyen Van Tri, Mrs. Loi’s late husband, was exposed to Agent Orange while serving in the North Vietnamese military during the American War, and would eventually die of the resulting complications in 1989. Their children were born healthy, and the first two have avoided ill effects—they’re both married and live on their own—but Kien (who is now 33), Cuong (now 31) and the youngest, Hung (now 29) became more and more mentally disturbed as they grew up, often wandering around the neighborhood and prone to fits of anger. None of the three have been able to go to school past the second grade, or to work outside the home, and Mrs. Loi must care for them on her own. Last year, thanks to AP’s generous donors, we were able to acquire a new buffalo for Mrs. Loi’s family, and I’m mainly here to check in with them about how things are going.

    Cuong and Hung are able to sit with us at the table, but neither of them speaks more than a couple of words, and although much of the conversation is about them they don’t have any visible reaction to it. I wonder how much of it they’re able to understand.

    During our visit, another man peers out at us from an enclosure in the next room—this is Kien, the oldest son. Kien “cannot control his mind, he can’t recognize his mom or anyone else around him,” Ngoc tells me. When Kien was 13, Mrs. Loi was forced to chain him to the wall of his room to prevent him from destroying the house or hurting others—he has now been confined for twenty years, since Mrs. Loi has no other way to care for him while protecting her home and herself. I knew to expect this, but to see it in person still comes as a shock. As I talk with Mrs. Loi Kien will occasionally shout some words (which I, of course, can’t understand) from the other room; everyone else seems used to this, since they don’t react to Kien’s outbursts. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Ngoc tells me.

    

    From left: the family’s buffalo calf, the full-grown buffalo (Opportunity), Hung, Mai Thi Loi and Cuong.

    Mrs. Loi has both good and bad news to share with us. The good news is that the family’s buffalo remains in good health and has benefited her and her family. “The buffalo is developing very well,” Mrs. Loi says, and helps her work the fields on her farm; she also rents the buffalo out to other families. Mr. Hoc tells me that the buffalo can bring in 70,000 Vietnamese dong (around $3) per day, which has greatly improved the family’s financial situation. The buffalo—which gave birth to a calf soon after Mrs. Loi got it—has been especially helpful in the wake of a devastating flood last October, which spared her home but destroyed her cornfields. With no harvest this past year, the family was even more dependent on the buffalo as a source of income.

    Thanks to the buffalo, Mrs. Loi says, she’s been able to bring Hung, her youngest son, to the nearest hospital in Dong Hoi for treatment each month (though this is still a significant cost)—Hung, she says, has been getting “better and better” ever since. Iain, AP’s director, had reported that Hung was chained up with Kien when he visited—Hung couldn’t leave the house, ripped his clothes, and was prone to violent rages. Now Hung is able to dress himself, go outside, and perform basic household chores.

    The bad news, Mrs. Loi tells us, is that Kien and Cuong have not improved with their brother, and their condition is “not good at all.” The hot summer weather seems to make Kien even worse. At this point, I see another man, apparently a neighbor, enter the next room and start hosing down Kien; we all try to avoid acknowledging this while it happens.

    Mrs. Loi is particularly worried about Cuong, who is getting “worse and worse”; he can walk, talk, and control his mind most of the time (as is the case during our visit), but he loses control more and more frequently. Mrs. Loi says she believes that “sometime in the future he will become like that”—Ngoc points at Kien, chained up in his room, as she translates these words, and I feel myself shiver slightly.

    The main challenge facing the family now is finding medical treatment for the sons. Mrs. Loi can afford, barely, to take Hung for treatment thanks to the money generated by her buffalo, but she’s unable to afford medicine for Cuong or proper treatment for Kien.

    Mr. Hoc explains that there is a new mental hospital under construction in Dong Hoi, but nobody is sure when it will be complete. Mrs. Loi says she’s hoping to transfer Kien to the hospital when it opens—the doctors and nurses would be able to provide more effective care for him, and Dong Hoi is close enough that Mrs. Loi could still visit. But this would be very expensive, she says, and she can’t afford it without selling the buffalo. She hopes for more support to buy a cow, which she could rent out to earn more money to treat Kien and Cuong; I can only tell her that I’ll let AEPD and AP know of her needs.

    I’m reminded of an observation made by Ai, my predecessor, in a previous visit with Mrs. Loi—her story isn’t “a triumphant story of success,” but an example of one woman doing what she can to live with a horrific situation. She certainly seems in better spirits than Ai described, but I can tell from her words that her life is still full of struggle. A buffalo, while undoubtedly helpful, isn’t a “solution” to the problems caused by Agent Orange, it just makes it a bit easier to cope.

    

    Mai Thi Loi with her son Kien.

    I ask Mrs. Loi about the support she’s gotten from her community and her family, and she’s quick to express gratitude from the support her family has received. The community is “very caring,” she says, and neighbors and relatives often come by to help with household chores and taking care of Kien, and will pitch in in other ways—providing rice when food is scarce, helping to take Hung to the hospital, things like that. But this is one of the poorest areas of Vietnam, and people only have so much to give. Mr. Hoc tells me that this family is at the top of the local government’s list to receive benefits, but, again, these are often scarce. The government did provide much-needed support after last year’s flood, though, connecting her to a donor in Ho Chi Minh City that helped sustain her family after the harvest was destroyed.

    I shake hands with Mrs. Loi as we conclude our conversation. I feel like there’s something I should say here, words that could help somehow—but these don’t come to mind, so instead I simply thank her and say that I hope to return. We take photos of Mrs. Loi, Cuong and Hung with their buffalo and calf, who look as healthy as advertised.

    Finally, with Mrs. Loi’s permission, I return to the house to photograph Kien. I see him more clearly than in the living room—he stands by the concrete wall of his room, wearing only a ragged-looking shirt. He certainly knows we’re there, but I can’t gauge his reaction as I take my pictures and leave.

96. All we need is…clean air

    June 23, 2017 3:17 am 8 Comments

    

    Typical street of Kathmandu

    When I first arrived to Kathmandu, Bijaya’s email read “welcome to our dusty capital city”. At that moment I didn’t quite get what he was referring to – yes, the minute you land in Nepal you can tell that the air quality is not the best. Too many motorcycles, old trucks and streets without proper pavement means constant dust in the air. But that is not very different from the reality of many cities in the world, and therefore I didn’t quite understand why dust was the ultimate trademark of Kathmandu.

    But as days went by, reality kicked in. I noticed how I started coughing more, and how it was hard for me to take a full breath. Sometimes it was even difficult for me to climb the stairs of the temple I had to go through on my way to work and every time I cleaned my face at the end of the day, the tissue came out completely black. If that is what I had in my face, imagine my lungs!

    

    Masks sold in the streets

    After 3 weeks the inevitable thing happened…my throat and lungs decided to give up and I ended up in the clinic with a severe allergic reaction to dust. Apparently it is something very common here: the doctors gave me some antihistaminic for the allergy and an inhaled treatment to help open my respiratory system. And of course, told me to ALWAYS wear a mask…something I’ve not considered even though most people in the city do use one.

    After taking the medicine for two days I felt fine again. I still cough a little bit and feel like my lungs need a break from all the dust, but I’m OK. However, this episode got me thinking about the long-term consequences of bad air quality. I’ve always lived in places where, even though pollution is a real problem, is not as bad as to consider it as an impediment for every day activities.  In fact, whenever my friends from China and India tell me about how bad air quality is in their countries, and how that is actually something they consider when thinking about what to do once they are done with their PhD, I don’t actually understand what they refer to. But after three weeks in Nepal, I got it. Air pollution transforms the way you live. It gives you eye irritation (real bad for those of us who wear contact lenses), dries your skin, closes your respiratory system and leaves you with less energy.

    

    How I look now on my way to the office

    By doing a quick Google search, I found out that just over the last year, the number of patients with respiratory problems increased by 20 percent in the Kathmandu area (hey, at least I’m not alone!). The responsible? Dust pollution. The consequences? Lung disorders, allergic rhinitis, allergic asthma, bronchial asthma, coughing, wheezing and shortness of breath.  I even read one doctor saying “Kathmandu Valley is not a livable place for those who are allergic to dust” – I hope I can prove them wrong!

    

    “Open Space can Save my Life”. Graffiti outside a local school

    Of course bad air quality affects the kids and the elderly more than any other group. And suddenly I realized why CONCERN’s legal name is CONCERN for children and environment. Children need clean air to be able to study, play and grow properly. I wish that in the upcoming years something is done with this issue that affects millions of people around the globe and has negative irreversible consequences for our future.

     

97. You’re WHERE?

    June 21, 2017 8:23 am 6 Comments

    “You’re WHERE?” has been the most common question I’ve received over the past few days when communicating back home.

    The last time most of my friends and family heard from me, I was preparing to leave for Bamakao, Mali for the summer to work for a small non-governmental organization (NGO) called Sini Sanuman, a partner of the Advocacy Project.

    So how did I find myself sitting on a hotel rooftop in Kathmandu, Nepal?

    Pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup of tea, and let me bring you up to speed, my friends.

    

    Prayer flags at the Boudhanath Stupa

     

    Right now, my clock reads 6:30am, an early hour that will be more surprising than my radical change in location to those who know me. I am looking out at a cityscape from my hotel rooftop in Thamel, the tourist district of Kathmandu. My plane landed in the city six days ago, and I have mostly shaken the jet leg, but my internal clock continues to wake me before sunrise. The view from the table where I type includes an array of buildings with people tending their rooftop gardens as the city wakes up against a backdrop of the Himalayas. Prayer flags flutter in the breeze, linking the buildings. The moment is peaceful, even as I reflect on the more frazzled few weeks leading up to it.

    To see a video of this view, take a look:  Himalayan Views over Kathmandu, Nepal

    “The Best Laid Plans…”

    As part of my studies as a M.S. in Foreign Service (MSFS) student at Georgetown University, students complete an internship over the summer between their first and second years. I spent the last few months researching opportunities, and thanks to several great referrals (Thanks Walter and Rose!), located the Advocacy Project fellowship, which matches grassroots organizations working on peace-building initiatives with graduate students who can provide technical support. I was thrilled to be accepted into the program in Mali. Unfortunately, due to security challenges in the country, this required jumping through a few extra hoops.

    

    The Advocacy Project Peace fellows who are working in Nepal, Vietnam, Uganda, Kenya, Jordan, and Lebanon this summer.

    There is an ongoing insurgency in northern Mali and it  has been designated with a State Department warning for travelers. Because of this, Georgetown requires special approvals before students travel there. During my final exams weeks, concerns were raised about the security situation of my internship and I had to rapidly reroute. Just yesterday, there was an attack on a Bamako resort frequented by foreigners on the weekend. It is a stark reminder of the importance of the work being done by Sini Sanuman, as its citizens continue to grapple with such tragic attacks.

    I am grateful for the support of many advisors, including Iain Guest, the Director of the Advocacy Project (AP) and much of the MSFS administration for helping me to find an alternative internship in Kathmandu. As I hurried through my final exams, and jumped into the Advocacy Project Fellowship training week, we mapped out a new plan. AP partnered me  with another Advocacy Project Peace Fellow, Vicky Mogeni, to work on transitional justice issues in Kathmandu. Together, Vicky and I will be working to support the National Network for the Families of the Disappeared (NEFAD), which I will be writing about soon.

    

    Vicky and Kirstin in Pote Bazaar in Kathmandu

    Taking Flight

    Before I knew it, I was packing my bags, rapidly exchanging my sandals for trekking boots and monsoon rain gear. Then came the long journey. As the plane descended into Abu Dhabi,  I watched the sun set from my window over sand dunes before hopping the next flight to Delhi where I saw the sun rise.

    

    Flight Path: Wasthington D.C. -> Abu Dhabi -> Delhi -> Kathmandu

    While I didn’t expect to be in Nepal, I think life has a way of landing you in the place you need to be. I have been deeply moved and inspired by the people I have met, and humbled by their warm welcome. After my first steps off the plane, Prabal Thapa, a local Nepali graduate student studying development who works with NEFAD, greeted me and helped me navigate to my hotel. He has continued to teach Vicky and I about NEFAD’s work, and we look forward to doing great work together this summer.

     

     

98. Kathmandu: Reminders of Home

    4:25 am 4 Comments

    

    Nothing like a cup of masala chai.

    As Prabal, Kirstin and I walked to the bus stop after a meeting-filled day, Kirstin pointed out roasted maize on the street. In Kenya, we call it maindi choma and Prabal goes on to tell Kirstin and I that vendors in Nepal add a pepper-like spice to the maize which immediately reminds me of home. I once again exclaim that “Kathmandu reminds me of Nairobi”, a statement that I’m sure both Kristin and Prabal have heard enough of. By way of introduction, Kirstin is my partner peace fellow working with the Advocacy Project and Prabal is a graduate student at Kathmandu University, who has been working with NEFAD for the past two years and the first Nepali peace fellow. I haven’t been back home to Nairobi in a year now, but being in Kathmandu has been a constant reminder of my home city (excluding the fascination with my braided hair). From the chai, samosas and roasted maize to the architecture and motorbikes on the streets, Kathmandu bears stark similarities to home.

    That said, Kathmandu has equally been filled with new experiences. The one noticeable food item that is certainly different is the dessert. I grew up in a culture where dessert is a ‘less than sweet’ donut called mandazi therefore having chai and Indian/Nepali dessert after work was definitely rewarding. It is also safe to say that yoga and temples are equally uncommon in Kenya (except for establishments like Marianne Wells Yoga School), and it has therefore been remarkable experiencing why Kathmandu is known as the city of temples.

    

    Jalebi, and Nepali desserts.

    

    Visiting some of Kathmandu’s temples with Kirstin and Prabal

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Aside from the food, sights and sounds, my first week in Nepal has been a listening tour about the broader transitional justice context, and despite the multiple and very clear contextual differences between justice in Kenya and Nepal, the politicization of the process is eerily similar. During one of our first interviews with a prominent  and passionate journalist in Nepal, Mr. Dewan Rai, he lamented that “the politicization of the transitional justice process has delayed investigations and that successive governments have failed to streamline the legal process”, a sentiment that came up in subsequent meetings and events we have been attending. For example, the fact that the act of disappearance and torture have not been criminalized hinders the truth and reconciliation process from moving forward. Similarly, Kenya’s post-election violence in 2008 was short and acute, yet the transitional justice process dragged on as politicians evaded justice and legal barriers ensued. To date, no one has been held accountable. Transitional justice processes are innately a political affair as they are the state’s responsibility. However legacies of silencing tend to persist during transition when there is insufficient political will, a barrier that needs to be addressed to allow for any real progress in Nepal.

    

    Meeting with Mr. Dewan Rai of the Kathmandu Post. He gave us an overview of the history and current context of transitional justice in Nepal.

    Mr. Rai went on to nuance the conversation and speak about some of the successes of the transitional justice process in Nepal, a perspective that is often under-reported. “Nepal has been able to open two truth commissions and is the first of its kind”. He went on to say; “Approximately 58,000 complaints have been lodged by the truth commissions and the process has been victim-led”. Despite these notable achievements, a lot of work remains to be done. In this regard, while Nepal’s transitional justice context bears similarities to my home country, it is simultaneously an exceptional country and Kathmandu an exceptional city.

99. Dat, Our First Local Associate

    June 20, 2017 6:09 am 3 Comments

    

    Tien Dat Tran on his first day as an AP Local Associate at AEPD.

    AEPD is an organization that works to empower the disabled, but the newest member of its team was first drawn to serve a different group of people in need: children.

    22-year-old Tien Dat Tran has previously served as a volunteer at the SOS Children’s Village, a program that provides foster care and social programs for needy kids here in his hometown of Dong Hoi; he spent last summer at the village as a volunteer martial arts teacher. Dat’s instinct to care for and teach children and his experiences with disabled people drew him to work at AEPD.

    “I’ve talked with a lot of children who lost their parents, and seeing stories of parents raising children with disabilities inspired me…I think for their parents it’s very hard to raise them,” Dat says. “I have sympathy for them but I can’t do anything, so I want to do what I can for them.”

    Dat has joined AEPD this week as the Advocacy Project’s first-ever Local Associate, a paid internship program for university students from the countries where AP sends peace fellows, who will partner with fellows to supplement and expand their work. AP is hoping that Dat will be the first of many local associates working at partner organizations around the world, and AEPD plans to continue the program after Dat’s departure. Dat is already intimately familiar with AEPD: his aunt Nguyen Thi Thanh Hong is the chair of AEPD, and during our conversation he cited one particular project—helping a veteran open a souvenir shop in the nearby tourism-heavy town of Phong Nha—as an inspiration for joining AEPD.

    Dat is a native of Dong Hoi and is spending the summer break here with his family, but this fall he will enter his fourth year (out of five) at Da Nang University of Technology, located in the much larger city of Da Nang a few hours south of here, where he studies information technology and engineering. (American readers, incidentally, may also recall Da Nang as a major staging area and air base for the US military during the Vietnam/American War.) In his spare time, Dat enjoys playing badminton (in high school he won third place in a local competition) and practicing martial arts, both karate and traditional Vietnamese martial arts. He’s also fond of karaoke and the video game League of Legends.

    Dat will be serving in a variety of roles at AEPD. His IT skills and his knowledge of both Vietnamese and English (abilities I don’t have, by the way) put him in a great position to improve AEPD’s website, and he’s already working on two translation projects: translating content on AEPD’s Vietnamese website into English, and translating information on Agent Orange from AP’s website into Vietnamese. However, Dat made it clear in our conversation that his skills go beyond computers.

    “I think I’m strong in communication. When I’m talking with people, they often sympathize with me,” Dat said. “I don’t know why—I think maybe the way I talk with them is friendly and makes them feel comfortable.” Starting this week, Dat will be joining me and other AEPD staff in visiting families devastated by Agent Orange, where his empathy and personal skills will undoubtedly be in evidence.

    Part of the goal of AP’s local associate program is for local associates to continue the work of peace fellows outside of the summer months. Dat and I will be working together during the two months we’re both here to develop a work plan for future associates, so that both of our jobs can be taken over by the next associate and AP can establish more of a presence at AEPD throughout the year. For his part, Dat hopes to grow professionally from this experience, improve his English during our work together, and burnish his CV for the future job market.

    Dat says that with the IT sector booming in Vietnam, many companies will be “hunting” for members of his class when he graduates, offering lucrative jobs. But he’s become interested in a different path during his time in university, and now hopes to go to an Australian university after graduation to study for a master’s in business information. His long-term goal, he says, is to “build my future in Australia, and then when my parents retire I will take them to Australia.”

    For now, though, Dat is excited to be making a difference in the lives of victims of Agent Orange.

    “For Agent Orange, I didn’t do anything in the past and I feel a little bit guilty,” he says.

100. The perfect week: meeting CONCERN’s kids!

     June 16, 2017 5:24 am 14 Comments

     

     Preparing the questionnaires with Sarita and Manita who were amazing during the interviews

     This week has been the most rewarding one since I arrived in Kathmandu. I finally got to meet some of CONCERN’s beneficiaries: children with hard life stories but huge smiles in their faces and big dreams for their future.

     For those of you who do not remember, CONCERN rescues children from illegal work at stone quarries and brick kilns (where their parents are also employed) and puts them back in school. Over the years CONCERN has developed a relationship with the owners of different brick factories in Nepal. With a lot of effort and perseverance, the field officers go every year to the factories to explain their project to both its owners and the parents of the children who live within the premises. If you want photographs of this meeting check this excelpasswordrecovery .Their mission is simple: CONCERN funds the schooling expenses of the kids (which includes mandatory fees the government charges, uniforms and stationary) and in exchange children stop overturning bricks inside the kilns, arranging them in piles for them to dry, flipping over the bricks, and carrying them – or any other sort of employment. MurrayNow is best guide for any kind of information.

     Even though the project seems simple, it is easier said than done. Most of the children who work at the kilns and quarries come to the Kathmandu Valley from distant places like Ramechhap. They come with their parents who migrate looking for better opportunities, and end up also being employed and skipping school. NGO’s like CONCERN work hard to give a childhood back to these kids and to ensure they have better opportunities for their future. retainedfirefighter provides you more guide for how to treat little kids.

     

     Handing over funds to Dhahahi Bushik School’s headmaster

     With this in mind, I faced my two-day visit to Bhaktapur (another city an hour away from Kathmandu). In those two days we went to three different schools, interviewed 20 kids who are currently in the program along with their teachers, interviewed some of the parents and distributed the funds to each school headmaster to cover for the children’s fees.  A tailor also came with us and took the measures of the kids for their new uniforms!

     Before getting to Bhaktapur, I was a little nervous. Not only because I had to ride a motorcycle to get there, but also because the job wasn’t easy.  We needed to talk to the kids and see how they were doing in school, if they were still working in the kilns and know more about their family situation. I had done many interviews to beneficiaries of different social programs in the past, but never in a language that I don’t speak at all (and therefore with the help of a translator) and never to kids. What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t want to answer personal questions to a person they have never seen before?

     

     Interviewing children at Bhazeshwana School

     All of my fears went away the moment I set foot in the first school. I suddenly realized kids are kids everywhere. Yes, they might be shy at the beginning. Yes, they might be scared of strangers and dubious about answering personal questions given their background. But kids can also read you, no matter the language you speak. It only took us two minutes before we were all laughing together and taking funny pictures and videos. Some of them spoke enough English to tell me how much they adored Messi – I have to really thank him for making my life so much easier in Nepal…everyone here loves Messi and therefore Argentina! They also wanted to know more about my country, about my family (for some reason they were obsessed with knowing my parents’ names) and about the animals we have back home. I showed them some pictures of penguins and sea lions I had on my phone from a recent trip to Patagonia and they were thrilled! You will get more information at carrefour-maires .

     Interviews went smoothly. They left me a bittersweet feeling though, as a couple of kids are still working at the kilns, helping their parents. However, overall children seem to be doing well in school and they all recognized the value of education for their future. When we asked them what they wanted to be when they grow up, being doctors or teachers were the most popular choices (one of them even told us he wanted to be a pilot!). I really hope their dreams can become true some day.

     

     Ashmita and Amrita with their dad. Ashmita wants to be a Nepali teacher when she grows up, while her older sister wants to be an office manager (permission was granted to publish picture & information)

      

101. New Friends, Happiness and the Right to Health in Nepal

     3:52 am 4 Comments

     The other day while I was sitting at my favorite coffee shop in Kathmandu (partly for the coffee, but mostly because of the strong Wi-Fi) a man named Ram Kumar Khatri (pictured below) approached me. He was carrying a bag full of magazines that I initially thought he wanted to try and sell to me — I’ve been staying in a touristy region of Kathmandu and am approached upwards of 25 times per day by people who are looking to sell something. I was pleasantly surprised when Ram pulled up a chair and wanted to have a conversation about international development. Ram is the founder, editor and publisher of a called The Quarterly Development Review, first published in 1984 “to contribute towards development of Nepal, with a special focus on the development of women, children, environment, culture, tourism, health, education, employment, control of child marriage, domestic violence, control bonded labor, women trafficking and street children.” The overarching mission of the magazine is to foster peace, prosperity and development in Nepal. Great initiative, right?!

     Ram has a long list of accomplishments on his CV including, but not limited to: former division chief of the Agriculture Development Bank, former founding Treasurer of Nepal Habitat for Humanity, former founding secretary of Nepal Rural Development Organization and Charter member of the Rotary Club of Dillibazar. Ram told me that ultimately, he is looking to advance the welfare of Nepali people all the while contribution to a more open, inclusive and understanding world. I was a bit baffled that such an interesting man would just manifest himself in front of me, but stranger things have happened!

     Ram’s chief reason for interviewing me was to ask me a few questions about myself and about Nepal. After having asked me basic information such as where I was from and what I was doing in life. I of course informed him I worked for Bayless Healthcare Moon Valley Location and the general health related reason I was there. He asked me, while not exactly in these ways, what my goal in life was — again with the deep, existential questions! On a side note: If you’re looking to “find yourself” I would recommend spending some time in Nepal. My initial answer was a bit cheeky. I told him that I was looking to do something that would go beyond the accumulation of material wealth and following the ebbs and flows of a society driven by the market economy and consumerism. I told him that I was studying human rights, and about my belief surrounding the inadequacy of the international communities’ commitment to the protection of social, economic and cultural rights. I told him about wanting to spend my days trying to work to change that. My conception of happiness has always been rooted in the feeling that I’m doing (or at least trying to do) something good in the world. I’m not sure that Ram was content with the vagueness of this answer, but that was undoubtedly the most truthful answer I could give.

     

     But wait… what does any of this have to do with development or human rights? I believe every human rights advocate must begin by asking herself one simple question: what is the good life? Or in Ram’s words, what is your goal in life? While this question may seem trivial or mundane, its answer should be the driving force behind one’s efforts, regardless of what they are advocating for. One of the first individuals to explore this concept is the philosopher Aristotle, who asked, ‘what is perfect, final and self-sufficient in its own right?’ while determining the highest good for human beings (Nic. Eth.). Happiness is not the same for everyone, and therefore, is not pursued in the same way. That is not to say that all notions of human flourishing are inherently virtuous, but rather, that achieving happiness requires the ability to make free, uncoerced decisions. To arrive at one’s own conception of happiness, there is a minimum set of conditions that must be afforded to all individuals, regardless of cultural context, in order for them to be able to realize their full potential as human beings capable of exercising rational choices.

     Applied to advocacy for the sexual and reproductive health rights of women in Nepal, ensuring that women have the basic conditions necessary to achieve their own conception of happiness requires affirmative action (positive discrimination) on the part of the government. Said action must ensure that women are provided with essential medicines and health services in a way that does not discriminate based on gender or socioeconomic status. Sexual and reproductive health services must be available, accessible, acceptable and of good quality.

     On September 20^th, 2015, a new Constitution came into force in Nepal. The 2015 Constitution contains several sections that reaffirm the government of Nepal’s commitment and responsibility to provide reproductive health services to Nepali women. Specifically, section 38, subsection 2, “The Right of Women”, states that “every woman shall have the right relating to safe motherhood and reproductive health.” Although much progress has been made towards upholding the commitments to women’s health affirmed within the Constitution of Nepal, the government has only just scratched the surface concerning the realization of the right to health within the country. Over the coming weeks, I will be reflecting on the ways that the work of CWN could best hold the government to this commitment all the while expanding the number of women in Dhankuta who receive sexual and reproductive health services that improve their well-being (and ability to pursue their own conceptions of happiness) at CWN health camps and district hospitals.

     I would encourage anyone reading this to reflect on what happiness means to them, and some of the aspects of their life that are vital to their ability to achieve said version of happiness. You might be surprised by how little material wealth is required to be happy, and how indispensable certain aspects of our lives that we often take for granted are.

     अर्कोपटकसम्म

102. Dong Hoi Nights

     12:28 am 270 Comments

     

     A view of the mouth of the Nhat Le River from central Dong Hoi.

     After a week, I already feel somewhat settled into Dong Hoi, a coastal city a few hundred miles south of Hanoi. It’s a much more relaxed atmosphere than the often overwhelming urban chaos I experienced last week in the capital.

     Dong Hoi, a city of around 150,000 people, straddles the mouth of the Nhat Le River along the Pacific coast. The layout reminds me a bit of Miami in that the beaches are on a peninsula separated by water from the city center, where I’m staying. From my hotel, it’s less than 10 minutes to the AEPD office and 25 minutes to the beach on foot; my hotel overlooks the river and a pleasant riverside park, which I’ve internally dubbed the Promenade since I’m not sure it has an actual name. (I’ve given my own names to a few other places in Dong Hoi, which can create the momentary illusion of being in some American beach town). It’s a town that attracts tourists and has bars and restaurants that cater to Westerners, drawn by the beaches and the close proximity to attractions like Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park (which I hope to explore soon), but it’s not a “tourist town”—the hawkers and motorcycle taxi drivers that are omnipresent in the tourist districts of Hanoi are absent here, and my presence still turns heads and draws greetings from passersby.

     

     The ruins of Tam Toa Church, destroyed by a bombing raid, in the center of Dong Hoi.

     Perhaps the most noticeable feature of Dong Hoi is the fact that almost all the buildings here look modern—the colonial or pre-colonial architecture one might see elsewhere in Vietnam is absent. As one of the closest North Vietnamese towns to the demilitarized zone during the American War, Dong Hoi was a frequent target for American bombing raids, and most of the town has been rebuilt since 1975. One of the few prewar buildings still visible is the Tam Toa Church, along the river a few blocks from where I’m staying—all that’s left is a fenced-off ruin, kept standing by the government as a powerful monument to what was lost during the war.

     

     The headquarters of the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities in Dong Hoi, Vietnam.

     My employer, the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities, has a staff of around 10 people, based in a house (converted into an office) a few blocks from the river. It covers a lot more ground than the Agent Orange project I’m working on—according to a worldwide estimate, over 5% of Vietnamese have a disability, and disabled people have significantly lower rates of employment and are more likely to be poor. AEPD actually originated from a campaign to support survivors of landmines, which have claimed over 100,000 victims since the war ended; unexploded ordnance continues to pose a threat in rural areas. Today, AEPD’s work has expanded to include a wide range of activities to support the development of livelihoods and the reclamation of dignity for the disabled.

     Unlike organizations I’ve worked with in the US, AEPD relies on a peer-support model. This means that while much of the program development takes place at the office, the actual work of AEPD is carried out in the field by outreach workers, all of whom are disabled themselves. AEPD also builds local support networks among people with disabilities in other towns and villages in the province, basically allowing the beneficiaries of the organization—not donors or staff—to set the agenda and determine their own needs. I’m hoping to post at least one profile of an outreach worker in the coming weeks, as well as sharing the stories of those whose lives have been shattered by Agent Orange. I’m excited to learn more about an organization that does such vital and challenging work.

103. Dubai Detour: Reflections on NEFAD

     June 14, 2017 8:43 am 4 Comments

     My journey to Kathmandu has been a long one so far. I battled with New Jersey turnpike traffic and won, panicked through the temporary closure of the Queensboro bridge in New York, was delayed from Milan causing me to miss my connecting flight and I’m currently sitting in my Dubai hotel room pondering the summer ahead of me (I will admit a night in Dubai isn’t the worst thing).

     The time in between layovers and connecting flights has been ideal to reflect further and think about the work I will be doing with the National Network of Families of the Disappeared and Missing in Nepal (NEFAD). NEFAD is a network of families whose family members were disappeared during the 10-year civil conflict in Nepal. The organization is led by Ram Bhandhari, an active advocate for justice and human rights in Nepal. I spent the weeks prior to and after training in Washington DC reading up on Nepal’s history, conflict and transitional justice situation and realizing the importance of NEFAD in supporting and giving a voice to families of the disappeared in their search for truth and justice.

     NEFAD’s approach involves families in 17 districts and is three-pronged: Advocacy; Speaking for victims at the policy level, Community mobilization and Small programs including the economic empowerment program that I will be working on in Bardiya. I will primarily be working with wives of the disappeared in the district of Bardiya,Western Nepal to create an income stream through their quilt making talents. Quilt making has been an integral part of telling their stories in a visual way and has been an advocacy tool over the years. We hope to advance their talents by  expanding the range of products beyond tiger quilts to tote bags and other products and marketing them to generate a source of income. The economic aspect is all tied to the transitional justice piece as it will help create some of the conditions necessary to advance towards seeking justice.

     

     Tiger quilt from last year.

     Working with families of the disappeared particularly in a new context will be challenging and interesting, to say the least and the more I recognize that, the more responsibility I feel to tell their stories in a respectful manner and the more enthusiasm I have to hone my skills towards NEFAD’s critical mission. NEFAD’s most recent reports on Reintegration of ex-combatants and “From Victims to Actors” highlight some of their work and particularly fundamental is the fact that they seek to empower victims themselves rather than act on their behalf. I’m certainly looking forward to embarking on this journey with the team this summer. Onwards to Kathmandu.

     

     NEFAD Report by Simon Robins and Ram Bhandari.

104. Life lessons learned in Nepal: relax, you have everything you need

     June 13, 2017 4:26 am 254 Comments

     Before beginning this journey, I was told several times that Nepal would change me. While I’m not sure that it’s changed me , it has undoubtedly intensified some of the convictions that form the core of my being. I’ve gone from being a health-conscious vegetarian to a sun saluting, OMing vegan. That’s rights, I’m slowly slipping into hippiedom (yes… that’s actually a word). I can honestly say that these small tweaks to my routine have led to greater mental clarity and a sense of calm that I’ve seldom felt before. Aside from occasionally having to tune out the people trying to sell me hashish or convince me to “buy milk” for their child (see previous post), I feel connected with my environment and the people within it. This might be the yoga or existential discussions I’ve been having a lot of late talking, but I feel as though some of the answers to the questions that guide my actions have been made clear.

     I’ve had people ask me if and why I find human rights/humanitarian work fulfilling, if I worry about the financial realities of starting a career in this line of work, and even what I want in life. I’m waiting for the day a hippie comrade takes my hand and leads me into a conversation about the meaning of life. I’ve learned the importance of being flexible, adaptable, and a jill of all trades. Make a detailed budget in excel? No problem (I’m very far from being an excel expert), write a job description and become the head of human resources? Sure, why not! Design a website? Let’s do this. I think we all have a lot of untapped capacity that we are hesitant to explore. My realization since being here? The hardest part is just getting started! Life is like yoga, sometimes you might OMMMMM awkwardly when everyone else is silent… I’m learning move past the inevitable imperfections of any situation, and diving into the task at hand.

     

      

     

      

     Above are some photos  from a full moon ceremony that I attended after work at Boudhanath Stupa. I’ve really enjoyed having a reason to pretend to be a professional iPhone photographer

     It’s only been two weeks since I arrived, and the Nepali people have taught me many things. The first thing I’ve learned is to: RELAX. I don’t consider myself to be particularly high strung, but I definitely have a constant hunger for efficiency, regularity and order. Throughout my academic undertakings I’ve always made work plans that I strictly followed, a specific spot in the library that I would make sure to wake up early and secure etc. The ironic thing is that I have a love/hate relationship with changing circumstances and uncertainty. The most wonderful moments in my life have been completely unplanned and unexpected. When I was 18 I got one of my first tattoos “proverbs 3:6”. This verse means: in all your ways acknowledge him and he shall direct your paths. Him in this verse is referring to the God of Christianity, but a more universally applicable interpretation of this verse could be equated to: send out good vibes within the world and towards your fellow man, and you will end up where you’re supposed to be in life.

     When I find myself trying (unsuccessfully) to control every single aspect of my surroundings, I have to remind myself to relax, trust that I’m on the right path and embrace the occasional (or regular) deviation.  If the torrential downpour washes away the road, I guess I’m staying put. When the electricity goes out, I’m reading my books. Deviating from the initial game plan is O.K (and often the right course of action) so long as the result is the same. I’m a firm believer that new and unexpected experiences often lead to a greater understanding of oneself and the world. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn more about myself in a foreign, and at times challenging environment.

     

     When I first arrived in Nepal, the pace of life, much like the traffic, seemed quite slow compared to what I’m used to. In coping with this change of pace, I’ve learned to stop frequently to reflect on why I’m here and what I’m ultimately trying to accomplish. The Nepalese people have taught me the importance of being present in the moment, rather than unconsciously evading now by worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. They have also taught me to use whatever it is that I have at my disposal to get the job done done. In “Canadian” this would translate to using what you have to “get errrrr done”. I’ve seen people fixing what looks to me to be an irreparable umbrella and old shoe. I’ve also seen an entire sewage system be changed using nothing but bricks, a pick axe, a hand saw and some hard manual labor. Il admit that there’s been many occasions that I’ve simply thrown things out once they are broken and bought a new version of that same thing. Moving forward, I want to incorporate a greater consciousness of how I could refurbish what I have, or use it for something new.

     Today, try slowing down and using what you have at your disposal as the Nepali people do. Smile at the world and watch as it smiles back at you.

     

     अर्कोपटकसम्म

105. Advocating for the sexual and reproductive health rights of women: the challenges of addressing the underlying cause of uterine prolapse in Nepal

     June 11, 2017 6:42 am 54 Comments

     I apologize in advance for the length of this blog, but I feel that it’s important that people get a feel for the problem that Care Women Nepal is seeking to address, and some of the challenges that arise in doing so. I will start off with a bit of background, and move into my personal sentiments about the importance and challenges of advocating for the rights of women suffering from uterine prolapse in Nepal. Many people have asked me about what I am doing this summer. The short answer usually sounds something like this: Working with a CBO called Care Women Nepal that carries out health camps that screen women in Dhankuta for a condition called uterine prolapse (and arranges surgery for women in need of surgical intervention). The natural question that almost always follows this explanation is a slightly uneasy and tentative: “what is uterine prolapse… ?”

     Here we go:

     Uterine prolapse is a debilitating form of pelvic organ prolapse that occurs when the muscles and ligaments that support a woman’s uterus are weakened, resulting in the descent of the uterus from its original position within the body. Uterine prolapse (UP) is recognized as a form of maternal morbidity, and can be classified in terms of severity. While first and second stage prolapse may be treated with specific exercises which strengthen the pelvic floor or by the insertion a small low cost medical device called a ring pessary, severe prolapse requires surgical intervention in the form of a vaginal hysterectomy or pelvic floor repair surgery.

     

     Uterine prolapse is both a global health problem and human rights issue which has yet to be sufficiently addressed by the international community. While typically thought of as a condition which mainly effects women beyond reproductive age, in Nepal there is a multitude of sociocultural and economic factors that exasperate the prevalence of UP amongst women both young and old. To illustrate, in the United States, the average age that women seek medical treatment for uterine prolapse is 61 (Amnesty International ,2014). In Nepal, according to a study carried out by the UNFPA in 2013, the median age at which Nepali Women first experience uterine prolapse is 26. While it is difficult to say exactly how many women in Nepal experience UP, a 2007 study carried out by the Center for Agro-Ecology and Development found that over 1 million women in Nepal suffer from the condition, many of whom require surgery and 40% of whom are of reproductive age. Moreover, the prevalence of UP within different districts varies significantly, with rates having been documented as reaching over 40% in some districts.

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     Uterine Prolapse in Nepal: Causes and Consequences

     The causes of the high prevalence of uterine prolapse in Nepal are complex and manifold. Within Nepal, there are various sociocultural norms that expose women to multiple risk factors that decrease the age at which prolapse first occurs, and increase the prevalence of the condition within the country. Nepal is a patriarchal society, within which gender has immediate implications for health and wellbeing throughout one’s life course. UP in Nepal is also exasperated by poverty and limited access to adequate health care services. While many women in Nepal experience uterine prolapse after having given birth, women who have never been pregnant may also experience the condition at all degrees of severity.

     

     According to the World Bank, only 55.6% of births in Nepal are attended by skilled health staff (2014). This lack of access is particularly evident in rural regions where 81% of the Nepalese population lives (WB, 2015). A lack of access to skilled health workers means that many Nepali women are exposed to harmful birthing practices that heighten their chances of experiencing UP later in life. Moreover, Women in Nepal make up the backbone of familial structures; their work burden is between 12%-22% greater than that of men’s (Earth & Sthapit, 2002).Nepalese women are expected to work both throughout and shortly after their pregnancy. Reproductive organs require at least 6 months to heal post-delivery, but within many ethnic communities it is expected that women return to extremely arduous tasks as soon as a week following delivery. Moreover,  cultural norms mean that many women are nutritionally deprived post-delivery. Finally, a lack of access to healthcare also means that it is difficult for women experiencing UP to seek treatment.

     The development of UP, if left untreated, leads to severe pain and discomfort. In many instances these symptoms may manifest as painful intercourse, an inability to sit, walk, and/or stand, difficulties urinating and defecating, odorous discharge and an inability perform daily tasks. Moreover, women in Nepal who suffer from UP often experience emotional and physical abuse from their family and or community because of the stigmatization surrounding the condition. In a 2013 UNFPA study which interview 357 women who underwent surgery in Nepal to treat UP, 80% of women said that after having developed the condition they lost hope in life. Depending on the district, between 5% and 23% of women said that “their mother-in-law and family members started hating them” (UNFPA, 2013). Owing to the ostracization and stigmatization that women with UP in Nepal experience, many choose to conceal the condition, living in severe pain and discomfort, sometimes for decades.

     As you might imagine, uterine prolapse is not a subject that is easily explicated across all audiences. When people ask me what the causes of UP are, I struggle discussing the fact that the many of the factors that exasperate the condition are deeply entrenched in cultural practices that are discriminatory towards women. I recently read an article written by Dr. Elizabeth Enslin titled: “Social Equality: The Best Cure for Uterine Prolapse in Nepal” which illustrates the unique challenges of advocating for the prevention and treatment of uterine prolapse in Nepal. While it’s necessary to address the health needs of women who have developed various stages of prolapse via coordination across various government ministries, strengthening the health system and making health care accessible to women who would otherwise go untreated, the high prevalence of UP in Nepal will undoubtedly persist without effort to lessen what can only be described as gross social inequity between men and women in Nepal.

     Who am I to walk into a country that I’ve never visited and espouse that the way things have always been done are causing significant harm to half of the population? Throughout my degrees in both health sciences and human rights I have been part of countless conversations about cultural sensitivity, but I’ve never found myself so blatantly confronted by a need to balance my western Judeo-Christian ideas about health and human rights with the cultural practices and beliefs of an entire country (to extent that certain beliefs can be said to be ubiquitous across the 125 caste/ethnic groups that exist in Nepal). This is one of the challenges that I’m working on trying to resolve (although I’m not sure that I will arrive at a satisfactory answer).

     In the meantime, I’m going to narrow the scope in which I operate, all the while remaining aware of some of the broader challenges of advocating for women’s right to reproductive and sexual health in certain contexts. I’m going to take things one day at a time, without becoming overwhelmed by the larger issues. Ultimately, I want to do all that I can to strengthen Care Women Nepal as an organization to give them all of the tools that they will need to continue to play an invaluable role in bringing healthcare to women suffering from UP in Dhankuta.

     My time in Nepal is short, but I’m hopeful that this is only the beginning. 

106. Learning Lessons in Hanoi

     6:41 am 3 Comments

     

     A North Vietnamese tank on display at the Vietnamese Military History Museum in Hanoi.

     I spent most of last week in Hanoi, and I feel like there’s already plenty I could write about at length. The chaotic motorbike and car traffic that can come from any direction at any time, turning an ordinary walk to the store into a constant flirtation with disaster. The fascination children, in particular, have with foreign visitors. The use of English as a second language and a cultural phenomenon, which sometimes shows up in surprising ways. (I may never forget the young boy I saw in line to visit the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, who looked appropriately solemn while wearing a T-shirt with the words FUCK LIFE written across it.) The savage humidity that clings to everything, turning me into a sweat-soaked monster by the end of each day I’ve spent here so far.

     Instead, in keeping with the theme of my previous post, here’s a brief word about history museums in Hanoi.

     Americans—and probably most other people—have a particular view of their own history that defines how they see the present. We define ourselves as a nation of pioneers and freedom-lovers, who turned a wilderness into a superpower and created a new kind of society built on the ideals of liberty and democracy. This “national myth” is obviously incomplete at best and deeply flawed at worst, but it plays such a big role in how we look at our politics and our relationship with the rest of the world that its accuracy is almost irrelevant.

     The impression I’ve gotten from learning about history in Hanoi—at government-approved places like the Museum of Vietnamese History and the Vietnamese Military History Museum—is that Vietnam defines itself by its resistance to foreign invasion and occupation. The American War, as Vietnamese call it (or the “U.S. sabotage war,” if you prefer), is only the latest chapter in over a thousand years of Vietnamese resistance. I lost count of the number of invasions and occupations discussed at the Museum of Vietnamese History—the Chinese, the Mongols, and later the French all occupied parts of Vietnam at various times, only to be forced out by Vietnamese freedom fighters.

     In this telling, the Americans were merely the latest in a long series of invaders set on breaking the spirits of the Vietnamese people, and the communist victory in the American War seems inevitable—after all, a remote superpower was sure to lose its will to fight before a united people who had already endured so much.This interpretation actually squares pretty well with the modern-day conventional wisdom about the war in the US, which is that the US couldn’t have “won” without incurring a cost higher than our society was willing to accept. Robert McNamara, the former Secretary of Defense who is considered the “architect” of American strategy in Vietnam, would later admit that his, and other Americans’, failure to understand the Vietnamese viewpoint was a major reason why the Vietnam/American War became both a human tragedy and a colossal failure of American foreign policy.

     One thing I’m curious about, though, is how widely the version of history presented in Vietnamese museums is accepted among the Vietnamese people themselves. (I find myself thinking about my visit to Hoa Lo Prison, better known to Americans as the Hanoi Hilton, where displays take great pains to assure visitors that American prisoners were treated with respect and that allegations of torture are an insult to Vietnam.) Do ordinary Vietnamese truly believe in nationalism so strongly? It also occurred to me, while reading about the “Saigon puppets” of the Americans, that the American War was in fact a civil war as well—the communists had widespread popular support, but plenty of people supported the southern government, and many still live in Vietnam. How do they see the American War? There’s a good chance I won’t find the answers during this fellowship, but it’s something I’ll be thinking about.

107. An Argentinean Lost in Kathmandu

     June 6, 2017 6:35 am 7 Comments

     Literally. On my first official day to going to the office, I got lost.

     If you think this is a blog about all the problems I encountered and had to sort out until someone rescued me, you are wrong. This blog is about the goodness of the Nepalese people, since that is what I experienced when I was not able to find my way.

     Before coming to Nepal, everyone kept saying to me that people here were the nicest, more helpful and more resourceful ever. They were 100% right.

     

     Kathesimbhu Stupa

     As I left Thamel (the EXTREMELY touristy area of Kathmandu) and started walking the crowded streets of the city trying to follow Google Maps, more and more people started asking me if I was lost and needed help. At first I thought I might look too confused, or maybe they were scared for my safety – after all, I was looking at my phone instead of looking at the road, which is nearly fatal in a city with no traffic lights, no side streets and millions of motorcycles. I soon realized that it was nothing of the sort; people were genuinely trying to help a foreigner that might have lost her way from the main attractions the city has to offer.

     The 30-minute walk from my hotel to the office took me almost an hour. Every time I looked around, there was something spectacular that demanded my attention (and of course a picture). When I finally got to the street where CONCERN’s office was supposed to be, I couldn’t find it. Complete panic!

     Since my phone was blocked for some reason (and my Nepalese chip was still not working), I decided to be brave and activate the roaming service to call the people who work at CONCERN. For some reason I couldn’t get to them (I still don’t want to check my ATT bill!)

     I was literally lost in the middle of Kathmandu. No phone, no internet – what to do!? Go back to the hotel? Look around? I was really starting to look desperate when from inside a little grocery store, a man came out and, in a very rudimentary English, asked me if I needed help. I explained my situation to him and immediately he decided to help me. From his cell phone, he called the people at CONCERN. This time it worked! After a conversation where I literally couldn’t understand a single word, the owner of the grocery store told me to follow him. He left his store unattended and walked me to the exact location of the office! When I asked him how much I owed him for the phone call he just said “nothing, just remember me”.  I guess you all know where I will be shopping now!!

     In less than a week in Nepal I understood why people here have the reputation of being genuinely good. Everyone is ready to help – even if they don’t know English or if that means a distraction from whatever they were doing. It is something a little new to me, and I’m very grateful I was able to experience it only after a few days in the country.

     At the office, I began my daily activities with CONCERN’s team: Bijaya, the director; Sundar, the field officer and Prakash, the finance officer. I also got to meet Pemba and Karma, two of the previous beneficiaries of the program who are now working for CONCERN and on their way to college (you’ll read about their stories in the upcoming weeks!).  Oh, and of course there is Charlie, the cute office dog.

     

     From right to left: Sundar, Prakash, Bijaya and Cynthia

      

     CONCERN’s team is made up of the nicest, hard working and helpful people ever – resembling the rest of this great country. I cannot wait to start working with them!

      

      

      

      

108. Confronting the Vietnam War

     June 1, 2017 3:03 pm 183 Comments

     When I was 15, my parents took me to see Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center, one of the earliest movies about the 9/11 attacks.

     I don’t recall any details of the film or even whether it was any good, but I still remember being struck, at the time, by a strange sensation of familiarity. 9/11 had been something I’d experienced—not firsthand, but I remembered where I’d been as it was going on, and how I and those around me had reacted. To see something that had happened in my own life presented as “history” in a movie felt like a milestone, a sign of maturity.

     For a child, history can seem inextricably separate from the world you live in—at least, that’s how it was for me. An event as recent as the Iranian hostage crisis was placed in the same category as the Kennedy assassination, the Civil War, the fall of Rome; they were all part of some world separate from my own experience. I loved history, but in some subconscious way it was never completely real.

     I was born 16 years after the fall of Saigon, so that’s how the Vietnam War felt for me. Since I had no memories of it and it didn’t impact my life in a tangible way, my knowledge of the war—through history class, books, movies—seemed remote and distant. Even years later, when I became more interested in the war and studied it in greater depth as an undergraduate, it didn’t resonate in quite the same way as something like 9/11. I think most Americans of my generation see the war as something for our parents and grandparents to argue and reminisce about, an event from a half-imagined past world fundamentally separate from our own.

     But not all young people in the US or especially in Vietnam have the privilege I’ve had of living outside the shadow of that war. And for a tragic number of young Vietnamese, a decision made by bureaucrats in a distant land years before their birth, fighting a war they were never a part of, has irreparably damaged their lives.

     

     A US Army APC spraying Agent Orange during the Vietnam War.

     In 1961, President John F. Kennedy authorized Operation Ranch Hand, the defoliation of parts of South Vietnam’s dense jungle, which was used as cover by North Vietnamese and Vietcong forces. To accomplish this, the US would spray an acidic compound called Agent Orange, which produces a chemical called dioxin that is fatal to plants—the military ignored warning signs that dioxin contamination could harm humans as well. Over the following decade, around 12 million gallons of Agent Orange would be sprayed in Vietnam, targeting crops as well as jungle. But it later became clear that Agent Orange also devastated the bodies of those exposed to it, as seen not only among Vietnamese soldiers and civilians but US servicemen as well. A number of very serious illnesses—including Parkinson’s disease, prostate cancer, lung cancer, and leukemia—have been linked to Agent Orange exposure.

     Much of this is fairly common knowledge in the US. What many don’t know, what I didn’t learn until recently, is that Agent Orange’s effects aren’t limited to those directly exposed—their children, born after the guns fell silent, often bear the burden as well. According to the Red Cross, at least 150,000 children in Vietnam have been born with serious birth defects as a result of Agent Orange. Even though many of these children are grown up now, their disabilities are often serious enough to make it impossible for them to live without full-time care—in a very real sense, their childhood may never end.

     It is these people and those who care for them—generally their parents—who I will be working with this summer as an Advocacy Project peace fellow. I leave for Vietnam in a few days, and my final destination—Quang Binh province on the central coast—was the southernmost area of North Vietnam during the war and, as a consequence, a particularly appealing target for US bombs and Agent Orange. Working with my host organization, the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD), I’ll be helping to provide vital assistance to families living with Agent Orange, providing them with the tools to relieve some of the economic hardships they face. It hardly seems real to me as I write this, sitting at a desk eight thousand miles away surrounded by half-packed luggage, but I will soon be confronted with the horrific consequences of the Vietnam War.

     

     Me and my fellow Advocacy Project Peace Fellows at training in Washington, DC.

     I recently returned from the Advocacy Project’s weeklong training program in Washington, DC, where an excellent set of guest presenters gave me and the other eight incoming fellows a whirlwind introduction to all the skills we’ll be using to help our organizations—everything from photography to video editing to podcasting. I definitely feel a lot better prepared than I did before training, but I confess I’m still uncertain about what I can contribute. What can someone with no experience in Southeast Asia, no language skills, and minimal familiarity with Vietnamese culture hope to provide to an organization like AEPD, whose staff understands the issue of Agent Orange far better than I can? I’ll find out, and do everything I can to reward the Advocacy Project’s trust in my skills.

     I’m not certain what to expect from the next few months, but here’s what I’m expecting from this blog. For one thing, my future posts won’t be as long-winded or meandering as this one. I’ll try to focus on more specific aspects of my time in Vietnam, and hopefully tell individual stories of the people I meet and the places I visit. I’m also not sure what the tone of this blog is going to be; this post notwithstanding, my writing, like my personal style, is often light and irreverent, but that obviously won’t be reflected in writing about one of the most harrowing topics imaginable. As a result, the mood of this blog may shift wildly between posts—that may be jarring for the reader, but it’ll probably reflect my experience in Vietnam fairly well, so I suppose we’ll all have to get used to it.

     Probably my biggest hope for the blog itself is that the voices of those affected by Agent Orange, the people AEPD and the Advocacy Project are serving, begins to drown out my own voice in later posts. Obviously this blog is meant to reflect my own experience, but in the end I’m going to Vietnam to share their stories. My own story isn’t ultimately all that interesting—theirs are essential.

109. From Kathmandu to Dhankuta

     4:01 am 99 Comments

     The journey from Kathmandu to Dhankuta began bright and early at 4am when I left the place that I had been staying at to join Yunesh before heading to where the bus would pick us up. Yunesh is the son of Indira Thapa, the founder of Care Women Nepal. In the past, Yunesh has been heavily involved with the planning of health camps when he is not busy carrying out his studies in international relations and diplomacy. At our meeting on the proceeding day, Yunesh had provided me with a phone number that I should give to the cab driver. Once I got in the cab, I was to instruct the driver to call Yunesh to discover where I should be dropped off. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but the same thing happened when I took a cab from the airport to the place I was staying in Kathmandu. I am used to simply providing an address to an uber driver, and then arriving where I need to be. In Nepal, streets are not necessarily marked, and locations are listed as on a given street (but not necessarily where on the street). For this reason, a call between a cab driver and Nepalese speaking host is necessary.

     First call to Yunesh, no answer. Second call, no answer… I began to worry as I rode around in a cab at 4am with nowhere to go. Thankfully, shortly thereafter Yunesh called the driver and provided him with a location by a pond. The cab driver was adamant that he had to go, and so I was dropped off by this pond to wait for Yunesh. I stood by the pond in darkness for a good 10 minutes, surrounded by barking dogs and thinking back to the meeting that I recently had at a travel clinic in Canada where they had warned me about rabies.

     

     Soon, Yunesh emerged from the darkness and we set off to find another cab that would bring us to where we would catch the bus. The bus held about 12 people, and was in good working condition. The journey was set to take about 10 hours, although we stopped frequently for tea breaks, bathroom breaks and chip breaks. During one of these breaks I met a man who was stirring a large caldron of boiling liquid. He was making sweets that are traditional within the region of Barhara, Nepal. Along the way, I took in some of the most beautiful sights that I have ever seen. One minute I found myself in the clouds, and the next, I was in a luscious valley. As we drove along a road made up entirely of switchbacks, I couldn’t help but imagine what might happen to me if we went head on into one of the many other large vehicles that we narrowly scraped by on a one lane highway while going 100km/h. No seatbelts were to be found within the vehicle, yet no one else seemed worried. Luckily most of the highway was paved (except portions of the highways that had recently been rendered nearly inoperable by road slides), and our driver seemed to know the unwritten rules of driving in Nepal very well. When we went around corners we would sound a large horn to warn other trucks. While this is essentially the only system in place to let other people know that you too are turning the corner, it seems to work with surprising efficacy. In these prima facie stressful situations, rather than panic I tend to feel utterly calm. If I know there is nothing that I can do to change the reality that I find myself experiencing, I simply sit back and try to appreciate my surroundings.

     

     At around 6pm, we arrived in Dhankuta, safe and sound. I am at once thankful for the skill of the driver who transported us here safely, and all the more aware of my own mortality.

110. DO NOT BUY THE MILK

     2:32 am 4 Comments

     I would like to issue a word of caution to individuals travelling in Kathmandu (and particularly Thamel): DO NOT BUY THE MILK FOR THE MOTHER AND HER SCREAMING CHILD. This advice seems to be counterintuitive, if not cruel. And it is. When you see another human being who is asking for food to feed their infant, to say no is to repress your own sense of humanity. Repress it.

     On one of the first days that I arrived in Kathmandu, while I was walking to a coffee shop to hopefully link up to some decent Wi-Fi and continue to work on the Care Women Nepal website, a woman in distress with a crying infant approached me. She explained to me in broken but comprehensible English that her child was hungry and in need of milk. She did not once ask for money, only that I follow her into a nearby shop to purchase some milk for the child. Generally, when people in need approach me on the street asking for money I feel conflicted. On the one hand, I want to help, but on the other I cannot be sure of what they will use the money for. I have a rule that whenever someone approaches me asking for food, if I can help them, I will.

     I followed the women into the shop and she went into the back of the store. She came back carrying a box of milk priced at 2300 NPR (23 US dollars). I was shocked by the price of the milk… I asked why it was so expensive. She responded by saying that she needed this specific type of powdered milk for her infant, and that the milk had to be imported from Australia. I gave her the benefit of the doubt, but still felt as if the whole interaction between me, her and the store owner was oddly contrived. I suppressed this uneasiness and still bought her the milk at the price of 23USD (which in retrospect seems insane)! After having left the women (who was profusely grateful), I finally found a Wi-Fi zone and decided to check if what my intuition was telling me about the events that had just transpired was correct.

     The so dubbed “milk scam” is apparently very common in India and Nepal. An individual will approach you (usually a woman) asking you to purchase milk to feed their child. They will then take you into a shop where the price of milk has been artificially elevated and the store owner is in on the scam. Once you have purchased the milk, they will thank you profusely. Once you have left, they will return the milk to the store owner, and collect a proportion of the exorbitant amount of money that the naïve foreigner has spent trying to be a decent human being.

     I generally consider myself to be a savvy traveler, always researching the prices that I should pay for cabs, hotels and an average meal, and bargaining with store owners to pay a reasonable price for goods/services. I have mixed feelings about having been duped. On the one hand, I hope that the women will make use of the money to improve her situation in some small way. Having said that, my ego has also been wounded because I know that I have been fooled! At the end of the day, I chalk this experience up to a lesson. Trust your gut. Always. If something feels like a scam it probably is. This can be hard to do when regardless of your intuition, you want to trust someone and help them escape a desperate situation. Sometimes the knowledge that comes from a mistake is costly, but hey, I won’t be buying the milk again!

      अर्को पटक सम्म

111. Destination: Kathmandu (and a couple of layovers)

     12:19 am 276 Comments

     The last couple of weeks felt like a roller coaster. The excitement for being an AP fellow in Nepal this summer was many times overshadowed by the anxiety of trying to pack for the trip, get my immunizations in order, clean my DC apartment for the person who is staying there while I’m gone and prepare for training. Oh, and of course on top of that finish my classes!

     Definitely writing my papers and study for my exams were not easy tasks. Every time I tried to concentrate on issues related with public finance and labor economics, I started thinking about Nepal. How is it going to be there? Where should I live? What will I eat? Will I adjust to a different work environment? What will it be like to spend my days in a land that a couple of months ago seemed totally remote?

     Having my Nepal guide on my desk didn’t help for my concentration…I often find myself reading about Nepal’s history or trying to figure out Kathmandu’s map (with no luck, I have to say) instead of thinking about my model for my labor economics final paper. But again
     at all odds, I did it. One day before starting training, I submitted my last paper and was ready to start dreaming – interruptions and guilt free – about my summer adventure.

      

     Training was intense to say the least. In just 5 days, I became an expert in editing videos, taking pictures – maybe not worth a Pulitzer, but close enough – writing blogs and doing podcasts. Most of these things were completely new to me! I also met the other fellows, learned about what they will be doing this summer and what motivated them to become part of AP. I found it amazing how, even though we have different backgrounds, go to different schools, do different programs and will probably have different career paths in the future, at the end we all want the same: to feel that we can have an impact on the organizations that we will be working for, no matter how small or large. We all want to go to the field, get our hands dirty and learn from working in a different environment. We want to advocate for the rights of those whose voice many times is not heard. We want to bring our expertise, ideas and enthusiasm to local organizations that work hard every day to fight for those ideals.

     I finished training week with a feeling of purpose that I didn’t have before. Trying to help others and have an impact on developmental projects is what drove my entire career. It is the reason why I’m doing a PhD in Public Policy, and why I worked in international development before that. I applied to this fellowship with the particular idea of having some real field experience before starting the dissertation part of my Phd. I thought it would be a good experience for me given my interests and expertise in monitoring and evaluation. Plus I saw an opportunity to get ideas for my own research through this wonderful experience! That purpose got transformed during those days sitting at Georgetown University with the other fellows.

     I realized that my contribution to CONCERN – the Nepalese NGO I will be working for this summer that rescues children from illegal work in stone quarries and brick kilns and put them back in school – goes beyond my particular expertise in one of the issues they need support with, like monitoring and evaluation. I am actually going to be part of CONCERN, working side by side with its members in very different tasks – from developing their web page and promoting their work through different platforms to help with the fundraising Global Giving campaigns. I have a huge responsibility ahead of me.

     I left training happy and knowing that I will learn more from this fellowship than I ever imagined. More importantly, I left with the feeling that I was embarking in an amazing adventure that will shape both my personal and professional life.

     Now I’m writing this blog having a coffee at Frankfurt airport, in the first of my layovers. I don’t know why I thought spending 8 hours in Frankfurt was going to be a good idea – but here I am! Waiting for my flight to Delhi, a 6 hours layover there and finally the last plane that will take me to Kathmandu.

     Just a couple of hours ago, my friends dropped me at Dulles Airport. They told me that they would take me only if I cried at the gate…I have to say some tears rolled down my face as I said goodbye and realized I will not see them for almost 3 months. My friends were the first ones to support me in my decision to go to Nepal, and my biggest fans! They are the best! And even though I will miss them, I know they are as excited as I am for this experience I’m about to begin.

     Next time I post I will be in Kathmandu (and hopefully more rested). I look forward to start experiencing Nepal and getting more involved with CONCERN’s projects. And writing all about them!

      

112. Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

     May 29, 2017 3:38 pm 5 Comments

     After 30 hours of travel I have arrived in Kathmandu. While I had planned to pass the time en route reading, I mostly found myself reflecting on the people I met over the course of the past two weeks in Washington, D.C. I feel immense gratitude. One does not meet people like Karen, Iain, Cynthia, Reina, Talley, Vicky, Kristin, Lauren, Jacob and Alberto very often. This year’s AP fellows are undoubtedly some of the most inspirational people that I have ever come across. They all have an inner strength and drive that I admire and aspire to hone throughout my own advocacy work. I know that they will all do amazing work with their respective projects, and throughout their lives.

     All AP fellows were also provided with training in videography, website development, monitoring and evaluation and podcasting among other skills that would be important for our fellowships. I want to send out a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to share their expertise with us. I would also like to recognize that The Advocacy Project could not exist without the assiduous work of Iain Guest and Karen Delaney. Iain and Karen are tirelessly working to provide life changing opportunities to young graduates like myself as well as to grass roots organizations globally.

     

     I want to continually strive to surround myself with people like those that I met this past week. Importantly, the time I spent with AP reinforced that the path that I have been heading down is the right one for me. As I sit here in a café alone, listening to the rain wash over Kathmandu, I miss my loved ones, but I also realize now that there is nowhere else I would rather be. I am happiest when I feel that I am using my time in a way that will advance human rights (if only in a marginal way). While the answer to the question of “what is happiness” likely has as many variations as there are people in the world, the more I study and apply what I’ve learned to real human rights issues, the answer becomes increasingly simple. For me, happiness is knowing that you are doing everything in your power to improve the lives of individuals. This could be at home or abroad.

     

     Happiness is the realization of human capability, both in the case of oneself and others. Sometimes, this means getting loud about human rights issues that aren’t sufficiently addressed by the global community. While in D.C, I passed a sign on someone’s lawn that resonated with me, and is one of the core reasons that I believe human rights work is so invaluable. The sign read: “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Martin Luther King, Jr. This summer, I hope that I can advance recognition of the human rights dimension of uterine prolapse (UP) to garner government and donors support for the work of Care Women Nepal (CWN). I will explore UP and the role that CWN plays in addressing UP in a later post. Markedly, uterine prolapse is, for many, an uncomfortable topic to discuss, but that does not mean that the international community should not raise its collective voice in defence of women’s sexual and reproductive health rights as it has done in the past in the case of many civil and political human rights issues.

     

     Finally, within my blogs, each week I would like to introduce you to someone that I met along my journey. One of the first people that I interacted with in Nepal was named Biessenu. Biessenu transported me safely from the airport to where I am staying in Thamel. I was in awe at the way he navigated his way through heavy traffic that seemingly followed no set of concrete rules. No seatbelts? No problem. No traffic lights? No need! Biessenu used to work for the Nepali police force, and so we even gave a ride to a police officer on the way to Thamel. I was feeling extra safe with the exception of the 2 or 3 near head on collisions… I’m kidding.. kind of…

     Biessenu has two beautiful children and used to work in Haiti within a UN mission. He explained to me that he believes international aid in Haiti to be insufficient. He asked me about what I could be doing in Nepal and was genuinely interested in the work of CWN. I am very thankful for Biessenu’s kindness, driving skills and for a great first conversation in Nepal.

      अर्को पटक सम्म

113. Washed Away

     November 2, 2016 3:20 am 66 Comments

     I woke up on Friday morning 10/14 a little disoriented. Preoccupied with the giant mosquito bite that had taken over my right eyelid, I drafted an email to my Director, letting her know I would be working from home that day. I had my headphones in and was lost in thought, busy proofreading a proposal. It took me a good few hours that morning before I opened my windows to find rain pouring from the sky. Dong Hoi City had become a giant swimming pool overnight. Puddles formed everywhere as the river across from my hotel slowly crept closer and closer up to the edge. Rain was coming down at a speed faster and mightier than anything I had seen in awhile.

     I sat downstairs at the little café below my room and listened to talks of flooding all over Dong Hoi. You see, we had all expected rain to come, but I certainly had no idea how intense it would get. I could see in the TV how hard emergency services from places like treeserviceremoval.com/ were working to keep the traffic running in a disarray of confusion like that. Over that weekend, the rain relentlessly poured over the Central region of the country, only letting up for a few hours at most. Come Monday, I would’ve braved my first tropical storm in Vietnam, but I was never in any real trouble. I was still fortunate enough to be living in the city, in a better developed part of town. While flooding did happen here, it wasn’t nearly at the level experienced in some of the other communes. Houses where I am are also newer and better built.

     When Monday rolled around, I was tasked with translating a document from the People’s Committee of Quang Binh summarizing the damages caused by the storm that weekend. Here are some official numbers of damages:
     – Dead: 21 people
     – Missing: 01 people
     – Injured: 25 persons
     – Houses flooded: 92,509 houses
     – School flooded: 839 rooms
     – Food losses: 4,296.2 tons
     Total estimated value of damages: $871 billion VND

     When natural disasters like these occur, the hardest hit victims are always seniors, children and persons with disabilities since they are often unable to evacuate themselves or prepare for disasters. On the following Sunday, I joined AEPD on a trip to help with flood relief. We distributed rice and other items such as cooking oil and school supplies to families and children in Quang Thanh Commune. There were five families unable to make it out to the community center, so we drove to visit them individually. At these homes, I am able to get a glimpse into the situation that many persons with disabilities find themselves in during these difficult times.

     

     AEPD paid a visit to a family affected by the recent flood.

     With this family in the picture, there is an older woman of about sixty years old who cares for her disabled son. Their small home is almost bare besides two beds, a small table set and a TV. She tells us that during the rainy days, the flood rose past her knees. She hadn’t moved certain items around the house to higher ground in time, so they were left floating. Her son is bedridden and relies on her for everything. Their family is one of the ones who are unable to evacuate. They face mobility issues, a lack of transportation and frankly, a lack of areas to evacuate to. When disaster hits, they wait it out and pray for the best. Unfortunately, these situations are not uncommon. In fact, many households in the province experience a similar predicament. One of the sectors that AEPD focuses on in the community is Community-Based Disaster Risk Management (CBDRM). This is one issue incredibly deserving of attention in Quang Binh province, where an average of 2.5 natural disasters happen per year.

     We are two weeks out from the storm and Quang Binh is already seeing some more heavy rainfall this week. Certain communes are now flooded once more. In Vietnam, this is a problem known as “lũ kép”. Lũ = flood & kép = dual. I learned this phrase myself yesterday. It perfectly describes the constant and continuous flooding that occurs in Central Vietnam. With one heavy storm instantly followed by another, local people never get the chance to fully recover before disaster would strike their community once again. This is why CBDRM is so important especially in these areas. Please click here to read more about AEPD’s activities in this field.

114. Mr. Truong Minh Hoc

     October 16, 2016 9:44 pm 2 Comments

     Mr. Hoc was the first person I met in AEPD. As I fidgeted with the straps of my backpack that Monday morning, I came face to face with a kind, older man. He smiled as I tried to introduce myself in my best formal “I’m-a-local” Vietnamese. Mr. Hoc was on his way out while accompanying Mrs. Hong (AEPD Chairperson) and the rest of a staff on a visit with Irish Aid, so they left before we got a chance to speak. Later that week, Mr. Hoc made his way over to my little corner of the office for a proper introduction and to ask me more about myself. He was the first outreach worker to do so. I never did tell him but I was quite grateful for this little gesture of kindness, because it went far in making this unfamiliar space and city feel a little more like home.

     Kindness. I think this is the one word that immediately comes to my mind when I think about Mr. Hoc. I got to know him a little better on our long trip to Tuyen Hoa Commune, where we recently bought a cow for the family of Mrs. Mai Thi Loi. Here is Mr. Hoc’s story.

     Born in 1958, Mr. Hoc grew up in rural Quang Binh province with three siblings. His hometown is a smaller, hilly commune, much more isolated than Dong Hoi City (Quang Binh’s capital and the location of AEPD). He joined the army in 1977 after the American War ended. Mr. Hoc himself was exposed to Agent Orange while cleaning up leftover dioxin barrels as part of his job. Many people reused these barrels contaminated by the dioxin, unknowingly putting themselves and their family in grave danger. Mr. Hoc’s oldest son is also an Agent Orange Victim. On good days, he is able to function normally, but on bad days, he is prone to mood swings and fits. He has also been known to wander the streets aimlessly. According to Mr. Hoc, veterans who served after the 1975 Fall of Saigon do not qualify for governmental support even if they were exposed to Agent Orange during their time in the military. This is highly unfortunate.

     In 1984, after fifteen years of service, Mr. Hoc was shot in his right leg in Laos. The bullet shattered one third of his shin, and destroyed his hip. He was transferred to a hospital in Hanoi, where he would remain for the next six years. Here, Mr. Hoc would have to go through a total of eight surgeries and countless hours of therapy to learn how to walk again. He was in so much pain that Mr. Hoc remembered asking doctors for an amputation so he could recover faster, but he held on and persevere with the support of his doctors.

     Another remarkable thing about Mr. Hoc I think is his willingness to learn and adapt. During our talk, he recounted stories of student doctors having to examine his leg while answering questions in order to pass their oral exam. He remembered reciting the answers to questions such as, “What are the degrees of disability?”, etc. under his breath. Even to today, he shows a keen interest for medicine and health. He not only remembers much of the medical knowledge gained from being in a learning hospital for over half a decade. He thinks about how to utilize the information in programs to help PWDs. Early on, I recalled Mr. Hoc explaining to me why early detection and easy treatment for neonatal jaundice are so important for families living in rural villages. Mr. Hoc is constantly trying to share his ideas and knowledge with the community, a quality I find admirable. He is also very quick to pick up on learning to use new forms of technology, from email to smartphone, so he can do a better job at work. He recently asked me to help him use an app to scan documents. I fully understand how difficult it is for my parents to use any form of technology, so it’s really refreshing for me to see someone else around their age who continues to try so hard to learn and do his best to improve the quality of his work.

     Mr. Hoc began working as an outreach worker for AEPD’s predecessor, Landmine Survivor Network, in 2006. When asked why he chose this line of work, Mr. Hoc says, “As a person with disabilities, I became an outreach worker to help my peers. If PWDs are not out there supporting one another, then who will? I want to help others gain a sense of social inclusion and better opportunities. I also wanted to prove that I’m just like everyone else and that I can be a role model too.” There is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Hoc is a role model to many in the community.

     

     Mr. Hoc working with a fellow PWD. PC: AEPD staff

     I distinctively remember making the trip to see Mrs. Mai Thi Loi the first time in July. Mr. Hoc was away for training that week, so I asked if I could leave the business plan behind and get someone from the local self-help club to complete it for her. Mr. Hoc immediately objected! I could hear him shaking his head over the phone, telling me to wait. “I will do it,” he says, “You need to do a good job and other people won’t be as careful.” Mr. Hoc was also the first person to volunteer when AEPD decided to expand their operation into Tuyen Hoa Commune, the farthest corner of Quang Binh Province.

     Now, in order for Mr. Hoc to get to Mrs. Loi’s home in Tuyen Hoa, he has to ride his motorbike over 2.5 hours one way. His wounds still hurt especially on such long rides, but he insists that he’s used to it. It’s amazing to see the level of dedication that outreach workers have for their work. Over the course of a decade’s worth of service of AEPD, Mr. Hoc has advised countless number of PWDs, formed over nine self-help clubs and help to put together ten different business/production groups in Quang Binh.

     

     Mr. Hoc at a yoga training session for PWDs.

115. The Power of a Peace Fellow

     October 15, 2016 6:14 am Leave a Comment

     It has now been almost two months since I left Kenya and my fellowship with CPI, and though I jumped right into another internship I have had some time to reflect on my role and overall experience. 

     

     Working in “developing countries” is always an interesting ride, and in some ways there are no guarantees and it usually serves in your favor to keep your expectations low and go with the flow as much as possible. 

     Being able to see the more administrative side of working in an NGO was really interesting, and I have a much clearer vision of what kind of reporting and documentation is required for donors. I think the most valuable aspect of the Fellowship for myself was learning about the literal application of peace education and being able to see firsthand grassroots conflict resolution. It sounds quite basic but prior to working with CPI-Kenya I don’t think I would’ve even thought about attempting to search for different peace education curricula or understand how effective it can be when integrated into normal school programs. Now I realize that there are many programs out there waiting to be utilized and adapted to fit specific contexts. It opened my eyes to a whole new realm of possibilities! 

     It has been very interesting to go straight from the Fellowship in Kenya to an internship in Zanzibar. I have found myself acknowledging many of the same needs and possible deliverables for my organization here, and I think that the experience in Kenya provided me with the confidence to be more assertive in what I think I can provide. 

     

     I definitely feel as though my favorite times with CPI was working in the North for the parents meeting portion of the peace program and for the Interactions for Peace (I4P) program in Nairobi primary schools. I love working directly with the target populations, especially youth, so being able to see the students learning the I4P program, and the interaction between the students and parents of previously warring tribes in the North holds more sentimental value for me. As far as what I was able to deliver for CPI, I was able to produce several videos for CPI and though I would not consider myself an expert by any means, I am proud of the final products. We also completed some basic training on social media outlets and I completed a Program Summary which compiled in whole their documentation and project reports to date. It is my plan to return to Kenya in the near future and I certainly hope that when I do I will be able to see a different stage of CPI’s project cycle.

     

116. Mr. Luong Thanh Hoai

     October 9, 2016 11:20 pm Leave a Comment

     Mr. Luong Thanh Hoai is the first outreach worker to accompany me on my visits to the ten families affected by Agent Orange from Quang Binh. He’s a tall and put-together man, with a confident walk and an easy smile. Mr. Hoai has been working with AEPD (formerly known as LSN-V) for ten years now.

     Mr. Hoai was born in Quang Binh province to a wealthier family as one of six siblings. Growing up, Mr. Hoai always did well in school. He was on his way to follow in the footsteps of his accomplished father, a judge at criminal court., until his final year of high school. Right before his university entrance exam, Mr. Hoai found out that the school administrators had made a grave mistake and he was given the wrong information all along. Instead of Da Nang, Mr. Hoai was supposed in Saigon for the exam! Unfortunately, it was too late for him to make the trip down South and he ended up missing his test that morning. This simple mistake would change the course of Mr. Hoai’s life forever.

     Since he could no longer enter university, Mr. Hoai’s father decided that he should enter the army instead. Mr. Hoai enlisted in 1986. Two years later, during the Truong Sa Sea Battle, he was badly injured due to a missile attack. Mr. Hoai had small injuries lot more time. Silicone Scar Tape had always help them for pain relief from injuries. But this time it was different. That’s why Mr. Hoai spent the next three months recovering from his injuries and the loss of his right eye in various hospitals throughout the country. During his time in Da Nang Hospital, Mr. Hoai would meet a young child going through a similar surgery named Huong. As fate would have it, Mr. Hoai and Huong would be reunited once again twenty-five years later through his work at AEPD.

     As an Agent Orange victim, this brave young boy was going his first eye removal surgery at barely ten years old. Huong was born a healthy baby, but his eyesight began deteriorating when he got to third grade. His family had spent much of their income, selling off assets, to get Huong medical attention and treatment. Nevertheless, there wasn’t much doctors could do for the young boy. Huong is one of three siblings affected by the dioxin. Mr. Hoai recalls their encounter, “I used to comfort this little kid in my hospital wing all those years ago. He was going through the same procedure that I was. I knew immediately when I came back to visit his family with AEPD that he was the small child from Da Nang all those years ago!” After their chanced meeting all those years ago, Mr. Hoai and Huong parted ways. They would meet again when Mr. Hoai visited Huong’s home as part of his work in 2015. Special connections such as these make outreach workers such a special part of the community.

     

     Huong, pictured with his mother Mrs. An and younger sister Hoa.

     Today, Huong is now slowly losing vision in his last remaining eye as well. Despite his struggles, the young man credits Mr. Hoai with helping him through some tough times after their reunion. Huong says, “In the beginning when I first met him, he got me to join the local self-help club. I started singing, playing the guitar. That really helped me get over my loneliness and sadness. Now I can’t sing anymore, because of a recent face reconstruction surgery, but I still keep in touch with Mr. Hoai.” Mr. Hoai continues to check in on the family of Huong as AEPD and AP work to fundraise for families affected by Agent Orange. Outreach workers have powerful relationships with the people whom they serve, making them a crucial component of the peer support model.

     As for Mr. Hoai, after he left the Da Nang hospital to return home, he found that many of his friends and family members were in disbelief of what had happened. In addition to his lost eye, Mr. Hoai also had scars running down his face and on his chest. They couldn’t recognize him and when they did, they were filled with sadness for the young man. In the beginning, Mr. Hoai did too, he felt self-pity and went through a period of depression. These are all common feelings that many PWDs report experiencing. A large number would stay sad and hide away from society in order to protect themselves. Mr. Hoai credits his family and friends for helping him to recover. Through their support, he grew mentally and physically stronger. He was ready to overcome life obstacles and start living. Mr. Hoai’s personal journey to self-discovery is another testament to how important it is for PWDs to stay connected to their community, friends and family. AEPD continues to push PWDs to achieve social inclusion because they understand the benefits that could come out of having a strong support network to help PWDs grow and develop as individuals.

     Mr. Hoai slowly got back on his feet and began building a life for himself. In 1993, he married a local woman from the province. They have two daughters. Mr. Hoai has been an outreach worker with LSN-V (which became AEPD) for ten years now. In 2007, Mr. Hoai entered the 2007 Vietnamese National ParaGames and took home two silver medals, one in discus and one in javelin. Similarly to his fellow outreach workers, Mr. Hoai’s life story is full of obstacles and struggles, but he has succeeded in coming out on top, earning a well-deserved place at AEPD as a champion for fellow PWDs in Quang Binh province.

117. Mr. Nguyen Van Thuan

     October 4, 2016 10:36 pm 2 Comments

     Mr. Luu’s long-term service with AEPD is incredibly remarkable, thirteen years serving some of the most vulnerable and underprivileged people in Vietnam. Mr. Nguyen Van Thuan is another outreach worker on AEPD’s team showing the same level of determination and commitment as Mr. Luu to doing good. To hear Mr. Thuan tells it, he became a security guard for the Landmine Survivor Network’s office around the time that Mr. Luu started working there as an outreach worker. Soon, he realized that he wanted to take on a more active role within the organization, so he consulted his friend, Mr. Luu, who knew that Mr. Thuan would be a great candidate for the job. They worked together through the recruitment process and remain friends today.

     Mr. Thuan is no stranger to the obstacles that all Persons with Disabilities (PWDs) face on a daily basis. When he was only nineteen years old, Mr. Thuan joined the army as a young engineer. He enlisted in May 1978. Merely three short months later, Mr. Thuan embarked on a mining mission in Cambodia that would change the course of his life forever. While Mr. Thuan was working, a landmine accidentally exploded as he was holding it, blowing up his entire left hand and three fingers on his right hand. He returned home with no job prospect and no way to earn an income. Mr. Thuan began gathering wood and cassava in the forest to make a living. One of his biggest obstacles was that he didn’t have any form of transportation besides his bicycle at that point.

     

     Mr. Thuan at a yoga training for PWDs.

     In 1984, Mr. Thuan got married and became a parent for the first time. Knowing that he now has a family to support motivated Mr. Thuan. He bought a motorbike and taught himself to drive. Mr. Thuan and his wife opened up a sugar cane stand. The family still runs their sugar cane and grocery business at the local market today. In fact, at a recent yoga training session for PWDs of Quang Binh at his home, Mr. Thuan served all participants freshly made sugar cane juice! Mr. Thuan and his wife worked hard to grow their stand into a successful business.

     As Mr. Thuan & his family saw their economic situation improved, he also wanted to give back to the community so he jumped at the chance to apply for the outreach worker position. Many survivors feel quite inferior to other people in their community. Therefore, they shy away from society, hiding in their home. Mr. Thuan is no stranger to these feelings himself. His no-nonsense support is what many PWDs in Quang Binh need to start on the road to recovery.

     I think Mr. Thuan is best described through the words of some of the people he has worked with. During my first week spent at AEPD, I was able to go on a field visit with Mr. Thuan, a photographer from Irish Aid and a few local staff members. One of the first homes I visited was the home of Mr. Luong. who is also a landmine survivor. He is in his twenties, married with two young children. His accident was caused while he was out working the field. As Mr. Luong was burning some crop, he unknowingly applied too much pressure and heat to an area of the field contaminated by a landmine, which detonated. Mr. Luong woke up in a hospital bed only to find his eyes damaged and both of his hands gone.

     When asked about his experience following the horrific accident, Mr. Luong said, “After it happened, I began avoiding all of my friends and family. I was depressed and afraid that if people saw me around town, they would get scared. I just wanted to hide inside my house. My wife had to take care of me everyday. I couldn’t really do much on my own. When I met Mr. Thuan for the first time, he immediately lectured me for letting my wife do so much for me. He told me I was a perfectly healthy and capable young man, who had to start taking care of himself. When I saw how amazing he is at not letting his disability control his life, I wanted to learn from him. Mr. Thuan is especially skillful with using his arms so I followed in his example. He helped me overcome my depression and got my life back on track. With his support, I learned to row a boat on the river out back so I could raise fish to earn a living. AEPD helped my family set up a grocery stand out front so we can add to our income.”

     Later that day, we stopped by the home of Mrs. Huong, a local tailor. Mrs. Huong was born with her disability while her husband, Mr. Nam, lost his arm during a work accident in Ho Chi Minh City. The couple met while at a singing rehearsal at a performance organized by AEPD. Mrs. Huong received training from AEPD to become a tailor. The happy couple was expecting a child when we visited. When we asked Mrs. Huong to keep us updated on news of her pregnancy, Ms. Huong exclaims, “Of course I’d tell Mr. Thuan! He’s like a second father to us!” With one simple statement, Mrs. Huong has helped me to understand just how important Mr. Thuan’s work is to his community.

     Mr. Thuan is an excellent example of why the peer-support model works so well. He not only understands what PWDs are going through, he also knows what it would take for them to conquer their obstacles and overcome their toughest struggles. His no-nonsense manner and determination allow him to help many people in dire situations adapt and overcome. After all, Mr. Thuan has been through it all once before.

     

     Mr. Thuan with one of the AO families we successfully fundraised for in 2016.

118. “Come back soon”

     September 30, 2016 1:40 am 82 Comments

     “Will you ever come back to Nepal?” This was the question that many people asked during my last week at WRRP. It’s been a long and exhilarating 14 weeks in Nepal, and although I had to confront many challenges, I wanted to focus on some of the major highlights from my fellowship. These three months have provided me with professional and personal growth, and I am grateful for the opportunity to serve as a Peace Fellow with Advocacy Project. It was an experience that I will always look back on.

     The work I accomplished.

     Over the course of the last 3 months I spent at WRRP, there were multiple projects that I participated in, including creating training that teaches students how to create an effective campaign on the untouchability issue of girls during menstruation. However, my primary project involved profiling students in their home and school at a local village in Gutu, Nepal and training them on reproductive rights.

     

     I started my fellowship with WRRP with no prior experience in reproductive rights and discrimination of women in Nepal. However, I am glad I had the opportunity to dive right into work on the ground level.  Coming up with a training tailored towards empowering adolescent groups in rural Nepal proved to be overwhelming; for every single boy and girl that WRRP targets, it could mean something life changing.  I started by monitoring how WRRP staff conduct life skill training in different districts of Nepal. I came to learn about a practice called Chaupadi, where girls are isolated to a hut during their menstruation.  Every school in every district was different and every district had different forms of discrimination towards women.  It was a challenging task to create a training that teaches reproductive rights and menstrual hygiene, while empowering students.

     I thought it would be a great idea and educational if I taught students on a campaign strategy that not only teaches about reproductive rights, but also encourage students to understand the issues of gender discrimination. This would thereby enable them to work as the main catalysts in bringing change to their society. The campaign is not rigidly structured and each student contributes to this according to his/her own capacity. The overall goal of the campaign is to empower women and girls by presenting the idea that women are not dirty or unclean during menstruation, and isolating them is a violation of their basic human rights and thus there is a need to end all violence against women.  During the training, campaign ideas were not imposed on the students, rather they were encouraged to design a campaign they can execute based on their skills and capacity. The value behind this approach is that people will want to change themselves and their own environment.

     Although my tasks were different from what I thought I would be accomplishing during my time in Nepal, I am proud of the contribution I made in the community I worked in. I hope I was able to empower some adolescent groups and bring changes in their lives.

     The Places I Visited

     Serving in another country for an extended period of time means having the opportunity to explore it. I was able to visit two districts and 7 cities. I have never visited Nepal, so the opportunity to explore Nepal was a privilege that I will cherish forever.

     Lakuri, Daliek: I went to Lakuri in Daliek to train students. I was there for 7 days in total. It took about 7 hours to climb up the mountain to reach the little village, which was breathtakingly beautiful and worth climbing on unknown paths for hours.

     

     Gutu, Surkhet: My fellowship started 400 miles away from Kathmandu in Gutu Nepal. As I mentioned before in my other report, I felt that I was reversed back in time. I stayed in a mud hut powered by a solar panel. I had to walk an hour every day at 5:00am to shower at a creek. I was welcomed with open arms and heart as I worked in the school. I was the talk of the town since I was the only American that ever visited the town.

     

     

     The Things I Learned

     There are many things I learned while I was in Nepal. Apart from the skills I attained from working at WRRP, I took away some significant pieces about me from this experience. I learned that I can withstand any hardships that come my way. I can move to any city, and any environment, and adjust quiet easily. I also learned about the many forms of discriminations that women in Nepal face. It is hard to put into perspective what these forms of discrimination and their solutions look like. From seeing the open huts that these girls sleep in, to watching them be isolated merely because they menstruate. I am not sure if I would’ve understood what these women feel if I hadn’t worked there.

     The Connections I made.

     I came across a number of extraordinary individuals who positively impacted my life and changed me as a person. From the boys and girls who taught me to keep an open mind, to the coworkers who supported me through every obstacle that came my way, and the community who welcomed me with open arms, I will cherish them all. I cannot wait to go back to Nepal and pick up where I left off.

      [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”\u201cWill you ever come back to Nepal?\u201d This was the question that many people asked during my last week at WRRP. It\u2019s been a long and exhilarating 14 weeks in Nepal, and although I had to confront many challenges, I wanted to focus on some of the major highlights from my fellowship. These three months have provided me with professional and personal growth, and I am grateful for the opportunity to serve as a Peace Fellow with Advocacy Project. It was an experience that I will always look back on.\r\n\r\nThe work I accomplished.<\/strong>\r\n\r\nOver the course of the last 3 months I spent at WRRP, there were multiple projects that I participated in, including creating training that teaches students how to create an effective campaign on the untouchability issue of girls during menstruation. However, my primary project involved profiling students in their home and school at a local village in Gutu, Nepal and training them on reproductive rights.\r\n\r\n<\/a> \r\n\r\nI started my fellowship with WRRP with no prior experience in reproductive rights and discrimination of women in Nepal. However, I am glad I had the opportunity to dive right into work on the ground level.\u00a0 Coming up with a training tailored towards empowering adolescent groups in rural Nepal proved to be overwhelming; for every single boy and girl that WRRP targets, it could mean something life changing.\u00a0 I started by monitoring how WRRP staff conduct life skill training in different districts of Nepal. I came to learn about a practice called Chaupadi, where girls are isolated to a hut during their menstruation.\u00a0 Every school in every district was different and every district had different forms of discrimination towards women.\u00a0 It was a challenging task to create a training that teaches reproductive rights and menstrual hygiene, while empowering students. \r\n\r\nI thought it would be a great idea and educational if I taught students on a campaign strategy that not only teaches about reproductive rights, but also encourage students to understand the issues of gender discrimination. This would thereby enable them to work as the main catalysts in bringing change to their society. The campaign is not rigidly structured and each student contributes to this according to his\/her own capacity. The overall goal of the campaign is to empower women and girls by presenting the idea that women are not dirty or unclean during menstruation, and isolating them is a violation of their basic human rights and thus there is a need to end all violence against women.\u00a0 During the training, campaign ideas were not imposed on the students, rather they were encouraged to design a campaign they can execute based on their skills and capacity. The value behind this approach is that people will want to change themselves and their own environment.\r\n\r\nAlthough my tasks were different from what I thought I would be accomplishing during my time in Nepal, I am proud of the contribution I made in the community I worked in. I hope I was able to empower some adolescent groups and bring changes in their lives.\r\n\r\nThe Places I Visited<\/strong>\r\n\r\nServing in another country for an extended period of time means having the opportunity to explore it. I was able to visit two districts and 7 cities. I have never visited Nepal, so the opportunity to explore Nepal was a privilege that I will cherish forever.\r\n\r\nLakuri, Daliek: I went to Lakuri in Daliek to train students. I was there for 7 days in total. It took about 7 hours to climb up the mountain to reach the little village, which was breathtakingly beautiful and worth climbing on unknown paths for hours.\r\n\r\n<\/a>\r\n\r\nGutu, Surkhet: My fellowship started 400 miles away from Kathmandu in Gutu Nepal. As I mentioned before in my other report, I felt that I was reversed back in time. I stayed in a mud hut powered by a solar panel. I had to walk an hour every day at 5:00am to shower at a creek. I was welcomed with open arms and heart as I worked in the school. I was the talk of the town since I was the only American that ever visited the town.\r\n\r\n<\/a>\r\n\r\n<\/a>\r\n\r\nThe Things I Learned<\/strong>\r\n\r\nThere are many things I learned while I was in Nepal. Apart from the skills I attained from working at WRRP, I took away some significant pieces about me from this experience. I learned that I can withstand any hardships that come my way. I can move to any city, and any environment, and adjust quiet easily. I also learned about the many forms of discriminations that women in Nepal face. It is hard to put into perspective what these forms of discrimination and their solutions look like. From seeing the open huts that these girls sleep in, to watching them be isolated merely because they menstruate. I am not sure if I would\u2019ve understood what these women feel if I hadn\u2019t worked there.\r\n\r\nThe Connections I made.<\/strong>\r\n\r\nI came across a number of extraordinary individuals who positively impacted my life and changed me as a person. From the boys and girls who taught me to keep an open mind, to the coworkers who supported me through every obstacle that came my way, and the community who welcomed me with open arms, I will cherish them all. I cannot wait to go back to Nepal and pick up where I left off.\r\n\r\n “}]}[/content-builder]

119. Mr. Nguyen Van Luu

     September 29, 2016 5:27 am 1 Comment

     With their team of five outreach workers who are all persons with disabilities (PWDs), AEPD is able to have a greater impact on the population that they serve. How? Well, the biggest part of it is trust. The community trusts these outreach workers and relies on them as a source of information. Outreach workers do many things. They link local PWDs to services, community resources and provide legal assistance to help them claim various benefits. In addition, outreach workers also identify ideal candidates for medical or economic support, and facilitate this process.

     One also cannot mention AEPD’s success in Quang Binh province without bringing up their unique model of peer support. What exactly is peer support? It is when people with similar experiences band together and provide emotional, social and/or practical support to one another. People with shared experiences will naturally be able to relate better to each other. The idea behind the model is simple, yet effective. Mr. Hoang Van Luu is one of the five outreach workers I was fortunate enough to meet at AEPD. His life story serves as an example demonstrating just how and why the model works so well.

     

     Mr. Nguyen Van Luu & a beneficiary. PC: AEPD staff

     Born in 1964, Mr. Luu was barely three years old when both of his parents were killed by a B-52 bomber in an airstrike as part of the American War. They were two of the many villagers who lost their lives that day. Mr. Luu and his three older siblings survived the attack by hiding in an underground tunnel. When they emerged from the rubble, they found that their parents had passed. Mr. Luu’s grandparents became responsible for the care of him and his siblings from that day on. Times were tough for everyone in Vietnam because of the war.

     Unfortunately for Mr. Luu, things were about to get a lot tougher before they would improve. Four years after his parents had passed, Mr. Luu became a victim of an Unexploded Ordinance (UXO) accident. His brother had picked up a bomblet on the street and unknowingly passed it on to his sibling, thinking that the object was a toy. Mr. Luu was playing with the bomb when it detonated in his hands, completely blowing away his right hand and three fingers on his left hand.

     This horrific accident took place almost fifty years ago, in a time of war and conflict. Unfortunately, forty one years later, landmines and UXOs continue to contaminate 100% of all communes in Quang Binh province today. Young children about Mr. Luu’s age back then are one of the groups most vulnerable to landmine and UXO accidents due to a number of reasons. Children are often naturally curious; many will pick up small bombs thinking they’re toys to be played with. Or, they might venture into unexplored parts of the forest to gather wood and walk their family’s buffalo, all activities that make it easier for them to stumble across a mine or UXO and causing such explosions.

     After the accident, Mr. Luu found it quite difficult to acclimate to life. He had to relearn how to do almost everything, from holding a bowl to picking up a pair of chopsticks. At school, children teased him endlessly and teachers doubted his abilities, but instead of wallowing in what he had lost, Mr. Luu strived to create a different life for himself. His hard work paid off when he tested into Hue University, one of the top schools in Vietnam, to study Biology. Unfortunately, tragedy would strike his life once again.

     Mr. Luu had fallen in love with a girl from his hometown. They wrote to each other but the distance between the pair was tough to overcome, and her family did not approve of the relationship. To be frank, they did not approve of Mr. Luu because of his disability. Eventually, the girl took her own life by jumping in front of a train. Devastated, Mr. Luu left university to return home. He could’ve let his disability defeated him right then, but instead he learned various trades such as animal husbandry and building stoves to support himself as he learned to live independently. He didn’t want to continue relying on his siblings. Mr. Luu learned as much as he could from his various trades and pursued a career in construction work. He was widely known around the province for his skills.

     Mr. Luu’s determination to make the best out of his situation made him an ideal candidate for the Landmine Survivor Network’s recruitment of outreach workers in 2003. He’s an original member of the team and has remained with the organization for thirteen years now. Today, Mr. Luu is happily married and living with his wife in Bo Trach District.

     As Mr. Luu tells it, working with LSN and AEPD is his lifelong passion. “I’ve been here since the start,” Mr. Luu says, “It’s been thirteen years now. I’m not here to make money or benefit for myself. I’m here to help people with disabilities. Why? Well, as a person with disability myself, if I don’t help other people in similar situations, who will? Some people who have disabilities are in such difficult conditions and they have no one else. It’s up to me to help them.”

     

     Mr. Luu attending a workshop with fellow PWDs.

120. Isolated Corners of Quang Binh

     September 28, 2016 11:27 pm 1 Comment

     Mrs. Mai Thi Loi left quite an impression on me the last time we met. I will always remember standing next to her by the doorway as she gripped my hands, her voice breaking, sentences truncated by sobs. I had felt hopeless then, unsure of how/what I could do to help her. Mr. Hoc, an AEPD outreach worker responsible for the family, had gone back to visit Mrs. Loi after I left. He made the three-hour trip via a motorbike through the winding, hilly streets of a rural Vietnam province. This is no easy feat. Mr. Hoc worked with the family to figure out how best to supplement their income so that Mrs. Loi can care for her three sick sons and aging father. After speaking with her extended family, they decided to settle on the support model of raising a buffalo to work the piece of land that she still has and produce calves.

     On a good day (i.e. not too sunny), her youngest son, Hung, can still help out and care for the animal. On bad days, he often wanders the neighborhood aimless and falls into angry fits. Mrs. Loi will either do most of the work herself or she will rely on the assistance of her extended family living next door. When Mr. Hoc and I got to meet with her, representatives of the local commune government and self-help club for persons with disabilities were present. Formal documents entrusting the buffalo to Mrs. Loi were signed and we took photos with the family. Mrs. Loi proudly led us to a patch of land where the cage is located. Hung was feeling well that day so he took charge in leading the animal over for our photo. It’s a huge relief to see he’s feeling a little better.

     

     Mrs. Loi with her youngest son, Hung.

     While I’m very happy to see Mrs. Loi’s family receive much needed support and assistance (Thank you kind donors!), I would like to emphasize that this isn’t a triumphant story of success. This is an ongoing story of trying to make the best out of a very difficult situation. I am hopeful the buffalo will give her a way to work the land she still has and supplement her income to care for three ailing sons. The animal is also a symbol of optimism and kindness, so Mrs. Loi can feel like she isn’t alone in this world and understand that people were moved by her story. However, this is a minuscule piece of the puzzle for Agent Orange isn’t an issue that can be so simply resolved. So much more funding is still needed. There are a great number of families just like Mrs. Loi’s in Vietnam, living on less than a few dollars a day in heartbreaking conditions. They are all equally deserving of our love and support.

     On that day, I also accompanied Mr. Hoc to meet two more families affected by Agent Orange. Mr. Hoc explained to me that it’s been quite difficult to make it out to see these new families since they’re so far away and transportation is costly. The families all live in hidden, isolated corners of the commune so without the help of a representative from the self-help club, we would not have made it out to see them. From Mrs. Loi’s home, we drove for another 20km to the home of Nguyen Ngoc Thin and Cao Thi Loan. The couple had a total of five children. Three have passed away, as recently as the beginning of this year. The last two are pictured here.

     

     Nguyen Van Lam (b. 1989) & Nguyen Phan (b. 1994), AO victims

     Their youngest is named “Phận”, which translates to “fate”. His name seems to reveal a lot about the mindset of his parents, who are living through incredibly difficult times, dealing with conditions brought on by forces entirely outside of their control. As Mrs. Loan sat and stared at us through the entire conversation, never saying a word, I couldn’t help but notice how tired and exhausted she must feel, resigned to her fate. Her husband, Mr. Thin, was more dynamic. He explained to us that that he became a soldier in 1984, living in areas that were once sprayed with tons of the pesticide. They currently earn a living through farming, but they make nowhere near enough to support themselves. Their house is falling apart and floods each stormy season.

     Next, we arrived at the house of Mr. Dinh Hu Duong and Mrs. Nguyen Thi Binh. They have a total of ten children, five were affected by Agent Orange. They currently now have two living children who are unaffected and two (pictured here) who are Agent Orange victims. Similarly to the last family we met, Mr. Duong and Mrs. Binh both make a living through farming and working odd jobs. Mrs. Duong would like to further supplement their income by raising a pair of pigs and a cow. One of the constants that we see with each Agent Orange family is this double burden of making ends meet and caregiving that parents or other guardians must take on.

     

     Mr. Duong with his two children, Cong (b. 2000) & Thach (b. 1987), left to right

     Often times, one person has to be home 24/7 to care for their disabled children or grandchildren, which places a financial strain on the family. We left both households with a heavy heart, but grateful that we were able to pay them a visit and do a quick assessment of their needs. Given their difficult-to-reach locations, they receive less support than families living in bigger, more developed communes. With our limited funding, we weren’t able to promise these two families money or immediate support, but we did promise to share their stories and photos. So here they are, thank you for reading.

121. Mission Accomplished!

     September 7, 2016 11:29 pm Leave a Comment

     Since we received the fund raised through our first Global Giving campaign, AEPD and I have been working to get the funding out to Mrs. Do, Mr. Xoan and their family. We’ve run into a number of roadblocks along the way. When I first made the trip out to see them, Mr. Thuan, the AEPD outreach worker responsible for the family, was out of town for a training seminar. Upon his return, he was able to work with Mr. Xoan and Mrs. Do to come up with a business plan to support their family and boost their income.

     Once the paperwork was completed, we made plans to transfer the fund to purchase the buffalo. Unfortunately, Mrs. Do’s mother passed away that same week. We shared our deepest sympathies with the family and gave them time to recover. They reached out to us a few days ago after Mr. Xoan and Toan returned from their trip to a hospital in Hue. They spent the last two weeks there so Toan could receive replacement therapy for his hemophilia. I’m very happy to report that AEPD was able to complete the transfer and help Mr. Xoan bring a new buffalo home last week.

     

     Mr. Xoan pictured here with their new buffalo. I’m told that her hooves look good, a sign of a healthy animal!

     During the meeting that I attended this morning, Mr. Thuan was on hand to lay out a few stipulations for the donation being made. We want Mr. Xoan and his family to be as successful as possible in raising this buffalo and its calves in the future so that they are able to supplement their income. Therefore, in the next two years, Mr. Thuan will be checking up on the family, monitoring their progress and ensuring that they are holding up their end of the deal by taking good care of the buffalo. Two representatives of local support groups for Agent Orange victims were also at the meeting.

     

     From left to right: Mr. Thuan (outreach worker), two local representatives from Agent Orange support groups & Mr. Xoan

     AEPD’s approach to helping Agent Orange victims is unique due to its focus on victim empowerment. The family is responsible for coming up with their own business plan that they are held accountable for. They’re in charge of carrying out this plan from start to finish. An outreach worker is present to advise and offer ideas, but beneficiaries always have the final say. AEPD also calls on local representatives to be present during these transactions to get the community involved in supporting the family. We will be returning to visit Mr. Xoan and his family once again in the next few months to see how they are doing.

     

     From left to right: Mrs. Do, Luyen, Mr. Xoan, Toan & Trung

     Until then, the Advocacy Project and its partner, AEPD, are working hard to support nine other families affected by Agent Orange. To read about one of these families, please click here.

     I wanted to say thanks again to all of our amazingly generous donors. None of this would’ve been possible without your support.

122. The people making it all possible

     September 4, 2016 2:14 pm 1 Comment

     I had an amazing summer at CONCERN-Nepal, in large part to due to my wonderful coworkers. Bijaya, Sundar and Prakash all made me feel very welcome and I think together we made very good progress for CONCERN.

     

     Sundar doing an interview at a school in Bhaktapur.

     I spent the most time with Sundar. Sundar is a field officer at CONCERN-Nepal, who I have mentioned frequently in previous blog posts. Sundar has been incredibly helpful to me all summer, acting as a guide, translator, teacher, and friend. Sundar has been very patient and kind with me since my arrival (even when I was mispronouncing his name as Sandu). I like to think that we have learned a great deal from each other. Although I am sure I learned far more from him in the end.

     Sundar started at CONCERN-Nepal about five years ago as an office assistant. For two years he proved himself and took on more challenging assignments. He was then promoted to the role of messenger. After 1 year he was again promoted to his current position as field officer. As a field officer Sundar works directly with children doing interviews with children, parents, and other stakeholders in the brick industry.

     Sundar was always positive and professional. For him working with the children is his favorite part. I think he does this job better than many others would. Although, he doesn’t mention it much Sundar had a brief period during his own childhood when he had to work. He downplays this part of his life, saying he only worked for two years and then received assistance from an international NGO. However, I think having this experience makes him especially empathetic towards his interviewees and he has firsthand knowledge of how assistance like that of CONCERN-Nepal and other NGOs can truly change a child’s life.

     

     Prakash hard at work at the CONCERN-Nepal Office.

     This kind of passion is standard at CONCERN-NEPAL. I asked Prakash the Chief Financial Officer about his history with CONCERN-NEPAL. We didn’t speak too much in the office, but Prakash always has a smile to offer and a story to tell Sundar in Nepali.

     When he finally sat down to give me some of his background I found out that Prakash had been there since the beginning working, alongside Bijaya. His decades long dedication to CONCERN-NEPAL is very impressive and his positive outlook is admirable. I only worked for CONCERN-NEPAL for 10 weeks, but found myself often discouraged by how much need there is in Nepal and how little I have to give in the face of that need. Yet, Prakash stays positive and still believes strongly in CONCERN-Nepal’s cause. I only hope that in twenty years I can also tackle issues like child labor with a similar optimism.

123. Gynecologists of the Health Camp

     August 27, 2016 11:09 pm Leave a Comment

     

     From left to right: Morgan Moses, Dr. Anjali Rasaili, Dr. Ramesh Shrestha, Dr. Tulasa Basnet

     Dr. Anjali Rasaili

     Dr. Rasaili has been an OBGYN specialist at Doctor To You for two years and has been a doctor for the last six. She prefers the surgical aspect that accompanies gynecology over obstetric cases. With a glimmer in her eye, she told me looks forward to performing laparoscopic operations in the future, which will come once her career advances. (Fun fact: Dr. Karki, who we met in Biratnagar earlier in my adventure, is an expert in laparoscopy.) Dr. Rasaili praised the health camp, and said it allowed her to provide a service to society and the women of the Nepali community, which is something that is very important to her.

     

     Dr. Ramesh Shrestha

     Dr. Ramesh Shrestha has been an OBGYN specialist for two years and has been a doctor for the last six. When asked about his professional opinions regarding uterine prolapse, he spoke about how common the medical issue is in the Nepali community. Dr. Shrestha believes the prevalence is underestimated due to the lack of women who seek medical attention. While the hospital data reports a 5 percent prevalence rate in Nepal, he believes the rate of women suffering from 2^nd to 4^th degree prolapse (most in the 2^nd and 3^rd degree) may reach between 20 and 30 percent in the community. With such a daunting problem facing the women of Nepal, Dr. Shrestha suggests that increasing the availability of family planning resources and methods (as well as adequate knowledge about these resources and methods) may be the best preventative care for women in these smaller communities. There are other risk factors that many women of Nepal are exposed to including the complications that accompany giving birth to multiple children and the intense physical strain placed on the body by hard labor such as farming.

     

     Dr. Tulasa Basnet

     Dr. Tulasa Basnet has been an OBGYN specialist for two months and has been a doctor for the last four. She spent time working in the Kathmandu Teaching Hospital where women who had uterine prolapse were treated for free. Because of this, one to two women would undergo surgery for their uterine prolapse per day at the hospital. The cases would vary, but some were very bad and included rectal prolapse, bladder prolapse, and/or ulcers on the uterus – similar to what we saw at the health camp. When she asked if she likes her specialty, she smiled and said she prefers obstetrics because there are so many good moments. There’s grateful, smiling patients and she gets to experience the intense joy of delivering a baby and handing it over to a new, loving mother.

     

      

124. The Power of Females in Maintada

     August 24, 2016 1:34 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Baishara (2nd from the right) and the rest of RRF

      

     “I am so old with great grandchildren.” So, how old are you? “Oh, I am 51” said Baishara. This beautiful great grandma is a uterine prolapse survivor and also the chairperson of the Reproductive Rights Forum (RRF).

     Baishara was married at the young age of 13 and started being sexually active and bore children before her body fully matured. One of the most common causes of uterine prolapse among women like Baishara is teen pregnancy. This debilitating condition causes extreme physical discomfort and emotional suffering.

     When Baishara was growing up, she heard about the condition but because of the social stigma attached to it, women never openly spoke about it. When she got married, lack of rest after childbirth, coupled with hard labor during pregnancy and inadequate child spacing had caused Baishara to have stage 2 of uterine prolapse. She sought the help of natural remedies and exercise to relieve some of her pain. When she joined RRF, she was determined to help other women like her and since then she has taught 45 women about natural remedies and pelvic exercise to prevent UP. “Women in the community don’t like to draw attention to them, but since I was diagnosed with the condition, I can identity women who are suffering just by looking at them,” explained Baishara.

     

     Baishara- sitting in the middle-discussing about Uterine Prolapse

      

     RRF is a group formed by nine influential women representing the 9 wards of their district. This group raises awareness on the harmful effects of child marriage and uterine prolapse. They also help victims of uterine prolapse by assisting them seek medical help.

     The group performs street plays to raise awareness in the community about the harmful effects of child marriage and the importance of women’s work in the household. It is a very inexpensive form of entertainment with the most effective and powerful message. Street performances have a real impact in bringing social issues like child marriage and UP to the forefront of community discussions and they can witness the impact within their community. “We are also encouraging men to share the household chores with their wife” expressed Baishara.

     Many changes have occurred since the formation of this group. Women are not afraid to speak openly about the subject of uterine prolapse or ignore that child marriage is not an issue. They are aware of their rights and are encouraging their husbands to change their views as well.

125. Do you dare to touch?

     August 15, 2016 1:19 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Using SMART to check if the campaign design fits the goal

     We climbed back up to Lakuri, Nepal to once again meet with the adolescence group who attended the life skills training and this time I am meeting them to train them on campaign strategy. The objective of the training was to encourage this group of boys and girls to be agents of change in their community. The idea was to encourage students to understand the issues of gender discrimination and then enable them to work as the main catalysts to bringing change in their society. The campaign is not rigidly structured and each student contributes to this according to his/her own capacity. The overall goal of the campaign is to empower women and girls and present the idea that women are not dirty or unclean during menstruation and isolating them is a violation of their basic human rights and thus there is a need to end all violence against women.  During the training, campaign ideas were not imposed on the students, rather they were encouraged to design a campaign they can execute based on their skills and capacity. The value behind this approach is that people will want to change themselves and their own environment.

     

     Monitoring students work during campaign workshop

     The students were so quick to grasp the concept and so excited to be doing something creative and new. Some of the activities that the students planned to conduct were calling the local radio station and singing a song about the issue of menstruation, other students will perform drama in their school, and some will create stories to educate their peers. Hopefully, some of these activities will create some sort of change in attitudes and behavior in the society. People will want to change when they see issues as their own problem and that change is possible if it begins from within.

      

      

126. Story-telling and Speaking Out

     August 13, 2016 9:57 pm 2 Comments

     In Nepal, disappearances often began as an arrest. Security forces would detain an individual suspected of Maoist activity, not bothering to charge them with a crime. Those imprisoned were held indefinitely, and frequently subjected to torture during interrogation. Some people were arrested multiple times, leaving their family members to worry whether this would be the time that their husband, brother, son, or daughter would not return. For at least 1,200 families, this nightmare became a reality. Hundreds more were similarly abducted by Maoist forces throughout the conflict. When the war ended, all sides remained silent about the fate of those who disappeared in their custody.

     

     A large part of NEFAD’s work is to collect the stories and testimony of families of the disappeared. Listening to these stories not only consolidates evidence of the crimes committed against Nepal’s civilians during the war, but it assures families that their pain matters, that their loved one’s abduction was neither deserved nor defensible.

     Each disappearance inflicted a deeply personal, enduring tragedy on the families left behind. Now, ten years after the conflict, the most common emotion I encountered during interviews with these families was weariness. They have told their stories over and over again. Foreign experts and experts-in-training like myself come in and out of Nepal, gathering stories as data for their studies. Journalists use these stories so they can put a human face on the stalled peace process of a forgotten war. Eventually, everyone moves on. Always, the victims remain. The conflict ended ten years ago, and the 1500 families of the missing are no closer to an answer.

     During an interview, Laksmi Bhandari told me: “All I want is my husband back. If they can’t bring him back to me alive, I want them to return his body.” I listened, helpless. Laksmi and the others knew they were sharing their stories more for my benefit then for theirs. For the past ten years, they have repeated their stories. Activists have lobbied for reform. Despite rulings from the UNHCR, Nepal’s supreme court, and the counsel of dozens of international NGOs, the peace process in Nepal remains stalled.

     In November, the Comprehensive Peace Agreement that ended Nepal’s civil war will turn 10 years old. In the last decade, Nepal has undergone multiple political transformations, seen prime ministers come and go (and return again), and slowly, reluctantly, set up mechanisms for addressing crimes committed against civilians during the conflict era. Since its founding, the Commission on the Investigation of Enforced Disappearances has collected testimony from over 2000 individuals victimized by enforced disappearance, though activists are skeptical anything will change once the recommendations are released.

     Faced with political inertia, NEFAD has focused on supporting victims of enforced disappearance in other ways. They arrange ways for survivors to meet, through conferences and rallies, for mutual support and solidarity. They educate people who were not affected by disappearance on the struggles those who were face. Through the Advocacy Quilting project, they are offering a way for women to generate income to offset the economic challenges they face as a result of disappearance.

     Overwhelmingly, though, what families need most is the truth. This brings us back to the stories and testimony of the families: If relatives and advocates stop speaking out, the victims of enforced disappearance risk being completely forgotten. Finding out what happened to the missing is important not only to bring closure to families, but also to tell the unflinching history of how Nepal survived ten years of violent conflict. As painful as it is, repeating these narratives ensures that the stories of the disappeared are written into Nepal’s history. NEFAD’s work helps families bear this burden of memory.

127. Universality

     August 11, 2016 12:30 am 261 Comments

     I think there are certain things that are universal. There have been many moments during this fellowship that made me pause and think, “I have travelled thousands of miles and yet I recognize what’s in front of me so clearly.” It’s almost comparable to a form of déjà vu. A sort of cultural déjà vu – to be somewhere completely foreign and removed from all that you know, and then to experience something so familiar that you feel like you’re two places at once. Your feet are still planted in new soil, but your being is transported back home and you realize you aren’t somewhere completely new at all.

     This feeling, the feeling caused by the things that are universal, causes shocks in the tiniest of everyday moments. I can’t quite finger when I first experienced it in Nepal. Maybe it was when I saw a father carrying his young daughter. He said something to her, bounced her on his hip, smiled, and looked for her reaction. I know that look – that’s the way my dad looks at me. It could’ve been the glare and the tone when Yunesh said, “Mom, stop,” when Indira piled food on peoples’ plates during our first meal together. It came when Dr. Karki spoke about medicine and healthcare, and it came when I saw him using a scalpel to do an operation just as it would be done in the US. But most of all, this feeling, the feeling caused by the things that are universal, was sprinkled over Care Women Nepal’s health camp in little, tiny, unexpected ways.

     

     Maybe that’s the thing about the human body and medicine; it can be approached differently, but the concepts are the same wherever you go. There’s just this look in an expecting mother’s eyes when she’s told everything looks good, an expression of relief, joy, and love that isn’t limited to Nepal. There’s sound and speed of a fetal heartbeat. It should be a strong and bounding 120-160 beats per minute wherever you go. There’s the doctor so engrossed in her work that I’m a little worried she’s forgotten to breathe in the last ten years. The female anatomy is the same everywhere and there’s not a place in the world where a uterus should be coming out of a vagina.

     There was the gynecological exam process itself that could’ve come from a “Vagina Owner’s Handbook.” The awkward undressing in a way that your shirt still covers as much as possible even though you know what’s coming. Getting on the table and the doctor’s gloved hand gesturing, “Scooch to the end of the table for me. More. More. More. Stop.” The awkwardly pained face during the examination, “Where do I look? My insides are being poked. I’m so uncomfortable.” And then what hit me the most was the women, some young, some old, who would get on the table and girlishly giggle and cover their faces with their hands in embarrassment and hold their knees together while the doctor tried to warmly reason with them. All of this captured the brutally personal nature of reproductive and women’s health. All of it – every step is crawling with exposure and exploding with reasons to blush. But it was so recognizable – every step of the way – so purely and obviously recognizable as something many of us have experienced. I could’ve been in a clinic in New Orleans, St. Louis, Boston. It was the same.

     

     There are definitely things that are universal. Kids squinting at the bottom of the package to make sure there’s no more candy. The sadness when a childhood pet dies. The warmth of a mother’s touch. The domination Littmann has on the stethoscope market when you click here and try to find the surgical tool being made by any other company. The feeling of sliding on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. The sigh of relief that comes after everything you’ve planned comes to fruition. Many tiny things like this popped up at the health camp that were all strangely universal.

     

     But then there are things that aren’t universal at all, things that are grotesquely lopsided and asymmetrical. Healthcare is undeniably a universal need, yet access to many forms of healthcare is not universal whatsoever. Obstetric fistulas have been eradicated in much of developed world. Yet, here in Nepal, a woman whose vagina had been leaking urine for the past 11 years sat before me. She told the doctors she vaginally delivered four kids after the birth that originally caused her obstetric fistula. I didn’t need to know the language to know it was due to pressure from her husband and a lack of adequate medical advice and guidance. There was no adequate healthcare during her 12-day labor that resulted in her obstetric fistula. There was no adequate healthcare after her botched C-section when her incision site got infected and herniated. None when she started to uncontrollably leak urine, and none over the next 11 years while she lived in shame. Nobody to discuss ways to treat her hernia and obstetric fistula, or to offer family planning advice or counseling. Her need for adequate healthcare is a universal one, but her access has been far from that.

     

     Then there was a 30 year old woman who had never delivered a child, but who was still suffering from third degree uterine prolapse. There was no preventative care that would’ve provided medical advice to mitigate risk factors for her condition. There was no yearly pap smear to catch her abnormally long cervix, which could have prevented or at least preemptively managed her prolapse. At 30, she will have her uterus and cervix removed. She must come to terms that she will never have kids. Her need for adequate screenings and reproductive care is universal, but her access has been far from that.

     

     I could go on about the injustice of the manifestations of this lack of appropriate access – I could go on about what a fourth degree uterine prolapse looks like, one complete with a growth on the cervix and an ulcer on the uterus. I could go on about the feeling when that women gripped my hand and asked me over and over to tell her how bad it was. I could go on and on because I didn’t just see this once, but I saw variation of this 25 different times in two days. I saw how grossly lopsided and painful this burden is on the women of developing nations like Nepal.

     

     Neither you or I will know the feeling of keeping cloth in our vaginal canals until it disintegrates into pieces because we’ll never know the desperate need to keep our reproductive organs from leaking pus. We’ll continue putting off scheduling those uncomfortable pap smears (or avoid talking about them…*cough* men in the audience), but we will never fully know how privileged we are to have something like that to put off or ignore. We are so removed from the possibility of obstetric fistulas that we can pretend it’s a relic of the past, something modern medicine has defeated, or something that happens to women we will never meet in places so far away from us that it seems like it doesn’t really happen at all.

     

      

     But, like many things in the world, there is a balancing force. The magic of this balancing force is universal. There is magic in people like Indira who give their lives to serve the marginalized. There is magic in giving these marginalized women a face, a voice, hope, and relief. There is magic in medicine, and there was magic in the eyes of doctors who volunteer their time in the name of service. There is magic in awareness and advocacy, and hopefully this magic will overpower all that is lopsided and take the burden off the shoulders of the marginalized.

128. Meeting the Last Three Families

     August 10, 2016 9:45 pm 4 Comments

     After heading out from Mai Thi Loi’s home (read my blogpost here), I started remembering the true mission of my visits that day. While it was really important for me to gather as much information about the families as possible, it was also equally important that I stop and listen so that I can process and understand a little bit more about the human component of it all. I had to learn to slow down and approach each visit with a little less of a checklist in mind. I would suggest you to follow bubdesk for more information.

     Next, we headed off to meet…

     

     Mr. Ngo Gia Hue, Mrs. Thanh Thi Thao and their three daughters (left to right: Toan b. 1997, Nhan b. 1991, Huong b. 1984)

     Mr. Hue, a war veteran, and Mrs. Thao have seven children in total, four were born healthy and are now living away from home. Their other three daughters, pictured here, have all been affected by Agent Orange. At age 25, Nhan has the most health difficulties out of the siblings. She has immense trouble with her digestive system. Nhan actually cannot use the toilet by herself and has gone for weeks straight with no bowel movement. Her parents are in the process of taking Nhan to a hospital in Hue to figure out if there is anything left to be done for her. Later in the office, Mr. Hoc, AEPD outreach worker, explained to me how difficult it might be to fix the problem now. Her condition has gone on for quite a long time but the family hasn’t been able to afford her treatment. When I was with the family, the sisters were some of the sweetest people I had met. They loved seeing their photos on my camera screen and would repeatedly kiss the screen whenever a photo of one of their siblings popped up. Mr. Hue and Mrs. Thao are asking for a buffalo to help boost their family income. Additionally, if the doctor visit goes well for Nhan, funding to help pay for her stomach surgery would be extremely helpful as well.

      

     

     Mr. Le Thanh Duc, and daughters (Phuong, Nho, Lanh)

     To say that Mr. Le Thanh Duc and his family have had many ups and downs is a vast understatement. Mr. Duc was exposed to Agent Orange during his time serving in the American War. Mr. Duc and his wife, Ho Thi Hong, have three daughters with the same condition who’ve all been diagnosed as victims of Agent Orange. Each of his daughters began slowly losing their motor control and memory at age ten; they became bedridden from that point on until today. In a cruel twist of fate, Mr. Duc & Mrs. Hong’s youngest son, who escaped Agent Orange, recently passed away at age eighteen from an accident. This was an especially painful blow to Mrs. Hong; she wanders the street aimlessly most days, unable to care for herself or her children. Mr. Duc is now the only income earner and caregiver in the family. In 2015, when AP’s Founder Iain Guest and Fellow Armando Gallardo visited, Mr. Duc was getting his fish sauce business off the ground with a small loan from AEPD. His business was doing quite well until the recent environment disaster happened this April along the Central Coast of Vietnam. Tons of dead fish washed up ashore, killed by contaminated water waste released by Formosa, a Taiwanese steel factory in Ha Tinh province just north of Quang Bing. Read more about the disaster here. The disaster also wiped away Mr. Duc’s budding fish sauce business and he is now starting over from scratch once again. You can help support this deserving family by donating through Global Giving today.

     

     Pham Thi Do & her children (left to right: Luyen, Trung, Toan)

     I ended the day with a visit to a family that has been fully funded by amazingly kind donors through Global Giving. When we arrived, Nguyen Van Xoan was away on business, but his wife Pham Thi Do and their three children were home. Mrs. Do is full of energy and refuses to sit still. She’s constantly moving, pouring water, and making sure we were comfortable. The couple has five children, the three pictured above are affected with Agent Orange. Trung and Toan are both hemophiliacs, while their sister Luyen has cerebral palsy. The money raised for the family will go towards purchasing a buffalo to help Mrs. Do with farming. Any funding left will then help cover the siblings’ medical expenses. Before we headed out, AEPD staff and I bought three more craft models from Toan that day. It felt nice to leave with Toan smiling and looking proud of himself for selling some of his products that day.

129. “I will tell my parents I don’t want to get married early”

     12:18 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     School in Gumi

      

     As soon the team got out of the car in Gumi to visit yet another school where girls have benefitted from the Girls Empowerment Program, we were greeted with beautiful flower garlands and tons of love! Compared to the girls in Maintada, the girls here were super shy, except for one girl named Chandra. This little bold girl wants to get a higher education and become a social worker, but she is afraid that her parents will want her to get married. She is confident in her future and exclaimed “I will convince my parents that helping me get into college will benefit them. They worked hard their whole life and if I can become a social worker, I can earn money and take care of them and my siblings.” In Nepal’s society, pervasive gender discrimination contributes to the low social and economic status of women and girls. Often, girls are considered financial burdens on their families and upon reaching puberty, their mobility is often restricted, further diminishing their learning, and social opportunities.

     

     Beautiful girls from Girls Empowerment Program (GEP)

      

     The school teacher here expressed that child marriage is correlated to families’ fear of elopement. “My best friend ran away and got married last month. I am so close to her and she did not even tell me that she was running away. Perhaps, she knew that I would convince her that she is making a haste decision and that she will regret it,” said Amrita. One of the reasons why girls run away in Nepal is because they are not generally permitted to express themselves freely, and when they do, they are often not taken seriously by their parents. When girls start to develop the ability to form independent opinions, parents usually maintain control and authority over their daughters and make key life decisions on their behalf.

     Programs like GEP and life skills education enabled these groups of girls to realize their potential as agents of change. Through monitoring various programs, I learned the importance of empowering girls and giving them skills and knowledge for future livelihoods. Girls who receive life skills training and are beneficiary from the GEP program were ones less likely to get married. Of course, delay in child marriage was just one of the benefits. These girls were also more likely to stay in school, have a better understanding of gender equality and possess improved confidence and well-being.

     

     Chandra (far left) showing off the wall painting her and peers drew in her school

130. Remittances, dreams or nightmares?

     August 9, 2016 5:35 am 2 Comments

      

     Every time we interview a group of children, there is at least one child that has a father working abroad. Remittances make up 32.3% of Nepal’s GDP (World Bank Data), so it shouldn’t be surprising that basically everyone seems to know someone doing migrant labor. I have met people with family working in Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar, and even Afghanistan.

     

     This is Roj he is 9 years old. His father is working in Saudi Arabia, but he doesn’t know when he left, only that he was small. He doesn’t know when he’ll be coming back and his father only sends money sometimes.

     

     This is Muskan she is 13 years old. Muskan’s father has been gone for 1 year working in Bahrain. He will be gone at least more year. With the money raised on global giving CONCERN-Nepal will be sponsoring her education this year so she won’t have to help her mom in making bricks.

     

     This is Der. He is only seven years old and lives in a village in Ramechhap. His father works in Malaysia and has been there for two years. He was the only child who said his father sends money home regularly.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     Most of the children we interviewed said that they only get money sometimes, while others say their family receives regular payments from abroad. According to one source, sometimes the mother’s aren’t given money consistently because they are seen as fiscally irresponsible or husband’s may not trust their wives in general, this likely puts extra strain on an already stressful situation for both sides. However, for some the risks, distance, and isolation is worth the eventual pay off. For others, especially those who are illiterate and have difficulties negotiating compensation, they are vulnerable to exploitation and return home in a worse state than when they left.

     Back in June there was an event that shook the nation. It led to the death of multiple Nepalese, but it didn’t even happen in Nepal. Instead in Afghanistan, thirteen Nepali security guards working at the Canadian Embassy lost their lives in a suicide bomber attack. The risk of these kinds of attacks in Afghanistan is very high and the migrant laborers do not receive even a fraction of the protection that Westerners do. To learn more about the appeal of this work I spoke with the owner of a local restaurant who had spent four years working in Afghanistan.

     Ragan* took a job on a U. S. base doing laundry for the unit. He said it was a good job, but he was worried about his safety. He had multiple friends injured while overseas and he feels very lucky to have come back in safely. Thanks to this job, two years ago he was able to open a café on top of Swayambunath or “monkey temple” as its referred to by tourists. Unfortunately, one year later his café was destroyed in the earthquake in April 2015. Last month Ragan was able to open a new restaurant near Swayambunath. Although the earthquake set him back, he was still able to rebuild his business from the ground up. The kind of money that Ragan gained from working abroad definitely made recovering from this tragedy possible.

      

     

     Chari and his two sons.

      

     Others I spoke to were not as fortunate. Chari Tamang traveled to Qatar almost three years ago to work on a gas line. When he started work he began to have major health problems caused by the fumes. His health problems caused him to leave after fulfilling only seventeen months of his two-year contract. This meant that he was unable to fully pay back the loan he took out in order to get to Qatar, so he is now $1,500 in debt. He arrived home on April 18, 2015, exactly one week before the earthquake. Around 3,000 people died in his district alone and his family was displaced. Chari now plans to work in the brick kilns in the fall and it is likely that his three children will be helping in making bricks, unless the family receives support.

     ---

     *Name changed to maintain the interviewees privacy.

      

131. “Eyes Full of Dreams and Ambition”

     August 8, 2016 11:49 am Leave a Comment

     The Girls Empowerment Program or (GEP) was started in Maintada, with a goal of aiding girls to pass the Secondary School Certificate (SCC) exam, a test that allows students to advance into the 11^th grade. Most parents in these villages assumed their daughters would never achieve such a feat, since girls education is not seen as a priority. Despite this ingrained assumption, over the last five years, the team of WRRP has been continually supporting and motivating the girls and their parents. For instance, GEP provides stationery items, uniforms, entrance fees for school, and extra tuition for girls, so that they can excel in school. They have also motivated and encouraged the parents to provide sufficient time and support for their daughters at home.

     WRRP wanted to show them that with proper guidance and support these girls can equally excel in their education just as boys do. The underlying challenge for them was to change the mindset of the community. Although the total number of girls enrolled in education is increasing, the completion rate remains poor. Early marriage, poverty, and parents’ lack of awareness of the importance of girls’ education are just some of the barriers girls’ face.

     

     With girls from GEP and adolescence group

      

     Families too often feel that they cannot afford those simple items to let their daughters continue schooling, when all hands are needed to feed the family. Situations such as these aren’t uncommon in Nepal. In many places, family and cultural issues often prevent girls from continuing their education. Formal education is often seen as a boy’s role, while girls are expected to stay home in order to take care of household chores. Girls are often sent to government schools, while boys are sent to private schools to receive a better education. In the view of the families, a girls value truly develops when they fulfill their role as future wives and mothers, rather than as future citizens and producers.

     Many of the girls echoed how this program has helped change their lives. Due to their participation in the program, they are more confident and are also more aware of the social issues that affect their lives personally. As a result, they are inspired to continue on with their education. By providing girls with crucial life skills, targeting them while they are under the age of sixteen and directly supporting their education, WRRP is making a real difference in the trajectory of these girls lives in Nepal. Increased confidence that stems from these empowerment programs helps the girls negotiate key life decisions and transfer the knowledge about the negative consequences of early marriage to both their peers and parents.[content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”The Girls Empowerment Program or (GEP) was started in Maintada, with a goal of aiding girls to pass the Secondary School Certificate (SCC) exam, a test that allows students to advance into the 11^{th<\/sup> grade. Most parents in these villages assumed their daughters would never achieve such a feat, since girls education is not seen as a priority. Despite this ingrained assumption, over the last five years, the team of WRRP has been continually supporting and motivating the girls and their parents. For instance, GEP provides stationery items, uniforms, entrance fees for school, and extra tuition for girls, so that they can excel in school. They have also motivated and encouraged the parents to provide sufficient time and support for their daughters at home.\r\n\r\nWRRP wanted to show them that with proper guidance and support these girls can equally excel in their education just as boys do. The underlying challenge for them was to change the mindset of the community. Although the total number of girls enrolled in education is increasing, the completion rate remains poor. Early marriage, poverty, and parents\u2019 lack of awareness of the importance of girls\u2019 education are just some of the barriers girls\u2019 face.\r\n\r\n With girls from GEP and adolescence group[\/caption]\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nFamilies too often feel that they cannot afford those simple items to let their daughters continue schooling, when all hands are needed to feed the family. Situations such as these aren\u2019t uncommon in Nepal. In many places, family and cultural issues often prevent girls from continuing their education. Formal education is often seen as a boy\u2019s role, while girls are expected to stay home in order to take care of household chores. Girls are often sent to government schools, while boys are sent to private schools to receive a better education. In the view of the families, a girls value truly develops when they fulfill their role as future wives and mothers, rather than as future citizens and producers.\r\n\r\nMany of the girls echoed how this program has helped change their lives. Due to their participation in the program, they are more confident and are also more aware of the social issues that affect their lives personally. As a result, they are inspired to continue on with their education. By providing girls with crucial life skills, targeting them while they are under the age of sixteen and directly supporting their education, WRRP is making a real difference in the trajectory of these girls lives in Nepal. Increased confidence that stems from these empowerment programs helps the girls negotiate key life decisions and transfer the knowledge about the negative consequences of early marriage to both their peers and parents.”}]}[/content-builder]}

132. 10 Rupee a Cup

     August 4, 2016 2:22 pm 5 Comments

      

     Sapana’s smile has a tender gleam with a mischievous, yet innocent twinkle in her eyes. After all, she is just 12. 

     But, Sapana is not a typically carefree adolescent, as she should be. While traveling to Gutu, I met her at a bus stand selling berries. She left her house at 6:00am and instead of going to school, she reached the market at 8:00am to sell chutra (berries) at 10 rupees a cup. She spent all day yesterday picking these tiny chutras from really thorny plants just so she can sell them to help her mom buy essential food items. Her mom is the sole caretaker of her and four other siblings. Turns out, her father is drunkard and does little to help out her family. This shy 12 yr old is missing school and will sit at the market for the whole day just so can make money to have food on her plate. While her brothers are happily attending school, she was given the responsibility to bring home money.

     In Nepal, keeping girls in school beyond their adolescence years is nevertheless a major obstacle. From my observation during my time in Gutu, I realized girls’ education is not the ultimate priority for many families. For these families, their daughters are often needed to work in the rice fields, collect firewood, fetch water and finish household chores and in Sapana’s case, sell items in the market. Often times, many of these girls are forced to marry at an early age.

     While staying in the village, I saw young girls with haunting eyes carrying around little babies while completing chores. I doubt some of these girls will ever enter the door to a secondary school classroom. 

     Sapana is just a representative of hundreds of girls in her village. Girls like her do not understand the importance of education often find themselves as victims of child marriage. Sapana is a girl that you will see every day in Nepal but choose to disregard.

     Yes, there are laws and organizations that are working to combat discrimination against children and there are lots of organizations that work for the betterment of child rights. However, it does not seem to be enough. Efforts needs to be put towards raising the self-esteem of children so that they can be the lead decision maker of their own lives and ensuring that  young girls like Sapana grow up educated, healthy and happy.  

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:5,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:2,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

      <\/p>

     Sapana\u2019s smile has a tender gleam with a mischievous, yet innocent twinkle in her eyes. After all, she is just 12. <\/span><\/p>

     But, Sapana is not a typically carefree adolescent, as she should be. While traveling to Gutu, I met her at a bus stand selling berries. She left her house at 6:00am and instead of going to school, she reached the market at 8:00am to sell chutra (berries) at 10 rupees a cup. She spent all day yesterday picking these tiny chutras from really thorny plants just so she can sell them to help her mom buy essential food items. Her mom is the sole caretaker of her and four other siblings. Turns out, her father is drunkard and does little to help out her family. This shy 12 yr old is missing school and will sit at the market for the whole day just so can make money to have food on her plate. While her brothers are happily attending school, she was given the responsibility to bring home money.<\/span><\/p>

     In Nepal, keeping girls in school beyond their adolescence years is nevertheless a major obstacle. From my observation during my time in Gutu, I realized girls’ education is not the ultimate priority for many families. For these families, their daughters are often needed to work in the rice fields, collect firewood, fetch water and finish household chores and in Sapana\u2019s case, sell items in the market. Often times, many of these girls are forced to marry at an early age.<\/span><\/p>

     While staying in the village, I saw young girls with haunting eyes carrying around little babies while completing chores. I doubt some of these girls will ever enter the door to a secondary school classroom. <\/span><\/p>

     Sapana is just a representative of hundreds of girls in her village. Girls like her do not understand the importance of education often find themselves as victims of child marriage. Sapana is a girl that you will see every day in Nepal but choose to disregard.<\/span><\/p>

     Yes, there are laws and organizations that are working to combat discrimination against children and there are lots of organizations that work for the betterment of child rights. However, it does not seem to be enough. Efforts needs to be put towards raising the self-esteem of children so that they can be the lead decision maker of their own lives and ensuring that  young girls like Sapana grow up educated, healthy and happy.  <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}]}[/content-builder]

133. Health Camp Preparation

     8:53 am 1 Comment

     Morgan, you may be saying, Care Women Nepal’s latest health camp sounds incredible, but start from the beginning and tell me everything. Let me tell you, it has been a process.

     After the surgeries in Biratnagar, I went back to swimming in dal bhat in Dhankuta. My palate took a slight shift towards roti and homemade chocolate chip pancakes, but there was still no shortage of dal bhat. By this point, I had mastered about five words and possibly one slang phrase in Nepali thanks to the efforts of Chanda, an English teacher from a local school, and a very nice man on a bus, so one could say I was assimilating smoothly into the community. Even though 90% of the things I said out loud were some variation of the question, “What’s going on?!” I stopped feeling isolated by the language barrier.

     

     I began to find a lot of comfort in the process of making (and eating) chocolate chip pancakes using my favorite recipe  

     Deciding on a health camp date was a bumpy road and had been since the beginning of June. It was difficult to coordinate with the hospitals because it seems like they could never give us a straight or definite answer whether or not they would like to partner with us, or whether or not the proposed date could be officially finalized and publicized. The health camp was originally supposed to take place in the beginning of July with two subsequent rounds of surgeries immediately after, but we had to push a round of surgeries up in order to meet the government quota. Moving the surgeries to an earlier date left us with no time to plan or execute the health camp in early July, which then required us to make a new game plan. Birat Hospital had previously agreed to partner with Care Women Nepal for the health camp, but we couldn’t get agreement on the official date. We’ll let you know tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Ultimately, a week and a half before the revised health camp date, we reached an agreement with B.P. Koirala Institute of Health Sciences, Dharan (BPKIHS) instead and solidified the date of the health camp for July 21st and 22nd. Follow coolsculptny to know how health camps are good for people are ill or not able to get good treatment.

     While that back and forth was being played, we began doing publicity work that didn’t necessarily rely on the date of the health camp. We travelled to Pakribhas one day, very bumpy hour away from Dhankuta, for a training session with network of women volunteers. The Women Health Volunteers partner with different organizations or causes in order to provide support and womanpower. This group of women is a huge part of promotion for Care Women Nepal’s health camps. CWN provides a training session for the volunteers that addresses the causes, symptoms, social stigmas, and treatment plans associated with uterine prolapse. The volunteers then take this information back to their villages and share what they have learned with the local women. Almost 40 volunteers showed up to the training program, representing the 5 different villages that the health camp aimed to serve, which was an incredible turnout. During the program, Indira welcomed the women, I awkwardly introduced myself and my work while Chanda translated, and then Chanda led the educational portion that reviewed the details of uterine prolapse. Pamphlets that contained all of the pertinent information were distributed to the volunteers, and they took turns telling stories of uterine prolapse in their own villages. One woman animatedly described a woman who was in too much pain to stand due to her prolapse, but whose uterus would slip out if she stood. Many shared stories of women who constantly leaked blood and pus and the shame they felt because of it. Multiple told the group about women who had died due to complications from their uterine prolapse. All agreed on the importance of empowering women through access to affordable healthcare.

     

     Indira and I with the Women Health Volunteers in Pakribhas

     It was the week following the training session that we drove to Dharan to confirm the partnership with Dr. Mohan Regmi, a fistula specialist, at BPKIHS. He told me about their institute’s partnership with Johns Hopkins Medical School’s Global Health Initiative program, and I even had the chance to drop the line “I read an article about that in the New York Times” in reference to our conversation regarding the epidemic of obstetric fistulas in developing countries. While Dr. Regmi and Indira talked in Nepali, he would occasionally pause the conversation to tell me what they were talking about. At one point, he paused and said, “We are just talking politics. Where there is poverty, there is always a lot of politics.” He was warm and kind, and the meeting ended him giving us informational flyers about obstetric fistulas and a handshake.

     

     Chanda and I in Pakribhas after the Women Health Volunteers training

     Two days later, Indira, Chanda, some volunteers, and I travelled to Khoku to look at the health camp site. The bumpy road to Pakribhas was child’s play compared to the road to Khoku. We planned to hold the health camp at Panchakrishna Higher Secondary School. The headmaster met us with beautiful welcoming gifts to place around our necks before showing us around the site. I’m still trying to figure out how it’s possible for all Nepali people to be so incredibly kind. The grounds were open, which would leave enough space for the crowds. A separate building would be used for registration, and classrooms would act as exam rooms according to the patient’s chief complaint. General check up and OBGYN would be in two separate rooms upstairs, medicine distribution and the ultrasound station would be downstairs, and eye exams would take place in a room in a separate building. The building used for general check up, OBGYN, medication distribution, and ultrasounds looked recently constructed. The space for registration was on a hill on one side of the main building. Although the registration room was a classroom, it didn’t seem like there was anything else in the building. Just a single, large classroom. The eye exams took place in the older part of the school that sat on the other side of the red building. The classroom was a littler darker and looked old and worn, but would still provide an adequate space for eye exams.

     

     The eye exams took place in the classrooms of the building above, whereas the other exams took place in the red building in the background. Below is an image from the health camp that shows the red building more clearly.

     

     After touring the school, we met up with the WHV once again in a nearby village and distributed flyers about the health camp that we had printed while in Dharan and the pamphlets about obstetric fistulas that Dr. Mohan had given to us to hand out. The women were then to take the flyers, pamphlets, and information about the health camp back to their villages and distribute the information. We also rented a soundbox and walked around the village reading the health camp flyer, which was incredibly effective since it was the Wednesday market in town. Everybody gathered around us and stared, which was uncomfortable for me, but as I said: very effective. On our quest for publicity, we travelled to nearby villages to talk with locals, hand out flyers, and put up promotional banners. Along this road, we stopped at a hotel to book accommodations for Care Women Nepal staff, volunteers, and the doctors.

     

     Chanda reads a promotional flyer in the middle of the market

     Other parts of the planning happened here and there between Indira and Chanda. Volunteers were lined up and doctors were confirmed (with a little bit of difficulty and an extra trip to Dharan). ID cards and sashes were ordered and picked up. Badges for special guests were hand crafted. Medication, medical supplies, tokens of love, and letters of appreciation were ordered and brought to Dhankuta. Transportation was booked. Eating arrangements were organized, and Indira even bought a (live) goat and chickens to be prepared during the camp.

     

     The live chicken I was surprised to find in the kitchen the night before we left for the health camp. The chicken rode in the car with us to Khoku before being prepared by a local family.

     The week of the health camp was upon us and the office was full of anticipation and a little bit of stress. Naturally, I woke up grossly sick the day before we left for Khoku, but everything else was in order for an ideal health camp.

134. Actor, Director, Activist: An Interview with Rajan Khatiwada at Mandala Theater

     August 1, 2016 6:28 am 233 Comments

     Each year on August 30, the world observes the International Day of Victims of Enforced Disappearance. For the last several years, NEFAD has led events in Kathmandu to honor the memory of Nepal’s victims of enforced disappearances.

     Last year, NEFAD collaborated with Mandala Theater to share the stories of the disappeared with policy makers, the media, and the public. Rajan Khatiwada, Mandala’s creative director, and the MT acting troupe used a form of improvisational theater called “playback theater” to portray the experiences of the families of the missing. This year, Rajan will write an original play based on these stories.

     

     Rajan Khatiwadi, creative director at Mandala Theater.

      

     Megan: How did Mandala Theater become involved in the Day of the Disappeared?

     Rajan: When we established Mandala we were concerned with social issues – just doing artistic work, art for art’s sake, didn’t make sense for us. We are concerned about how we can use our skill on behalf of human rights. Meeting with NEFAD, I found them really interested in working collaboratively. I suggested we could do something to connect theater art and activism work together.

     M: Why did you choose playback theater?

     R: I wanted to create empathy, rather than sympathy. I have been practicing playback theater for two years, and I found this is a good method to use to build empathy.

     M: What was the playback theater like last year?

     R: Many people shared their stories for us to act out. When we acted out their story, it shows different dimensions of the story, performed a different way. Sometimes it was difficult… if we are doing a very traumatizing scene, we really try to find a different dimension so this does not go again into trauma.

     It was a good opportunity for people living in the city to remember what happened in the past, and to analyze and question what they think. So many people are still victimized, not getting justice. Through playback theater we had a really good opportunity to discuss and to empathize together.

     M: What performance stands out in your mind from last year?

     R: Many stories. One old man, and his wife, both of them came to the stage to tell their story. Within two days, both of their sons were disappeared suddenly. They were taken to the army post. It was very difficult for their parents to find out what happened to them. One son got out alive, one son is dead. It was a tragic story. But the father is involved in this movement, connecting with NEFAD, still fighting for the justice.

     M: What kind of challenges did the actors face doing this type of theater?

     R: During playback theater, we don’t know what kind of story will come out. The actor doesn’t prepare the story – it’s the audience’s story. So we must be very good listeners, and be very honest and neutral. It takes a lot of practice to work spontaneously, without any preparation. The actors are completely concentrating on these stories and the performance – it’s a kind of meditation.

     After the performance we had to heal ourselves too. Very strong stories came out – lots of suffering. We had to refresh ourselves, do exercises to heal ourselves also.

     M: This year you are writing an original play for the Day of the Disappeared. What are your ideas for this play?

     R: If I make an idea in the beginning, I’ll get really blocked. I’m just preparing myself to listen actively, how I can receive their emotions, and their journey, so that’s why I’m being neutral nowadays, before I can meet with them and collect their stories.

     After I collect their stories, what kind of structure will I use on the play? I don’t know! There’s a pressure also – I need to do my best to do justice to their story. This is a really intense job for me.

     M: This seems like a big responsibility.

     There are lots of things people can do to create a good society – people can think about human rights through NGOs, other organizations. Using theater is my opportunity to work for human rights, and I’m happy to take this responsibility.

     Nowadays, there are challenges with the TRC and the government. Personally – I don’t care about that. I always think about if my parents were disappeared – what would I do? I have this opportunity to work with victims as a human being, not just as an artist or director. I have a medium that I can use for their rights.

     M: Do you think this play will have a political message?

     R: When I listen to their stories, I can say. I don’t want to show the issues directly. When I get a story, I’ll develop it so people can get the different dimensions and discuss and question things.

     My first play was about labor migration in the Terai community. I wanted to access the Terai community people, and raise the issue of the labor migration. The nation is not taking it seriously.

     But directly I was not talking about politics or all of these things – the setting of the play is one small school. This primary school is there, but when people are watching the play it looks like it’s the government of Nepal, government system. Not directly – I wasn’t saying these are political things. I was just telling someone’s story, in the school system, about opportunity – through that I try to show the political.

     M: What do you hope your audience will get out of this play?

     R: My play should create debate – it should not just be seen as art, as performance. I have to be aware to not create more pain. I have to make a balance between the artistic elements of the play and the value of the story. For this play I’m not thinking about big sets – I have to tell their story. There is a simple way, and there is artistic value in that. If I try to make it very artistic and very heavy theatrical effects, then the issue is gone! The issue disappears – I don’t want to go that way.

     Mandala Theater will perform Rajan’s play on the experiences of the families of the disappeared on August 30, 2016, during events to commemorate the International Day of Victims of Enforced Disappearance.

     Interview has been edited for length and clarity.

135. Two Kinds of Contracting

     2:40 am 4 Comments

     

     Bal Krishna (left) and Chakra Bahaden (right) contractors for brick kilns in Kathmandu.

     During my trip to Ramechhap I interviewed Finance consultants who were waiting in an office to help secure a mortgage. The contractors in the village in Ramechhap are responsible for finding as many workers as they can to come to the brick kilns near Kathmandu to work for six months. They use the lure of large advances in order to procure a commitment from these workers for the season. Despite doing the same work in the exact same small community, the two contractors, Chakra Bahaden and Bal Krishna had very different views on the job, but they could agree on one thing, they both would like to stop.

     

     Chakra Bahaden, contractor for brick kilns in Kathmandu.

     First, I interviewed Chakra Bahaden. His father was a contractor first, so he was introduced to the work at the brick kilns when he was quite young. He began working full time at fourteen. He worked at the kilns as a normal laborer for ten years and then became a contractor like his father. He has been a contractor for the past ten years and says the job has become very different in the last decade with websites like My Trusted Contractor coming into place. At first people would come to him seeking work in the brick kilns. He didn’t have to go out of his way to motivate locals to take on labor in the kilns. Brick factory work was considered far more lucrative than anything else available to them in the villages. Now people have more options than before. Villagers have found better paying jobs abroad or started their own businesses. Even the goats that CONCERN-Nepal donated have been successful in deterring villagers from accepting jobs in the brick kilns. So while, over all it seems the economic position of the villagers is gradually improving, Chakra complains that he has been disadvantaged by these improvements.

     Chakra has had to work harder to motivate people to go the kilns. He now has to cast a wider net and can’t afford to be as careful with whom he chooses to recruit. This has made the work riskier and sometimes the people he recruits end up running off with the advance, leaving him responsible for paying back the money. Chakra would like to change jobs and start his own business, but right now he doesn’t have the capital to do so.

     For the other contractor, I spoke with that day, capital is not a problem. Bal Krishna has the only concrete home in the village. It is a comfortable home with a store front selling fabrics and other goods on the bottom level. By all accounts he seems to be doing very well for himself and financially would be able to leave his work as a contractor behind. Bal Krishna says that although he’d like to do exactly that he can’t abandon the people he has recruited.

     

     Bal Krishna, contractor for brick kilns in Kathmandu.

     Unlike Chakra, Bal Krishna feels a connection with the people he has recruited to the kilns. Chakra and Bal Krishna started the work in very different ways. Chakra was pressured by his father to work in the kilns and eventually become a contractor. Whereas Bal Krishna and his father started working independently for the brick factories. Working in the kilns as an individual, he saw how difficult it was for his father to secure his paycheck from the factory owner. He noticed that other workers who had been recruited by contractors did not have the same struggle. These groups led by contractors were able to use their bigger numbers to sway the factory owners and advocate for their rights. After witnessing the effectiveness of these groups, Bal Krishna decided to become a contractor as well and bring in workers so that he and his group would also have influence.

     Bal Krishna recruits laborers for three different kilns in Bhaktapur and argues that the people he has recruited would have more difficulties with the factory owners if he wasn’t there to act a middle man. From his own experience he knows that if the workers were approaching the factory owner alone they would not have as much bargaining power, but as a united group they are able to better advocate for themselves. He explains that many of the workers he recruits are illiterate and have problems discussing compensation, thus he believes it is necessary for him to be there to make sure that they are being treated fairly.

     Bal Krishna’s view on his contracting work was much different than I expected. For Bal Krishna he believes he his providing a form of protection that the workers would not have if they were on their own. Chakra’s position was much closer to what I expected to find, someone doing an unpleasant job, at best out of necessity and at worst out of greed. Since I only had the opportunity to interview two contractors it is difficult to know which situation is more typical, but I do hope that Bal Krishna’s make-shift union is the more common arrangement for the sake of the workers.

136. Birthday Parties and Health Camps

     12:17 am 5 Comments

     Remember that feeling when you were little after your birthday party ended? All of your presents had been opened, your cake had been eaten, and all your friends had gone home. You were suddenly alone with your parents with nothing to do except clean up the mess you had so much fun making. It’s an emotional comedown that leaves you with an amount of deflated emptiness proportional to the anticipation and excitement you had leading into the event, and it leaves you with what seems like an unreasonable pit of sadness. Honestly, I don’t think we ever really outgrow that feeling.

     I sat in an armchair in an empty classroom after the health camp. The classroom was concrete painted a dirty gray and white, only lit the the cool natural light coming in from the windows. The school grounds were empty except some of the volunteers, Care Women Nepal staff, and packed boxes. It was quieter than I had heard it over the past three days. No birds in the sky, no chickens in the distance, no crying babies, no patients fighting to be seen first, or chatting crowds. Nothing but stillness. I was on the verge of tears – my birthday party was over. The medication was distributed, patients had been seen, and the doctors had driven away down the muddy road.

     

     The grounds of the school after the health camp ended

     I had been invested in the process and I had participated every step of the way, but this ultimately wasn’t even my birthday party. I won’t wade into the metaphor in order to try the equivalent, but this was truly Indira’s event. I couldn’t even imagine how exhausted and she relieved she felt once everything melted away. But, to me at least, there was something that seemed so final about this closing. Since the beginning of May, this health camp had been the grand thing that I had been working towards. My fellowship has some other incredibly important components, but this event was central in my mind and it was somehow over. A similar feeling of disbelief and adjustment hit after the surgeries. The two days of the health camp had been incredible. Incredible may not even be the right word – hectic, exhausting, frustrating, intense would all probably do more justice – but once it was over it was incredible. It was all a blur, but my God, it was beautiful.

     

     The empty gynecology room. Care Women Nepal advertised their focus on identifying uterine prolapse, but the health camp also offered other OBGYN exams in the same exam room.

     I’ll have more posts to come with numbers and profiles, but I don’t know if I could get there without posting the raw emotional reaction first. I wish there was more. Or that time had gone slower so I could’ve taken more of it in. I spent a large majority of my time in the OBGYN room and I have no words for the gynecologists that volunteered their time (I guess I have a few: warm, gentle, intelligent). There could’ve been five of me and it wouldn’t have been enough to take in everything, and I think that’s where a lot of this birthday party feeling comes from. I want to knock on the door of the person who handles time and demand more time talking to patients while holding their hand, more time with those doctors, and more time in those two days. I want to knock on that door and say, “Excuse me, but I wasn’t done yet and I’m not quite ready for it to be over.” And I want that person to apologize profusely and allow me to relive those two days so I could get every last drop out of them.

     

     A women rests towards the edge of the health camp next to a Care Women Nepal banner

137. Revolution is on the Horizon

     July 25, 2016 2:06 pm 4 Comments

     

     As Sujata, 13 year old, clambered up the narrow ladder leading to small hut across from her traditional two story house, she sheepishly looked at me and said this is where I sleep when I am menstruating. The hut shelter sat on the side of a yard crowded with livestock stamping on excrement and hay; chicken foraging and clucking.

     In Gutu, as in many villages in Nepal, women become untouchables and are isolated from their families each month while they are menstruating. Girls like Sujata practice chaupadi, a tradition where menstruating women cannot even come near the porch out of fear that families will get sick, livestock will fall ill and the Gods will be angry. 

         

      Sleeping on hay right next to a chicken coup. 

     Sujata’s Chau goth (hut) is nicer than the ones her friends have. Nicer in the sense that is has a door with a lock for protection and a bench to sleep on. For girls in the village without a hut, they sleep in the open garden underneath the stars. 

     For generations, women in Nepal have been facing oppression in the name of religion, culture, dignity or honor.  “During my time girls were not allowed to enter the house for 7 days but now, girls are allowed to come into the house on the 5th day” said Sujata’s mom, Kamala.  Kamala really believes that if girls eat radish during their period then their babies will come out looking like one.

     “I once had a beautiful apple tree that used to bear lots of fruit but since my daughter and daughter in law touched the tree during their menstruation, apples hardly grow on it.” Perhaps the reasons it doesn’t grow fruit because it became old said Usha, an activist working for Women Girls and Child Rights Program. “Maybe that could be the reason since the tree is about 20 years old after all said Kamala, but I highly doubt it because it has been that way since they touched it.” 

     Chaupadi has compelling links to cultural and religious beliefs.  “Girls have to follow certain “norms” during the “unclean” period of menstruation” said Sujata. She is barred from participating in prayers and festivals, though she can eat the food that is cooked during festivals. If a girl breaks some of the rules or behaves inappropriate then the Gods will be angry and in return, they will kill the livestock and bring the family bad luck. 

     Sujata’s chau goth (hut), below

     

     As mentioned before that girls are relegated into very unhygienic living conditions when practicing Chaupadi. According to Kamala, “girls should eat not papaya because it an offering made to the God”. Not only that, “girls should not touch seeds or else plants will not grow.”

     “I didn’t like go to the chau goth when I was young, but my mother used to force me,” said Kamala.  So why do you force your daughter and daughter in law to go to hut? “What can I do, it is a tradition and my neighbors practice it so I have to as well.” 

     Despite various billboard posted around the village about the harmful practices and law about chaupadi, people are still observing the practice. However, some families are starting to adopt their own ways of the practice. One or two families that I met said that girls can stay in their rooms during menstruation. Some girls are also starting to drink milk and yogurt. 

     Traditions like chaupadi is so ingrained into the culture and the community that it will not be obsolete overnight. While change is hard and slow, it is starting to take place in this little village called Gutu. 

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:4,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:2,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     <\/p>

     As Sujata, 13 year old, clambered up the narrow ladder leading to small hut across from her traditional two story house, she sheepishly looked at me and said this is where I sleep when I am menstruating. The hut shelter sat on the side of a yard crowded with livestock stamping on excrement and hay; chicken foraging and clucking.<\/span><\/p>

     In Gutu, as in many villages in Nepal, women become untouchables and are isolated from their families each month while they are menstruating. Girls like Sujata practice chaupadi, a tradition where menstruating women cannot even come near the porch out of fear that families will get sick, livestock will fall ill and the Gods will be angry. <\/p>

         
     <\/p>

      Sleeping on hay right next to a chicken coup. 
     <\/p>

     Sujata\u2019s Chau goth (hut) is nicer than the ones her friends have. Nicer in the sense that is has a door with a lock for protection and a bench to sleep on. For girls in the village without a hut, they sleep in the open garden underneath the stars. <\/p>

     For generations, women in Nepal have been facing oppression in the name of religion, culture, dignity or honor.  \u201cDuring my time girls were not allowed to enter the house for 7 days but now, girls are allowed to come into the house on the 5th day\u201d said Sujata\u2019s mom, Kamala.  Kamala really believes that if girls eat radish during their period then their babies will come out looking like one.<\/p>

     \u201cI once had a beautiful apple tree that used to bear lots of fruit but since my daughter and daughter in law touched the tree during their menstruation, apples hardly grow on it.\u201d Perhaps the reasons it doesn\u2019t grow fruit because it became old said Usha, an activist working for Women Girls and Child Rights Program. \u201cMaybe that could be the reason since the tree is about 20 years old after all said Kamala, but I highly doubt it because it has been that way since they touched it.\u201d <\/p>

     Chaupadi has compelling links to cultural and religious beliefs.  \u201cGirls have to follow certain \u201cnorms\u201d during the \u201cunclean\u201d period of menstruation\u201d said Sujata. She is barred from participating in prayers and festivals, though she can eat the food that is cooked during festivals. If a girl breaks some of the rules or behaves inappropriate then the Gods will be angry and in return, they will kill the livestock and bring the family bad luck. <\/p>

     Sujata\u2019s chau goth (hut), below
     <\/p>

     <\/p>

     As mentioned before that girls are relegated into very unhygienic living conditions when practicing Chaupadi. According to Kamala, \u201cgirls should eat not papaya because it an offering made to the God\u201d. Not only that, \u201cgirls should not touch seeds or else plants will not grow.\u201d<\/p>

     \u201cI didn\u2019t like go to the chau goth when I was young, but my mother used to force me,\u201d said Kamala.  So why do you force your daughter and daughter in law to go to hut? \u201cWhat can I do, it is a tradition and my neighbors practice it so I have to as well.\u201d <\/p>

     Despite various billboard posted around the village about the harmful practices and law about chaupadi, people are still observing the practice. However, some families are starting to adopt their own ways of the practice. One or two families that I met said that girls can stay in their rooms during menstruation. Some girls are also starting to drink milk and yogurt. <\/p>

     Traditions like chaupadi is so ingrained into the culture and the community that it will not be obsolete overnight. While change is hard and slow, it is starting to take place in this little village called Gutu. <\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}]}[/content-builder]

138. What’s a Child Friendly Room?

     July 22, 2016 3:23 am 6 Comments

     This week I had pleasure of interviewing Meera Gurung, who is a facilitator at a Child Friendly Room in Kathmandu. The Child Friendly Rooms came about after the earthquake last year when many schools were closed. The closing of schools and destruction of homes, meant that many children had no safe place to go during the day. These rooms that started as a temporary measure proved to be so beneficial to vulnerable children in the area that CONCERN chose to keep seven Child Friendly Rooms open so that students would have a place to go before and after school to study and play. Having this space allows children to remove themselves from environments that may lead to coerced labor or other abuses. It also helps them to improve their school work through the support of the facilitators and fellow students.

     

     Children playing a game during my visit to Meera’s Child Friendly Room.

      

     The Child Friendly Room that Meera runs is a simple space that actually becomes Meera’s living space when the children aren’t present. There were 17 students present during my visit and about 30 students come regularly. The room has many games and books available for the children, but most importantly it has Meera.

     

     Meera leading the children in a game during my visit.

      

     Meera is intelligent, caring, friendly, and she definitely understands the situation these children are facing. When she was about 12, CONCERN began funding her education. She was the child of stone quarry workers and had started wage labor in the quarries. Her job was to carry stones in a basket around her head (see the picture below.)

     

     Example of the basket Meera would carry stones in.

     She said the basket would weigh 50 kilos (or about 110 pounds). Carrying these kind of heavy loads at such a young age was obviously tiring and dangerous. At that time, her father wasn’t supportive of her education so she found herself working in the quarries, as well as other odd jobs, such as washing dishes at weddings.

     

     This is a photo from a community theater production of an original play called “A Different Cultivation of Maize.” Meera portrayed a lawyer.

     Without CONCERN’s support its likely that Meera wouldn’t have been able to continue going to school at all. But now, Meera has finished secondary school and is studying to work in theater. She is active in community theater in Kathmandu and hopes to become a director one day. Meera strives to set a good example for her students and even though things are still hard for her she radiates positivity. I think we could all use someone like Meera in our lives, and I’m certain she is making a difference for every child taking advantage of her Child Friendly Room.

     To hear more about Meera’s experiences and the Child Friendly Rooms straight from the source, please check out my first attempt at a podcast! It was definitely a learning experience for me, but I think Meera’s personality and strengths really come through, so enjoy!

139. The Continuing Tragedy of Mai Thi Lo and her Family

     12:15 am 170 Comments

     As I started out my second day in the field, I must confess I was getting quite wrapped up in the logistical details of figuring out how and when I must get the business plan completed for each family. You see, I love checklists and crossing things off. So naturally, my mind was fully racing at the moment, going over all the questions I needed to ask and answers I might get. Would I be able to get their needs assessed without the company of the outreach workers? And the dialect, how much of it would I understand today before having to ask Ngoc, AEPD staff and my trusty “Central Viet to Southern Viet” translator?

     It wasn’t until we got to see Mai Thi Loi and her family that my perspective on the day completely changed. As our driver, Ngoc and I made our way to Tuyen Hoa District, I’m again amazed that Mr. Hoc, an AEPD outreach worker, often makes this drive on his motorbike to visit families. I’m told that that the district is a new area for AEPD; the organization started working here as recently as last year. Mr. Hoc volunteered to take this one on, even though it would take him over six hours to make a round-trip. He was away at training and couldn’t come with us that day, adding to my nervousness about meeting Mai Thi Loi. I knew the needs for this family would be great, but I didn’t realize how much until we arrived.

     A full three hours after we started our day, our driver pulls up in front of Mrs. Loi’s home. I see chickens and pigs and a young man walking in circles around the home. Mrs. Loi rushes out, pulling on a button down shirt. Before I could say my hello to her, I stop midway and survey the home. Loud clapping got my attention and I turn to see her oldest son Kien, naked and chained to a table in the back. He’s standing straight, tall and strong — one of the most intimidating figures I’ve seen in awhile. He’s clapping his hand and smiling, yet my stomach is flip-flopping all over the place. I turn to greet Mrs. Loi and I see a smaller, figure peeking out from behind a makeshift wall made of wood. I was meeting Cuong, Kien’s younger brother, and the second son. He’s mumbling incoherently and retreats to the back. I’m told he does this all day.

     We sit down and after a quick round of introductions, I ask Mrs. Loi if she’s the main laborer of the home and whether she was getting any help. Before I could complete my question, she’s crying and she can’t seem to stop. I bite my tongue, worried that I had been insensitive. We all sit still in our chair. Not a single word is said. No one’s reacting. We wait until she takes a deep breath and begins to tell us her story of raising three children affected by Agent Orange.

     

     A cracked helmet left from one of Cuong’s fits.

     Her sons were born healthy. At around age ten, each of them began slowly slipping farther and farther from reality. Their mood swings became more and more violent as they grew stronger physically. They tore apart their clothes and their house, hurting themselves and their mother in the process. Eventually, Kien had to be chained up, now Cuong and Mrs. Loi expects that her youngest son Hung will follow suit.

     Last year, when AP visited, Mrs. Loi was feeling better and her second son was doing better as well. The family had asked for a buffalo and fund to help with medical costs. Now, they can no longer manage to raise a buffalo and medical treatment is no longer doing any of her sons any good. I inquire about the idea of raising more pigs and chickens around the house. Mrs. Loi agrees, but beyond that, she’s out of ideas.

     As the visit ends, we turn to say our good byes and Mrs. Loi grips my hands and starts crying; I’m still not sure what to say. My Vietnamese isn’t good enough to form a sentence that could say, “People do care. We care about you and your sons. You’re incredible and you’re so strong.” Thinking back now, I don’t think there were anything to be said at that moment, but I so badly wanted to say something, anything to let her know she wasn’t alone. But truth of the matter is she has been for years on end now since her husband passed away decades ago, even with AEPD and people from their self-help club checking on her. How can anyone really share the pain that she must’ve felt for years, watching each of her sons slip further and further away from recovery?

     I held her hand for a few more second and we say our goodbyes and left. A golf ball-size lump grows in my throat. It’s not that I actually felt like crying. I’m not feeling anything at this point. You see, I’ve grown up saying I wanted to do this line of work, wanted to give back and make a difference in my community. Still, here in the moment, I’m questioning everything. I question how this could’ve happened and how hopeless I feel when ironically I’ve been sent to help. Then again, what does ‘helping’ even mean? How do we create lasting impact that will help her family long-term?

     

     Mrs. Mai Thi Loi

     It’s back to the drawing board for this one. I’ve asked AEPD Chairperson (Mrs. Hong) and Mr. Hoc to brainstorm and think of ways to help. I’m looking to their years of expertise to help us come up with some sort of a solution for the family.

     This visit also got me to rethink the rest of my visits that day. As much I needed to stay focused on the business plan and gathering information, I also had to pause and just listen to their stories, let them marinate so that I’m able to verbalize my feelings, effectively fundraise and stay motivated for the rest of my time here.

140. Visiting Six Agent Orange Families

     July 19, 2016 4:59 am 6 Comments

     Last Wednesday, I headed out on the road with Mr. Hoai, an AEPD outreach worker, and a staff member to visit the ten families AP & AEPD are working with this year. I was ready to get started after hearing so much about them all. We headed first to Le Thuy District, located an hour away from Dong Hoi City.

     We visited…

     

     Mrs. Duong Thi An, daughter Hoa and son Huong. Their older brother, Hai, is also affected by Agent Orange. He was away when we came.

     Huong was actually the first member of the family I met. He came with us on our drive to his home that morning, having just visited Mr. Hoai in Dong Hoi City. The story of chance meeting between Mr. Hoai and Huong is quite remarkable. They met 25 years ago at a hospital in Danang where Huong was going through his first eye surgery at the age of ten. Mr. Hoai was there recovering from his eye injury after serving in the Vietnamese Navy. Mr. Hoai recalled the story with great details, describing to me how he used to comfort the little child in his wing who was going through a similar procedure as him.

     They would meet again in 2013 when Mr. Hoai accompanied some visitors to see Huong’s family, “I immediately recognized him,” Mr. Hoai exclaimed ecstatically, “I asked him right away if he was the child from the hospital in Danang all those years ago. It turned out he was!” It’s the special connections such as these that make the outreach workers an invaluable part to AEPD’s work. I could tell instantly that Huong was very much comforted by the presence of Mr. Hoai and highly respected him.

     When we spoke with the family matriarch Mrs. Duong, she told us that their needs have stayed consistent from last year. They’re seeking support to purchase a buffalo and help pay for Huong’s second eye surgery. His remaining eye is only working at about 10% at the moment. I asked if there was anything else to be done for him and Mrs. Duong calmly responded, “I’ve told the doctors that I would like to donate an eye to my son. I’m old; he could use it more than me, but they said it wasn’t possible.”

     It’s amazing how selfless and incredible mothers can be. I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some of the kindest this past week. By the time we left, I was fully recognizing how valuable AEPD’s team of outreach workers is to their operation and why AP & AEPD are focusing their campaign on caregivers.

      

     

     Mrs. Le Thi Thuy & Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Tho. They have three children affected by AO (Men & Nhan are pictured here, left to right).

     At the second location, I met Mrs. Le Thi Thuy & Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Tho. The couple has three children affected by Agent Orange. Their visit was actually one of the toughest for me to understand, because the family was proposing lots of different business ideas. Mr. Hoai was quick to help me reevaluate the situation, explaining why certain ideas such as a sugar cane juice shop or grocery store weren’t feasible given their location. After a long discussion under his guidance, raising a buffalo seems to make the most sense for their situation.

      

     

     Phan Van Danh, their mother, Phan Thanh Gian & Phan Thi Bi (not pictured here)

     The Phan siblings are amazing in their own right. Mr. Hoai explained to me that despite not having gone to school, they’re some of the best planners and doers he has seen. The siblings take care of their aging mother, raise chickens, geese, pigeons and Mr. Danh also works as a hairdresser.

     They’ve done well but truth of the matter is, they still represent the fact that persons with disabilities are more negatively impacted by changes in the climate and/or the economy compared to the average person. The two brothers explained to us that each year, come July, their house will flood up to about 1m (3.3 ft). One meter of water would reach past all of their heads. During this time, they’re forced to sell off their chickens at a loss because they can’t take care of them. Now, with the price of chickens falling, it no longer makes sense to expand their chicken business. They are seeking support to increase their pigeon raising business in the back yard.

      

     

     Mr. Le Tien Dung & Mrs. Dang Thi Miec

     Over the course of their life, Mr. Dung and Mrs. Miec have had thirteen children, but only one of them ever survived. Their youngest daughter and sole survivor is Le Thi Ngoc Thuy. Thuy has a young daughter who’s about eight years old, her name is Thao. Both mother and child are affected by Agent Orange.

     When we visited the family with a second outreach worker Mr. Luan, Thuy and Thao had gone to Hanoi to get her eyes examined. The young child’s eyesight is a source of concern for the family as it’s worsening and she will need eye surgery soon. Despite not having much, Mr. Dung and Mrs. Miec have taken in Mr. Dung’s nephew, who is wheelchair-bound and is believed to also have been affected by Agent Orange. This family is one of many in which not one or two, but three full generations have to deal with the devastating consequences of the poisonous dioxin. Click here to read their full profile.

     The family is seeking support to purchase a buffalo and a sugar cane juice machine to start earning more of an income. Any additional amount fundraised will go towards helping them cover medical costs.

      

     

     Mrs. Nguyen Dieu Hong & son Nguyen Thanh Hung

     Here, I once again witnessed the trust that community members place in each outreach worker. We came to see Mrs. Hong and her son, Hung, an AO victim. His father left the family since he was quite little and Mrs. Hong has been raising her two children by herself ever since. During our time with the family, Mrs. Hong seemed quieter and more reserved. It wasn’t until we left that she pulled Mr. Luan to ask him if she could propose the idea of raising piglets. He assured me that he would help them figure out a business plan and assess the feasibility of their idea.

      

     

     Mrs. Nguyen Thi Chu & daughter Loan

     On our last stop, we visited Mrs. Nguyen Thi Chu’s home and found her working the garden. Mrs. Chu is older than some of the other moms we’ve met during our visit and she has three children affected by Agent Orange. She now relies on government support to cover living expenses. The family is currently going through quite a rough time as one of Mrs. Chu’s child is extremely sick. They’re expecting him to pass soon. We didn’t stay long since it didn’t feel quite right to intrude on the family during this time period. Mr. Luan will return to work with the family on their business plan at an appropriate date to help with the construction of a smaller room for Mrs. Chu and Loan to live in. Their current house is falling apart.

     I wrapped up the day after six visits with a heavy heart, but I was slowly getting the hang of each visit and figuring out what questions must be asked in order to understand each family’s needs. Since some of the outreach workers were away on business, I was going to be visiting the last four families the next day without their company. More updates to come on my second day very soon…

      

141. Transitional justice, near and far

     July 17, 2016 4:26 pm 6 Comments

     The goal of a truth commission is to help a barbarous society become minimally decent.* Nepal’s truth commission and the commission on disappearances have the enormous task of looking at the barbarity that took place during the civil war. After they collect testimonies, they will write a report about what Nepal needs to do to become minimally decent.

     Ram has written extensively about what a minimally decent Nepal should look like. In a decent society, justice is not a privilege of the few. Families of the missing struggle against the impunity of those responsible for the disappearances. By denying the families the truth of what happened, the perpetrators deny that a crime even occurred at all. Families of the missing are now seeking recognition from the commission that their loved one’s lives matter enough to acknowledge the grave violation that was committed against them.

     It’s impossible to spend so much time thinking about justice in Nepal without considering what’s happening in the United States. Many of the questions being asked by Nepal’s truth commissions and activists are the same questions Americans are asking themselves right now. Who decides who is a victim? Who determines what is an injustice? Whose stories matter? Whose dignity? Whose lives?

     Truth commissions are just one way to answer these questions. They can offer victims of injustice a platform from which to identify the crimes committed against them. But meaningful change toward a more decent society doesn’t only come when victims speak out; more often than not, they have been speaking out for as long as they have endured the barbarity. For change to happen, the perpetrators, beneficiaries, and bystanders in an unjust system need to actually listen to what its victims have to say.

     Meaningful comparisons between any two societies in the process of healing from their pasts are difficult to make. Nepal is not Peru is not Bosnia is not South Africa is not the United States. What I can take from the juxtaposition of my work here to what’s happening back home is a reminder of complexity. The transition from barbarous to decent seems simple, inevitable even, from a distance. This is true for Americans looking at other countries as well as at our own history. Up close, the process is messier, scarier, and far less certain; it is a tremendous responsibility to respond with courage and empathy rather than violence and fear.

     *Phrase borrowed from Rajeev Bhargava’s essay “Restoring Decency to Barbaric Societies” in Truth vs. Justice: The Morality of Truth Commissions.

      

142. Already Adults at Thirteen

     5:43 am 263 Comments

     

     Muskan Tamang, looking very serious for a 13 year old girl. Her mom works a carpet factory in the off season and the brick factory in the dry season. Her dad has been gone for the past year, to work in Bahrain. She aspires to be a nurse.

     Tuesday was a long day of interviews which started with an extra long bus ride from Kathmandu to Bhaktapur. Our first interview of the day was with Muskan Tamang. She gave the impression of a quiet and serious young girl. Eventually it became apparent that most students 12 or older tended to have a more serious attitude given that as they transitioned into their teenage years their families seemed to expect more of them as well. This transition from childhood to adulthood is something we all expect, but the timing can vary greatly between countries or economic circumstances. In the United States, childhood seems to last longer and longer, for better or worse. Sociologists have in fact created a new term to define the extra time adults in the United States seem to need to actually become independent, functioning members of society. They call this period “emerging adulthood” and it generally occurs in the late teens through the twenties. For me this is such a stark contrast to the pre-teens I’ve interviewed who are already expected to take on adult work in their families.

     This expectation makes it especially difficult for the students to avoid assisting their families in the brick kiln, even when CONCERN-Nepal is funding their education. Some students still work in the kilns to varying degrees. In most instances it is not more than an hour or two, but there are rare students who are expected to do much more, like Bishal Manandhar.

      

     

     Bishal Manandhar, 13 years old.

      

     Bishal is 13 years old and from Ramechhap, a rural area to the southeast of Kathmandu. Although he has only spent 6 months in the kilns, compared to some children who have already worked as many as 6 years in the kilns, he had one of the most grueling schedules of any of the children we’ve interview and had suffered additional hardship on top of that. Last dry season he would wake up at midnight and begin making bricks. He would make bricks until 9 am and then he would go to school. After school he would work for another hour or two. His parents, who are both illiterate made the decision to work in the kilns after their home was destroyed in the earthquake. While working at the kilns he was injured and received no compensation or medical attention.

     Bishal worked 10 hours a day while the brick factories were open. Being able to attend school under the circumstances was at best a mixed blessing. While staying in school will give him a better chance at finding work outside the kilns later, adult expectations weigh heavy on Bishal and its obvious that this kind of hard labor is taking its toll.

      

     In contrast to Muskan and Bishal are Alina and Yamsay Tamang, who are only nine and seven years old respectively. Below is a video of them taken by staff at CONCERN-Nepal, happily flipping bricks as if its just another game for them.

     In the interview, they boasted of their expert skills in brick flipping. During the interviews they were all smiles as they talked about their life in Bhaktapur. Even with the difficult circumstances the younger brother Yamsay is top of his class and even helps his sister study since their parents are illiterate and unable to help. For now they are young and things are still easy compared to Bishal’s daily life, but how many more years until they face the same difficulties? When will their childhood abruptly change to adulthood?

     

     Sundar, field officer at CONCERN-Nepal interviewing Alina and Yamsay Tamang.

143. America? Where?

     July 11, 2016 11:22 am 7 Comments

     

     Crooked and slanted rocky road in Lakuri, Nepal. Tons of climbing is required to go anywhere.

     You know you are in a really remote place in the mountains when you are asked where America is located. There were blank faces when I spoke English and told people I was from America while monitoring a workshop in Lakuri, Nepal. Lakuri is a very rural village in Nepal and the only way to get there is by hiking, climbing, crawling, walking, slipping and falling on non-existing paths for 7 hours to finally reach the top of the mountain. I thought walking up the near vertical inclines was hard, but coming down really damaged my knee. At the end, 7 hours of walking was worth everything when I finally saw the serene view of the place from the top. It was so peaceful and natural that it felt like I was in heaven.

     The workshop I was monitoring was extremely successful and I was blown away by the adolescent group of this village. These groups of extremely talented kids were not shy at all and spoke loudly and clearly without any giggles about puberty, menstruation, body parts and social issues. One of the highlights of this workshop was when a group of boys had to draw the changes that take place in a girl’s body when they go through puberty and vice versa for girls. Boys and girls were separated into two groups and one person from each group had to lay down on a brown piece of paper while the group traced the outline of their body.

     

     The boys laughing away while drawing the uterus.

      

     Then the groups were asked to switch so that girls can draw the body parts on the outline of a boy and the boys of a girl. When it came time to present, there was a bit of confusion from the boys on what a vagina actually looked like. While they drew a really accurate picture of a uterus, pubic hair was drawn on the uterus and the vagina was completely missing. Now, here comes the most interesting argument in history, a female’s vagina is in fact the uterus and they think the vagina looks like the uterus therefore putting pubic hair on it was relevant. Oh boys!

     

     The girls attempting to draw a penis but it came out looking like a fan on the stomach.

     The girls were slightly shy to draw a penis, perhaps which is why when they drew one, it looked like a fan. While the girl was presenting, one boy yells out “why is the penis located on the stomach?” One extremely sassy, intelligent girl replied “I have never seen yours, so shut up.” I never laughed so hard in my life! This type of activity really helped both the boys and the girls break out of their shells and feel comfortable talking to each other about social issues.  In villages like this, boys and girls don’t sit together, eat together or hangout. They remain distant because their community does not allow boys and girls to be friends. Workshops such as this are extremely important in breaking those norms and helping both boys and girls be empowered together.[content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”<\/a> Crooked and slanted rocky road in Lakuri, Nepal. Tons of climbing is required to go anywhere.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nYou know you are in a really remote place in the mountains when you are asked where America is located. There were blank faces when I spoke English and told people I was from America while monitoring a workshop in Lakuri, Nepal. Lakuri is a very rural village in Nepal and the only way to get there is by hiking, climbing, crawling, walking, slipping and falling on non-existing paths for 7 hours to finally reach the top of the mountain. I thought walking up the near vertical inclines was hard, but coming down really damaged my knee. At the end, 7 hours of walking was worth everything when I finally saw the serene view of the place from the top. It was so peaceful and natural that it felt like I was in heaven.\r\n\r\nThe workshop I was monitoring was extremely successful and I was blown away by the adolescent group of this village. These groups of extremely talented kids were not shy at all and spoke loudly and clearly without any giggles about puberty, menstruation, body parts and social issues. One of the highlights of this workshop was when a group of boys had to draw the changes that take place in a girl\u2019s body when they go through puberty and vice versa for girls. Boys and girls were separated into two groups and one person from each group had to lay down on a brown piece of paper while the group traced the outline of their body.\r\n\r\n<\/a> The boys laughing away while drawing the uterus.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nThen the groups were asked to switch so that girls can draw the body parts on the outline of a boy and the boys of a girl. When it came time to present, there was a bit of confusion from the boys on what a vagina actually looked like. While they drew a really accurate picture of a uterus, pubic hair was drawn on the uterus and the vagina was completely missing. Now, here comes the most interesting argument in history, a female’s vagina is in fact the uterus and they think the vagina looks like the uterus therefore putting pubic hair on it was relevant. Oh boys!\r\n\r\n<\/a> The girls attempting to draw a penis but it came out looking like a fan on the stomach.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe girls were slightly shy to draw a penis, perhaps which is why when they drew one, it looked like a fan. While the girl was presenting, one boy yells out \u201cwhy is the penis located on the stomach?\u201d One extremely sassy, intelligent girl replied \u201cI have never seen yours, so shut up.\u201d I never laughed so hard in my life! This type of activity really helped both the boys and the girls break out of their shells and feel comfortable talking to each other about social issues.\u00a0 In villages like this, boys and girls don\u2019t sit together, eat together or hangout. They remain distant because their community does not allow boys and girls to be friends. Workshops such as this are extremely important in breaking those norms and helping both boys and girls be empowered together.”}]}[/content-builder]

144. Intersection of Advocacy and Medicine

     July 10, 2016 7:09 am 312 Comments

     Note: I had some technical difficulties that stopped me from posting this earlier, but better late than never! If we were to build a timeline, this would slide in right between my chaotic first day in Biratnagar and the third day where I was able to talk with the women after their surgeries. I wasn’t able to take a lot of pictures, so this post may be a bit text heavy! 

     I was wearing pink socks with grey elephants on them, my lucky socks. I hadn’t expected anybody to see them. Nobody in Nepal wears close toed shoes, everybody wears sandals, but it hadn’t crossed my mind that I would be required to wear rubber sandals while in the operating room. Close toed shoes, I had thought, maybe even close toed shoes with disposable covers slipped over them. I felt like a child again with my socks, too big rubber sandals, and oversized scrubs in a room full of specialized surgeons and nurses. Water dyed red with blood pooled by my feet and I moved so a surgical tech could wipe it up with a green surgical towel.

     Dr. Gyanendra Man Singh Karki was a big man both in space and presence. He spoke openly and assertively and acted in the same way. His English was accented with Nepali and Russian, but he spoke it very well. You could tell that he was important simply by the way people moved around him. After we were introduced, we spoke about healthcare and medicine for fifteen or twenty minutes with two hospital administrators and Chanda standing by. Part of me felt like I was meeting one of my own and the other part felt like I was desperately trying to convince him to feel the same about me.

     Dr. Karki sits in the break room after a long day of surgeries

     Dr. Karki specializes as an Obstetrics and Gynecological Consultant with a subspecialty in Gynecologic Laparoscopic Surgery. During his medical career, he has performed at least 5,000 surgeries to correct uterine prolapse. In fact, his record in one day was 35 operations. He smiled proudly as he told me that he just spent the day switching back and forth between operating rooms. I melted a little bit inside. The perfect day. According to him a vaginal hysterectomy without complications should take around 15 minutes. If you’re curious about the math, 35 surgeries at 15 minutes each is 8 hours and 45 minutes of staring straight into the eyes of a variety of vaginas…and that’s if there are no complications. Later, an administrator noted to me that Dr. Karki performs the surgery in half the time of other surgeons at the hospital. It was then I vowed to marry one of his sons so he could never rid himself of me.

     In all seriousness, Dr. Karki made it very clear that uterine prolapse is a global epidemic. Women in developing countries in Asia and Africa are affected at much higher rates than what is reported. A few years ago, Nepal’s government pledged to fund the operations for women who suffer from uterine prolapse. Throwing out numbers, Dr. Karki said that if the operation, hospital stay, medicine cost 500 dollars total, the government will only give the hospital 100 dollars for the operation itself. Birat Medical College Teaching Hospital allows the costs to remain low because of their status as a teaching hospital, which is why they have been taking on many cases since their opening two years ago. It is obvious that institutions such as this hospital and organizations like Care Women Nepal are absolutely vital in the process in helping the women of Nepal access this life changing operation.

     

     Straight ahead are both operating rooms, to the left is the sink to scrub in, and to the right is the delivery room. Also not pictured is the patient waiting room and the room where surgical tools are placed after use.

     Dr. Karki agreed to let me into his operating room – telling me that American surgeons who don’t let people into their operating rooms are all going to hell. I laughed and the idea of moving to Biratnagar scampered across my mind. He explained that he is capable of doing the operation laparoscopically, but laparoscopy is all skill. “Vagina surgery is not only skill, it’s art.” 10-4. Noted. The operation doesn’t really begin until the uterus is removed, he told me, the most important part was repairing the ligaments to prevent future prolapse of the bladder or rectum – both of which could cause harsher complications than the original uterine prolapse did in the first place. 10-4. Also noted. Botched hysterectomies have been an issue in Nepal in the past, which has led to increased fear of the operation, but it was extremely evident that these women were in the most competent hands possible.

     Before the surgeon enters the operating room, the patient is prepped and given an epidural. She’s positioned in the dorsal lithotomy position with her hips at the end of the table and her feet spread in stirrups. The anesthesiologist puts her under, and she is completely covered except for her cleaned and prepped vagina and anus. The labia majora are anchored back on the top and each side. Dr. Karki enters to a staffed and stocked operating room that’s ready to receive him. Somebody places a stool underneath him and clips him into this canopy apron thing that allows him to drop his surgical tools in front of him without them actually going anywhere. He begins by injecting the uterus and vaginal mucosa with a solution that increases visibility of tissue planes and reduces blood loss. The uterus and cervix are then removed in a series of intricate but not particularly delicate steps. At one point, he performed an operation using what looked like the intramyometrial coring technique which requires splitting the cervix. Let me tell you, a split cervix and uterus looks a fair amount like a halved brussels sprout. Just something I’ll remember fondly next time I eat brussels sprouts. Anyway, the pelvic floor and all of its ligaments are then carefully repaired – a step accompanied by a lot of stitching and irrigation, hence the bloody water around my elephant socks. He finishes by touching up his work and manually checks the vagina and rectum to make sure that everything is secure. There we have it, folks, a prolapse free vagina!

     The surgical cart post surgery

     I almost started crying two minutes into the first operation because I felt the beauty of his work deep in my bones. It was art in a way that I had never experienced, but no other word captures the power of his work so well. Not only that, but I finally felt at home in the operating theater in a way that I hadn’t felt since arriving in Nepal. It was the first time I wasn’t openly stared or gawked at and even though I didn’t speak the language, I had a sense of what was happening. Dr. Karki even went as far as explaining what he was doing throughout the operations so I could stay engaged in the process. Most importantly, I found myself in a small medical oasis where I inherently understood the culture. I quickly came to realize that the archetypal clinical and confident personality of a doctor is almost universal, and that knowledge was oddly comforting. Dr. Karki and I ate lunch and chatted between a set of operations as if he hadn’t been chopping and sewing vaginas all day. During one operation, he asked me if I liked reggae and started singing Bob Marley as he stitched up the ligaments. Between a different set of operations, he noticed me eying the delivery room, so he marched right in there and brought me out a baby that had to have been less than 30 minutes old. I could’ve sworn the mother was still bleeding on the delivery table. The whole day was a surreal mix of pleasant conversation and operating rooms – the kind of day that makes you look around and say, “How did I get here?” Maybe the most amazing thing was that Dr. Karki was so incredible at his work that he had earned every right to be confident and slightly playful. Or maybe even more amazing was that I found myself at the true intersection of advocacy and medicine.

     

     The removed uterus and cervix – which I legitimately considered taking after Dr. Karki jokingly offered it to me as a souvenir 

145. Introductions are in order…

     4:26 am 8 Comments

     Now that I’ve sat down with 13 of the 25 students I’ll be profiling, I’d like to start introducing a few of them to you. First are the students that Sundar and I interviewed in Imadol, Sanu, Buddhi and Deepak. Not one of them was over 11 years old, and yet they had more work experience than most college students in the U.S.

     

     Sanu is very outgoing, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from his picture. He’s all smiles until he notices and camera pointed his direction then he switches to the subdued expression you see here. The serious expression is probably what you would expect from his history. From the interview we learn that although he is only 11 years old, he has already worked in the brick factory for three years.

     Sanu comes from a big family. He is the youngest and has three older sisters and one older brother. He speaks fondly of his family and when he tells us that his father won a prize for carrying the most bricks last season the pride he feels is evident on his face. His brother is currently working at the brick factory also, even though he himself is only 14 years old. Sanu tells us that his brother broke his leg working in the kilns and that there was no money for a doctor or compensation from the factory. He explains his brother’s leg is healed now, but that it still causes him pain. This could just as easily have been Sanu’s future, but for the time being CONCERN is sponsoring his education allowing him to pursue his goal of becoming a pilot.

     

     Buddhi is quiet compared to some of the other students. He was more timid during the interview as he explained his situation. At just 8 years old he has more work experience than some graduate students I know. He worked for three years in the kilns before CONCERN began sponsoring his education. By sponsoring his education, Buddhi is also able to take his 2-year-old sister with him to school so that she isn’t in the way of her parents’ work. He has two older brothers as well, one is only 13 years old. His brother dropped out of school in the third grade and has been employed in the factories since then. Buddhi’s favorite subject is English and after Sanu expressed his aim at becoming a pilot, Buddhi sweetly parroted this proclamation.

     

     Deepak was the most serious of the children we interviewed that day. He does not have the high aims of Sanu or Buddhi. Instead he would like to be a driver and earn money. Deepak is only 10, but he has spent half of his short life working in the brick kilns. His father died in the Civil War in Nepal that ended in 2006 and with no other siblings, it is just himself and his mother.

     I hope you enjoyed “meeting” a few of CONCERN’s students. I’ll have a few more introductions later in the week. Thanks for reading!

146. Difficulty menstruating in Nepal

     July 5, 2016 11:08 am 8 Comments

     

     No seriously, does that look like a gender friendly bathroom?

     I have been dreading this day, but mother nature always shows up at the wrong time and place. Yes, menstruation is a natural process and it comes every month but when you are in a field where the bathroom has no running water, toilet paper or waste basket and smells like fresh feces all the time, things can get very difficult very quickly, the assistance of a plumber gilbert az is crucial. Just look at the image of the bathroom. Does it look like a place you want to sit in?

     Changing pads is extremely daunting because there is no place to dispose of it. I had to carry around dirty pads in my bag for 5 days before I was back to Surkhet from the field where I threw it in the lake. I hate to litter but it was the only place I was able to get rid of it. This was one of the reasons that I did not even change pads throughout the day. Also, it was because there were no toilet paper to wipe myself and the water that was left in the bathroom to wash was often dirty and I was at a risk of getting an infection, therefore I drank as little water as possible to avoid the bathroom. Plus who wants to feel wet on top of the wetness that is already there. I mean at this point, it became apparent I was going to get an infection regardless of what I did.

     Showering on my period was an even harder task. In order to shower, I had to go to a creek 30 minutes away from my hotel and shower fully clothed with other people around. This means, that I had the pad on when I showered. After showering, putting on clothes on a wet body was very comical and then going behind the tree to take my pad out and putting on a clean one and simply carrying it back with me was just adding to the list of many firsts. Perhaps it is these things that make everyone perceive girls as unclean and dirty. The problem is not the girls, but the lack of facilities to practice menstrual hygiene is.

     

     My toilet above the mountains

147. War

     July 4, 2016 10:07 pm 8 Comments

     “Please tell me how your life has been impacted by war.”

     I distinctively remember sitting in a small classroom my senior year of college with about twenty other students, being asked this question as our icebreaker. The theme of the course was Gender & Militarization. Normally, I struggle with icebreakers. It’s a lot of pressure to be given thirty seconds or so to cleverly answer some random question, all while trying to make the best first impression and not repeat what someone else just said. But this question, well, this one was a little different. I wasn’t even sure where to begin. How do I sum up the ways in which my life has been impacted by war? The Vietnam War (or ‘the American War’ as it is known in Vietnam).

     Before I go any further, here’s a quick background. The American War took place from 1954 to 1975 with the Communist regime of North Vietnam and the Viet Cong on one side, South Vietnam and its main ally, the US, on another. The US was adhering closely to their policy of “containment”, doing their best to prevent the spread of communism to Vietnam. Under a peace agreement, President Nixon withdrew American troops in 1973. The war between North and South Vietnam continued until the 1975 Fall of Saigon when the North captured the city, marking the end of the decades-long conflict. An estimated 3 million Vietnamese died, 3 million wounded and 12 million became refugees.

     Then, do I answer the icebreaker by telling the class how my uncle was killed as a soldier for the South Vietnam army? Do I recount the stories that my dad told me of his years spent in reeducation camp following the 1975 Fall of Saigon? Or, should I respond with how my mom spent her teenage years selling sticky rice on the streets of a war-torn country, cowering with her sisters under a blanket at night, praying for the bombing to stop? Where do I even begin when war is as much a part of my history as it is a part of the rivers and rice paddy fields of Vietnam?

     

     Useful Infographic about AO in Vietnam

     War has left its mark on my birthplace (or as I like to call it, the motherland) with poison running through its veins. More than 19 million gallons of various pesticides was sprayed over 4.5 million acres of the country by US planes from 1962-1971. The most commonly used chemical was Agent Orange, 11.4 million gallons to be exact. Those exposed to AO suffer from many health problems, such as cancer, Parkinson’s and heart disease to name a few . Exposure to AO has also been linked to birth defects, altering the lives of what has now been three whole generations of Vietnamese. The burden of caring for victims often falls on the entire family of those affected, especially on primary caregivers. This is why AEPD and AP are focusing on meeting their needs. Please click here to take a look at our campaign. Shoutout to the awesome AP team back in DC for all the work they did on this page and the profiles of families featured.

     Leftover Explosive Remnants of the War (ERW), landmines and unexploded ordinance, also remain in the ground, detonating when curious children and innocent passerby pick one up assuming that it’s a toy. Or, when farmers burn crops on their field, unknowingly applying too much heat and accidentally setting off a bomb buried deep under the earth. These are explosives designed to wipe out as many people as possible. Those who do survive face a lifetime of pain and disability. Quang Binh province, where AEPD is located, and its neighbor Quang Tri are two of the most highly contaminated provinces.

     

     AEPD works with many AO victims and landmine survivors. Mr. Thuan (left), one of their outreach workers and a war veteran, is also a landmine survivor himself. The other person in the photo is Mr. Trung (right), an AO victim. PC: 2015 AEPD Fellow Armando Gallardo

      

     So how did I ended up answering the icebreaker? I told the class the story of one of my uncles who made it to America alone as a refugee when he was only 17, with no family and no friends. He put himself through college by working odd jobs, and built a great foundation for our family in the US. He became our sponsor and brought us over to California sixteen years ago. Ultimately, one of the main reasons why I’m sitting here, privileged enough to be given a platform to tell people of our history, is because of the war. This is why I came back. This is why I care, because this history has made me who I am today and has shaped who I want to be.

     As I finish my second week here of AEPD, I’m reminded once again that there are never any real winners in war. The losses are great on all sides and the consequences continue to affect generation and generation of innocents to come. So here I am, doing what I believe is best to assist with the healing process.

     Thank you for reading.

148. Earthquakes and Floods a.k.a Business as Usual

     July 1, 2016 4:01 am 240 Comments

     

     The outside the CONCERN Office

      

     In the past two weeks, I think I’ve experienced what constitutes a fast-paced week at CONCERN and what would be a particularly slow week. The fast week came first. CONCERN staff were working jointly on a proposal with Change & Development for Our Rural Society (CDORS) which was due in five days time. Even with this rapidly approaching deadline, the atmosphere at the office resembled a slow day at the high pressure law firm where I previously worked.  But much like the law firm, I did end up working overtime. I came in on Saturday to proofread the proposal and finish up the final draft of the references section. Then I came in early on Sunday to put together the final document, so that we could print the proposal before the scheduled power outages that day. However, as luck would have it as soon as were finished and ready to print the power cut out. Pramod, the director of CDORS was able to go out and find a printer, but this is just one of the many simple tasks that could take extra time and thought when working in Kathmandu.

     

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     Another project taking a lot of extra time is the director’s work with the local authorities to get the permits to repair the office after the earthquake. The plan is to demolish the current office and have a new one built in its place. Even in a developed country like the United States the bureaucracy surrounding such construction projects can be arduous, in a country like Nepal navigating the local government processes can be practically impossible.

     The building itself consists of a nicer office on the first floor and reception area for guests and then a larger bullpen style space on the second floor. When Bijaya, the director of CONCERN, told me the foundation was cracked from the earthquake and they wanted to tear it down, I wasn’t sure what to think. Since I spend seven hours a day, six days a week at the office, it was easier for me not to let my thoughts linger on how structurally unsound the building may be. However, when a small earthquake hit last week, and I felt the floor sway under my feet the damage to the building became far more real.

     

     So while the construction plans have been weighing on Bijaya’s mind, the rest of the staff have been preoccupied with tasks which have made this week particularly slow. The internet was out at the office for the first three days. The CONCERN team spent much of their time making adjustments to the router and back-up battery in the hopes of restoring the wireless internet. Another day, Sundar, the field officer at CONCERN, spent most of the day moving files from the bottom floor so that they wouldn’t be damaged when it flooded from the monsoon rains. (Which was well planned since the next day it did in fact flood.) Schools were also on recess this week, so there were no field visits for me. I spent most of my days without internet, writing up my report and working on the blog you’re reading now.

     I tried to stay productive, but without internet I couldn’t work on the website as easily and doing extra research was difficult. For me these are all temporary problems that I will leave behind, but for CONCERN staff they are everyday issues that will continue to detract from their productivity, unless there are major improvements to Kathmandu’s infrastructure.

     

     CONCERN Staffers bring the printed paper with them every day to stay productive during times without power or internet.

      

149. “Now I am a complete man”: The journey from fighter to peace builder for ex-PLA combatants

     June 30, 2016 2:59 pm 7 Comments

     On my first full day in Nepal (nearly a month ago now!), I attended an event that highlighted the continued challenges faced by former combatants in the People’s Liberation Army, the military unit of the Communist insurgency that fought against the Nepali government in a decade-long civil war. The insights were based on the results of a year-long study conducted by Simon Robins, Ram Bhandari, and a research group made up of 12 ex-PLA combatants.

     Like Robin and Ram’s study of the disappeared that helped to launch NEFAD, this report sought to not only provide data about the lives of ex-combatants, but to empower those combatants to create networks in their communities to advocate for justice, peace, and reconciliation.

     I talked to two of the interviewers about their experience, with indispensible translation help from Ramish Adhikari, a peace advisor who works on issues of reconciliation in Nepal.

     

     Ram Krishna and Ramish

     Ram Krishna Mahat and Bikram Sundus are both former members of the PLA currently living in the Chitwan district. Neither of them are originally from Chitwan: Like many former PLA, they did not return home after the peace treaty was signed. Ram and Bikram are both active in their new community through supporting ex-combatants like themselves and leading peace-building and reconciliation activities.

     Along with 10 other researchers, Ram and Bikram conducted 241 interviews, and met with an additional 100 former combatants in focus groups.

     Each former PLA combatant they talked to had a different experience in the conflict. “Starting to hear their experiences, hear their pain and emotion, I started to feel like I was in their shoes,” Ram Krishna said.

     In addition, gender played a surprising role for some of the male interviewers. Before interviewing women, “I couldn’t imagine about the experience of women ex-combatants,” Ram Krishna recalled.

     Bikram remembered one woman in particular whose interview stood out to him: “She had lost her leg [in the war], and now economic conditions are very difficult [for her]. She wants to integrate into the community, but whenever she goes out, the community members use abusive words towards her. This is a very hard situation… I will not forget this woman.”

     Like the other researchers, Ram and Bikram see themselves not just as ex-fighters, but as active peace makers and community builders. Bikram spoke proudly of how he, along with other former combatants, organized discussion groups to peacefully resolve conflicts that arose in their new communities.

     “During the war,” he said, “the society was divided into two parts. When it is like that, one side has to kill everyone else. But coming to the peace process, I realized that the pain I have in my heart is the same on the other side. That is the powerful feeling I have as a peace builder.”

     As the evidence in the report suggests, some ex-PLA fighters see their role in nonviolent community activism as a continuation of reasons they joined the armed struggle in the first place: to fight against oppression and injustice.

     Ram explains, “Yesterday I was fighting with guns. But when I am involved in the [peace projects], I am acting as a peace builder. Being a fighter – that was just one part of the coin. And now the peace builder is the other side of the coin. So the coin is complete now… being a fighter and a peace builder makes me a complete man.”

150. A Glimpse into a Life with Uterine Prolapse

     3:02 am 9 Comments

     Disclaimer: I had planned to release a blog post about the actual surgeries before posting the profiles, but I’ve decided to switch it up. All the surgeries were successful! The other women on the list will be given a chance to receive the operation when Care Women Nepal does another round of operations.

     If I had thought the operations were beautiful, I have no words to describe the absolute awe the stories of these four women inspired. The day after their operations, Chanda and I interviewed each woman about their experience with uterine prolapse. Each woman met us with such openness, warmth, and appreciation.*

     

     Ratna Kumar Shrestha, 58, lives in Dhankuta, Nepal. A year and a half ago, Ratna noticed her uterus protruding from her vagina: stage 3 uterine prolapse. It got hard to sleep and really hard to work, especially because her job includes physical labor. Every time she had to use the restroom, she would have to push her uterus back inside of her body to pee. She turned to her husband of 43 years for support. Thankfully, he took the news easily and helped her seek medical attention. On the inside, Ratna had felt that her uterine prolapse was not only a burden for herself, but for her family as well. Now, after the operation, Ratna expresses joy that she will be able to work and there won’t be sadness in her home.

      

     Dhanmaya Limbu, 52, lives in Tankhuwa, Nepal. Dhanmaya’s uterine prolapse presented before she gave birth to her children. The uterine prolapse resulted in difficulty giving birth and worsened with each child. Although emotionally and physically painful, Dhanmaya could not refuse the pressure placed on her by her husband to bear more children. She gave birth to a total of five children and experienced uterine prolapse for 22 years. Her friends in her village have shared their experiences with uterine prolapse amongst themselves, many suffering from it themselves, but they do not want the surgery because they think they will die as a direct result. Dhanmaya heard about Care Women Nepal’s health camp in April and felt so passionately about it that she came and personally sought out Indira to thank her and to discuss her uterine prolapse. Over a week after her operation, she reports that her family is taking care of her and she is doing well.

     

     Maan Kumari Basyal, 55, lives in Tankhuwa, Nepal. 35 years ago, Maan noticed that her uterus was poking out of her vagina and went to the local hospital. She had very little money and could not afford the operation. At some point, two female politicians in her village promised to help her obtain the operation. They never followed through with their promise and Maan was left hurt and disappointed – she feared that she would die before she got relief. She had told her family about her uterine prolapse, but they did not understand her problem. Only one family member, an in-law, encouraged her decision to come with Care Women Nepal for this operation. Her own daughter, out of fear, discouraged Maan against this operation because uterine prolapse “wasn’t something like cancer” and wasn’t worth the risks of undergoing surgery. Her son even called her before her operation, scolding her, “Why are you doing this?” Ultimately, she confidently made the decision for herself and is very excited to be moving forward without the pain of uterine prolapse.

     

     Uma Kumari Limbu, 57, lives in Tankhuwa, Nepal. She has suffered from uterine prolapse for 21 years. She had noticed the prolapse before the birth of her littlest son, but noticed that it worsened after his birth and her uterus began coming out of her vagina. Previously, she had not sought out surgery because of economic problems and lack of familial support. Going into the operation, Uma was the only one out of the four that was not scared. She felt that even if she died on the table during the operation, it was worth the risk. She’s looking forward to the positive economic benefits that this surgery will bring, for she will be able work at her fullest capacity. Over a week after her operation, Uma is doing extremely well and still taking rest.

     *More photos of these women and the operation process can be found at my flickr page!

      

      

      

151. What’s In a Song?

     June 29, 2016 3:49 am 8 Comments

     

     Mr. Nam helping his wife, Mrs. Huong, with her work

      

     We met Mrs. Huong and her husband after a busy day on the road. Mrs. Huong is a tailor, trained by AEPD. She was born with her disability while her husband, Mr. Nam, lost his arm during a work accident. The couple met while Mrs. Huong was rehearsing for a singing competition organized by AEPD. They’ve been married for two years now. When asked what he loves most about life these days, Mr. Nam said, “After my accident, I was deeply depressed and went through a very rough time. But now, we’re working. I’m happily married and we’re expecting a child in the next month!” Their smiles and positivity were absolutely contagious. I’ve been told previously that Mrs. Huong is a great singer, so I was excited to see her perform. Her song selection though… She had me tearing up inside, a lot like how I get whenever I watch videos of baby birds learning to fly. Enjoy!

     “Blooming Flower”

     I used to wish that I wasn’t myself.
     I used to wish that I could be like everybody else.
     So I could live an easy and carefree life,
     So I could live the life that I had always dreamed of.

     But I realized, my heart is capable of unconditional love,
     And it is filled with big dreams.
     I realized that when faced with obstacles,
     I learn to love my life even more.
     I’m growing stronger and I’m learning to believe in myself.

     My life resembles that of a blooming flower,
     Standing strong through it all, overcoming and
     Living with a great thirst for life.

     I may face hardship in the future,
     But I will look to tomorrow
     Because tomorrow is a brand new day,
     Full of sunshine.
     And I am in charge of writing my own life story,
     For me.

     So, what’s in a song? In this case, plenty of hope, excitement and optimism.

152. Emotionally drained, physically exhausted, psychologically ingrained.

     June 28, 2016 10:54 am 3 Comments

     

     Saraswati’s Hut

      

     “I don’t like to stay in Chauu goth (cow shed) but there is nothing I can do as it is our religion” says Sarawati. Girls like Sarawasti are forced to live in cow sheds during menstruation for periods of up to 7 days because they are portrayed as unclean and dirty.  About 400 miles away from Kathmandu, Nepal, I was reversed back in time in the town of Gutu, Nepal. I like to think of myself as a world traveler and that customary practices often don’t leave me shocked, well that was before I arrived in Nepal. Before leaving for Gutu, I was told by my fellow staff that the illegal, dishonorable practice of Chaupadi was outlawed and it is not prevalent in Nepal. Guess they were wrong.

     

     Chauu Hut

     I arrived in Gutu, Nepal to monitor a life skills workshop conducted for 25 adolescent boys and girls, so they can be active citizens in their schools and community. In that workshop, I conducted an activity on menstruation. I wanted to learn more about how menstruation is perceived in their village and whether the traditional practice of Chaupadi is still practiced. So, I had the group of girls draw out things that they can’t touch and eat and the places they are forbidden from going during the 7 days of menstruation and I had the boys draw the same for their mothers and sisters.

     The drawings left me speechless. All of them drew everyday items such as fruit trees, livestock, water taps, their brothers, fathers and kitchen utensils as things they can’t touch. For things they can’t eat, they drew fruits, milk and yogurt and for places they can’t go they drew their homes and temples. But the most horrifying drawings of all were the ones of the huts where they are forced to stay during menstruation. I was left wondering who started this torturous practice and what did these women do to have their dignity stripped from them every month.

153. Waiting, Dal Bhat, and Chaos

     June 27, 2016 5:23 am 10 Comments

     There was nothing. There was nothing but waiting and dal bhat. On Thursday, Indira had travelled to Kathmandu for a check-up and bedrest after suffering an injury while playing soccer with the neighborhood kids. Chanda, the office secretary and my best (and only) friend in Dhankuta, and I remained in the Dhankuta office ready to pounce into action once we received official approval from Birat Hospital for Care Women Nepal’s upcoming health camp.

     The hospital had to decide whether they wanted to partner with us for the health camp, and then either approve or reject the proposed date. Everything – location, staff, timing, posters, flyers, banners, metal prints, food tokens, radio ads, mobilization of volunteers – depended on this approval. We had spent the earlier part of the week waiting for a meeting with Bimala Thapa from the hospital (tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow) to even propose a soft date for the health camp and the proceeding surgeries. Each health camp identifies a list of women that qualify for a government sponsored surgery to correct their uterine prolapse, then CWN aids the women who elect to have the operation by covering food and transportation costs associated with the operation for them and a family member.

     Indira and Bimala agreed upon dates for the two day long health camp, July 1st and 2nd, and then decided on a surgery date, July 7th, that combined the list of surgery candidates from the previous health camp in April and the upcoming health camp in July. Bimala Thapa left us after the meeting just as she found us: in a sea of waiting and dal bhat.

     

     Indira, Bimala, and me in the CWN office

     There was nothing besides waiting and dal bhat until there was only chaos. On Sunday, a workday in Nepal, Indira called Chanda at around 11:00 telling her to call the women on the surgery list from the health camp in April to see if they would be willing to travel to Biratnagar the next day for their operations. There had been some type of miscommunication and the surgeries had to be done within the week in order to be covered by the government – something having to do with a quota.

     It goes without saying that this isn’t a light decision for these women or their families. A hysterectomy, even one that will improve their quality of life by tenfold, is a monumental decision for any woman. A common misconception between under-educated Nepali women is that they will most likely die if they receive this operation, so there is an added layer of fear for these women and their families. Often, a woman’s decision to receive the operation is met with negativity and she must convince her family to support her wish to correct her prolapse.

     As if those obstacles were not enough, many of these women and their families are daily workers or field workers. The surgery requires time away from the planting and harvesting for not only them, but a family member as well – something that the family must financially plan around. In the end, 4 women out of a list of 25 committed to have the operation within the week: Ratna Kumari Shrestha, Dhanmaya Limbu, Maan Kumari Basyal, and Uma Kumari Limbu.

     

     Biratnagar is the second largest city in Nepal and was our destination for the surgeries. 

     I don’t mean to brag, but I’m somewhat of a pro when it comes to vomit. If collegiate EMS has taught me one thing and one thing only, it’s vomit. I’m fine with the sound, the smell, and I will even hold the bag for you while you do it. But I had never been emotionally affected by vomiting until the four hour long car ride to Biratnagar with these four women.

     Already having traveled two hours to Dhankuta and not used to riding in cars, they sat in the backseat clutching their plastic bags. It got to the point where we would go around a curve or hit a bump and I would just know what was coming. The driver, bothered by the smell of vomit, would then drive a little faster so the wind coming through the open windows would air out the car. I cringed the whole time. Not only were they taking time off work, facing an operation that for all they knew could kill them, but even the car ride was a major source of discomfort for these women. Amazed by their strength and determination, I made a mental note to pick up motion sickness medication for the way back.

     

     Chanda begins her administrative coordination while the women escape from the SUV

     It was as if we had come full circle, for at this time there was again nothing but waiting. We arrived at Birat Medical College Teaching Hospital at 3:35 in the afternoon, and the women clambering out of the car the second it parked. Some type of time warp happened in Biratnagar that day because I swear could have lived another full life in the time it took for the next two hours to pass. Bimala was doing business at another hospital, so Chanda had to do some hardcore coordinating with the hospital staff to get the ball moving to admit these women.

     While Chanda was doing that, she also had to keep telling the women to go sit down in the waiting area instead of crowding the front desk or sitting on the ground by the front desk in some cases. The family members wandered around, unsure of what to do or where to put their luggage. Also not knowing what to do, I just stood next to Chanda and tried to make myself seem busy so men wouldn’t try to speak English with me (I know people are just curious and mean well, but I smelled really bad and I was tired and I hadn’t even been in Biratnagar long enough to learn how to pronounce it). The women underwent initial check ups, blood work, x-rays, among other tests before being sent upstairs to wait for the gynecological ward to admit them.

     

     Dhanmaya Limbu sits on the floor while waiting to be admitted into the gynecological ward

     Waiting for the gynecological ward was sticky. There weren’t enough seats, or even space, for ten of us outside of the ward. There were flies everywhere – more flies than I had ever seen in one place – but only in that small space, nowhere else in the hospital. There wasn’t AC, but we weren’t allowed to wait outside along the terrace. Chanda ran in and out of the ward, up and down the stairs, and probably into another dimension entirely trying to coordinate it all. Nepali was flying everywhere and I just stood there confused and smelly. Just as I finally accepted that time was just a human construct and began to question whether or not I actually existed, Chanda filed the women and their family members into the ward. “Come come,” she said as she led me out of the hospital. Our first day was complete.

154. Back to the Start

     June 25, 2016 10:48 pm 270 Comments

     Family. Crowds. Noise. Traffic. Motorbikes. Mangosteen. Tangled electric lines. Oh, and one can never forget to mention the humidity or the heat. That heat *insert many fire emojis here*.

     In all seriousness, these are a few of the things that I’m reminded of when I think of Vietnam, or specifically, Saigon. I think of the house where my sister and I both grew up in, with its blue walls and small garden on the roof. I think of sitting in the front of my dad’s motorbike as a child, weaving in and out of traffic on a particularly humid summer night as he tells me a bedtime story. I think of the city and all that my parents left behind so they could give us the opportunities they never had.

     Bits and pieces of Saigon will always feel like home to me, but I’ve grown up and the city has changed. After spending a few days there recovering from jet lag with my grandma, I was ready for some new changes myself. Saigon will always be there, but it was also time for me to make my way to Dong Hoi. I was getting antsy, ready to explore a new city and start my work.

     

     Ngoc from AEPD was kind enough to pick me up from the airport. I like to say she’s my first friend here!

     As I make my way across this new city, I couldn’t help but compare Dong Hoi to Saigon. People speak with a different dialect here. I’m definitely still getting used to it; I don’t understand as much I thought I would, but I’m working on it everyday. The city is also much calmer, people siesta for two hours at lunch before resuming their work day (the heat midday calls for a break), and crossing the street has stopped being a life-or-death game of Froggers.

     Life here is shaping up to be a lot different from what I’ve grown to expect in Vietnam and I’m enjoying it. During my first week at AEPD, I’m settling in and learning as much about the organization as possible, so I can do effective work for the next six months. This Thursday, AEPD hosted a photographer from Irish Aid, so I was able to join him for a field visit and got the opportunity to meet some of the families AEPD is currently working with. I’ll be uploading these photos to my Flickr and Instagram page very soon. Stay tuned!

     

     Meet Mr. Luong. He’s a landmine survivor and a beneficiary of AEPD. After the accident, he met Mr. Thuan, an AEPD outreach worker, who helped him overcome his depression and supported him in setting up a small grocery store and fish cages so Mr. Luong and his family can earn an income.

     P.S. Here is a picture of a mangosteen. They’re delicious. If you’re ever offered a mangosteen, take it!

     

155. Ritual and Remembrance for the Disappeared

     June 24, 2016 9:59 am 9 Comments

     The distinction between dead and disappeared is of great consequence to families of the missing. For the majority of Nepalis, who practice some form of Hinduism, last rites should begin at the bedside of the dying person. With the guidance of spiritual leaders, the family completes prayers and rituals to prepare the soul for the next step in the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Once the person passes away, the body is cremated – freeing the soul to continue on its journey toward the ultimate goal of spiritual perfection and oneness with the universe.

     

     There are no rituals for the souls of the disappeared. While not all Nepalis are Hindu, most share the belief that the living have the responsibility to help the souls of the departed move on to the next life. This requires having the body present at the funeral, not only as an essential part of the religious ritual, but also as a way to bring closure to a community after one of their own passes away.

     The crime of enforced disappearance leaves families both politically and spiritually helpless to deal with the loss. Without a body, there is little the surviving family members can do to help the soul of the disappeared transition to its next incarnation. Yet if any of the disappeared are still alive, their families are denied recourse to bring them home. Many cases of enforced disappearance occurred among marginalized populations –minorities, lower castes, and the poor. The continued silence of the government on the fate of those forcibly disappeared during the war is a daily reminder of how little has actually changed since the end of the conflict.

     A recent event in Kathmandu demonstrated the challenges of mourning the disappeared. Families of the missing participated in a traditional Hindu memorial ceremony for two men who were disappeared. They placed yellow garlands on their pictures; one by one they touched the foreheads of the missing men with red dye. Yet this act of remembrance was contested. “This [was] not right,” a friend remarked to me afterwards when I asked about the ceremony. “They are not dead – they are missing.”

     After the memorial ceremony concluded, leaders in the victims’ rights movement got up to speak. In speeches that ranged from solemn to grief-stricken to angry, various community leaders, including the commissioner of the CoIED, called for accountability, justice, and the truth. For the majority of the families NEFAD represents, the truth is the most important of all those demands. Knowing what happened to their loved ones is not only a political right, it’s also a spiritual need.

156. Were you born with black hair?

     June 23, 2016 11:17 am 6 Comments

     

     Before I even reached Gutu, Nepal, people from the village knew that an American was going to be staying there. They were expecting some white, blonde woman with blue eyes, instead what they got was me, a Bengali American.

     People from different parts of the village came to talk to the “American” but they walked straight past me, mistaking me for a local Nepali woman. They can tell that I am foreigner by the way I walk and talk but I often asked the question “But where are you really from?” or “So, you are American  but why do you look local?”

     Those are loaded questions that come with the cultural baggage for someone who immigrated to America.  I was even asked by two ladies on different occasions on whether or not I was born with black hair. I was not offended by their inquiries at all. They based their image of an American from what they saw in the media. It took endless explanations about how I was born in Bangladesh, and then moved to America for them to fully understand why I have dark skin, black hair and brown eyes.

     What really did bother me was that when people heard that I was born in Bangladesh, they did not consider me to be American. Rather, they introduced me as Bengali to others. I guess it is a good thing that I look Nepali and can blend into the community easily, without having awkward stares or people pulling out their phones to take pictures of me.

     It also feels good to be the representative of my country in Gutu, changing people’s perception of what an American can also look like.

157. Dog Days are Underway and Other Stray Thoughts

     3:09 am 8 Comments

     

     Sleeping dog in Kathmandu.

      

     The streets of Kathmandu are littered with litters. The minute you step out on the street you are bound to see at least one dog taking a nap on the street or nosing through some trash in search of scraps. Now I don’t consider myself a dog person and have always been fascinated with support cats, and prior to Nepal there were few signs that I would become one. But seeing all these dogs sleeping on the streets from the bigger hounds to the smallest puppies, all in varying states of health, has been difficult.  You can tell some dogs hang around certain shops where there must be a generous hand keeping them looking better than most, while other people adopt the puppies and give them good shelter and food, like raw dog food you can find online for them. Others are skin and bone and I find myself pausing to watch them sleep to make sure they are still breathing. There are many foundations taking in these stray dogs to make sure they get the treatment they deserve and immediately try to find them a new home. Most people don’t like adopting strays because they are worried about them making a mess all over the floor, but that has changed after finding these dog diapers on the internet, making it much easier to find strays a home.

     

     Stray dog resting at a shrine.

      

     I must have seen twenty dogs on the way to my first day at the office. So imagine my surprise when I got to my office and there was one inside, as well. My host Bijaya, held up the puppy and said “Je suis Charlie.” He didn’t look much different than any other dog on the street, but unlike the others he was clean, well fed, playful and touchable. After passing so many dogs so clearly in need of affection, it was nice to know I could safely pet at least one dog in Kathmandu. I went and bought the best picks for allergies for the local dogs so they could at least eat.  But meeting Charlie made me wonder, “What makes him different? Why out of all the dogs on the street does this one get the better life?” From what I can tell it was just luck. Nothing sets him apart except for the fact that Bijaya chose him.

     Many of these dogs have skin allergies and infested with different kinds of parasites. Most often they bring these illnesses to other healthy dogs. Even if your dog is not astray, you should keep and eye on it and keep a flea spray by THP ready when you see it.

     

     Charlie giving me puppy eyes.

      

     Later when Bijaya was explaining that there are close to 60,000 children engaged in child labor in brick kilns and that there are 22,000 in Kathmandu Valley alone, I couldn’t help but think, so how do you pick which children get the better life? Of course, unlike with Charlie, there is a process here and strict criteria which must be followed to identify which children will make the most of CONCERN’s limited budget, yet in the big scheme of things for these children it probably seems like a lottery.

     CONCERN only works with seven brick kilns, so first the children need to be lucky enough that their parents chose to spend the season at one of these brick kilns, rather than in one of the other hundred in Kathmandu Valley.  Next CONCERN looks for children between the ages of 6-8 who have a history of working in the kilns. Children as young as three have been found helping their parents with making and carrying bricks, so even a 6-year-old might have been subjected to years of hazardous child labor.

     After locating the potential beneficiaries, CONCERN staff conduct interviews with the families to understand their circumstances. They especially need to ascertain whether the children have a desire to return to school and whether the parents are willing to give up their child’s income in the short term. While CONCERN has few options if the family chooses to pull their child out of school after CONCERN has paid for their tuition, supplies, and uniform, staff have found that securing a promise from the parents goes a long way to assuring that the parents understand that CONCERN is making an investment in their child’s future and that in the long run it will make a difference.

     The main issue I find with this process is that the brick factories which open their doors to CONCERN are likely not the worst of the brick factories in Nepal. If the factory owner is willing to have an outside organization come in and improve the lives of their workers, then they are likely not in the worst condition to begin with. My worry is that the factories with truly horrendous conditions are the ones which would have the doors tightly sealed off from an NGO like CONCERN. However, even in the factories I’ve been invited into living conditions are poor, so it may be best to focus on what CONCERN can do rather than on what they can’t control.

158. Pakha Lagnu A.K.A. Isolation

     June 20, 2016 11:01 am 9 Comments

     “Pakha Lagnu” in Nepali means “isolation.” It is also the word that people here use for menstruation.

     Take a moment and let that sink in before you read ahead. Isolation – it is what these girls are made to feel every month when they menstruate. In some households, menstruating girls are not allowed to step into the kitchen or eat and sleep with the family.

     I went to a school called Jeevan Jyoti, in Gutu Nepal to teach adolescent girls about menstrual hygiene and in return learn more about the social and cultural context of menstrual issues. The taboo nature of menstruation was apparent as the girls struggled to discuss menstruation with me and Suresh, the program coordinator from my host organization the Women’s Reproductive Rights Program (WRRP). Their nervous laughs, avoidance of eye contact, and the fact that they covered their faces with their dupatta (scarf) when speaking made it clear that menstruation, body changes and sexual health are shameful and embarrassing topics.

     As a woman I can tell you that having your period is not a walk in the park. So, imagine that you are made to feel unclean, dirty or guilty for having your period every month. After speaking to the girls about menstruation, I realized one thing; they really do not have any knowledge of the changes that take place in their body and why they get their period.

     When I asked the girls to explain what happens when a girl menstruates, they simply listed some of the symptoms of period, such as back ache and belly ache, but they did not understand the cycle. The girls first learned about their period from their sisters, mothers or female friends. Most of the information they were told was about the use of cloth to manage their flow, restrictions and rituals. But nothing about the psychological process were mentioned. I am assuming that if the girls do not have a good knowledge about their period, then the boys are just clueless.

     The lack of proper hygiene and privacy is another major problem for a lot of girls in school. The girls that I met mentioned that they use cloths or other materials during their period. They always have this fear that either the cloth will fall out or leak into their pants. The school isn’t gender friendly, which means that girls lack access to adequate resources, facilities and accurate information to manage menstrual hygiene. It makes it very difficult for them to wash and change at school, which is why menstruation causes so much absenteeism from school.

     At first, when we spoke, the girls couldn’t even bring themselves to use the word “Pakha Lagnu” in front of us, but at the end they were discussing the topic openly and expressing their feelings. They simply cannot wait for us to go back and conduct training on reproductive health and menstruation.

     Don’t worry girls, the world is reading about you and is standing up for your dignity and rights.

159. Not Quite the Hero, Not Quite the Villain

     June 16, 2016 12:15 pm 9 Comments

     

     I’m visiting my first brick kiln and its obvious we wouldn’t be walking around if we hadn’t been given express permission. The guard on the premises allows us to pass, but keeps a close watch. There is no fence protecting the stock of bricks or factory itself. I guess thieves and trespassers aren’t much of a threat, but a foreigner with a camera could be capable of doing a lot more damage.

     

     A look into one of the homes at the brick kiln in Imadol. The tricycle on the roof gives you an idea how small the home is.

      

     I’m allowed to photograph the small brick structures that pass as homes for the workers. The ceilings of these small buildings just reach my chin. It feels wrong taking pictures of these sad structures. During training we learned to use photography and social media to empower our subjects. Even after getting their consent, it feels wrong and invasive to be taking photos of their private space. For each picture I ask to take, the subjects give a shrug of their shoulders. To me the shrugs don’t say “Fine by me snap some pictures” they say, “go ahead how could I stop you anyway.” There is a distinct attitude of defeat permeating the area.

     

     To the left is the brick kiln. Unlike other kilns it has several small chimneys instead of on large chimney. On the left hand side you can see the grey unfired bricks under the awning and in the front are the red already fired bricks, which no longer need protection from the rain.

      

     Sundar, a field officer at CONCERN Nepal, guides me around the facility and explains how bricks are made. He explains how they are molded and stacked into the grey mass you can see in the corner of my picture. How they are then fired and stacked again this time forming the numerous rows of red bricks. All of this is done by people. Sundar asks me how bricks are made in the U.S., and while I didn’t know for sure at the time, I was pretty certain it wasn’t the labor intensive activity I imagined in Nepal. (This Youtube video later confirmed my suspicions.)

     Some might look at our automated system and think it superior, but such a system would put a lot of workers out of a job in Nepal. For some the brick factories are saviors. Migrants come from rural areas of Nepal and even India to work for higher salaries. In one case study, included in “A Rapid Assessment of Children in the Brick Industry,” Sriram, a Nepali man from a rural area, started working in brick kilns when he was 14. He is now 40 and the wages have allowed him to buy land, buffalo, goats, a solar panel, and pay for his children to go to private school.  Others are not as lucky as Sriram.

     Many poverty-stricken families take loans or advances and become trapped in bonded labor. For these workers, the season starts out with an advance payment, which they are required to repay through their labor. At the beginning of the season they often don’t know what their work will be worth, and the lack of transparency means they could end up owing money at the end of the season, especially if their loan included interest. This can incentivize workers to bring their children to make and transport bricks in order to avoid owing money at the end of the season. Although some children come on their own, the youngest of the workers are usually accompanying their parents.

     As we’re leaving the factory we run into the owner. Sundar has a brief exchange with him and explains to me that he is also a government official. He was recently elected and is very popular in the area. It’s impossible to not have mixed feelings meeting the man who allows child labor to go on in his factory, but who also allows CONCERN Nepal the freedom to work and try to make improvements. Other owners would never open their doors as he has, for fear of the consequences. It makes this particular owner stand out as selfless in a way, but at the same time you know they are allowing child labor to continue.

     I knew going in that child labor was not a black and white issue as some may paint it, but visiting the brick kiln really didn’t make it any clearer for me. Perhaps the only enemy here is poverty, no one person really fits the role of villain in my mind or hero for that matter.

160. Meet the Bardiya Quilters

     12:08 pm 10 Comments

     Below are just three of the many powerful, kind, and resilient women I met this weekend during the quilting workshops:

     Puja

      

     

     At 16, Puja was the youngest participant at the workshop, and easily the most outgoing one in the room. In her impressive English, she told me she had recently completed the arduous final exam all Nepali students must take in order to graduate high school. She was excited and nervous about getting the results back, which she described as her “golden ticket” to a brighter future.

     On her quilt square, Puja had drawn a picture of her father being taken from their home to a distant army barrack. It was the last time anyone in her family ever saw him. Even though she couldn’t have been more than one or two years old when this happened, this scene was an inextricable part of her family’s story, as vividly stamped into her memory as if she had seen it herself.

     Jagat

      

     

     The first time I met Jagat, she marked the occasion by pulling two bananas out of her purse and insisting that Ram and I both take one. Once Ram had left us, she slipped a second banana into my hands, nodding conspiratorially. I think our friendship was sealed after that.

     Jagat was one of the leaders of the Bardiya Conflict Victims Committee, and she immediately commanded the attention of the room where the women were working. She chatted with the participants, inspecting each woman’s craft. When she got near me, she simplified her critique to two words:

     “Ramru – Good!” and “Naramru – no good!” She glanced at me with a grin, to see if I was following along with her lesson in Nepali.

     Then Jagat suddenly became serious. Looking at me, she deliberately raised one, two, three fingers, then with a flick of her wrist she waved her hand away – gone. Two of Jagat’s sons were forcibly disappeared during the war, and one was permanently injured in the fighting. Without saying a single word, she conveyed the tragedy of her story, and the three reasons why she is so committed to the CVC’s struggle for truth and justice.

     Sarita

      

     

     Without Sarita, the two quilting workshops in Bardiya could not have happened. Not only did she lead both sessions, but she also took charge of all of the logistics of the program – gathering cloth, thread, needles, hoops, and securing us a place to meet. Her enthusiasm for the project went a long way toward making the workshops engaging and meaningful for all of the participants.

     In addition to being a phenomenal facilitator, Sarita made sure Ram and I felt at home in Bhurigaan. After the 18-hour bus ride, Sarita welcomed Ram and I into her house, giving us a place to take a quick nap and making us a hearty breakfast of rice and lentils. In the evening after the first workshop, we joined her at her mother’s teashop for sweet, milky tea and delicious fried pastries.

     

     I knew from Ram that her father was forcibly disappeared during the conflict. It wasn’t until the second workshop that I learned that her mother had also been detained. I had asked Sarita about her quilt square, which showed a woman, blindfolded, flanked by two soldiers. She explained that for five days, she and her family didn’t know if her mother would be disappeared as well. When her mother was finally allowed to come home, they learned that she had been tortured. She still suffers from injuries inflicted during her imprisonment.

     Using the corners of her quilt square to wipe away tears, she finished her story and went back to helping the women with their embroidery. I looked again at her drawing. Sarita had drawn her mother as bigger than the two soldiers holding her, and while you could only part of the soldiers’ faces, her mother was facing the viewer head-on. Despite the pain and fear in the scene, Sarita’s drawing also captured her mother’s resilience and strength.

     

     Every woman who attended the quilting workshop has a similar story of unresolved loss. Some stitched the names of their missing family members and the dates they were forcibly taken away. Others depicted their last memories of the disappeared – dramatic scenes in which grim-faced soldiers took their husbands, fathers, brothers away. But the workshops were characterized more by solidarity than by grief. The women used their time together to discuss the truth commissions, the interim relief program, and whether these went far enough to address the injustice of what they experience. They gossiped, cracked jokes, and swapped town secrets. They honored the memory of their missing loved ones together, one stitch at a time.

161. A Few Lessons on Gender Discrimination and Uterine Prolapse in Nepal

     June 15, 2016 10:48 am 5 Comments

     The WRRP team in Surkhet is doing a fantastic job combating gender discrimination. I am extremely humbled to join this team of passionate individuals standing up for women’s rights. They are taking a multidimensional approach to educate both boys and girls in schools around Nepal about reproductive rights, child marriage and raise awareness about uterine prolapse (UP) aka fallen womb. In Nepal, it is estimated that around 600,000 women are dealing with UP. Fallen Womb is a condition in which the weakening of the pelvic muscle causes the uterus to come towards the vagina, eventually hanging out of the vagina completely.

     The program coordinator mentioned that the cause of uterine prolapse is the consequence of discrimination of women in schools, homes or in the community simply because of their gender. As a result, they do not have any right to make choices about their lives or their reproductive health. WRRP believes that UP is not just a medical issue but a women’s right issue. Therefore, they have taken the issue of UP as a gateway to address gender inequality.

     In Nepal, it is often the women who work from the time they get up in the morning until they go to sleep in the evening. They have to do all of the household chores, carry heavy loads of manure, gather fodder, firewood and fetch water. These women continue to toil hard even when they are pregnant, barely getting rest or time to recover after giving birth.

     Women think that they can handle the heavy work load after just 10-12 days of giving birth, which leads to various health problems like UP. It is not only the adult women who suffer, girls as young as 13 are suffering from the condition as well. Young girls are extremely vulnerable here because of child marriage. Girls are married off, sometimes even before they start menstruation and have many children at a young age.

     Once the condition of UP develops, it causes an unrelenting amount of constant pain and suffering. It is not easy for a woman to share the fact that she is suffering from this condition because talking about reproductive health in any capacity is a taboo subject in Nepal. The community they live in despises women who speak up about their condition. This is a direct result of the patriarchal structure of Nepal’s society.

     The problem will continue to occur if projects like WRRP do not address reproductive rights and gender discrimination with the population here. Ensuring that women and girls are educated on the subject and can make informed choices without coercion about menstruation, marriage and reproduction will help lead to a decrease in uterine prolapse as a result.

     

162. Counting my M&Ms

     June 11, 2016 5:13 am 259 Comments

     I like things arranged just so and things done a certain way. The plates at home need to stacked such that no two plates of the same color are touching. When I go to frozen yogurt (which I would probably kill for right now) I go through the toppings carefully and pick out the right ratio of blue to green to white to red gummy bears and just the right brownie piece – and I even count the M&Ms that go on top (either five or ten, I like things done in fives and tens). I color code my planner according to the color each event makes me feel. I like to plan my day hour by hour and I even allocate time for the unexpected. I’ve learned to make it a joke (hahaha I’m just really particular) so it comes off as quirky rather than neurotic. I try to make it seem like I just know what I want instead of what it really is: an intense need for order and control.

     I don’t want to make it seem like I’m a stick in the mud, I promise I’m not that bad. I try to be flexible with others and I make a conscious effort to keep an open mind and listen to others. I’m just as type A as they come. I’ve always convinced myself that kind of intensity is what it takes to be successful and I surround myself with people who function a very similar way. One of my best friends laughed when I told her I was going to Nepal – and many people have echoed the same sentiment – it’s very different there. Time is slow. Schedules are fluid. Meetings aren’t set. Electricity sometimes goes out for days at a time. Buses break down. There’s no salami. Being high intensity and high strung won’t get you very far.

     

     Dhankuta is definitely different than anything I have ever experienced. The beauty is unmatched.

     Everybody was right when they said things were different. I’m over a week into my work here and I’m still adjusting to the pace of everything. The internet is slow and goes out often, which makes it unreliable. Communication is developing in Nepal with the increased availability of cell phones and Ncell data flash drives, but it is just that: developing. Many don’t have computers or internet in their homes, so much of the communication here takes place by phone or in person. Many people come through the office during the day to discuss politics with Indira, most without an appointment. I can’t even imagine the affect that this lack of instantaneous and dependable communication would have on the American workplace, but for now there is no other option in Dhankuta.

     It’s not just the internet that goes down often, it is the electricity altogether. Nobody knows when it will go out and nobody knows when it will come back on. On multiple occasions, I’ve woken up extremely excited to read an email from my mom or dad only to find there is no electricity. I’m beginning to learn that even important emails will still be there when the lights go back on, as will anything else I am working on (like the meal I’m eating). There’s no way to plan around it or work it into your daily schedule; when the lights go off, the lights go off. You can only shrug and wait and pray that you remembered to charge your computer.

     

     Luckily, I can do some of my work outside! Here I’m working with receipts and the budget from a previous camp.

     More seriously, I didn’t realize the power of language until I lost the ability to effectively communicate. Indira speaks basic English, but not enough for me to freely speak with her. If there is something important to discuss regarding Care Women Nepal, the issue at hand often gets run by Yunesh or Iain before it is finalized (my work plan, the budget, etc.). There is a staff member a little bit older than me who comes into the office every workday between 10 and 5. She speaks conversational English and I consider us friends, and she is capable of translating the exchanges that happen between Indira and me during the workday. I can’t assert myself to the extent that I can at home, though. I listen, I observe, and I communicate what is important. The work gets done and the project moves forward.

     I can’t completely or easily express myself and my ideas to those around me – especially outside of the workplace. My spare time is spent alone either reading, writing, or listening to podcasts. I’ve taken to body language and quiet, short sentences when I talk with people. I found a tarantula in my room the other night and I was trying to tell Indira. I showed her a picture that I took of the spider, but I couldn’t really explain the situation.

     

     The hideous beast

     Indira: Outside?

     Me (pointing at the picture then to my room): No no, in my room! I saw this in my room last night.

     Indira: This was outside.

     Me: My room!! (furious pointing) It was in my room last night!

     Indira: In bathroom last night? You saw this in the bathroom?

     Me: No, my room. A tarantula!

     Indira: No no, it’s a spider. Why you scared?

     Me: A tarantula is a kind of spider. (imitating a crawling spider with my fingers and then shivering) I don’t like them.

     Indira: * laughing a little * Why? No harm.

     Me: Yes, no harm, but scary.

     She later brought home a can of some kind of bug killing spray to spray in my room, God bless her kind soul. I posted the picture of the tarantula to Instagram and Facebook and I finally got the validation and support I needed. Although comforting to hear that my fear was very real and shared by many of my friends, it made me a little sad that I was so far away from those who could really understand me.

     

     Me and Indira while looking at a work associate’s property 

     I’ve had to suspend a large part of who I am while being in Nepal. This large part of me, the intense type A part of my personality, is not always my favorite part of myself. Over the course of two weeks, I have learned to give up control even in small degrees. Whether it be that the busses or cars don’t have seatbelts no matter how much it terrifies me, that an important meeting that was supposed to happen today is just not happening, that the electricity is out until it comes back on, or that there are mice who scurry around the perimeter of the office I work in.

     As a loud verbal processor and extrovert, I am learning how to focus inwards and process differently. I am learning how to be alone. Things in Nepal will be how they are no matter how particular I am about them. I may always count the M&Ms I put on my frozen yogurt or color code my planner, but learning to let go of this part of my identity, even for ten weeks, will be one of the best things I could ever do for myself.

163. Three Things You Need in Nepal

     June 10, 2016 9:53 am 6 Comments

     As I sit here in my uncomfortably hot room in 100F temperatures without any electricity or generator to turn on the fan, I have come to the realization that in order to survive in Nepal, you need three simple things- patience, patience and patience!

     First of all, nothing in Nepal seems to start on time. My bus to the field was supposed to leave around 5:00pm from a bus station near “baba petrol pump” and I was advised to be there by 4:30. While I was there at 4:30 patiently waiting in the extreme heat and pollution, the bus did not show up until 5:45pm. Not only did the bus not arrive on time, it left without me and my translator. The right thing to do would be to stop and pick up your passenger, right? In Nepal the bus just keeps moving and they expect the passenger to chase after it with their luggage, eventually climbing on a running bus. Yup, that is what I did. After getting on the bus, the conductor was getting mad at us for not seeing the bus and getting in it on time. The nerve of that man!

     Secondly, be ready and willing to walk in the heat, eat in the heat and sleep in the heat. Load shedding is a major problem in rural Nepal. Electricity rarely stays on for more than 2-3 hours before going out for the whole day or night for that matter. So, be prepared to just sweat all day and embrace feeling wet all the time.

     Thirdly, walking will be your best mode of travel when you come to rural Nepal. Walking, climbing, hiking, sometimes for three hours is a normal time if you want to get somewhere. Public transportation is a luxury here if you can find it. Your umbrella will soon become your best friend and you will get attached to it very, very quickly.

     Lastly, be prepared to squat on the side of the road to relieve yourself when traveling long distances. During my travel from Kathmandu to Surkhet, I was woken by the bus conductor at 3:00am for a bathroom break. I disembarked from the bus in my sleepy haze, looked around and asked my translator, “where is the soap and sink to wash your hands, and for that matter…where is the toilet?!” Her witty response was “who needs a toilet when you have the open field to do you personal business?”

     Really Usha, really? Men and women are just doing their business right next to the bus in pitch black darkness! I was just standing there assessing the situation when a man approached me and my translator and pointed to a spot where we can squat. This is normal, isn’t it?  This was certainly an interesting experience which I clearly could have gone without.

     Cheers to everyone who is reading my blog while sitting in the A.C!

164. The Transition from Know-It-All to Human

     June 9, 2016 5:41 am 7 Comments

     

     My classmates and I visiting UNFAO as part of a class on labor market policy.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     When you’ve just finished your first year of graduate school, then you might know that while you may have spent the past year opening your mind to new ideas, you probably also spent it being a know-it-all. Because let’s face it, if you don’t seem to know it all, who’s going to listen? Any sign of weakness in your speech is seen as a weakness of your ideas. At the end of last semester, I read an opinion piece shared by a fellow student on the use of the expression “I feel that,” critiquing the way people choose to express their ideas as if it makes a good idea worthless.

     So there I was little miss know-it-all, in training with The Advocacy Project trying to keep my know-it-all reflex from turning me into the pariah of my fellowship. Now I’m back in the real world and some humility is in order, but how much is too much?

     During my first meeting with Bijaya Sainju, the founder of CONCERN Nepal, he asked me what my expertise were. Suddenly during this casual introduction over coffee I was transported to another dreaded interview-like scenario and my mind went blank. I’d spent the past year studying international development and economics, but everything I learned felt paltry compared to the 20+ years he’d spent working on issues of child labor. In my previous post, you might have read about my “shiny new tool box,” but in the face of so much experience my skills suddenly felt like a little tikes playset. In response to his question I spoke a little bit about the 4 years I spent at my law firm assisting on cases and with research for articles. I didn’t mention the past 9 months that I had spent studying the issues he has dedicated his life to fixing.

     Looking back, I now think I sold myself a little short in this initial meeting. I may not know it all, but I do know a little. After talking with Bijaya and Iain more and getting my intimidation under control, I’ve realized there are things well within my capabilities and time frame that I can do to help CONCERN Nepal work toward its mission of eliminating the worst forms of child labor. Right now CONCERN Nepal has enough funding to support 25 children through school so they do not have to return to working in the brick kilns. In order to increase their funding, I’ll be working along side Bijaya and his team to make this small program a model for something larger and more widespread. This is my goal for the summer and I look forward to writing more about CONCERN, my work, and Nepal in general.

     

     Selfie at the CONCERN Nepal Office

165. Memory, activism, and quilting in Bardiya

     June 8, 2016 6:41 am 7 Comments

     This weekend, I’ll take my first trip out of Kathmandu to visit the Bardiya district in western Nepal. According to my guidebook, Bardiya is where you can find the country’s largest national park, where elephants, tigers, and Nepal’s famous one-horned rhinoceros roam freely through acres of scenic jungle.

     

     What my guidebook doesn’t mention is that between 1996 and 2006, more people were forcibly disappeared from Bardiya than from any other district in Nepal. According to data from the ICRC, the district of Bardiya has registered 261 enquiries of missing persons from the time of the conflict. The next closest number is from the neighboring district of Banke, which has registered 88 disappearances.

     Today, Bardiya is home to one of the largest and most active victims’ associations in NEFAD’s network. Established in 2006, shortly after the peace agreement was signed, the Conflict Victims Committee now has over 200 active members. The CVC mobilizes families of the disappeared to collectively advocate for livelihood support, compensation, judicial processes, and the truth.

     In addition to political campaigns, the CVC also serves as an important source of social and emotional support for families of the victims. Many families in rural communities face stigma as a result of their missing loved one. This is especially true for women whose husbands were disappeared: they hold an ambiguous status between wife and widow, which can leave them alienated from their families and vulnerable to abuse. Having opportunities to speak with other people who have experienced similar loss can be immensely therapeutic for families of the missing.

     Ram and I will be meeting with the CVC in Bardiya to launch an advocacy quilting program for wives of the disappeared. This project will address a number of issues that families of the missing have identified as their primary concerns:

     1. Truth and Memory: It will give women a platform from which to honor the memory of their disappeared husbands, and to speak out against the ongoing injustice of being denied the truth about their loved ones’ fate.

      

     1. Livelihood: It will train women in a marketable skill that will help them earn a sustainable income. For many women, their husband was their family’s primary breadwinner, and many families of the disappeared continue to face challenges paying for school, health care, and other daily costs of living.

      

     1. Support: It will provide women with a communal space for support and solidarity with others who have experienced a similar loss.

     The Advocacy Project has supported similar quilting projects in communities across the world, using these powerful quilts to share women’s stories of tragedy and resilience with a truly global audience. I’m looking forward to meeting the activists in Bardiya this weekend and getting started on this exciting project.

     Learn more about how NEFAD combines research and activism to identify the needs of the families of the disappeared here.

     Want to help? Click here to support the advocacy quilting project!

166. Suitcase Missing in Action

     June 5, 2016 3:17 am 11 Comments

     

     The first view of Kathmandu, Nepal from my hotel

     It is really not the greatest feeling to arrive in a foreign country after a long flight only to find out your luggage is missing. Well, that’s the exact dilemma I have found myself in at this moment. Here is a letter to my suitcase explaining why we were separated.

     Dear Lovely (brand new) Suitcase,

     I wanted to let you know that I arrived in Kathmandu today at 6:30pm, but where did you go? Did you decide to stay in Dubai and not board the plane to Nepal along with me? When I checked on you in Boston, the gentleman at the counter said you would be waiting for me at my final destination and I didn’t need to reclaim you in Dubai. When I was in Dubai, I asked about you again because I was worried about you. You know I am a worrier. I asked the woman at the baggage claim desk if you would be on the plane with me to Kathmandu, and she assuredly told me you would be. See, suitcase, I was doing the right thing and I even got a confirmation, a double confirmation for that matter! So, I happily boarded the plane from Dubai to Nepal, mind set at ease, thinking you had gotten safely on the plane with me.

     After I arrived in Nepal and got my visa, I gleefully went to the baggage claim area and waited for you. At times I saw a bag that looked like you, but their owners picked them up and took them home, until every last bag was gone. Unfortunately, you never showed up. I went to the lost baggage claim desk and the guy searched for you…my lovely suitcase. He was concerned about you, just like I was and currently still am. I gave him a description of you and left him my contact number. It really would have been nice if you joined me here at my hotel. I really could’ve used my PJ’s, toiletries and other essential items that I packed into every little pocket you had.

     You see, suitcase, my first day in Nepal really wasn’t a good start. I really need you in order to take you onto another seventeen-hour bus journey to Surkhet, Nepal where our work truly lies. You have all my notes, work plan, sanitary underwear and training materials that I can use to empower the girls I will be working with. So, please don’t delay yourself any longer and just catch the next flight to Nepal. I will be waiting with bated breath to pick you up as soon as you arrive.

     Sincerely,

     Your (worried) owner.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”<\/a>\n

     The first view of Kathmandu, Nepal from my hotel<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

     It is really not the greatest feeling to arrive in a foreign country after a long flight only to find out your luggage is missing. Well, that\u2019s the exact dilemma I have found myself in at this moment. Here is a letter to my suitcase explaining why we were separated.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Dear Lovely (brand new) Suitcase,<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     I wanted to let you know that I arrived in Kathmandu today at 6:30pm, but where did you go? Did you decide to stay in Dubai and not board the plane to Nepal along with me? When I checked on you in Boston, the gentleman at the counter said you would be waiting for me at my final destination and I didn\u2019t need to reclaim you in Dubai. When I was in Dubai, I asked about you again because I was worried about you. You know I am a worrier. I asked the woman at the baggage claim desk if you would be on the plane with me to Kathmandu, and she assuredly told me you would be. See, suitcase, I was doing the right thing and I even got a confirmation, a double confirmation for that matter! So, I happily boarded the plane from Dubai to Nepal, mind set at ease, thinking you had gotten safely on the plane with me.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     After I arrived in Nepal and got my visa, I gleefully went to the baggage claim area and waited for you. At times I saw a bag that looked like you, but their owners picked them up and took them home, until every last bag was gone. Unfortunately, you never showed up. I went to the lost baggage claim desk and the guy searched for you…my lovely suitcase. He was concerned about you, just like I was and currently still am. I gave him a description of you and left him my contact number. It really would have been nice if you joined me here at my hotel. I really could\u2019ve used my PJ\u2019s, toiletries and other essential items that I packed into every little pocket you had.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     You see, suitcase, my first day in Nepal really wasn\u2019t a good start. I really need you in order to take you onto another seventeen-hour bus journey to Surkhet, Nepal where our work truly lies. You have all my notes, work plan, sanitary underwear and training materials that I can use to empower the girls I will be working with. So, please don\u2019t delay yourself any longer and just catch the next flight to Nepal. I will be waiting with bated breath to pick you up as soon as you arrive.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Sincerely,<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Your (worried) owner.<\/span><\/p>“,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

167. Transitional Imbalance

     June 4, 2016 1:21 pm 342 Comments

     For the first time since arriving in Nepal, I feel refreshed. I am sitting on a vibrant gold and red couch in the Care Women Nepal office in Dhankuta. I have internet connection, a fully charged laptop, and I have finally managed to connect my iPhone to wifi. A half full cup of warm green tea is carefully placed on the wooden arm of the couch next to me. Each sip is both sweet and bitter, leaving my mouth a bit confused. My hair is still damp from my shower this morning, my first since leaving the US three days ago, and I finally feel clean. I’m wearing one of my favorite outfits: black jeans and a loose fitting white t-shirt.

     I’m toggling back and forth between writing this post and messaging my friends back home, most of which have gone to bed. A Care Women Nepal staff member comes in and out of the office occasionally, and she makes an effort to speak English with me. Birds chirp in the background, busses honk, and people talk in the street outside of the house. I rejoice for all of these things.

     

     The Care Women Nepal office in Dhankuta

     

     Green tea like this is served quite frequently throughout the day 

     I had been openly afraid of the prospect of the loneliness of a ten week journey, but I had forgotten to emotionally account for the initial transitional imbalance. I left DC at 11:05 PM on the 30th of May with a four hour layover in Istanbul, and arrived in Kathmandu around 7:00 AM on the 1st of June. My total travel time was just around twenty two hours. I spent the remainder of that day in Kathmandu, and we left for Dhankuta early the morning of the 2nd.

     

     The view from my window seat as we descended into Kathmandu

     I was able to connect with my family upon arriving in Kathmandu, but it left me with a deep ache in my ribcage. My body fully protested the first meal I ate, and I have not been hungry since. My face is breaking out so bad that I could easily be mistaken for a 13 year old girl, but I can’t hide it because I left all my make up at home.

     Less than 12 hours before leaving for Dhankuta, I learned that Yunesh, the son of the President of Care Women Nepal,* and his fluent English would not be accompanying us because of his schooling. I can’t quite seem to figure out how to get the toilet to flush toilet paper and I’m a little afraid to ask someone if I should be flushing the toilet paper at all. An overwhelming homesickness pulls at my chest constantly as I seek comfort and some sort of familiarity.

     

     The bathroom in Dhankuta – still unsure about the toilet paper

     Nepal is quite literally foreign to me. The language barrier is interesting, for it is a chance to view language as an outsider. I’m trying to pick up on tone and volume to figure out their meaning. The words always sound fast, hushed, and pointed even though I know that is not the case. In Kathmandu, there are stray dogs roaming the muddy streets. I know I can’t touch them, but they look absolutely delightful although slightly mangy. I even saw a young cow on the side of the street in the city and gasped. Yunesh and Indira found this gasp amusing because, apparently, there are a fair amount of cows wandering around Kathmandu. I would’ve snapped a picture had I not been in the back of a moving taxi.

     The driving is also wild to me. The drivers honk to let others know of their presence instead of out of frustration. It’s a nice little “Toot toot! I’m right here!” Also, the meat is not processed, so it tastes very fresh. The taste is not bad, in fact it’s how meat was meant to taste, but will take a while to adjust. It’s strange because everything is the same as it is at home; people talk and laugh, there are dogs and cows, cars honk, and chicken is served. But nothing is the way I know it to be.

     

     A quiet Kathmandu morning. Although not pictured, I promise there are at least two dogs outside of the frame.

     In addition to the language, dogs, the driving, and the meat, I’m also still trying to get a grip on the cultural opinion of women. On my first day in Nepal, I was talking American politics with a strong supporter of Care Women Nepal, a doctor who spoke excellent English. During the course of the conversation, he mentioned that Hillary Clinton’s biggest flaw was that she was a woman. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was making a joke, but I smiled and replied, “She has done quite well for herself.” The conversation then lightly turned to how aggressive she is, to which I smiled and replied, “Yes, she is aggressive, but you have to be as a woman in American politics.” Could this have been a joke, put across the table to tease me as a young, strong American woman? Were his comments dipped in sarcasm that was lost in cultural translation? I’m still unsure.

     The transition hasn’t been smooth, but I was warned that these ten weeks wouldn’t be easy. Right now, I am allowing myself the time to feel and adjust. I am allowing myself space to listen, observe, and formulate questions. I am allowing myself patience. Today is the first day of many beautiful, refreshing days to come.

     

     A taste of a beautiful day in Dhankuta as seen from my front door

      

      

     *Indira Thapa is the founder and President of Care Women Nepal. She will be a key player in all of my stories! She is incredibly sweet and I’m really looking forward to working (and living!) with her while in Dhankuta.

168. A crash course in transitional justice: Nepal edition

     2:27 am 7 Comments

     Yesterday I followed Ram and his partner-in-research Simon Robins to meetings across Kathmandu, and was introduced to key members of Nepal’s transitional justice scene. Ram has spent the last five years building up an impressive network of politicians, activists, and foreign NGO workers in the capital, which he leverages to promote NEFAD’s grassroots advocacy efforts at the national level. Our first meeting was at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, where we sat down with the commissioner himself to talk about his work.

     

     Ram and Simon talk about their research on the challenges faced by ex-PLA combatants in Nepal.

     Everyone in the room was well aware that Nepal’s TRC is facing enormous challenges. The commission’s mandate comes from the Comprehensive Peace Agreement, which ended the war and integrated the Maoist insurgents into the political mainstream. The rebels soon discovered that they were on the same side as their former adversaries when it came to truth and accountability for what happened during the war. Very few actors in Nepal’s government are enthusiastic about a TRC process that could find prominent members of their parties responsible for crimes against humanity.

     The government’s ambivalence towards the process makes the TRC’s work especially difficult. Over one year into the commission’s work, parliament is still rewriting laws around key issues such as amnesty and prosecution. Many of these challenges could be mitigated if the TRC had the international support and expertise to forge ahead independent of the government. However, the international community is more or less boycotting Nepal’s transitional justice process in protest of the TRC mandate permitting amnesty to those found guilty of major, politically motivated crimes.

     Given this situation, our meeting did not leave me feeling too optimistic. The chairman of the TRC is passionate about his work, and affirmed the importance of an approach to justice that puts the needs of the victims front and center. But without resources – money, political will, or even functioning technology – there’s not much that he or the commission can do.

     Later that day we stopped by the Commission of the Investigation of Enforced Disappeared Persons. Like the TRC, this Commission has been given an ambitious task, and limited means to accomplish it. So far, they have successfully registered over 1500 families whose loved ones were disappeared during the war. Now, they face the daunting task of investigating each case, finding the burial sites, exhuming and identifying the remains, and returning them to their families so they can finally be laid to rest. This is an enormous mandate, and like the TRC, the CoIED does not have the financial resources or technical expertise to follow through.

     

     Ram is aware of these shortcomings, and frequently speaks out about the flaws of the commissions as part of his advocacy work with NEFAD. Despite this, his relationship with the chairmen of both commissions is pleasant and supportive. He describes his approach to the commissions as critical engagement: he sees their work as vital, regardless of their limitations. For now, these commissions are Nepal’s only chance at uncovering the truth about crimes committed during the war.

     In addition to the official commissions, we also got to see the activism of the Discharged People’s Liberation Army when we stopped by a conference they organized to demand their dignity, identity, and rights. Much like NEFAD, the DPLA is a grassroots organization made up of people impacted by the civil war. The rank and file of the PLA who attended the conference have been failed by the peace process, especially those who joined the revolutionary army as teenagers.

     The former combatants are still dedicated to the struggle for political representation and social justice for Nepal’s poor and marginalized, though now their tactics are explicitly nonviolent, rooted in a commitment to human rights. The DPLA’s conference boasted a packed hall of ex-PLA activists and political leaders, which was particularly striking compared to the quiet offices of the commissions. Their ability to mobilize reflects the commitment and energy of Nepal’s grassroots civil society to advocate for justice after the conflict in spite of political challenges.

169. Hitting the Ground Running

     May 27, 2016 4:14 pm 6 Comments

     Since arriving in DC a little less than a week ago, I have initiated at least five distinct conversations about how much people run in this city. It completely baffles me. Blows me away. Not only is DC teeming with attractive runners in upscale athletic gear, but people in business clothes running simply to get from point A to point B efficiently. Given, people are doing this type of running out of some sort of frantic need to get to point B, but it’s efficient all the same. There is even an ad on the Circulator bus warning people about the dangers of running to catch the bus, so this type of DC running is apparently both efficient and slightly dangerous. Obviously it’s really in style right now.

     

     During my Wednesday morning commute, I saw the crosswalk timer outside of Union Station on North Capital and Massachusetts ticking down the seconds until I missed my bus, and in those quick seconds I knew that I, too, could be a DC runner. I, too, had to go important places quickly. Brilliant, Morgan, catch your bus while making a statement. I began running, holding my bag close to my body. In that brief moment, I belonged in DC and the spirit of DC belonged within me. Within ten steps, I was flying. More accurately, I was soaring through the air towards the ground. Some would even call it falling.

     Part of me wanted to lie on the sidewalk, breathe in the humiliation, and accept my death at that very moment. The other part of me, the rational, capable part, ignored this urge. I tried not to cry even though I hurt inside and out. The left knee of my pants was torn and bloody. If I can’t handle DC, Nepal will absolutely eat me alive, I told myself. I will not be eaten alive. I will not be eaten alive. With this mentality, picked myself off the ground and continued down the street. I didn’t make the crosswalk, but I did manage to catch the bus. Albeit, I did catch the wrong one, but I caught it all the same.

     The best part of this story, or maybe the only good part about this story given the humiliation, blood, and ruined pants, was the response of those around me. It began with the three men who stopped to see if I was okay after I hit the pavement. Oops, totally fine, no no no, I promise, totally fine, yes, thank you, I did handle that gracefully, thank you for noticing, yes, completely fine. Upon calling my older sister, the loving tone of her voice washed over me. The response continued with the other Peace Fellows expressing concern and complimenting my now stylish ripped pants. On my way home, a man approached me at the bus stop with large bandaids and a single use packet of Neosporin, telling me that he had passed by and noticed my ripped up knee. It even carried on the next day when my knee was leaking bloody fluid from under the bandaid and all I had was an old bank receipt (knew there was a reason I kept that in my purse), and the woman in the seat across from me handed me a wet wipe without a word.

     Beauty comes in many forms. In this case, beauty is Neosporin and a bandaid.

           Although small, these acts of intense compassion have moved me greatly throughout this week. Kindness is a form of beauty that shines through actions, and I am so incredibly inspired to bring this type of beauty with me to Nepal. Since Wednesday, this positive energy has mingled with the training I have received from the Advocacy Project, and a light, bouncy excitement has started filling my chest. Not only have I mastered the act of recovering from a fall in the middle of a busy DC sidewalk, but AP has given me the skills, confidence, and faith necessary to pop right back up when I fall in Nepal.

     

     Click here to hear Morgan’s first podcast about her upcoming fellowship

170. Ready, Set, Go!

     3:46 pm 5 Comments

      

      

      

     

     This week I had the absolute pleasure to participate in a week long training for the Advocacy Project Peace Fellowship. My decision to participate in this fellowship was influenced by reading the blogs of former fellows who did nothing but laud and praised how much they had learned from their projects and how participating in this fellowship had ultimately changed their lives. I knew this fellowship would present exciting challenges that would push me to the limit and I am hoping that I will survive its rigorous agenda by the end of the program.

     I am leaving on June 3^rd for Surkhet, Nepal to work with an organization called Women’s Reproductive Rights Program (WRRP). WRRP seeks to address the root cause of uterine prolapse by educating women on the issue. This summer, my goal is to empower Nepali girls by teaching them about child marriage and menstrual hygiene. Before arriving to the training, I spoke to my host organization and I am very excited to be joining a passionate team who are making a difference in the lives of marginalized women in rural Nepal.

     

     Reception with the Ambassador of Lichtenstein, a long- time supporter of AP

     My two major goals, which I hope to achieve from this fellowship, are to spread awareness of child marriage and become a storyteller; listening and sharing that which others hold as precious. Here the challenge lies with developing a plan conceived in another country, plopped in the middle of community with virtually no language skills. At this point, I am constantly setting small and big goals for myself but find myself thinking “Wow that is a great goal but how much will I actually be able to do”? With the unexpected challenges of the program and the limited timeline, would I truly be able to meet the criteria and expectations of the organization I will work for? Then, I caught myself. If I start out with thoughts like this, my expectations will be lower than I want them to be. Of course there will be days when I questions things, but I have to set high standards and goals for myself so that I can do my best. If I can provide a positive influence, motivation, and love to all the girls, I will feel as though I did what I came to do.

     Stay tuned for the next blog!

      

      

      

      

      

      

171. My New Toolbox

     2:20 pm 5 Comments

     

     Day 2 of Training with The Advocacy Project. A lesson on video recording and editing from Greg Walsh. The most challenging day of the week for me!

     This week of training with The Advocacy Project has provided me with a shiny new set of tools. Some of these tools are hammers and nails that I can use anywhere. Once I arrive in Kathmandu it should be easy to compose a photo or a blog post. Just like using a hammer and nails. I’ll see a loose board take out my hammer and nails and fix it right then and there. The same will be true for my photography and writing. I’ll see something interesting and snap a picture or take a note down for later. However, other skills will only be useful under the right conditions.

     Just last week as I was using my cordless drill on a wooden frame, I found out that my drill bits were already very dull. So I got onto Best of Tools and figured out a way to sharpen them instead of buying another expensive set. The same way goes with my camera. When I notice that the lenses and sensors have all become dusty after a days out of taking photos on an unforgiving environment, I take time to remove the dust and carefully do that.

     I think of everything I’ve learned about editing websites, creating content, and using social media as an electric saw. With strong internet connectivity I’ll have a powerhouse at my fingertips. I’ll be able to use my resources to bring attention to CONCERN and promote their presence to a larger audience. However, without the internet my saw becomes inoperable. I’ve been told I’ll have much better access to internet than many of the other fellows, but I still have an image of myself holding an electric saw, the wheel spinning slowly as I try to apply it ineffectually to a block of wood.

     Nevertheless, with all that I’ve learned this week I know some of the most important tools are the ones I already had. Patience, ingenuity, organization, these are my hands. They are part of me and without them all the other tools I’ve received would be rendered useless.

     I’ll be leaving for Kathmandu, Nepal on Sunday with my metaphorical toolbox overflowing. I look forward to using these tools to the best of my ability and keeping my readers updated!

172. Next Stop – Kathmandu!

     1:25 pm 266 Comments

     It’s hard to believe, but in just over 24 hours I’ll be getting on a plane to Kathmandu. To get ready for my fellowship, I’ve spent three months reading up on Nepali history and politics, one week in advocacy training boot camp in DC, and just a few manic hours packing. This summer, I’ll be working with the National Network of Families of the Disappeared and Missing of Nepal (NEFAD) to set up an income generation project for family members of the disappeared, and to support NEFAD as it advocates for justice.

     

     Practicing interview skills at AP training

     If I’ve learned anything from the many books, blogs, and articles I’ve read about Nepal’s civil war, it’s that the politics around the conflict are still incredibly complicated. With this in mind, I plan to spend my fellowship listening to and learning from as many people as I can to understand the aftermath of the war and the challenges of the reconciliation process.

     Luckily, I’ll have plenty of help from my supervisor at NEFAD – Ram Kumar Bhandari. Ram is one of the leading activists in Nepal for the 1500 families of individuals who were forcibly disappeared during the civil war. He has dedicated his life to speaking out on behalf of the missing in Nepal, and has tirelessly advocated for justice for these families and their missing loved ones. I am honored to be working with Ram and his network of family members and activists throughout Nepal on this issue.

     One way I’ll be contributing to NEFAD’s mission this summer is by setting up an advocacy quilting program that will allow the wives of the disappeared tell their stories. The Advocacy Project has supported many quilting projects in places as diverse as Bosnia, Guatemala, and Mali, producing beautiful and powerful quilts that honor the courage and resiliency of the women who made them. In addition, the embroidery techniques the women learn while advocacy quilting gives them a marketable skill that will help provide them an income to support their families.

     Stay tuned to this blog all summer – I’ll be documenting my work with Ram and NEFAD, the quilting project, and all of my adventures in the Himalayas. Look out for future blog posts such as:

     – A (very brief) explainer on Nepal’s civil war and its aftermath
     – Interviews with the advocacy quilters, activists, Maoist ex-combatants, families of the missing, and the many other people impacted by the conflict
     – Reports on daily life in Kathmandu
     – My hike to Everest base camp (kidding!)

     For more adventures in advocacy, check out the Advocacy Project for the blogs of the 11 other Peace Fellows doing amazing work around the world.

173. Peace Fellowship Training: A Week of Firsts

     May 25, 2016 2:38 pm 7 Comments

     

     AP Peace Fellows gathered at Healy Hall every morning this past week to train for their work this summer.

     It was a cold and dreary day that Sunday when I first arrived in DC to prepare for our fellowship training week with the Advocacy Project. I had seen the schedule beforehand and was fairly certain I was in for a jam-packed week, a week full of firsts. To be completely honest, I had no idea what to expect as I went to sleep that night, stomach full of butterflies. Monday morning quickly rolled around and the sun came out. Like a true Californian, I figured only good things would come my way today. After all, sunny days are happy days.

     After a quick round of introduction that morning, I knew I was in for quite an experience. I was sitting in a room with eleven incredibly amazing and accomplished Peace Fellows, who are all about to disperse to different corners of the world to make a difference. Some will be in Nepal; others will go to Uganda, Jordan, or Mali, to name a few. In my case, I will be heading back to the motherland, back to Vietnam!

     As a Global student at Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health, I’m required to complete six months of international service, so my time with the Advocacy Project and my host organization, the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD), will extend beyond the usual fellowship length of ten weeks. This upcoming trip will be the first time I’ve been back to Vietnam for a period longer than three weeks since I immigrated to the US at nine years old. It will also be my first time working on the issue of Agent Orange and with Vietnamese families affected by the pesticide.

     Throughout training, we’re challenged to learn new skills and improve upon our existing skill set so we can all better support our host organization. I had my first experience filming a video, building a website, and setting up a Global Giving page. I also got to re-familiarize myself with tools that I’ve worked with previously such as iMovie, and WordPress. In addition to learning these great skills, we’re also developing our individual strategic plan on how we can best utilize them to strengthen our specific host organization.

     

     Attending a social media training session at Georgetown University

     Our days are long, but they’re rewarding, and we’re in great company. As the week wraps up, I’m feeling a mixture of anticipation, excitement, and appreciation. A huge thank-you goes out to the amazing team at AP for supporting us all this week and in the upcoming weeks. I’ll be counting down the day to my own departure to Dong Hoi, Vietnam where I will begin my work with AEPD.

     Oh, guess what? The sun’s still out this Friday afternoon as our training comes to an end. If that’s any indication, I think we can all expect plenty of good days and exciting times ahead.

174. Nepal: AFTERWORD

     January 10, 2016 5:51 pm Leave a Comment

     If you’ve been following this blog you may have noticed a
     long time before the most recent posts were posted. The dates are correct; as in
     they occurred at about that time but I didn’t actually write them out until
     very recently.

     My time in Nepal was nothing short of difficult. I can’t
     really seem to come up with a better word for it than that. When I agreed to go
     to Nepal I had the thought that it would be a very similar experience to that
     of my time in the Peace Corps. I imagined meeting new and interesting people
     and being able help out in some small way and improve the lives of those I
     touched. Despite the fact that I did do a bit of that through the Health Camps
     that we helped put on. A great deal of the positive aspects were eclipsed by the governmental corruption coupled with the
     unnecessarily complicated and ineffective healthcare system that made even the
     simplest of tasks seem impossible.

     I am well aware that this is the way things work in many a
     country and many countries that I will continue to work with throughout my
     career. Despite the fact that many difficult things happened to me during my
     time in Nepal it does not in anyway change my mind when it comes to my career
     goal of assisting women around the world in getting the health care that they so
     desperately need and educating them about the reproductive and sexual health. 

     Until my next adventure. Thanks for reading. – Maya 🙂

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/DSC_0029-300×181.jpeg

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:4,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     If you\u2019ve been following this blog you may have noticed a\nlong time before the most recent posts were posted. The dates are correct; as in\nthey occurred at about that time but I didn\u2019t actually write them out until\nvery recently. <\/p>

     My time in Nepal was nothing short of difficult. I can\u2019t\nreally seem to come up with a better word for it than that. When I agreed to go\nto Nepal I had the thought that it would be a very similar experience to that\nof my time in the Peace Corps. I imagined meeting new and interesting people\nand being able help out in some small way and improve the lives of those I\ntouched. Despite the fact that I did do a bit of that through the Health Camps\nthat we helped put on. A great deal of the positive aspects were eclipsed by the governmental corruption coupled with the\nunnecessarily complicated and ineffective healthcare system that made even the\nsimplest of tasks seem impossible. <\/p>

     \n\n<\/p>

     I am well aware that this is the way things work in many a\ncountry and many countries that I will continue to work with throughout my\ncareer. Despite the fact that many difficult things happened to me during my\ntime in Nepal it does not in anyway change my mind when it comes to my career\ngoal of assisting women around the world in getting the health care that they so\ndesperately need and educating them about the reproductive and sexual health. <\/p>

     Until my next adventure. Thanks for reading. – Maya 🙂<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2016\/01\/DSC_0029-300×181.jpeg”,”alt”:”DSC_0029″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2016\/01\/DSC_0029.jpeg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:299},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/3-1a1f1d79039d9a7fd5d6ff17e19ad98d.jpeg”,”width”:495,”height”:299,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:115308}}]}[/content-builder]

175. One more week

     September 29, 2015 4:58 pm Leave a Comment

     As most of you know, my (field) work at AEPD started with quite some delays. Field work is and happens to be a key component of the fellowship as it relates to all the different deliverables and components of my work here. Basically, without me going on the field I can’t meet the families that we are supposed to profile and who we want to include in the pilot program, nor photograph/videotape, nor write a proposal for since I wouldn’t know what their needs are.

     When we finally got to meet the families (and I say we, since the Director, Iain Guest was lucky enough to be with us) the work that I’m supposed to do in Vietnam finally came full circle. We were then able to understand and discuss the stories of the potential beneficiaries but also find how could we be better of service, through the amazing work that AEPD and their outreach workers do. During one of those many conversations I had with Iain, we discussed the great importance of future fellows to have a hands-on/field work experience within the first 1 or  (max) 2 weeks upon arrival to the host country. I pointed out how important this is given the fact that fellows leave the one-week training in Washington, DC extremely excited about what’s next to come, in high spirits and (most importantly) ready to make a positive change and learn from the communities where they are going.

     In my case, field work didn’t really start until the fifth week which created a whole set of challenges but as someone who is willing to face the bull straight on, I saw it more as a goal to be accomplished over the remaining of my time here.  Additionally, there was a few unexpected set of events, such as independence day which turned out to be a dead week at work and also an injury that occurred when I was jogging. The injury caused a few trips to 2 different hospitals and a concerning wrist injury which (during the first 2-3 weeks) made it very hard and painful for me to type.

     My biggest encouragement to continue working hard were really the families which we had met throughout the many visits. Families which have opened the doors of their homes, told us their stories, but most importantly, shared their hopes and dreams with us; hopes and dreams that AO has disrupted for so many years.

     With only 1 1/2 weeks left to finish the fellowship I made the decision to extend my time in Vietnam an extra week and I couldn’t be happier since my main responsibility and obligation goes back to the families. Sometimes that means working as much as it’s needed to get the desirable outcome.

     Yet, I couldn’t be more excited to finish all the work I signed up to do and hopefully, in the near future, see the results of it and how it will benefit the families and (now) friends we have made.

176. Mr. Xoan’s story (Part II)

     10:56 am Leave a Comment

     Mr. Xoan’s family story has been one of resilience, hope and sacrifice, as shown in a previous blog post. Yet, when we came back to finish our interviews, we were blown out of the water but what we found.

     Since we didn’t get to see Mr. Xoan last time we came to visit we stopped by once again to interview him. As we approached his home we noticed that the buffalo that was outside when we visited last time was gone so curious me decided to ask about it. We had to sell it to pay for the last hemophiliac treatment of Toan and Trung, Mr. Xoan said. At this point, we have heard that story from so many of the families but were never really able to fully grasps what that meant or if it happened as frequently as they were saying. Yet here we were, back less than a week since we saw Mrs. Phan feeding that big and well-cared for bull and suddenly he was gone.

     Looking around we didn’t find neither Mrs. Phan nor Trung; Toan was already back from the treatment in Hue and Lien was, as always, outside on her bed. My son, Trung, is still in Hue as he wasn’t doing so well when he was first seen by the Doctor and my wife is out in the fields harvesting the rice, told us Mr. Xoan. What we did find, and everywhere, were some seeds that were spared all over the floor. It was rice, freshly harvested from the day before- a process that takes 2 to 3 days and happens twice during the year.

     

     

     We’ve been meaning to get footage of rice paddies for a while then and it just happened to be that now one of the main beneficiaries of the proposal I was working in was out there, so I jumped at the opportunity of Mr. Xoan bringing us over. And he did.

     

     At this point, we’ve seen Mrs. Phan as a caregiver, loyal mother and wife, but here she was looking stronger than any woman I’ve ever met and irradiating close to super-human powers. Mrs. Phan started her day at 5 am and had been out in the sun since then, working the fields like there was no tomorrow. A feat that only a ‘superwoman’ could accomplish.

     

     We went back to the house and there she was again, Mrs. Phan, taking care of Lien after a 6-hour shift on the fields. How much strength does this woman have?, I thought.

     Without even us mentioning anything, she told us that Trung was still in the hospital in Hue and was going to stay there for an undetermined time. By then, we had tried to capture the stories of the different families suffering from Agent Orange but given their limited mobility most of them had been indoors. After some on the spot braninstorming we thought on the importance of visiting Trung at the Hospital in Hue, which is 3 hours away from Dong Hoi. The family agreed and out we were on our way to visit Trung.

     When we saw Trung he looked so much healthier because of the blood transfusions he had been receiving over the past days but also a bit worried. There’s a shortage of blood at the hospital so I might not get one for a few days, he said. Indeed, when we asked the Doctor when would he get the next blood transfusion, he said he didn’t know as the resources kept varying. I then remembered something Toan, Trung’s youngest brother, told me when we were at his house. During the week I was in the hospital, I saw 3 people died, he said, referring to the outcome of a lot of the patients that come in for transfusions and leave dead because of the lack of blood.

     

     As we quickly learned, this was the regular modus operandi at the hospital. After some back and forth we were told Trung would not be getting any transfusions over the weekend, which was the only time we could be around. We had to leave only hoping for the best.

     We went to Mr. Xoan’s house one last time to say goodbye in what turned to be a very emotional exchange. This will forever be the family which will stay in my heart and Linh’s, my interpreter and co-worker, for years to come,; hoping that we meet again sooner than later.

     

177. Mr. Duc’s workshop

     September 18, 2015 7:02 pm Leave a Comment

     On a previous blog post, I introduced you to Le Thi No. In this case, I’m gonna show you around Mr. Duc’s workshop where he makes the fish sauce that provides the income to support his family.

     Stand by for a future blog post with his family’s story. In the meantime, enjoy the video.

178. The eternal ‘Lady in black’

     5:01 pm Leave a Comment

     Duong Thi An’s husband, Le Quo Hung, died at the young age of 37 from Agent Orange complications. He fought in the war from 1970 to 1975 and 7 years later he passed away after living a life with headaches, pain on his hands and back and other symptoms that only appeared after he fought in the war. Mrs. An tells us about her husband and she unveils the shrine her family built to remember him which stands next to the different certifications and diplomas given by the government thanking him for his service and granting him Agent Orange certification. My vietnamese is very limited so anything she has to tell me is linked through Linh, my interpreter. Yet, if there’s one thing that are universal are tears. Tears that she shreds as she lights up some incense and beging praying to her husbands picture. Her husband left her soon after the war but his memory and the void that he left haven’t been able to be filled until now.

     

     Since then, she’s been the main caregiver for her 2 sons, daughter and 2 grandchildren. “I’m worry about what will happen to them once I die” she tells me, as she wipes off her tears. Her concerns would certainly keep any mother on edge and burdened by eternal sadness, something I’ve glimpsed on her face every single time we’ve gone to visit. “I remember her eyes” says my coworker and interpreter, Linh, referring to that same sorrowful look that can only be understood as despair trapped in ‘the window to the soul’. Unfortunately for her middle child, Le Quoc Huong, the windows are slowly darkening.

     

     Huong’s right-eye sight started rapidly deteriorating at age 10 and within a few weeks his doctor removed it. Since then, he had 4 different eye surgeries in Hanoi in an attempt to save his left eye which has been left working only 1/10 compared to a healthy eye. As a government-certified victim of Agent Orange (VOA) he receives 800 000 vnd (35.5 usd) per month. Yet, his monthly visits to the doctor in Hanoi total between 7 and 8 million vnd (311-355 usd) per visit.

     

     Huong’s sister, Le Thi Hoa (’82), was also born with a common Agent Orange effect, down syndrome. She spends her days helping her mother with household chores and also playing with her nephew and niece who see her more as a friend than an aunt. Both nephew and niece are the children of the oldest son, Le Quoc Hai (’76). He was born with several cognitive issues which didn’t allow him to finish school and is now left to help neighbors with odd jobs that don’t pay much.
     

     
     

     

     As a government-certified Agent Orange victim, he receives 1.2 million vnd (53.3 usd), an oddity when compared to his brother’s benefits. In Vietnam the financial criteria by which VAO receive benefits is at times cumbersome and rather subjective.

     If smiles are seen at the Les household, they are usually originated by the grandchildren who were both born healthy; one of the very few breaks the family has gotten.

     

179. 12 out of 13

     4:19 pm Leave a Comment

     When Mr. Dung first told us his story, it sounded as something that was coming from one of the many documentaries done about Agent Orange; His wife, who also helped during the war by building roads, had 13 children and out of all of them only 1 made it alive. The rest of them didn’t make it more than 8 months.

     

     The overall feeling you sense from them is of sadness and exhausting, after all they invested several tough years fighting for what they thought was right and getting affected by AO while doing so. When Mr. Dung describes AO he tells us, like many other soldiers we visited, how he saw the forest burn as the American troops sprayed the herbicide. What we hear that is new is how hard it was to breathe and the strong smell that it had as he got closer.
     

     After 12 attempts, Mrs. Dang was able to conceive 1 child, a daughter, who received 700 000 vnd (31 dollars per month) as a certified Agent Orange victim. Mr. Dung and Mrs. Dang receive 3.2 million vnd ( 142 usd) per month for their respective illnesses related to AO.

     The daughter looks, or rather doesn’t, at me in a way I would not forget – a rather defeated look with little to no reason to smile. From afar she looks healthy but maybe going through some dark moments, an understandable feeling given her condition. She doesn’t have any malformations, cerebral palsy or anything like that. Instead, it’s her IQ which has been affected along with the never-ending headaches that so many AO victims have already mentioned to us. Given all this issues, she has developed a severe depression which seems to have taken over her life.
     
     ‘She has a daughter’, says her mother. I follow on this lead and ask where’s the husband then and I see no sign of him. ‘He left and has not returned’ she adds. This is a common issue that a lot of AO victims face, the rejection not only by society but by those who should love them the most. The daughter looks down and feels ashamed but what her mom just told us and I certainly feel uncomfortable as I don’t want for anybody’s feelings to be hurt. ‘And this is my granddaughter’, says the mom and she introduces me to this very sweet girl who is wearing glasses and is 7 years old.

     

     We find out that the granddaughter as healthy as she looks has started developing ‘eye issues’ but it is still to early to know how much further are these symptoms going to develop. As a rule of thumb though, her eye doctor has recommended for her to visit every 6 months, advice that she follows religiously.

     As we start discussing the benefits that she might get, something comes up which we have been warned about before; third generation AO victims don’t get any money from the government. Basically, their families have to come up with any money for any kind of medical treatment, as it is with her case. For this reason, several of the families simply drop the third generation AO victims in orphanages that take them in without asking any questions.

     Yet I notice we are missing 1 more person, Mr. Dung’s nephew it is. His resting on a wheelchair and showing signs of some kind of neurological disorder that have left him unable to speak, weighting very little but still reacting to people and smiling whenever possible. Mr. Dung’s brother died a few years ago from AO exposure and the family decided to bring him in.

     

     Mr. Dung family’s story is one very hard to digest but one necessary to better understand some of the challenges, legacies, and sadness that some of these families have been left with.

     (Video)

180. The smile we take for granted

     September 9, 2015 11:18 am Leave a Comment

     I’m well aware that as human beings they are several times in our lives where comfortability settles in and suddenly we start taking things for granted.

     Memory doesn’t really serve me well but I do remember a frantic call at around 3 am from my sister. The call started with a bizarre question for such early hours, What are you doing? she said. I don’t think I answered the question but instead turn the table and asked how she was doing. Next thing I remember was that she said, what if I can’t see my kids’ faces as they grow older? and she began to cry. Knowing how important it is for someone who is, literally, experiencing a dark moment in their life I tried to hold back any kind of emotional sadness and began to console her.

     After we hung up and some hesitation, I called my parents. My dad, who I don’t really share much emotion with-for that there’s mom, picked up the phone and this time there was not a single fiber in my body willing or prepared to hold back any tear, anguish or frustration. All I remember saying was, Why does it have to happen to my sister and not me? I would do anything for it to happen to me and not her. My dad simply said, I told your mom the same thing when chatting about your sister. And then, in a moment of total defeat we began to sob.

     But let me take you back a few weeks before, when my sister began to ‘see ghosts’, or at least that’s what she thought they were. In a matter of weeks, the white, floating spots she originally thought were just her imagination turned into permanent fog, a tainted window, but instead one that has taken over the windows to the soul, her eyes.

     My sister was suffering from a ridiculously rare case of (basically) instant blindness, a bizarre illness that to this day has no cure nor explanation on the source.

     

     One of the many images taken to find out the damage done to my sister’s eyes.

     It’s now been over 3 years since it all began and to this day I remember thinking what would it be for me to go through the same situation. Back then I was just starting to take photography seriously and playing with the idea of becoming a photojournalist. As I reflect back, losing my sight would’ve totally shattered my dreams. I’m pretty sure that up to that moment, I’ve taken my sight for granted.

     After I read what NervePainRemedies.com wrote about Nerve Renew, I met Le Thi No during our second field visit of Agent Orange victims. She was born in 1986 as an apparent healthy baby. It wasn’t until the age of 10 that she began to develop a neuropathic disorder which left her paralyzed and unable to control her motor skills. Her paralysis and lack of mobility has continued to progress over the years which has left her laying on a bed while staring outside through the room’s window.

     Her sight remains intact but she can’t speak, walk nor live the life that my sister, who is her same age, can.

     Yet, as hard as it was for me to meet her the first time, the second time I really tried to follow some of the guidelines established for myself to tell the stories of VAO as people, fellow human beings, and not objects or myths.

     I began to realize that behind all that frustration that she must have had, from being a perfectly healthy child to becoming paraplegic, was a woman whose strong and joyful spirit remained intact.

     I then approached her with the desire to show the photos I had taken while at her family’s home. As she began to see her face appearing on the display, laughter and a sheepishly look began to emerge. Her smile suddenly took over and my heart warmed up.

     There at that moment, just as I did over 3 years ago, I realized once again I’ve taken something else for granted, my ability to smile.

     Sometimes we don’t need to lose something to realize how important it is. Sometimes all we need is to see what we take for granted reflected on somebody’s face, somebody who might not have as many reasons as we do to do the simplest of the actions, smile. Yet, there I was, looking at No and pondering about the weight of her smile. A simple gesture which might just be a facial expression for millions but one of the very few ways left to communicate happiness for Le Thi No.

     

181. Mr. Xoan’s story (Part I)

     6:16 am Leave a Comment

     Dave Matthew’s “Don’t drink the water” was the first thing that started playing in my mind as Mr. Xoan explained how he was exposed to Agent Orange. ‘I drank it thinking it came from the rain’, he said. Instead the H2O source was a river exposed to the defoliant.; a river that carried tragedy and the legacy of war through its current.

     

     

     The family began having children soon after, and out of the 5 children they had 3 of them experienced complications from the exposure, 1 died of a miscarriage and 2 of them were born healthy and later went on to marry; their photos proudly hang on the family’s wall.

     

     The first child born with AO complications was Trung, born in ’79. He had a normal childhood until one day his legs started failing and the arcs on his feet went through a malformation that doesn’t allow him to walk properly and restricts his mobility. As we showed up with Tuan, the outreach worker that oversees Mr. Xoan’s case, Trung began to show us pictures of his father’s visits to the graves of his friends who fought during the war but didn’t make it home.

     

     Toan, born in ’95, suffers from similar complications than his brother and a more severe case of malformations on his legs. For a while he tried to walk, but as his legs continued degenerating his classmates began to make fun of him which left his parents with no other choice but to take him out of school. A few months passed and the doctor informed them that a wheelchair would be needed for the rest of his life, if he ever wanted to move around. Both him and his brother not only share similar diagnosis but hemophilia as an added burden in their lives.

     

     Toan could have so much to complain about, yet shows so little resentment and instead is trying to become a productive young man. The first things you notice as you walk into his house is this sort of artist’s studio with chopsticks, glue, varnish and others spread neatly on top of a table. Toan has been fortunate enough to have found a mentor of sorts in one of the people that go to his self-support group. Encouraged by Toan’s positive attitude, his mentor taught him how to make handicrafts out of simple items that he buys for him at the local market. The results are remarkable, yet Toan’s dreams don’t end there. “I wan’t to learn how to develop webpages so that I can work from home”, he tells me, a goal that is currently only limited by the lack of a computer and internet connection. However, Toan doesn’t see that as very far from becoming a reality. “I’m already reading about it from books I get from the market”, he added.

     

     

     Last came Lien, born in ’92 with cerebral palsy. We met her (on a soon-to-be stormy day) laying in bed, pressing her nails against her hands and grinding her teeth, as a sign that ‘the weather was about to change’, said her mother. At times, she presses her nails so hard against her hands that they end up cutting her palms and drying them out. Given this, her parents give her folded carton to hold in her hands to protect her from further cutting.

     
     

     

     ‘It is a full time job, 24 hours of the day are invested in taking care of Lien; she constantly needs for one of us to help her’, says her mother, Phan Thi Do.

     As we went around meeting the different families suffering from the effects of Agent Orange (AO) exposure, a clear pattern began to appear -one of the mother as the main caregiver. It wasn’t that the father was absent, it was just that the mother’s dedication and willingness to sacrifice for her children who suffered the most was extraordinary.

     I entered Lien’s room and her mother welcomed me with a smile, while she continued wiping her daughter’s face with a damp cloth. Soon after, Mr. Xoan silently peeked into the room and IMG_3042 was made. I couldn’t help but to shed a tear as I looked at my DSLR display and noticed how the photo told the story of so many families exposed to AO; a story of thousands of mothers taking the huge responsibility of caring after their children while the father figure sheepishly looked from afar.

     

     Moreover, in one of the many visits to Mr. Xoan’s family we found to our surprise that neither him nor Toan or Trung were around. ‘They went to Hue for their hemophiliac monthly treatment’, Mrs. Phan said. The treatment costs 6 million vnd (270.6 usd), an amount that their insurance covers at 80%. In the end, the fact that all men were unexpectedly gone turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as were able to witness the close connection that can only be present between a mother and her daughter.

     For the next 5 hours we bore witnesses to how important Mrs. Phan has become to her daughter Lien, who caresses her mother’s arms and lays on her shoulder every time she can. That gesture could be interpreted as Lien’s demonstrating her affection and gratitude for the sacrifice her mother makes day by day.

     

     

     As I continued to look for details that will help tell Mrs. Phan’s family story, I notice a photo laying next to the kitchen but not hanging on the wall. The photo showed several discrepancies from the way her children actually looked, specifically the straight and tall posture that all of them exerted, so I inquired about it. ‘A friend of mine took our faces from different photos and photoshopped them to the bodies’, I was told.

     Perhaps this was the way Mr. Xoan and Mrs. Phan want to remember their family: healthy, looking good and with no sign of that damn herbicide that changed their lives forever.

     

182. When I grow up

     September 3, 2015 2:03 pm Leave a Comment

     After weeks of planning, traveling and interviewing I had
     finally gathered enough information to create profiles for all of the children
     participating in this years Bricks to Books Project. Going through the
     transcripts, I recounted each child’s story where they’d come from, their lives
     now, and where they wanted to go. It seemed strange to me that through this
     journey it was the last bit of information that had been the toughest to
     attain.

     You see at the end of each interview conducted, we asked
     each child the same final question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
     The question to me seemed fairly easy and one that had to be asked. I mean here
     we were interviewing children that at one point or another were working in
     brick factories and now because of the CONCERN organization were able to attend
     school. These kids were pursuing their education; to one day obtain a life
     better then their parents before them. So to ask them what their hopes and
     dreams were when they grow up didn’t seem all that irrational.

     Getting this answer out of them definitely was a challenge.
     When first hearing the question many children reacted with a face of
     bewilderment, as if never having thought about it before. They all struggled
     with the question, often needing lots of encouragements, examples, and coaxing.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     After weeks of planning, traveling and interviewing I had\nfinally gathered enough information to create profiles for all of the children\nparticipating in this years Bricks to Books Project. Going through the\ntranscripts, I recounted each child\u2019s story where they\u2019d come from, their lives\nnow, and where they wanted to go. It seemed strange to me that through this\njourney it was the last bit of information that had been the toughest to\nattain. <\/p>

     You see at the end of each interview conducted, we asked\neach child the same final question, \u201cWhat do you want to be when you grow up?\u201d\nThe question to me seemed fairly easy and one that had to be asked. I mean here\nwe were interviewing children that at one point or another were working in\nbrick factories and now because of the CONCERN organization were able to attend\nschool. These kids were pursuing their education; to one day obtain a life\nbetter then their parents before them. So to ask them what their hopes and\ndreams were when they grow up didn\u2019t seem all that irrational. <\/p>

     \n\n\n\n<\/p>

     Getting this answer out of them definitely was a challenge.\nWhen first hearing the question many children reacted with a face of\nbewilderment, as if never having thought about it before. They all struggled\nwith the question, often needing lots of encouragements, examples, and coaxing.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

183. “Yes I make Bricks!!!”

     August 24, 2015 1:08 pm Leave a Comment

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_0050-300×200.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_0067-141×300.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_0043-300×200.jpg

     It had been a long day and I could see the team’s energy
     slowly draining. He must have been our fifth or sixth interview of the day. It
     had reached the point where the thought of interviewing one more child just
     seemed too exhausting. Please no misunderstandings here; have an opportunity to
     interview the kids was great and obviously necessary. However after awhile the task
     to conduct the interviews become increasingly challenging. The kids were shy,
     reserved, and fearful rightfully so as they were pretty much being interrogated
     by complete strangers on what some might see as very personal matters. And
     sometimes it seemed as though they were just telling us what we wanted to hear,
     or what they thought was the right answer. With the heat slowly draining us of our
     energy and our hunger slowly making its presence known. All the questions and
     answers began mixing into one and the same; the thought of another interview
     seemed almost too much to handle. That is until Rupesh walked in to the room
     with poise, swag, and a demeanor about him that pulled you in. He was the polar
     opposite of every other child we had met with that day, he came into the room
     with a certain confidence, not an ounce of fear in this boy. Such a personality
     for such a young age, he was only 5 years old. He brought me to a state of
     complete wonder, in a point of the day I needed it the most. 

     Rupesh was directed to a chair opposite me, he took a seat
     with ease and so we began his interview. He spoke with such honesty, and no
     reserve of offending anyone. Even to the questions that many of the older kids
     had found difficult to answer. When asked if he had ever worked in the kilns to
     help make bricks? His smile encompassed half of his face “Yes I make bricks!” A
     stare was exchanged between the people in the room before everyone broke out
     into laughter, Rupesh’s openness was amusing and the only thing we could do was
     laugh at his directness. The smile on his face grew even larger: he knew he had
     us hooked. Can you show us? I asked. And he did just that; he began to
     demonstrate the process of how he made bricks alongside his parents. Even
     though I knew it was wrong that he was partaking in child labor, I found his
     reenactment of the whole thing incredibly adorable.

     The question arose in the group, is he or isn’t he partaking
     in child labor in the brick factories? Rupesh is obviously producing bricks,
     even though it is only handful a day. As wages are based on the total bricks
     produced in a day, Rupesh’s handful of bricks don’t make a significant impact on
     the families income, not yet at least. The primary function of Rupesh being in
     the kilns seems to be so his parents can keep an eye on him while they work. Rupesh’s
     family is aware that bringing him to the factory is equally if not more
     dangerous. Every inch of the kilns is a safety hazard, especially for a 5-year-old
     boy. “What else can I do?” Rupesh’s mother asked. 

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_0078-200×300.jpg

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:5,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_0050-300×200.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-thumb-f27b6c5263c9c712c8ebc87f37358603.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29043},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-large-f27b6c5263c9c712c8ebc87f37358603.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:200,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:39326}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_0067-141×300.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-thumb-de0366c0f95207c8740d8267b1b7a95b.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:23357},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-large-de0366c0f95207c8740d8267b1b7a95b.jpg”,”width”:141,”height”:300,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29839}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_0043-300×200.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-thumb-809e0e4e6654c9f969d4718c0d1e05d7.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:28105},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-large-809e0e4e6654c9f969d4718c0d1e05d7.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:200,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:37752}}]},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     It had been a long day and I could see the team\u2019s energy\nslowly draining. He must have been our fifth or sixth interview of the day. It\nhad reached the point where the thought of interviewing one more child just\nseemed too exhausting. Please no misunderstandings here; have an opportunity to\ninterview the kids was great and obviously necessary. However after awhile the task\nto conduct the interviews become increasingly challenging. The kids were shy,\nreserved, and fearful rightfully so as they were pretty much being interrogated\nby complete strangers on what some might see as very personal matters. And\nsometimes it seemed as though they were just telling us what we wanted to hear,\nor what they thought was the right answer. With the heat slowly draining us of our\nenergy and our hunger slowly making its presence known. All the questions and\nanswers began mixing into one and the same; the thought of another interview\nseemed almost too much to handle. That is until Rupesh walked in to the room\nwith poise, swag, and a demeanor about him that pulled you in. He was the polar\nopposite of every other child we had met with that day, he came into the room\nwith a certain confidence, not an ounce of fear in this boy. Such a personality\nfor such a young age, he was only 5 years old. He brought me to a state of\ncomplete wonder, in a point of the day I needed it the most.  <\/p>

     Rupesh was directed to a chair opposite me, he took a seat\nwith ease and so we began his interview. He spoke with such honesty, and no\nreserve of offending anyone. Even to the questions that many of the older kids\nhad found difficult to answer. When asked if he had ever worked in the kilns to\nhelp make bricks? His smile encompassed half of his face \u201cYes I make bricks!\u201d A\nstare was exchanged between the people in the room before everyone broke out\ninto laughter, Rupesh\u2019s openness was amusing and the only thing we could do was\nlaugh at his directness. The smile on his face grew even larger: he knew he had\nus hooked. Can you show us? I asked. And he did just that; he began to\ndemonstrate the process of how he made bricks alongside his parents. Even\nthough I knew it was wrong that he was partaking in child labor, I found his\nreenactment of the whole thing incredibly adorable. <\/p>

     \n\n\n\n<\/p>

     The question arose in the group, is he or isn\u2019t he partaking\nin child labor in the brick factories? Rupesh is obviously producing bricks,\neven though it is only handful a day. As wages are based on the total bricks\nproduced in a day, Rupesh\u2019s handful of bricks don\u2019t make a significant impact on\nthe families income, not yet at least. The primary function of Rupesh being in\nthe kilns seems to be so his parents can keep an eye on him while they work. Rupesh\u2019s\nfamily is aware that bringing him to the factory is equally if not more\ndangerous. Every inch of the kilns is a safety hazard, especially for a 5-year-old\nboy. \u201cWhat else can I do?\u201d Rupesh\u2019s mother asked. <\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_0078-200×300.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0078″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_0078.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:165,”height”:247},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-13e5b1da31915b85fc63a83d23bba08a.jpg”,”width”:165,”height”:247,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:36772}}]}[/content-builder]

184. The Story of Ram Rai

     August 22, 2015 12:58 pm 233 Comments

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_00962-200×300.jpg

     Meet Ram Rai son of Rina and Hem Rai. Ram’s family lives in
     the Brick Kilns in Imadol, just outside of Kathmandu. Rams parents moved to Kathmandu
     over 12 years ago from Indreni phokhari in the Khotang district. The family has
     not been back to their village since arriving in Kathmandu.  Both parents work in the brick
     factories year round. During the off seasons, when work tends to slow down, Hem
     is required to find odd end jobs doing construction or other temporary labor
     intensive work.  Ram’s family home
     (Jhyauli) is right beside the brick factories. The factory owners provide housing
     near the kilns for workers; rental fees are deducted from the employee’s wages.

     Rams home is made up of one room that consist of two single
     beds, a hot stove, and a 13” inch television, all cramped into a 5 foot tall
     space. Living arrangements are incredibly tough; as if residing in a congested
     room with 6 individual isn’t difficult enough. The family then has to deal with
     sanitation issues; obtaining clean water is tricky at times, the bathroom is
     roughly 500 meters away with 6 stalls that’s are shared by 70 families. Living openly
     amongst such a large open community also opens up issues such as security and sexual
     harassment.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_01011-300×200.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_01131-300×200.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_01141-200×300.jpg

     Rams parents said they realize that their living and working
     have stayed in Katmandu working at the Brick Kilns for the sake of their
     children. There hopes are that their children will have better lives then
     themselves. That is why even though they don’t have much; no savings, and only
     earning roughly 350- 450 NPR a day ($3.5-$4.5). They make it a priority to send
     their children to school, for a better chance at succeeding.

     Ram is one of four children. Their oldest daughter Seeta,
     then there is Laksman and Ram who are identical twin boys, and Ponam who is the
     youngest daughter. Three of the four children are currently attending school.  Ram although is only at the young age of
     12, understands how important his education is. Ram is treasurer of Melmilap
     child club, gets good grades, and always attempts to make homework a priority.
     Which he says can be difficult at times when his family needs his assistance
     making bricks before and after school. 

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/IMG_01211-300×200.jpg

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:7,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_00962-200×300.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0096″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_00962.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:165,”height”:247},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/2-1467f691ed44c022e2a666c3e977387a.jpg”,”width”:165,”height”:247,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:32711}},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Meet Ram Rai son of Rina and Hem Rai. Ram\u2019s family lives in\nthe Brick Kilns in Imadol, just outside of Kathmandu. Rams parents moved to Kathmandu\nover 12 years ago from Indreni phokhari in the Khotang district. The family has\nnot been back to their village since arriving in Kathmandu.  Both parents work in the brick\nfactories year round. During the off seasons, when work tends to slow down, Hem\nis required to find odd end jobs doing construction or other temporary labor\nintensive work.  Ram\u2019s family home\n(Jhyauli) is right beside the brick factories. The factory owners provide housing\nnear the kilns for workers; rental fees are deducted from the employee\u2019s wages.<\/p>

     \n\n<\/p>

     Rams home is made up of one room that consist of two single\nbeds, a hot stove, and a 13\u201d inch television, all cramped into a 5 foot tall\nspace. Living arrangements are incredibly tough; as if residing in a congested\nroom with 6 individual isn\u2019t difficult enough. The family then has to deal with\nsanitation issues; obtaining clean water is tricky at times, the bathroom is\nroughly 500 meters away with 6 stalls that\u2019s are shared by 70 families. Living openly\namongst such a large open community also opens up issues such as security and sexual\nharassment.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_01011-300×200.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-003ce3b71c202dac3fdbf6ffe06f2e5f.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:33132},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-003ce3b71c202dac3fdbf6ffe06f2e5f.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:200,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:50320}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_01131-300×200.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-b57c702967d5d8063d00ae1b4e1c8328.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:32606},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-b57c702967d5d8063d00ae1b4e1c8328.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:200,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:48425}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_01141-200×300.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-d5b429f39c0a04dff92204262934dd39.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29074},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-d5b429f39c0a04dff92204262934dd39.jpg”,”width”:200,”height”:300,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:41569}}]},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Rams parents said they realize that their living and working\nhave stayed in Katmandu working at the Brick Kilns for the sake of their\nchildren. There hopes are that their children will have better lives then\nthemselves. That is why even though they don\u2019t have much; no savings, and only\nearning roughly 350- 450 NPR a day ($3.5-$4.5). They make it a priority to send\ntheir children to school, for a better chance at succeeding.<\/p>

     \n\n<\/p>

     Ram is one of four children. Their oldest daughter Seeta,\nthen there is Laksman and Ram who are identical twin boys, and Ponam who is the\nyoungest daughter. Three of the four children are currently attending school.  Ram although is only at the young age of\n12, understands how important his education is. Ram is treasurer of Melmilap\nchild club, gets good grades, and always attempts to make homework a priority.\nWhich he says can be difficult at times when his family needs his assistance\nmaking bricks before and after school. <\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_01211-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0121″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/09\/IMG_01211.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-cfe2d5b912cac810ec3cf183af5c3ec5.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:72627}}]}[/content-builder]

185. How can I help you?

     August 10, 2015 11:48 pm Leave a Comment

     A couple of
     questions come to mind before I attempt to help someone. In hindsight most
     would assume that these questions were asked and answered several times over
     before assistance is rendered. These questions?

     1. 
     How
     can I help you?

     2. 
     What
     do you/your community most need assistance with?

     3. 
     My
     expertise is in ________; would this be beneficial to you/your community?

     One of the
     most important things I learned as a Peace Corps volunteer is that you can’t go
     into a developing country and hand things to people or dictate what their needs
     are, at the same time expecting long term sustainability after you/your
     organization has left the country. If this is your mindset I am afraid you will
     be sorely disappointed.

     Unfortunately, Nepal is not an example of the positive Peace Corps-like response to a difficult situation. I’ve spoken to many locals in Nepal from Kathmandu to Dhankuta, Biratnagaar, and so on and I got the same stories. Most of the aid that came into Nepal after the earthquake stayed in the capital. Whether it was money, rice, blankets; for the most part it remained in Kathmandu. It was left to members of the community who have the means to to travel outside the capital to provide assistance to those in the mountains. This is something that my supervisor at Care Women Nepal took it upon herself to do.

     With money donated by the Advocacy Project and some money from her own pocket she was able to provide rice, blankets and tarps to several communities throughout the Dhankuta District and I had the pleasure of going out with her and her team while she delivered the much needed items to some very grateful individuals. 

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/IMG_0368-300×225.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/IMG_0370-300×225.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/IMG_0967-300×200.jpg

     So one might ask themselves why this is the case? So many thoughts come to mind, the main one being that that most organizations take on too much too fast because they are desperate to help in anyway that they can as quickly as they can.

     In order to assist in an effective manner there are several points that people need to take into consideration and some of those would include the following:

     1. Do they need my/our help? Now, this might seem like a silly question; especially in thinking about the recent earthquakes in Nepal. But you have to understand that almost immediately after the earthquakes hit, organizations were on the ground in Nepal attempting to provide assistance and aid. From helping with rescue attempts, to removing the ruble from downed homes to providing food and shelter. In some cases more help would have been more of a hindrance than anything else.

     2. If they need my help; these are the things I can provide…. Will these things be of assistance? Again, you might think these are silly questions but they aren’t. One story I was told while in Nepal, was about an organization that provided clothing to a village outside of Kathamandu. They mostly provided jeans , shorts and t-shirts. The women of the community did not want any of the clothing provided, which of course offended the organizations members. Had the people of this organization taken the time to do a bit of background research on Nepal and its cultures they would have been aware of the fact that few people in the rural parts of the country wear westernized clothing. Hindsight. Always 20/20.

     3. What resources does this community already have at its disposal? There are always assumptions made about developing countries and the resources they possess and oftentimes instead of capitalizing on the naturally occurring resources in a country; aid workers bring in their own resources. In many cases this can cripple the economy within a community. Organization that give food aid are often guilty of this. They provide certain foods to communities that would otherwise be sold by the farmers of that community. That farmer’s crops go unsold or sold at a lower than anticipated rate, the farmer’s family can’t survive and so on and so on.

     The point of this blog is really just to make the point that people who head aid organization should really think before they act. There are far more things at stake when taking on an act of lending a helping a hand.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:6,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     A couple of\nquestions come to mind before I attempt to help someone. In hindsight most\nwould assume that these questions were asked and answered several times over\nbefore assistance is rendered. These questions?<\/p>

     1. \nHow\ncan I help you?<\/p>

     2. \nWhat\ndo you\/your community most need assistance with?<\/p>

     3. \nMy\nexpertise is in ________; would this be beneficial to you\/your community?<\/p>

     \n\n\n\n\n\n\n<\/p>

     One of the\nmost important things I learned as a Peace Corps volunteer is that you can\u2019t go\ninto a developing country and hand things to people or dictate what their needs\nare, at the same time expecting long term sustainability after you\/your\norganization has left the country. If this is your mindset I am afraid you will\nbe sorely disappointed.<\/p>

     Unfortunately, Nepal is not an example of the positive Peace Corps-like response to a difficult situation. I’ve spoken to many locals in Nepal from Kathmandu to Dhankuta, Biratnagaar, and so on and I got the same stories. Most of the aid that came into Nepal after the earthquake stayed in the capital. Whether it was money, rice, blankets; for the most part it remained in Kathmandu. It was left to members of the community who have the means to to travel outside the capital to provide assistance to those in the mountains. This is something that my supervisor at Care Women Nepal took it upon herself to do.<\/p>

     With money donated by the Advocacy Project and some money from her own pocket she was able to provide rice, blankets and tarps to several communities throughout the Dhankuta District and I had the pleasure of going out with her and her team while she delivered the much needed items to some very grateful individuals. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0368-300×225.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-a8de80e298660f0bbdf33045c9b940f9.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29053},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-a8de80e298660f0bbdf33045c9b940f9.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:225,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:44930}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0370-300×225.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-61be42ca0fc1dcc64310558df1c21c33.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:30187},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-61be42ca0fc1dcc64310558df1c21c33.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:225,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:49314}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0967-300×200.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-ff2cb7ff2ba462fd9220806c160318ae.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:36335},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-ff2cb7ff2ba462fd9220806c160318ae.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:200,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:61162}}]},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     So one might ask themselves why this is the case? So many thoughts come to mind, the main one being that that most organizations take on too much too fast because they are desperate to help in anyway that they can as quickly as they can.<\/p>

     In order to assist in an effective manner there are several points that people need to take into consideration and some of those would include the following:<\/p>

     1. Do they need my\/our help? Now, this might seem like a silly question; especially in thinking about the recent earthquakes in Nepal. But you have to understand that almost immediately after the earthquakes hit, organizations were on the ground in Nepal attempting to provide assistance and aid. From helping with rescue attempts, to removing the ruble from downed homes to providing food and shelter. In some cases more help would have been more of a hindrance than anything else.<\/p>

     2. If they need my help; these are the things I can provide…. Will these things be of assistance? Again, you might think these are silly questions but they aren’t. One story I was told while in Nepal, was about an organization that provided clothing to a village outside of Kathamandu. They mostly provided jeans , shorts and t-shirts. The women of the community did not want any of the clothing provided, which of course offended the organizations members. Had the people of this organization taken the time to do a bit of background research on Nepal and its cultures they would have been aware of the fact that few people in the rural parts of the country wear westernized clothing. Hindsight. Always 20\/20.<\/p>

     3. What resources does this community already have at its disposal? There are always assumptions made about developing countries and the resources they possess and oftentimes instead of capitalizing on the naturally occurring resources in a country; aid workers bring in their own resources. In many cases this can cripple the economy within a community. Organization that give food aid are often guilty of this. They provide certain foods to communities that would otherwise be sold by the farmers of that community. That farmer’s crops go unsold or sold at a lower than anticipated rate, the farmer’s family can’t survive and so on and so on.<\/p>

     The point of this blog is really just to make the point that people who head aid organization should really think before they act. There are far more things at stake when taking on an act of lending a helping a hand.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

186. What’s in a word? (Part II)

     August 2, 2015 8:39 am Leave a Comment

     Have you ever wondered the weight that words can have and how similar nouns or phrases might just express different concepts and thus have difference consequences for those who say it?

     If you ever watched President Obama at a press conference you might have noticed that he pauses every so often for what seems as mere milliseconds. This might pass unnoticed to the untrained ear but certainly has nothing to do with his lack of linguistic intelligence. In the contrary, I would probably say that just as President Clinton his linguistic IQ is way up there.

     Over the last years, POTUS has turned into one that carefully chooses his words- well aware that whatever he says might have strong repercussions in the country and also the world, as well as his presidency.  When he takes those long pauses all I imagine is him going through a myriad of options for the next word he will use and rapidly matching those to the consequences each of them might have if chosen.

     A great example of this is can be seen during this press conference from last year, coming on the eve of the release of a widely-anticipated Senate report on ‘enhanced techniques’, in which POTUS takes quite a few pauses and then says this:

     Yet, even after he says it, he takes a breather, looks down and one can almost see him realizing the weight that a statement like that has, coming from the President of the most powerful nation in the world.

     Now, lets take a ride to the most amazingly fictitious (and idealistic) presidency on TV, President Bartlet’s. During the West Wing’s pilot episode this fascinating exchange takes place between Mary Marsh, member of ‘Religious right’, Josh Lyman, White House deputy Chief of staff, Al Cadwell, another member of ‘Religious right’ and Toby Ziggler, head of communications at The White House.

     And just like that we got schooled in the value of words, a process which I have been constantly reminded during my time in Vietnam.

     The American War:

     It almost feels as if it was yesterday when I had just landed in Bangkok and this very nice man sat down next to me while proceeding to ask me ‘where was I heading to?’. I told him I was on my way to work in Vietanm with people affected by Agent Orange. I’m not really sure when but at some point I mentioned something about ‘The Vietnam War’. He quickly glanced at me and without skipping a beat said ‘The American war’. Confused, I continue chatting with him until we said goodbye. Yet, in my mind this was more than a simple correction or confusion.

     The same scenario repeated itself a few times, until I put one and one together.

     For us Westeners,  the habit of calling all wars by the place where they are/were taking place is almost as common as the usage of the Mercator projection for maps. The problem with those two examples is that they follow a Eurocentric approach which recognizes the West as the axis of it all and, in the case of wars, inconspicuously set the tone on the ownership of such war; Almost as a father who points the finger at his kid while saying ‘This is all your fault and now you have to deal with it’. The truth couldn’t be farther than the truth.

     Let’s start with the recognition of wars depending on where they take place. If this is how we name wars, then there would have been four Vietnam wars: the eight-year-long war against France that ended in 1954, the proxy war fought by the United States to prevent communism from spreading, the Chinese offensive in response to Vietnam’s invasion and occupation of Cambodia in 1978 and the five-year-long Japanese occupation during the Second World War. Yet, it was only when Americans troops were involved that this started to be called ‘The Vietnam War’ throughout the western world.

     As I asked the Vietnamese people on their thoughts of the war, I’ve have continued to hear as one of struggle to fight for the country’s independence against foreign interference and a true desire to unite the north and south all over again.

     And yet, as I look into the different language translations that were given to ‘The Vietnam war’ in the western hemisphere, I find a linguistic pattern. A patter which sets the responsibility of the war in the entire country of Vietnam, almost as if they provoked and asked for it. In reality, the war was one of reactionary moves based on an American foreign policy doctrine called ‘Containment’; A policy which wasn’t necessarily based on fighting an all out war with the communist Soviet Union, but rather to confine communism to their existing boundaries. Unfortunately, as it has continued to happen with most wars, the military actions quickly escalated, created a chain reaction and made things worst for both civilian and military families on both sides.

     The people of Vietnam then, in an attempt to set the record straight,  have turned the tables and now call such a fatal and sad conflict ‘The American war’.

     Chino/China (read Chee-no or Chee-nah in Spanish):

     Soon after I arrived to Dong Hoi, I started sharing with some Peruvian family members and friends a few stories of my time in Vietnam.

     It didn’t take long before some asked me how was the ‘Chinese cuisine’ (comida china) or said something about my interactions with ‘the Chinese people’ (los chinos). I quickly proceeded to correct them and said that people here weren’t from China and, thus, should be attributed the right term according to their nationality, Vietnamese.

     Sadly, this common misconception goes back hundreds of years in time for Latin Americans and it’s still regular practice when referring to somebody with ‘Asian features’. As a matter of fact, if you were to travel to Argentina, Peru, Costa Rica or other country in the region you would find the same disrespectful and misrepresenting word being used on a daily basis. As a Peruvian, such an abrasiveness on the usage of those words might come as a surprise or even have some of my fellow countrymen/countrywomen question my lack of tolerance or humor. Someone might even bring up the fact that people do call others ‘chinos’ or ‘chinas’ in a non-demeaning way but to simply refer to someone with epicanthic folds.

     Yet, the fact of it being a generalization remains. My friend Hiro, a former classmate at UPEACE and Japanese citizen, found the usage of it rather discriminatory, borderline offensive and had a hard time trying to change minds during his time in Costa Rica. As a proud Japanese, he felt belittled and stricken out of all the unique and remarkable traits of his Japanese culture. Japan is actually one of the few countries in Asia that has been able to maintain independence throughout most of its time, except for a short period after World War II. Its history is one of great pride: defeating the Mongols twice, kicking one of the world’s super powers butt (Russia), and other amazing feats that make their citizen humbly but gladly say “I’m Japanese”. I can then understand and embrace Hiro’s feeling on what does this generalization does for citizens of other countries other than China, specially those in which their cultures are intrinsically  more than just ‘bumper sticker pride’.

     The word chino/china not only obliterates years of history, it also minimizes the contributions and uniqueness of citizens from several subregions of Asian nations. It also misrepresents them by putting all in a melting bucket without care for the struggles their countries have endured and perpetuates the well-established stereotypes that go beyond Latin America but that expand throughout the Western world, especially in the media and Hollywood.

     What’s most troubling about the usage of the word coming from Latin Americans is the ignorance of its origin, which dates back to the slave trade in the 16th century. People were then called ‘chinos’ as a way to systematically destroy their identity  as it related to their country of origin, even when studies continue to show that most of the slaves weren’t even Chinese. Ironically, during the colonization of the Americas, Spaniards often did the same with other communities including Peruvians.

     The usage of the word ‘chino/china’ is, to say the least, structural violence exemplified and a horrendous generalization that should be taken out of our Latinos lexicons once and for all.

     Saigon vs. Ho Chi Minh City:

     Expertise in Vietnamese geography has never been my forté but there have alway been two cities that I’ve frequently heard of in movies, music and  broadways shows: Hanoi and Saigon. Hanoi is the capital and where I landed, while Saigon was the capital of South Vietnam and its fall marked the end of the American war.

     Yet in 1975 the government decided to rename it ‘Ho Chi Minh City’ (HCMC), a name which has found its fanbase in the youth and the northern Vietnamese mostly. The name HCMC started to been used soon after the end of the American War, specifically in 1976, as a way to honor the revolutionary leader credited with uniting the country. HCMC is commonly used in government publications, activities and official documents with Brief Printing while Saigon seems to be the mostly colloquially used  by people in their mid-20s and on. In my experience this has been mostly true with the exception of those who use Saigon to refer to it but areas surrounding it (and far from District 1) are often referred as HMCM.

     As I continued to ask around and do some research, I started to find out that the main reason why one would use Saigon or HMCM lays on very subtle political nuances.

     Vietnamese from the north tend to call it Ho Chi Minh city and their ways are mostly conservative and more party-aligned, meaning they are mostly supportive of the current political system. Then there’s the more liberal and those who call it Sai Gon to embrace the aesthetics, history,culture and overall ways of the old capital of South Vietnam. The third group consists of those who were persecuted, suffered at the hands of the communist regime and might (or might not) had to flee the country. This group is commonly know as Việt Kiều which translates to ‘Vietnamese sojourner’, and it’s not a term of self-identification. Instead, those who had to leave prefer the term Người Việt Hải Ngoại or even Người Việt Tự Do which literally translates to ‘free Vietnamese’. I would love to touch on the history of this group but I might just save that for a future blog post.

     As a golden rule, I normally use the name Saigon to refer to the city and when having dealt with government officials I’ve learned to quickly switch to Ho Chi Minh city; After all, I wouldn’t want to be seen as an agent provocateur of sorts since I already have enough to worry about with the different assignments I’ve covered in DC (read protests).

     And even though they are all these subtle codes that might be conveyed by the use of one of the other, there’s still those who simply use Saigon because it can be said faster than (‘exhausting’) Ho Chi Minh city. C’est la vie.

     Disable vs. Agent Orange victim:

     A few weeks before I left for Vietnam, I attended a talk at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) titled ‘ Addressing War Legacies in Vietnam’. In attendance were U.S. Senator Patrick Leahy,Vietnamese  ambassador to the U.S, Pham Quang Vinh, Tim Riser who serves as the Democratic Clerk at the Senate Appropriation Subcomittee and Dr. Le Ke Son, Director of the National Research Program on Agent Orange(AO)/Dioxin.

     Senator Leahy spoke of the moral obligation that the U.S. has to repair the damage done to millions of military and civilians families who were exposed to Agent Orange during and after the war. Over the last decades U.S. Veterans have fought hard to have the government recognize the direct consequences of exposure to AO and eventually (partially) succeeded ; Yet, when a group of Vietnamese sued the U.S. government for them to recognize the cause-consequence of their AO exposure, the court simply dismissed the case. Sen. Leahy added that this was, simply put, a double standard. ‘The U.S Government refuses to accept responsibility for fear of thousands or even million of legal claims by Vietnamese citizens for reparations’ he added.

     In his closing statements, he spoke of the 105 million dollars given by USAID to help in the clean up efforts of eight provinces as well as health disability programs of 21 millions dollars over 5 years. And this is where the two of the main issue lay.

     To this day, the U.S. government has not officially apologized for the use of AO in Vietnam. Instead, they have awarded three grants providing assistance for people with disabilities living in communities adjacent to the airport in Danang. I will save my argument on the fallacy of providing assistance to only those communities known as ‘AO hotspots’ for a future post and instead focus on the broad term used for those affected with AO, disabled.

     By continuing to use the word ‘disabled’, the U.S. government perpetuates the double standard pointed by Senator Leahy. In the U.S. , Veterans get (to an extent- *more of this on a future post) the proper compensation, social programs and medical care for Agent Orange exposure as explained in the Veteran’s Affairs website. The website itself uses the term ‘Agent Orange exposure’ without a problem, but when Vietnamese vets have claimed exposure to it, they are given a ‘Sorry but no’ and simply left to see if they qualify for any of the disability programs offered by USAID, as long as they are living in the communities where such programs are offered.

     Moreover, by broadening the term, considerable funds are getting allocated to the wrong beneficiaries for a program that is well-known (even though not officially accepted) in place to remedy the effect of the war. All of it because of a word choice.

     —–

     So what’s in a word? You might ask. Well, a whole lot of meanings, as I’ve tried to show on my last 2 posts; meanings that can hurt and neglect the unprivileged, and preserve the status quo.  Our role then is to acknowledge the power of language while potentially getting those around us curious on the usage of one word over another.

     Words can do more than just hurt, they can be active catalyst of change, if used properly. Hopefully these long reads struck a nerve or at least got you curious to start a conversation within your family and friends. After all, it all starts with us.

187. Who Is Indira Thapa?

     July 26, 2015 12:04 am 308 Comments

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/DSC_0115-300×200.jpg

     Indira Thapa, age 46 from Mera, Dhankuta Nepal is the founder and President of Care Women Nepal; and organization that facilitates the treatment of women suffering from uterine prolapse  who live in the remote areas of the Dhankuta district and have no access to proper healthcare facilities.

     When I found out that I was heading to Nepal to work with Indira, I was told that she was a woman very passionate about the plight of women living with uterine prolapse in her country and that she would do anything she could to help end their suffering.  When we finally met, I understood.

     Indira is passionate and driven. She spends 90% of her time working and maybe 10% sleeping. She should definitely sleep more. 

     I was eventually able to sit down with Indira and ask her some questions about how she began working with Care Women Nepal and why this project is such a passion for her. Below are a few of the key questions I got to ask her and her answers.

     Q: Indira, why did you start Care Women Nepal?

     A: When I was a young girl I had witnessed a pregnant women
     lose her life because of the lack of proper delivery service in my village.
     Further the state of health facilities in Dhankuta district itself is not very
     good. So since the time I was very young, I always had it in my heart to do
     something for the women of Dhankuta so that they would not have to meet the
     same fate as the pregnant women. Hence I started Care Women Nepal to help and
     serve the women who are deprived of the most basic facilities.

     Q: What are some of the difficulties women suffering from uterine prolapse have to endure?

     A: Women with prolapse are socially stigmatized and looked down
     upon. They receive such treatment even from their in laws and husband, who are
     supposed to be the ones to support the women. Many of the husbands opt for a
     second marriage once their 1^st wife has a prolapse. Similarly it is
     very difficult for women with prolaspe to work and perform household chores.
     Likewise many physiological consequences of prolaspe, such as odorous discharge
     leads to many people being reluctant to be around the women. This has a very
     bad psychological effect on the women. Hence women with prolaspe have a very
     difficult time not just physically but psychologically too. 

     Q: It is clearly your mission to make a difference in the lives of these women. Why are you so passionate about this work?

     A: First and foremost, as Dhankuta is my home district, it is a
     moral obligation on my part to do something for it. I cannot just sit around
     while the women from my district are suffering from a wide range of problems.
     However, I am also very eager to spread our activities to other districts, but
     due to a lack of budget and financial constraints we have not been able to do
     so. For example, I want to reach out and help the women of Terathum district as
     well, which has a higher prevalence of prolaspe than Dhankuta. Due to financial
     constraints we have not been able to cater to the needs of the women form
     Terathum.

     To say that Indira has a passion for the work she does in an understatement. If she could, she would single handedly assist each and every woman she came across suffering from this illness and to a certain extent she has done just that and it has been an honor and a pleasure working with her and witnessing her do so much for so many. 

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:5,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0115-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”DSC_0115″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0115.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/3-36ac41ecfd4128d4164c70f0a94905f2.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:53734}},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Indira Thapa, age 46 from Mera, Dhankuta Nepal is the founder and President of Care Women Nepal; and organization that facilitates the treatment of women suffering from uterine prolapse  who live in the remote areas of the Dhankuta district and have no access to proper healthcare facilities.<\/p>

     When I found out that I was heading to Nepal to work with Indira, I was told that she was a woman very passionate about the plight of women living with uterine prolapse in her country and that she would do anything she could to help end their suffering.  When we finally met, I understood.<\/p>

     Indira is passionate and driven. She spends 90% of her time working and maybe 10% sleeping. She should definitely sleep more. <\/p>

     I was eventually able to sit down with Indira and ask her some questions about how she began working with Care Women Nepal and why this project is such a passion for her. Below are a few of the key questions I got to ask her and her answers.<\/p>

     Q: Indira, why did you start Care Women Nepal?<\/p>

     A: When I was a young girl I had witnessed a pregnant women\nlose her life because of the lack of proper delivery service in my village.\nFurther the state of health facilities in Dhankuta district itself is not very\ngood. So since the time I was very young, I always had it in my heart to do\nsomething for the women of Dhankuta so that they would not have to meet the\nsame fate as the pregnant women. Hence I started Care Women Nepal to help and\nserve the women who are deprived of the most basic facilities.<\/span><\/p>

     Q: What are some of the difficulties women suffering from uterine prolapse have to <\/span>endure?<\/p>

     A: Women with prolapse are socially stigmatized and looked down\nupon. They receive such treatment even from their in laws and husband, who are\nsupposed to be the ones to support the women. Many of the husbands opt for a\nsecond marriage once their 1<\/span>^{st<\/sup> wife has a prolapse. Similarly it is\nvery difficult for women with prolaspe to work and perform household chores.\nLikewise many physiological consequences of prolaspe, such as odorous discharge\nleads to many people being reluctant to be around the women. This has a very\nbad psychological effect on the women. Hence women with prolaspe have a very\ndifficult time not just physically but psychologically too. <\/span><\/p>}

     Q: It is clearly your mission to make a difference in the lives of these women. Why are you so passionate about this work?<\/span><\/p>

     A: First and foremost, as Dhankuta is my home district, it is a\nmoral obligation on my part to do something for it. I cannot just sit around\nwhile the women from my district are suffering from a wide range of problems.\nHowever, I am also very eager to spread our activities to other districts, but\ndue to a lack of budget and financial constraints we have not been able to do\nso. For example, I want to reach out and help the women of Terathum district as\nwell, which has a higher prevalence of prolaspe than Dhankuta. Due to financial\nconstraints we have not been able to cater to the needs of the women form\nTerathum.<\/span><\/p>

     To say that Indira has a passion for the work she does in an understatement. If she could, she would single handedly assist each and every woman she came across suffering from this illness and to a certain extent she has done just that and it has been an honor and a pleasure working with her and witnessing her do so much for so many. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

188. Why would Nepalese women walk more than 6 hours through rough terrain during monsoon season?

     July 24, 2015 11:01 am 333 Comments

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/DSC_0458-300×200.jpeg

     The answer to this question is not a simple one. It involves women’s health, culture and a slew of other issues that I couldn’t even begin to touch upon.

     The fact is, the world’s healthcare systems are broken. Don’t get me wrong; some are far better than others while some are far far worse. Dire needs aren’t addressed and services can’t reach those who need them the most. Women in developing countries are especially susceptible to these broken systems. The causes for their susceptibility are many; from the cultural norms of societies that keep women’s needs, thoughts and opinions on the back burner to a lack of understanding of women’s health issues; as many young girls in these communities only learn about their bodies through hushes and whispers behind closed doors and sometimes only prior to their wedding nights.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/DSC_0891-300×200.jpeg

     In the country of Nepal, women’s health is most definitely on the back burner and there is one major human rights abuse that is constantly overlooked. That, as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, of uterine prolapse. Women in the rural villages of Nepal are subject to hard labor almost as soon as they are able to walk. They must carry heavy loads of water wood food etc… up treacherous mountain sides every single day in order to cook, clean, eat and live their lives. None of these conditions change when a woman is pregnant. A woman nine months pregnant in Nepal is expected to carry out all duties put to her until she gives birth to her child and shortly thereafter those duties must continue. There is little to no time for recovery. Due to these conditions and the stress carrying a child and giving birth has on a woman’s body, she is often susceptible to the condition of uterine prolapse. This painful, debilitating condition often goes untreated, as women in these areas are unaware of opportunities for treatment or unable to afford them. 

     I’ve been in Nepal for 6 weeks now and have had the opportunity to attend two health camps held by a woman so passionate about the cause of women’s health and uterine prolapse that she dedicates most of her life to ending it; plunging a great deal of her personal income and much more of her time into the effort to make a difference. This woman is Indira Thapa, the founder and president of the local Community based Organization, Care Women Nepal.

     During the first days of the camps nearly 600 members of the rural Dhankuta community and the outskirts of the Jitpur area arrived at the Community Health Center and waited in long lines ti be seen for a variety of conditions. Some came for eye exams that aren’t available elsewhere and they would never be able to afford if they were. More than half of these community members were women seeking treatment for gynecological issues.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/DSC_0417-300×200.jpeg

     I spent the first day of the camp observing some amazing things; such as a woman nearly eight months pregnant getting to see her baby on an ultrasound for the first time and see its heartbeat and a woman walking around the clinic with a huge smile on her face after being given a pair of eyeglasses and the ability to see the world clearly for the first time in ages.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/DSC_0791-300×200.jpeg

     I had the opportunity to to sit in the gynecology room and watch the procedures. Women came in for any number of reasons, from full-blown uterine prolapse in which which their uterus was protruding from their vagina to a simple pregnancy test. When asked
     if they would have been able to see a doctor, nurse or other healthcare
     professional if this camp were not available the answer was more often than
     not, no. Because this health camp is free of charge, women are more likely to
     walk up to 6 hours to seek medical care, as they cannot afford it otherwise.

     Over the two days of this camp the gynecology team treated
     nearly 300 patients for a variety of gynecological issues. The camp saw more
     than 1,000 patients including men, women and children who would have simply
     suffered with whatever ailment they had, not seeking treatment due to a lack of
     funds or knowledge.

     This camp fills a great need in these rural communities but
     there is so much more that needs to be done. At this camp alone Care Women
     Nepal recognized 22 women with third or fourth degree prolapse in which their
     uteri were protruding from their vaginal canals. This is in addition to the 35
     women recognized during the organization’s June 2015 camp. These women are in
     desperate need of surgeries. If you would like to help, please do so by
     clicking the link below and donating to our campaign.

     Care to make a Difference?  

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:16,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”3″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0458-300×200.jpeg”,”alt”:”DSC_0458″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0458.jpeg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:330},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/3-6a258abf4588105ef70130b29a09068a.jpeg”,”width”:495,”height”:330,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:125124}},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     The answer to this question is not a simple one. It involves women’s health, culture and a slew of other issues that I couldn’t even begin to touch upon.<\/span><\/p>

     The fact is, the world’s healthcare systems are broken. Don’t get me wrong; some are far better than others while some are far far worse. Dire needs aren’t addressed and services can’t reach those who need them the most. Women in developing countries are especially susceptible to these broken systems. The causes for their susceptibility are many; from the cultural norms of societies that keep women’s needs, thoughts and opinions on the back burner to a lack of understanding of women’s health issues; as many young girls in these communities only learn about their bodies through hushes and whispers behind closed doors and sometimes only prior to their wedding nights.<\/span><\/p>

     <\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0891-300×200.jpeg”,”alt”:”DSC_0891″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0891.jpeg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:330},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-105878658bcddf9d40cbe9a0d72ff425.jpeg”,”width”:495,”height”:330,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:84368}},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”9″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     In the country of Nepal, women’s health is most definitely on the back burner and there is one major human rights abuse that is constantly overlooked. That, as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, of uterine prolapse. Women in the rural villages of Nepal are subject to hard labor almost as soon as they are able to walk. They must carry heavy loads of water wood food etc… up treacherous mountain sides every single day in order to cook, clean, eat and live their lives. None of these conditions change when a woman is pregnant. A woman nine months pregnant in Nepal is expected to carry out all duties put to her until she gives birth to her child and shortly thereafter those duties must continue. There is little to no time for recovery. Due to these conditions and the stress carrying a child and giving birth has on a woman’s body, she is often susceptible to the condition of uterine prolapse. This painful, debilitating condition often goes untreated, as women in these areas are unaware of opportunities for treatment or unable to afford them. <\/span><\/p>

     I\u2019ve been in Nepal for 6 weeks now and have had the opportunity to attend two health camps held by a woman so passionate about the cause of women’s health and uterine prolapse that she dedicates most of her life to ending it; plunging a great deal of her personal income and much more of her time into the effort to make a difference. This woman is Indira Thapa, the founder and president of the local Community based Organization, Care Women Nepal.<\/span><\/p>

     During the first days of the camps nearly 600 members of the rural Dhankuta community and the outskirts of the Jitpur area arrived at the Community Health Center and waited in long lines ti be seen for a variety of conditions. Some came for eye exams that aren’t available elsewhere and they would never be able to afford if they were. More than half of these community members were women seeking treatment for gynecological issues.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”10″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0417-300×200.jpeg”,”alt”:”DSC_0417″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0417.jpeg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:330},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/10-d41a636e38ee37a322e29e0b693d36c6.jpeg”,”width”:495,”height”:330,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:120101}},{“id”:”11″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”12″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I spent the first day of the camp observing some amazing things; such as a woman nearly eight months pregnant getting to see her baby on an ultrasound for the first time and see its heartbeat and a woman walking around the clinic with a huge smile on her face after being given a pair of eyeglasses and the ability to see the world clearly for the first time in ages.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”13″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0791-300×200.jpeg”,”alt”:”DSC_0791″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/DSC_0791.jpeg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:330},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/13-fe568e39048040d83dd06ff27b8e8d68.jpeg”,”width”:495,”height”:330,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:97400}},{“id”:”14″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”15″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I had the opportunity to to sit in the gynecology room and watch the procedures. Women came in for any number of reasons, from full-blown uterine prolapse in which which their uterus was protruding from their vagina to a simple pregnancy test. When asked\nif they would have been able to see a doctor, nurse or other healthcare\nprofessional if this camp were not available the answer was more often than\nnot, no. Because this health camp is free of charge, women are more likely to\nwalk up to 6 hours to seek medical care, as they cannot afford it otherwise.<\/span><\/p>\n

     Over the two days of this camp the gynecology team treated\nnearly 300 patients for a variety of gynecological issues. The camp saw more\nthan 1,000 patients including men, women and children who would have simply\nsuffered with whatever ailment they had, not seeking treatment due to a lack of\nfunds or knowledge.<\/span><\/p>\n

     This camp fills a great need in these rural communities but\nthere is so much more that needs to be done. At this camp alone Care Women\nNepal recognized 22 women with third or fourth degree prolapse in which their\nuteri were protruding from their vaginal canals. This is in addition to the 35\nwomen recognized during the organization\u2019s June 2015 camp. These women are in\ndesperate need of surgeries. If you would like to help, please do so by\nclicking the link below and donating to our campaign.<\/span><\/p>

     Care to make a Difference?<\/a> <\/span> <\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

189. What’s in a word? (Part I)

     July 21, 2015 6:17 am 364 Comments

     For those who study communications, media or journalism, language is everything. As a matter of fact, the different languages we speak might potentially even shape the way we understand what is being said or the information that is given within a sentence. Yet, this is something that not many of us take the time to think about.

     Take for example an article from the New York Times titled “Does your language shape how you think?” in which the author states this simple comparison,

     ‘Suppose I say to you in English that “I spent yesterday evening with a neighbor.” You may well wonder whether my companion was male or female, but I have the right to tell you politely that it’s none of your business. But if we were speaking French or German, I wouldn’t have the privilege to equivocate in this way, because I would be obliged by the grammar of language to choose between voisin or voisine; Nachbar or Nachbarin. These languages compel me to inform you about the sex of my companion whether or not I feel it is remotely your concern.’

     One of the first things I learned when reading about the Vietnamese language is that when you talk about personal pronouns, specifically ‘You’ or ‘I’, there’s more to it than what the English language tells us.

     In English, we use ‘I’ and ‘you’ in a very non-descriptive, non-comparable, and informal way. In Spanish, when we refer to ‘you’, we have the informal ‘tu’/‘vos’ (depending on what part of the world you are at) but also the very formal ‘usted’. Spanish then goes one step further than English by establishing how close you might be to the person you are referring to by the simple usage of a personal pronoun.

     In Vietnamese things get even more descriptive. As with most Asian cultures, Vietnamese people have deep respect for their elders so they use age as the variable for their personal pronouns. Therefore, when you are taught Vietnamese pronouns, it is wise to shift from wondering how to refer to him, her or them. Instead, it’s better to understand that personal pronouns change depending on your difference of age with the subject which you are referring to. The question that we should then ask ourselves should be, Is the person younger or older than me?.

     Here are a few examples of how ‘I’ and ‘you’ should be used.

     

     Now, so far so good -as long as the other person is within a ‘moderate’ age difference of you (let it be approximately 10 years or you feel as if they are part of your generation). If that’t not the case then you might just have to refer to this other table.

     

     Given that you probably won’t be using Vietnamese as your primary language anytime soon, I won’t confuse you with the rest of the personal pronouns. Let it be known though that they continue to change in even more creative ways, also depending on what part of the country you are from.

     Just as with Spanish there’s also the informal and formal way to refer to something or someone, which are to be used with caution. Yet, if you are foreigner you get get a little bit of leeway if you mess up. Moreover, at first your pronunciation will most likely be wrong. In this circumstances, a pen and little notebook will come in handy to write down the sentence.

     If you’ve gotten this far in this very dense blog post then you might be wondering, How the heck do you, Armando,  communicate with people then? Taking in consideration that most people in Dong Hoi don’t speak English, that’s a certainly a fair question. The answer is fairly simple and quite amusing: Google Translate.

     Yes, that Google site that you might have used to figure out what your friend miles away from you is posting about on Facebook in his/her mother tongue. The Google Translate app (for mobile phones) not only allows you to type but also speak directly whatever you want to say, then types it and even says it in Vietnamese. After you are done, the other person can reply in their language and the app will interpret and translate just as it did for you before. (Video coming soon)

     I know what you are thinking,  ‘This sounds like the most ridiculous process, not to mention the awkwardness’. Yes, it might just be that, but I have found that people in Vietnam really love seeing it work and are even willing to go through a few awkward moments to be able to communicate with you. It really is the stuff I imagined from watching ‘The Jetsons’ or ‘Back to the future’. (If only they could have also delivered on their flying cars promise). 

     How does Google know what’s the right personal pronoun to use?, you might be wondering. Well, it plays it safe and uses the most formal or respectful way in which people refer to each other; something that people find rather endearing. This process has had me communicating with perfect strangers in the most unusual but also wonderful way possible- passing the phone to each other, speaking in our own language, at times laughing but, more importantly, with a deep desire to engage and don’t let the language barrier stop us from further discovery.

     Another fascinating language difference in Vietnamese is the use of , what I’m gonna call,  a ‘root word’ plus its modifier to make a completely different word all around. Let’s take the word ‘water’ or ‘nước’ in Vietnamese. If you want to ask for soy sauce you ask for ‘water + soy bean sauce’ or ‘ nước tương’ and the same process for a soda, ‘nước ngọt’. ‘‘Nước’ being the ‘root word’ and the rest taking the action of the modifier.

     Granted ‘nước tương’ is certainly the most common way to refer to soy sauce there’s also ‘xi dao’  (pronounced zee-yaoh) which is derived from its Cantonese name and sounds an awful lot to the way we call it in Peru, sillao (pronounced sea-yaoh). This discovery was quite a surprise but made perfect sense given the slave trade that took place in the 19th century which brought Chinese slaves to work at the guano islands in Peru. Eventually, these immigrants integrated into Peruvian society by opening their own small business but that’s a story for my next blog post.

     As I mentioned above, Google Translate has become my best friend but don’t you for a second, dear reader, doubt that I’m trying to speak the language. Vietnamese is a fascinating language with so much history within it that it makes me constantly want to inquire more about the most simple phrase and practice it like there’s no tomorrow.

     Stand by for the second part of this blog post, coming to you sometime next week. Part II will discuss everything I originally wanted to include in this post but that got pushed back by my desire to explain how intricately fascinating my linguistic experiences are here, in the good land of Pho.

     Tạm Biệt.

      

190. Tej Bahadur Bhandari

     July 19, 2015 4:57 am 2 Comments

     I think most of my preconceptions about “disappearances” came from movies. I think of scenes in movies like Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men where Theo Faron (played by Clive Owen) is hurriedly shoved into a windowless van which then speeds off. The disappearances I think of happen quickly, so as not to attract attention. Sometimes they happen at night under cover of darkness – a group of armed men show up to a house in the night; that kind of thing.

     In other words, when I think of disappearances, I don’t think about what happened to Ram’s father thirteen and a half years ago.

     ~

     

     Ram Kumar Bhandari (left) and his father, Tej Bahadur Bhandari 

     Tej Bahadur Bhandari was 56 years old and was a retired teacher and social worker. In the final days of 2001 he had been threatened and detained by security forces in his home district of Lamjung. The Royal Nepal Army had entered the war only the month prior, and their crackdown would lead to the highest number of disappearances in the following years. In 2003 and 2004, more people were forcibly disappeared in Nepal than in any other country on Earth.

     On the final day of 2001 Tej Bhandari was called into the district capital for the last time. Shortly after getting off of the bus into town, he was confronted by security forces. They detained him.

     And this is where all my pre-conceived notions of the nature of disappearances break down.

     What followed was not inconspicuous, quick, or secret. The security forces proceeded to beat Mr. Bhandari in the middle of the main thoroughfare. They did this in broad daylight. They shouted while doing so.

     Ram, standing in the spot his father was beaten and kidnapped

     There was more to the Machiavellian equation than “This person needs to go” – the security forces wanted to send a message to the people of Lamjung. I had been drawing my preconceptions from the wrong places; this wasn’t the stuff of political thrillers, this was something darker. This was a crime drama gone horrible wrong – one where the gangsters and the police were played by the same actors.

     Eventually the beating ended, and then the vehicle made its appearance. It drove to the district police station.

     This is the part where you generally see the words “And he was never seen again.” Ram, Tej’s son, even writes this in his account for the Nepali Times.

     The problem is, though, Tej was seen again after that. Because of the public beating, the people in Lamjung know who it was that carried out these horrible acts. Ram knows exactly who took his father, and he names names in his article. Tej was seen again by many members of the security forces. The problem isn’t that Tej Bhandari wasn’t seen again, the problem is that the people we know are responsible refuse to speak and that Nepal’s government is unwilling to enforce its own 2007 Supreme Court ruling which classified all disappearances as criminal acts.

     Why? Because the military is still staffed, and often lead, by known perpetrators. This is the case with at least two of them men responsible for what happened to Mr. Bhandari.

     ~

     It has taken me a long time to get around to publishing this. What happened to Ram’s father is not unique, but the way in which it happened highlights the total disregard for state has for families – at least if it happened like I imagined it, the security forces would have something to hide behind (e.g. “Oh, he never showed up to the office? Who knows what happened?”)

     Everyone knows what happened. Ram has had to live for 13 and a half years knowing what happened and who did it. Maybe I have trouble thinking and writing about this because I can’t even imagine what that is like.

191. Yalta

     2:57 am 4 Comments

     

     When I think of World War II, I think of that iconic picture from the Yalta Conference of FDR, Churchill, and Stalin. I think it’s a natural enough for us humans to transform the abstract into the concrete. We use a capitals (“Brussel’s offer to Athens”) and heads of states as stand-ins for the wills of entire nations.

     This will to incarnate the abstract into the personal and comprehensible seems like a leitmotif of human thought. All of language could be said to be an exercise in this – it helps us understand and interact with the world more easily.

     This tendency might help us on some ways, but in other ways it creates convenient fictions. It wasn’t FDR, Churchill, or Stalin that won that horrible conflict – it was the soldiers in European fields and forests covered in sweat and mud and blood.

     ~

     I was soaked. The monsoon season began with a whimper and has come into its own with a bang – the last two days have been defined by interminable rain. Ram and I had walked to a public university close to our home base near Lazimpat, and the monsoon decided to interfere, stranding us in a small café where we helped ourselves to samosas and milk tea.

     When we arrived at the university nearly an hour later, we settled into a corner of a dimly lit auditorium filled with plastic lawn chairs and the unmistakable scent of fingernail polish assaulted my nose. I turned and looked around me – there were only men sitting with us.

     Life is filled with little mysteries like that.

     The humidity had reached a point where I gave up any hope that my splotched dress-shirt would ever dry. I focused on trying to surmount the poor lighting conditions the photography gods had offered that day. The anonymity one finds behind a camera is truly unique – I haven’t been taking pictures for long. The DSLR gives you a license to look where before your glance would merely hover without a camera. People accept that in a public event they might be photographed, where they would view someone staring without a camera as a total creep.

     I was not alone. This event was publicized and it had an air of importance. People with video cameras and tripods came early and perched on the best spots near the windows. Journalists hovered over the crowd and snapped pictures with impunity – and I followed their lead.

     

      

     The event was a multi-sponsored event entitled “The Constitution and Human Rights” – organized and attended by a plethora of individuals ranging from former foreign ministers, Maoist party leaders, human rights lawyers, relatives of the disappeared, and at least one gentleman wearing a Che shirt. And despite the inclement weather, the lawn chairs were filled long before the speeches began.

     I listened to the cliff notes that Ram gave me afterwards – Human Rights and their place within the Nepali constitution is one of the single most contentious issues in Nepali politics now, and there are several groups vying for influence in the debate; a large demonstration is due to take place this Friday by local women’s rights groups among others. There was a gentleman that I recognized – a father of one of the disappeared students that I had met at the meeting several weeks back; he spoke with the same passion and purpose as before, but this time to an audience of outsiders.

     All of the subject matter is fascinating to me, but what captivated me more was the process.

     This is the grunt work of society: disparate groups and individuals crammed into a public school to hear the opinions of a wide range of interests. This is how political fates are won and lost – one opinion at a time, one impassioned speech at a time, one disagreement at a time, one journalist’s notebook at a time.

     The atmosphere shifted, depending on who was doing the talking, from restlessness to riveted, from laughter to discomfort. With only the most rudimentary understanding of Nepali, I relied on the facial expressions of those on the panel and asking questions, or in some cases, demanding answers.

     

     These are the trench-fighters. These are the soldiers. And while history may not give them credit, make no mistake about who is doing the fighting.

192. A Not So Futile Tongue

     July 13, 2015 12:37 pm 1 Comment

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/20150608_172854-300×227.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/20150608_170707-300×210.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/20150608_172852-300×185.jpg

     As we made our way down the final hill, that when I could
     spot our destination Inchangu. It was a sight hard to miss. An open flat field
     with about hundred or so tents, separated into two zones by a few houses that
     were still left standing.  I was
     told about 90 families were displaced in Inchangu during the earthquake. The
     CONCERN team was heading there to check up on the temporary fun shelter they
     had built as well as to hand out some more relief.

     Making my way up to the tent, I saw a few dozen heads
     peaking out from underneath the yellow tarp. The temporary fun shelter was put
     into place so that the children living in the area had a safe place to come
     after school and spend their evenings learning, and playing games.

     It was nice to be out in the field and witness first hand
     the direct care offered by CONCERN. We spent a few hours with the kids, talking
     to their teacher, their parents, and handing out relief.

     Towards the end I took a seat outside the tent, wanting just
     a minute to observe. As the children began to pack up for the day, a group of
     boys parked themselves beside me. I sat there in silence while they talked and
     laughed and slowly one by one began to head towards their temporary homes. Then
     there was only one boy left. Every so often I would catch him sneaking glances
     my way. I figured I might as well take the first step and initiate a
     conversation. 

      “Namaste. What’s your name?” I asked in Hindi

     “Aryan”

     “Where do you live?”

     “Well my house is gone because of the vukampa (earthquake),
     but now I live over there in the blue tent.” He pointed over to his left.

     “Wow your Hindi is really good, where did you learn it
     from?”

     “From T.V. Where did you learn from?”

     “From watching LOTS of Bollywood films.”

     This made him crack the tinniest of smiles that might have
     possibly gone unnoticed if I had blinked.

     Who would’ve thought spending countless hours watching Bollywood
     movies would payoff. I had discovered Hindi to be a pretty futile language. I
     found myself repeatedly wishing India had taken the same route as China. With
     its strong market economy, Mandarin is considered a valuable skill to have.
     Hindi on the other hand seemed very much useless, considering how the English language
     has exploded onto India. So much so that India is the prime destination for
     outsourcing many telemarketing jobs from the west. Oh how great it would’ve
     been to find a simple job as a translator, with a six-figure salary. Sadly that
     was not in the cards for a Hindi speaking girl.

     Yet it all didn’t seem so bad in this very moment. This
     simple interaction could have easily manifested into something completely
     different if I had needed a translator. But here I was able to listen and hold
     a conversation with this young boy. Being able to gain a bit of insight into
     his life, it was truly something to be grateful for.

     “How many of you live in there?” I asked

     “6 of us. Me, my mom, dad, sister, grandma and uncle”

     “Oh wow that’s a big family”

     “Yeah, a lot of our stuff is gone, but it’s ok because buwa
     (father) said we’re going to make a new house, that will have all new things
     inside.”

     “With a brand new bed and hopefully lots of new toys!”

     “Yeah…” he said as his gazed moved back to his temporary
     home.

     After a few more minutes of chatting about his school, favorite
     T.V show, and his very mischievous sister, we began to bid our farewells. I
     made sure to remind him to share some of the cookies given to him with his
     younger sister. He smiled a great big smile and said he would. As I watched him
     walk away, I couldn’t help but be captivated by the positivity these kids
     seemed to breathe into there own lives. 

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:6,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/20150608_172854-300×227.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-d5c692862bee09b14e556798ffce5d08.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:31264},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-d5c692862bee09b14e556798ffce5d08.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:227,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:47205}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/20150608_170707-300×210.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-a73047c3b41ee3148be03682a8905cf7.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:34612},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-a73047c3b41ee3148be03682a8905cf7.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:210,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:53854}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/20150608_172852-300×185.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-thumb-4f7a71ccae446da96e7173fdb10e4d6c.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:33114},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-large-4f7a71ccae446da96e7173fdb10e4d6c.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:185,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:46305}}]},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     As we made our way down the final hill, that when I could\nspot our destination Inchangu. It was a sight hard to miss. An open flat field\nwith about hundred or so tents, separated into two zones by a few houses that\nwere still left standing.  I was\ntold about 90 families were displaced in Inchangu during the earthquake. The\nCONCERN team was heading there to check up on the temporary fun shelter they\nhad built as well as to hand out some more relief.<\/span><\/p>

     Making my way up to the tent, I saw a few dozen heads\npeaking out from underneath the yellow tarp. The temporary fun shelter was put\ninto place so that the children living in the area had a safe place to come\nafter school and spend their evenings learning, and playing games. <\/span><\/p>

     It was nice to be out in the field and witness first hand\nthe direct care offered by CONCERN. We spent a few hours with the kids, talking\nto their teacher, their parents, and handing out relief. <\/span><\/p>

     Towards the end I took a seat outside the tent, wanting just\na minute to observe. As the children began to pack up for the day, a group of\nboys parked themselves beside me. I sat there in silence while they talked and\nlaughed and slowly one by one began to head towards their temporary homes. Then\nthere was only one boy left. Every so often I would catch him sneaking glances\nmy way. I figured I might as well take the first step and initiate a\nconversation.  <\/span><\/p>

      \u201cNamaste. What\u2019s your name?\u201d I asked in Hindi<\/span><\/span><\/p>

     \u201cAryan\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cWhere do you live?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cWell my house is gone because of the vukampa (earthquake),\nbut now I live over there in the blue tent.\u201d He pointed over to his left. <\/span><\/p>

     \u201cWow your Hindi is really good, where did you learn it\nfrom?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cFrom T.V. Where did you learn from?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cFrom watching LOTS of Bollywood films.\u201d <\/span><\/p>

     This made him crack the tinniest of smiles that might have\npossibly gone unnoticed if I had blinked. <\/span><\/p>

     Who would\u2019ve thought spending countless hours watching Bollywood\nmovies would payoff. I had discovered Hindi to be a pretty futile language. I\nfound myself repeatedly wishing India had taken the same route as China. With\nits strong market economy, Mandarin is considered a valuable skill to have.\nHindi on the other hand seemed very much useless, considering how the English language\nhas exploded onto India. So much so that India is the prime destination for\noutsourcing many telemarketing jobs from the west. Oh how great it would\u2019ve\nbeen to find a simple job as a translator, with a six-figure salary. Sadly that\nwas not in the cards for a Hindi speaking girl. <\/span><\/p>

     Yet it all didn\u2019t seem so bad in this very moment. This\nsimple interaction could have easily manifested into something completely\ndifferent if I had needed a translator. But here I was able to listen and hold\na conversation with this young boy. Being able to gain a bit of insight into\nhis life, it was truly something to be grateful for. <\/span><\/p>

     \u201cHow many of you live in there?\u201d I asked <\/span><\/p>

     \u201c6 of us. Me, my mom, dad, sister, grandma and uncle\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cOh wow that\u2019s a big family\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cYeah, a lot of our stuff is gone, but it\u2019s ok because buwa\n(father) said we\u2019re going to make a new house, that will have all new things\ninside.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

     \u201cWith a brand new bed and hopefully lots of new toys!\u201d <\/span><\/p>

     \u201cYeah\u2026\u201d he said as his gazed moved back to his temporary\nhome. <\/span><\/p>

     \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<\/p>

     After a few more minutes of chatting about his school, favorite\nT.V show, and his very mischievous sister, we began to bid our farewells. I\nmade sure to remind him to share some of the cookies given to him with his\nyounger sister. He smiled a great big smile and said he would. As I watched him\nwalk away, I couldn\u2019t help but be captivated by the positivity these kids\nseemed to breathe into there own lives. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

193. The Nuts and Bolts

     11:58 am 1 Comment

     Like most things, a organization has many nuts and bolts that hold it together. Today I want to introduce you to the team that holds CONCERN together.

     Devaki Ghumiri, originally from Nuwakot, Devaki moved to Katmandu about
     9 years ago. She has been CONCERN for 7 years as their receptionist/office
     manager. Devaki says she enjoys CONCERNS mission. “To work and protect the
     children, it’s a nice idea”. Devaki likes that CONCERN honestly attempts to
     work for this goals. 

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_0003-200×300.jpg

     Prakash Basi  has been with CONCERN since the very beginning.
     Prakash has over 20 years with the organization. He says, “this is my first job
     and it will be my last.” Prakash did his BA in labor intermediate and landed a
     job at CONCERN right after graduating. Over the years Prakash has taken on many
     different roles. Starting as a formal education teacher, then moving to the
     role of field officer, field researcher, and finally his current position
     finance officer. “This started as just a job, but I soon realized how much I
     enjoyed working for the underprivileged. If I can help them in the slightest
     way, I’ve done well.” 

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_00051-300×200.jpg

     Sundar Kamal graduated with a B.A degree of Science and Physics.
     He has been with CONCERN for 4 years now. He started at office assistant, and
     was promoted to a field officer to its Imadol location two years later. Sundar’s
     plan was to initially continue his education and study for his Masters in the
     field of hard sciences. But he now says that after seeing how much I enjoy the
     non-profit sector. He will pursue his degree in the social sciences. Sundar had
     this to say about his time at CONCERN “I enjoy the staff and most of my skills
     development I have learned from my time working at CONCERN. They provided me
     the opportunity for growth.”

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_0006-300×200.jpg

     An honorary CONCERN residence: although he technically is
     not a CONCERN employees Karma plays a crucial role in the day-to-day
     of office life.

     Karma Lama came to stay at CONCERN’s head office in Katmandu 8
     years ago after his father tirelessly looked for accommodations for his son
     while he pursued his studies. CONCERN opened its doors and offered Karma free
     accommodations. Karma is currently attending college for his plus twos. His
     hopes are to become a civil engineer and continue his education by attending a
     university abroad. Karma had this to say “I can’t say anything about the
     organization as I don’t have any experience in the field. But I feel it is my
     duty to help this organization and the people of this office as much as I can”

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_0026-117×300.jpg

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:11,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Like most things, a organization has many nuts and bolts that hold it together. Today I want to introduce you to the team that holds CONCERN together.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

     Devaki Ghumiri, o<\/span>riginally from Nuwakot, Devaki moved to Katmandu about\n9 years ago. She has been CONCERN for 7 years as their receptionist\/office\nmanager. Devaki says she enjoys CONCERNS mission. \u201cTo work and protect the\nchildren, it\u2019s a nice idea\u201d. Devaki likes that CONCERN honestly attempts to\nwork for this goals. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0003-200×300.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0003″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0003.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-35788d383859e498dc22dbf11bac84aa.jpg”,”width”:166,”height”:247,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:35579},”size”:{“width”:166,”height”:247}},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Prakash Basi  has been with CONCERN since the very beginning.\nPrakash has over 20 years with the organization. He says, \u201cthis is my first job\nand it will be my last.\u201d Prakash did his BA in labor intermediate and landed a\njob at CONCERN right after graduating. Over the years Prakash has taken on many\ndifferent roles. Starting as a formal education teacher, then moving to the\nrole of field officer, field researcher, and finally his current position\nfinance officer. \u201cThis started as just a job, but I soon realized how much I\nenjoyed working for the underprivileged. If I can help them in the slightest\nway, I\u2019ve done well.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_00051-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0005″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_00051.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-e8f0d3e977b026e9d2e4c4984a3ad999.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:39577}},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Sundar Kamal graduated with a B.A degree of Science and Physics.\nHe has been with CONCERN for 4 years now. He started at office assistant, and\nwas promoted to a field officer to its Imadol location two years later. Sundar\u2019s\nplan was to initially continue his education and study for his Masters in the\nfield of hard sciences. But he now says that after seeing how much I enjoy the\nnon-profit sector. He will pursue his degree in the social sciences. Sundar had\nthis to say about his time at CONCERN \u201cI enjoy the staff and most of my skills\ndevelopment I have learned from my time working at CONCERN. They provided me\nthe opportunity for growth.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”8″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0006-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0006″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0006.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/8-e63abead7064616bc3446bf08618b56e.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:48210}},{“id”:”9″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     An honorary CONCERN residence: although he technically is\nnot a CONCERN employees Karma plays a crucial role in the day-to-day\nof office life. <\/span><\/p>

     Karma Lama came to stay at CONCERN\u2019s head office in Katmandu 8\nyears ago after his father tirelessly looked for accommodations for his son\nwhile he pursued his studies. CONCERN opened its doors and offered Karma free\naccommodations. Karma is currently attending college for his plus twos. His\nhopes are to become a civil engineer and continue his education by attending a\nuniversity abroad. Karma had this to say \u201cI can\u2019t say anything about the\norganization as I don\u2019t have any experience in the field. But I feel it is my\nduty to help this organization and the people of this office as much as I can\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”10″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0026-117×300.jpg”,”alt”:”Version 2″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_0026.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:166,”height”:423},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/10-0408c91503f27d7564f05e72bb490927.jpg”,”width”:166,”height”:423,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:39468}}]}[/content-builder]

194. What is your caste?

     July 10, 2015 8:40 pm Leave a Comment

     This is a question that has been asked of me on several occasions since I arrived in Dhankuta. I thought I had a pretty good understanding of the caste system in Nepal (mainly based on India’s) but I think I’m a bit confused at the moment…

     When I tell people that the United States doesn’t have a caste system but instead people are either rich, upper middle-class, middle-class, lower middle-class, or poor and though it’s difficult people are allowed through education to traverse those classes. Even writing it out makes me question the honesty behind my statement. The truth is, most people would like to believe that the United States doesn’t have a caste a system but we most certainly do; we just don’t call it that.

     I’ve learned a bit since being here about Nepal’s caste system. They have four major castes or varnas named as follows: Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya and Sudra. The Brahmin include teachers priests, politicians/leaders, healers etc… The Kshatriya include the warriors and protectors of the people. The Vaishya are traders and landowners and the Sudra tend to be the servants and considered lower-class members of society. Additionally, there are the Dalits (untouchables) who are below the Sudras and considered to be so polluted that they are regarded as outside the caste system entirely. 

     Nepal has attempted to heal some of the pain and economic disadvantage of the Dalits and Sudras by offering programs similar to what we in the United States my compare to Affirmative Action. I met a young woman while in Dhankuta who was a recipient of some of this assistance and currently works as a nurse at one of the local clinics. Her attitude towards life reminds me a great deal of an African American youth unsure of whether or not he/she truly belongs in a school, job or other environment; always making sure she says the right things, wears the right clothes and doesn’t offend.

     I see her often and she always wants to talk and practice her english. I wish I could tell her that things get better and one day she’ll be comfortable with the world she lives in but I don’t know that that’s true. What I do know is the United States does have a caste system.

     We just don’t call it that.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:5,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”4″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     This is a question that has been asked of me on several occasions since I arrived in Dhankuta. I thought I had a pretty good understanding of the caste system in Nepal (mainly based on India’s) but I think I’m a bit confused at the moment…<\/p>

     When I tell people that the United States doesn’t have a caste system but instead people are either rich, upper middle-class, middle-class, lower middle-class, or poor and though it’s difficult people are allowed through education to traverse those classes. Even writing it out makes me question the honesty behind my statement. The truth is, most people would like to believe that the United States doesn’t have a caste a system but we most certainly do; we just don’t call it that.<\/p>

     I’ve learned a bit since being here about Nepal’s caste system. They have four major castes or varnas named as follows: Brahmin, <\/span>Kshatriya, <\/span>Vaishya and <\/span>Sudra. The Brahmin include teachers priests, politicians\/leaders, healers etc… The Kshatriya include the warriors and protectors of the people. The Vaishya are traders and landowners and the Sudra tend to be the servants and considered lower-class members of society. Additionally, there are the Dalits (untouchables) who are below the Sudras and considered to be so polluted that they are regarded as outside the caste system entirely. <\/p>

     Nepal has attempted to heal some of the pain and economic disadvantage of the Dalits and Sudras by offering programs similar to what we in the United States my compare to Affirmative Action. I met a young woman while in Dhankuta who was a recipient of some of this assistance and currently works as a nurse at one of the local clinics. Her attitude towards life reminds me a great deal of an African American youth unsure of whether or not he\/she truly belongs in a school, job or other environment; always making sure she says the right things, wears the right clothes and doesn’t offend.<\/p>

     I see her often and she always wants to talk and practice her english. I wish I could tell her that things get better and one day she’ll be comfortable with the world she lives in but I don’t know that that’s true. What I do know is the United States does have a caste system.<\/p>

     We just don’t call it that.<\/p>

     <\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

195. Good Morning, Vietnam

     July 3, 2015 1:08 pm 3 Comments

     Please visit  goo.gl/b3GQrz for the interactive story.

     After a week of training, some time to tie up loose ends in DC and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to photograph the scene outside the Supreme Court after the monumental ruling that legalized gay marriage, I finally left for Vietnam. As I stepped on the first plane that will take me on a thirty-hour journey it was hard not to feel like it was all happening too fast. A feeling, I’m sure, the interns I photographed the previous day shared as they delivered the Supreme court ruling to the their respective news outlets.

     As I left Dulles Airport I couldn’t help but think that I was on my way to the farthest location I’ve ever been to in my life while doing the work that I have hoped to do for so long – helping to shed some light on Agent Orange victims (AOV) and the legacy of the Vietnam War; Needless to say, while feeling mildly scared but excited for what was next to come.

     My early fascination and desire to learn more about the Vietnam War comes from watching ‘The Wonder Years’ as an elementary school student. Getting a crash course on what those days were all about and how it changed (and divided) a nation was the ultimate and earliest guilty pleasure I can recount. I often found myself tearing up and living every single episode as it was happening in my very own backyard, cheering and wanting to learn more about ‘the flower movement’ as it attempted to challenge the system for what felt wrong, questioning the reasons of such war and understanding the effects of it in those who went to fight it. Yet, for the longest time the intrigue and curiosity was one-sided as I stupidly only focused on the American troops. It wasn’t until I was a bit older when I started wondering what happened to those Vietnamese who fought in the war, the consequences it had in their lives and, more importantly, in their nation as a whole.

     Fast track to twenty-plus years later and here I was on my way to Doha wondering how does one survive a thirteen-hour flight while sick. * Oh yeah, I suddenly got sick three days before my departure, with a cough and cold symptoms that I’m sure made my next-seat neighbor wonder what SARS strain he was going to get from me.

     Hamad International was our first stop and where I started noticing that things where going to be a bit more and more different as I flew farther away from ‘the West’, as illustrated by the photos below. Perfect timing for me to do some more research on Vietnamese etiquette, I thought, as the last thing I want to do is to offend anybody or look rather arrogant.

     Next stop was Suvarnabhumi Airport where I had a layover of seven hours with plenty of time to buy some meds, feel as if I was about to die and wonder what kind of narrative was I going to add to the victims of Agent Orange stories. As a freelance visual journalist, one learns that you only head somewhere if you can help add to the narrative and further the conversation about a topic, especially when practically doing it on your own dime.

     Being the forty-year anniversary since the war ended, several media outlets have taken a second look at some of the Agent Orange victims’ stories. A great example of such work is Damir Sagolj’s photo essay for Reuters and that I can’t recommend enough (http://widerimage.reuters.com/story/legacy-of-agent-orange ) . One thing I noticed was how the post on Reuter’s Facebook page was filled with comments of people who wanted to contribute to or help the victims of AO but didn’t know how or who was doing something about it. AEPD (Association for Empowerment of People with Disabilities), the organization I’ll be working for, has been providing all kinds of support to victims of AO for years and the reason why, at times, I feel as if my work will be so small compared to theirs. Yet, not enough people know about it and continuing to ignore these peoples’ suffering only perpetuates the cycle of violence that war so intrinsically leaves.

     For that reason, one of my main deliverables during the fellowship will be to provide AEPD with several storytelling media products to help spread the word about their work, AO victims, and thd need for funding and support from the international community.

     With all that mind and after thirty hours, fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds I finally made it to Hanoi, where the temperature was a scorching one hundred and nine degrees; Basically, Dante’s inferno. Knowing that I only had a little bit more than twelve hours in Hanoi I embarked myself in a self-guided walking tour around the city and boy, did I love it.

     Soon enough Google translate became my best friend as I noticed that the good ol’ English standard was longtime gone and people simply looked at me perplexed of who this curly-haired, tan-skinned, awfully-tired-looking man was, speaking to them in anything else but Vietnamese. Moreover, the ‘Instant Vietnamese: How to express 1000 different ideas with just 100 key words and phrases book’ I had recently purchased was of no use, as I quickly remembered that the language is tonal and thus reading the pronunciation doesn’t help.

     Hanoi is, simply put, an insane city in the best way possible. Scooters, motorcycles, pedestrians, and a few cars compete to make their way through the streets in such a synchronized manner that no matter how close you’ll think one of them is to hitting something they will simply stop or evade it at the last millisecond. Add to that the constant chaos and commotion of daily life and you will either hate it or love it.

     After walking for what seemed an eternity and feeling as I was about to pass out -surely the jet lag must have had something to do with this- I found myself in the middle of a busy intersection that led to a couple of narrow alleys with street restaurants that served the most delicious, cheap and good looking food I had in a while. I sat down and without hesitation ordered what previously might have been unimaginable with the heat index hitting 115, a big bowl of Pho. At last I was in Vietnam and had no desire to maintain any of my western standards but instead attempt to embrace the culture as much as I could, starting with the food.

     Early next morning was my final and shortest flight, from Hanoi to Dong Hoi, where AEPD is located. Throughout the flight the words of Ross Taylor, and amazing visual journalist who I had the privileged of meeting this year, resonated with me, ‘What right do I have to be here?’. This question is of extreme importance, he explained, as it should be able to help you do some proper digging into what justification does one have to be able to go someplace and insert themselves in it while doing work.

     As I was shown my room at the hostel that I will call home for the next ten weeks and the receptionist walked away while closing the door, I looked out the window and couldn’t help but to think: “What right do I have to be here?”; A question I hope to answer over the next weeks.

     (The Wonder Years theme music starts playing)

196. “Nepali Time”

     8:47 am 3 Comments

     I had heard it mentioned a few times before my trip, to be prepared to conduct business on “Nepali Time”. Apparently in Nepal there is this generalization that when a meeting time is scheduled, assume that the meeting will be delayed roughly 30 minutes to an hour. I was curious to see how much validity there was to this stereotype that the Nepalese were habitually tardy. Having only 10 weeks in Nepal for my peace fellowship and being a pretty punctual person myself I was hoping that there wasn’t much truth behind this.

     Upon my arrival in Katmandu I was almost pleased to see the hustle and bustle of traffic. It seemed as though everyone was in a rush to get somewhere, perhaps the concept of “Nepali time” no longer accurately reflected the reality. It only took me a few days to realize how mistaken I was. Yes it was true Nepali people, when it comes to traffic, are always in a rush…to get nowhere. Its almost as though it’s a game, everyone wants to be the first one to reach the traffic light/ intersection/ roundabout. And it has nothing to do with them being in a hurry. Not at all, it has everything to do with them wanting to be the first in line. As soon as they are done overtaking you in an overly competitive manner, they will slow down practically to snail speed and bask in their triumph. 

     When it came to everything else, it was as though there is no real value to time. The western ideology “time is money” is not something that translated very well into Nepalese culture; time just is not considered a valuable commodity. Here one does things at ones own leisure. Probably one of the toughest things I have dealt with since arriving. Is adjusting my time to Nepali time, because of this meeting every deadline seemed like a monumental task 

     I am slowly realizing though that following the ticking clock is just my way of doing things not necessarily the right approach or the only approach. Just yesterday we were on our way to a meeting scheduled for 1 o’clock. Already running about 30 minutes late. We had to pick up a community member also attending the meeting. At the pick up point we noticed a monkey lying besides the school building. The distress and confusion was unmistakably visible in eyes.  When inquiring about its state of health, it turns out the monkey had been an honorary student for the past few years, and in the last two days his health had slowly been deteriorating. They had attempted to call Nepal’s Animal Control, but had not received a reply. At this point I had already prepared myself to jump back into the car and make our way to the already delayed meeting. What else could we do for that poor monkey? We had a meeting to attend. To my surprise, no one else followed my lead. It started with a group of two men huddled exchanging information, looking at their list of contacts, seeing whom they could call. The group slowly grew to about six members all putting in there two cents. After throwing around multiple scenarios, calling a handful of numbers, an hour and a half later someone was finally reached that could assist in the matter of the monkey. 

     Knowing that the Nepali people just march to a different rhythm/beat of time, I now admire them for it. There is this very flexible notion of what “time” is. Time is used as a gentle guide, not a scrupulous master. Managing opportunities perhaps is more important then being someplace on the dot.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:7,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I had heard it mentioned a few times before my trip, to be prepared to conduct business on \u201cNepali Time\u201d. Apparently in Nepal there is this generalization that when a meeting time is scheduled, assume that the meeting will be delayed roughly 30 minutes to an hour. I was curious to see how much validity there was to this stereotype that the Nepalese were habitually tardy. Having only 10 weeks in Nepal for my peace fellowship and being a pretty punctual person myself I was hoping that there wasn\u2019t much truth behind this.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Upon my arrival in Katmandu I was almost pleased to see the hustle and bustle of traffic. It seemed as though everyone was in a rush to get somewhere, perhaps the concept of \u201cNepali time\u201d no longer accurately reflected the reality. It only took me a few days to realize how mistaken I was. Yes it was true Nepali people, when it comes to traffic, are always in a rush\u2026to get nowhere. Its almost as though it\u2019s a game, everyone wants to be the first one to reach the traffic light\/ intersection\/ roundabout. And it has nothing to do with them being in a hurry. Not at all, it has everything to do with them wanting to be the first in line. As soon as they are done overtaking you in an overly competitive manner, they will slow down practically to snail speed and bask in their triumph. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     When it came to everything else, it was as though there is no real value to time. The western ideology \u201ctime is money\u201d is not something that translated very well into Nepalese culture; time just is not considered a valuable commodity. Here one does things at ones own leisure. Probably one of the toughest things I have dealt with since arriving. Is adjusting my time to Nepali time, because of this meeting every deadline seemed like a monumental task <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I am slowly realizing though that following the ticking clock is just my way of doing things not necessarily the right approach or the only approach. Just yesterday we were on our way to a meeting scheduled for 1 o\u2019clock. Already running about 30 minutes late. We had to pick up a community member also attending the meeting. At the pick up point we noticed a monkey lying besides the school building. The distress and confusion was unmistakably visible in eyes.  When inquiring about its state of health, it turns out the monkey had been an honorary student for the past few years, and in the last two days his health had slowly been deteriorating. They had attempted to call Nepal\u2019s Animal Control, but had not received a reply. At this point I had already prepared myself to jump back into the car and make our way to the already delayed meeting. What else could we do for that poor monkey? We had a meeting to attend. To my surprise, no one else followed my lead. It started with a group of two men huddled exchanging information, looking at their list of contacts, seeing whom they could call. The group slowly grew to about six members all putting in there two cents. After throwing around multiple scenarios, calling a handful of numbers, an hour and a half later someone was finally reached that could assist in the matter of the monkey. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Knowing that the Nepali people just march to a different rhythm\/beat of time, I now admire them for it. There is this very flexible notion of what \u201ctime\u201d is. Time is used as a gentle guide, not a scrupulous master. Managing opportunities perhaps is more important then being someplace on the dot.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

197. Walking Home and Impunity

     June 29, 2015 9:00 am 3 Comments

     A few days ago, Ram and I were walking from his house to the main road. Ram is the head of NEFAD and my partner here. It was just after lunch, and while the temperature was by no means extreme (it was probably in the mid-eighties at most), the humidity and lack of a breeze meant that after only a few moments outside, one is inevitably drenched in sweat.

     Fresh off of a long conversation over lunch, we walked in silence for the most part. I was still familiarizing myself with his neighborhood. Schools, shops, and homes crowd the small, winding road between the main drag and Ram’s house.

     Ram’s neighborhood was spared the worst of the earthquake – most of the homes are solidly built and newer construction. No matter what the neighborhood, however, the most ubiquitous sign of the earthquake is found in the crumbling brick walls that generally separate compounds from the road and each other.

     These walls are usually made from brick and mud and overnight a significant portion of them crumbled. fell. Throughout my own neighborhood and Ram’s one could see new walls being built – sometimes of concrete and sometimes crafted from the rubble that remained. (I have been told that new regulations require all newly constructed walls be under 4 feet high. I’m skeptical, because I would imagine that regulation is in meters and 1.2192 meters seems arbitrary.)

     In any case, Ram and I passed plenty of walls like that. But one in particular stood out because, instead of any attempt to rebuild, two gargantuan spools of razor wire were simply piled onto the rubble.

     When Ram caught me looking at it, he told me that it was military barracks. He told me that the Nepalese government had detained many people there during the civil war, and that between September and December of 2003, 49 people were detained there who never made it out. There is no record of their execution or transfer – they simply vanished.

     It was a stark reminder of how there is no separation here between these disappearances and everyday life for the families – it is not some theoretical or abstract concept. Ram walks by this military barracks every day. He is immersed in it.

     For half a second, I thought to snap a picture of the spools of razor wire, but two things stopped me: the first was the lighting – it was midday and the lighting was horrible. The second was the young man in the guard tower wielding an L1A1 that reminded me that it was a military barracks and it’s generally a poor decision to photograph those.

     So I hope you accept my apology for not appending a photograph. Here’s an illustration from the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Nepal’s report entitled “Report of investigation into arbitrary detention, torture and disappearances at Maharajgunj RNA barracks, Kathmandu, in 2003–2004:”

     

     And feel free to take a look at the reports by the OHCHR and Human Rights Watch here and here, respectively.

     Those aren’t exactly summer reading. They are incredibly depressing, actually. Now, imagine having to think about those two documents every evening on your way home. That is the nature of impunity.

198. Oblivio

     June 19, 2015 8:16 am 4 Comments

     Oblivio is a Latin word that means to forget. Etymologists are a little hazy on how the word was formed – some speculate that it comes from the combination of ob (over) and liveo (to become dark) – literally meaning to be cast over in darkness. (more…)

199. The Monster Beneath The Bed

     June 17, 2015 5:05 am 3 Comments

     I sat up in my bed, in an absolute panic. The moment I had been dreading since I had arrived in Nepal was finally here. It was a 4.1 after shock; its epicenter was in Sindhupalchowk. Since I had arrived in Kathmandu there had been 6 after shocks reported. They had come and gone unnoticed to me.  A part of me thought I might be immune to the trembling earth. Not quiet the case, because here I was up at 3:30 am terror stricken while my bed shook beneath me ever so slightly.

     A part of me felt relieved to have finally felt an actual aftershock. I had been living in fear ever since I arrived in Nepal of this very moment. Constantly imagining the earth viciously rumbling and moving underneath me. Now that I had experienced it first hand, the fear was no longer unknown.  The aftershock had provided me with a tiny bit of insight, I’d like to think, to the experience of what the Nepali people are going through.

     Simply captivating is the only way I can describe the people and dynamic city of Katmandu. I was hooked the minute my eyes grazed the majestic mountainous landscape that is Nepal. The hours of reading I had done felt wasteful, none of it prepared me for what I was about to experience. Upon my arrival I noticed the aftermath from that day was still very much present in the city. The destruction it left behind had made itself a long term resident instead of a weekend visitor.  From the piles of relief aid stacked on the side of the tarmacs at the airport, the mountains of rubble left around the city, and the thousands left living in temporary shelters. All of this seemed a constant reminder that there is a monster hiding underneath the bed.

     What I wasn’t prepared for was the remarkable spirit embedded in the people of Nepal. I had imagined that people here would be anxious, upset, and incredibly angry for what they have had to go through. Instead they showed a complete stranger genuine kindness; showed remarkable strength when sharing their experiences from that day and the many days after; and faced each day with resilience.  Especially the youth of Nepal, it’s obvious a force consumes them, their strength has been wilted but they’re determined to stand tall again. Just as the fallen building are a constant reminder of that tragic days there are also posters and art around the city announcing that “Nepal will rise again” reminding them just how much they’re capable of.  So many people took the initiative whether it was by collaborating with existing grassroots or realizing their own capacity in their community. Through their individual efforts the power of “OUR” was reinforced. This is “OUR” Nepal and its future is ours.

     I think the quake might have accidentally instilled a virtue in the minds of many. After such a catastrophe there is a realization of responsibility amongst individuals. With a strong belief in the power of “OUR”. There exists hope that Nepal will not return to normal, it will return to a new normal. My hope is that it be a better normal.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:14,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”10″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     <\/p>

     I sat up in my bed, in an absolute panic. The moment I had been dreading since I had arrived in Nepal was finally here. It was a 4.1 after shock; its epicenter was in Sindhupalchowk. Since I had arrived in Kathmandu there had been 6 after shocks reported. They had come and gone unnoticed to me.  A part of me thought I might be immune to the trembling earth. Not quiet the case, because here I was up at 3:30 am terror stricken while my bed shook beneath me ever so slightly.<\/span><\/p>

     A part of me felt relieved to have finally felt an actual aftershock. I had been living in fear ever since I arrived in Nepal of this very moment. Constantly imagining the earth viciously rumbling and moving underneath me. Now that I had experienced it first hand, the fear was no longer unknown.  The aftershock had provided me with a tiny bit of insight, I\u2019d like to think, to the experience of what the Nepali people are going through.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”11″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Simply captivating is the only way I can describe the people and dynamic city of Katmandu. I was hooked the minute my eyes grazed the majestic mountainous landscape that is Nepal. The hours of reading I had done felt wasteful, none of it prepared me for what I was about to experience. Upon my arrival I noticed the aftermath from that day was still very much present in the city. The destruction it left behind had made itself a long term resident instead of a weekend visitor.  From the piles of relief aid stacked on the side of the tarmacs at the airport, the mountains of rubble left around the city, and the thousands left living in temporary shelters. All of this seemed a constant reminder that there is a monster hiding underneath the bed.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”12″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     What I wasn\u2019t prepared for was the remarkable spirit embedded in the people of Nepal. I had imagined that people here would be anxious, upset, and incredibly angry for what they have had to go through. Instead they showed a complete stranger genuine kindness; showed remarkable strength when sharing their experiences from that day and the many days after; and faced each day with resilience.  Especially the youth of Nepal, it\u2019s obvious a force consumes them, their strength has been wilted but they\u2019re determined to stand tall again. Just as the fallen building are a constant reminder of that tragic days there are also posters and art around the city announcing that \u201cNepal will rise again\u201d reminding them just how much they\u2019re capable of.  So many people took the initiative whether it was by collaborating with existing grassroots or realizing their own capacity in their community. Through their individual efforts the power of \u201cOUR\u201d was reinforced. This is \u201cOUR\u201d Nepal and its future is ours.<\/span>
     <\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”13″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I think the quake might have accidentally instilled a virtue in the minds of many. After such a catastrophe there is a realization of responsibility amongst individuals. With a strong belief in the power of \u201cOUR\u201d. There exists hope that Nepal will not return to normal, it will return to a new normal. My hope is that it be a better normal.<\/span>
     <\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

200. June Health Camp

     June 12, 2015 1:39 am Leave a Comment

     The first health camp came and went in a bit of a blur. I arrived to dozens of people greeting me with applause and singing, putting leis on me and adorning my forehead with thika. The final result being this…

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/DSC_0085-300×200.jpg

     The camp began with celebrations; honoring those that made the camp possible. There was a great deal of singing and dancing; lots of speeches and awards of recognition given out.

     My goal during this camp was really just to find out how it worked, hear some of the women’s stories, find out what knowledge they had about uterine prolapse, what they needed in order to help them resolve these issues and what their everyday lives looked like. I was able to interview several women with help of my interpreter Yunesh.

     The camp was 2 days. One of which I spent without any water because one of my plastic filtered water bottle disappeared and I forgot my water filter (never forget your water filter!!) It was the beginning of the rainy season, so as we waited for the final logistics of the event to pan themselves out it started to pour. I attempted a rain catching maneuver with my water bottle that did not pan out. 🙁

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Mayas-photo.jpg

     It all went by in a blur but in the end we were able to help several women acquire ring pessaries, signed many up to be contacted for future surgical procedures and helped many more with general health issues such as eye care, ear nose and throat care etc… It was quite a successful camp overall and I’m looking forward to the next one.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:15,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     The first health camp came and went in a bit of a blur. I arrived to dozens of people greeting me with applause and singing, putting leis on me and adorning my forehead with thika. The final result being this…<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/DSC_0085-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”DSC_0085″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/DSC_0085-e1438672018976.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:496,”height”:330},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-3e5d09f078be5ac00af5a9cf94ed384d.jpg”,”width”:496,”height”:330,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:104941}},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     The camp began with celebrations; honoring those that made the camp possible. There was a great deal of singing and dancing; lots of speeches and awards of recognition given out.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”9″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[]},{“id”:”10″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     My goal during this camp was really just to find out how it worked, hear some of the women’s stories, find out what knowledge they had about uterine prolapse, what they needed in order to help them resolve these issues and what their everyday lives looked like. I was able to interview several women with help of my interpreter Yunesh.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”11″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[]},{“id”:”12″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     The camp was 2 days. One of which I spent without any water because one of my bottles of water disappeared and I forgot my water filter (never forget your water filter!!) It was the beginning of the rainy season, so as we waited for the final logistics of the event to pan themselves out it started to pour. I attempted a rain catching maneuver with my water bottle that did not pan out. :-(<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”13″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2016\/02\/Mayas-photo.jpg”,”alt”:”Mayas photo”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2016\/02\/Mayas-photo.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”100%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:660,”height”:440},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/13-e6a957cb2f492b7f05a76a384789406b.jpg”,”width”:660,”height”:440,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:248894}},{“id”:”14″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     It all went by in a blur but in the end we were able to help several women acquire ring pessaries, signed many up to be contacted for future surgical procedures and helped many more with general health issues such as eye care, ear nose and throat care etc… It was quite a successful camp overall and I’m looking forward to the next one.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

201. What is Uterine Prolapse?

     June 10, 2015 12:35 pm 270 Comments

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/DSC_0111-300×200.jpg

     Let me start this entry out by telling you what Uterine Prolapse is not. Uterine Prolapse is not a disease that you can make “pretty” or “appealing” for a campaign. It’s not something that the World Health Organization or UNICEF has focused a campaign on (not because they don’t care; they have done studies) because it’s not killing anyone. Nor are cute little children involved that can be plastered all over television and computer screens, making people want to give to a cause.

     What Uterine Prolapse IS, is a debilitating condition in which a woman’s can literally fall from her body through her vagina. This is a painful and life-altering condition that women throughout the developing world endure on a daily basis. Most of these women, living in rural areas where women’s health is rarely if ever focused on don’t know what is happening to them or where they can go for help. So instead, they continue to live with the debilitating pain and more often than not continue the daily hard labor that in most cases is a contributing factor to the condition.

     Due to the side effects of this condition (inability to have children, foul odor, inability to perform daily tasks) some women are shunned in their communities, their husbands divorce them and family members abandon them. This is called caused by the fact that these women simply don’t know what’s wrong with them and when they find out little to nothing can be done as it is too expensive for them to get the surgeries and procedures needed to correct the condition.

     So, what is Uterine Prolapse? It is a completely treatable condition that thousands of women suffer from, for what in my opinion is no good reason.

     The organization I’m working with this summer, Care Women Nepal is attempting in its’ small way to resolve this problem; starting with the rural villages in the Dhankuta District of Nepal. Care Women Nepal holds health camps throughout the year at which women can be educated on and screened for this condition. Once someone is recognized as having prolapse Care Women Nepal arranges for their transportation and treatment free of charge. It’s a great organization that I’m quite pleased to be a part of. I hope you’ll continue to follow me on my journey as I visit the villages and help CWN in their cause.

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     Let me start this entry out by telling you what Uterine Prolapse is not. Uterine Prolapse is not a disease that you can make \u201cpretty\u201d or \u201cappealing\u201d for a campaign. It\u2019s not something that the World Health Organization or UNICEF has focused a campaign on (not because they don\u2019t care; they have done studies) because it\u2019s not killing anyone. Nor are cute little children involved that can be plastered all over television and computer screens, making people want to give to a cause.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     What Uterine Prolapse IS, is a debilitating condition in which a woman\u2019s can literally fall from her body through her vagina. This is a painful and life-altering condition that women throughout the developing world endure on a daily basis. Most of these women, living in rural areas where women\u2019s health is rarely if ever focused on don\u2019t know what is happening to them or where they can go for help. So instead, they continue to live with the debilitating pain and more often than not continue the daily hard labor that in most cases is a contributing factor to the condition.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Due to the side effects of this condition (inability to have children, foul odor, inability to perform daily tasks) some women are shunned in their communities, their husbands divorce them and family members abandon them. This is called caused by the fact that these women simply don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong with them and when they find out little to nothing can be done as it is too expensive for them to get the surgeries and procedures needed to correct the condition.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     So, what is Uterine Prolapse? It is a completely treatable condition that thousands of women suffer from, for what in my opinion is no good reason.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     The organization I\u2019m working with this summer, Care Women Nepal is attempting in its\u2019 small way to resolve this problem; starting with the rural villages in the Dhankuta District of Nepal. Care Women Nepal holds health camps throughout the year at which women can be educated on and screened for this condition. Once someone is recognized as having prolapse Care Women Nepal arranges for their transportation and treatment free of charge. It\u2019s a great organization that I\u2019m quite pleased to be a part of. I hope you\u2019ll continue to follow me on my journey as I visit the villages and help CWN in their cause.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

202. Ruminations before Departure

     June 8, 2015 5:59 am 2 Comments

     In the rush of the last minute logistics – packing, passports, planning – I find myself thinking about the more abstract in the hours before boarding a Kathmandu-bound plane. I’ll be working with NEFAD, a network of families of the victims of forced disappearances, for the next ten weeks. There are still a lot of specifics to iron out as to the best way I can be of service to NEFAD.

     But as I said, the specifics are not what occupy my mind now. What I think of now is Justice.

     Yeah, capital-J “Justice.” The big, hazy philosophical concept Justice. Like the Justice spoken of at length in Plato’s Republic – wherein the sophist Thrasymachus defined it as “the interest of the stronger.” Or what Brennus meant when he said “Vae Victus” after the ransom of Rome. Or what one of the perpetrators of the communist purge in Indonesia meant when he said, in Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentary, The Act of Killing, “war crimes are defined by the victor.”

     Advocacy work is, at its heart, a struggle for justice. My entire graduate program strives to produce students who will pursue social justice. The experiences I had in the Peace Corps – the experiences that put me on the path I walk today – were dominated by the observations of gross injustice and the desire to address them. Justice, justice, justice.

     But there comes a point where you have to take Thrasymachus and Brennus seriously. Speak all you will about what was right and wrong throughout history – the victors are the ones that write the history, impose the punishments, and exert control.

     After all, if moral inferiority was inevitably conquered by the good, what would be the point of advocacy? Sure, maybe advocacy work would speed things along, but there just isn’t the same urgency when victory is guaranteed.

     The victory of the just is not inevitable. Every state, nation, country, organization, and association which exists today exists not because it is virtuous but because it won. And sometimes “winning” just means surviving another day.

     The families of victims of political disappearance will not see the recognition or justice they deserve without hard earned victories. And in order to win, organizations like NEFAD have to be durable and capable of affecting change within Nepal’s government.

     And that’s where the abstraction ends. To do that one has to get one’s boots muddy.

     I’m so glad I abandoned those dreams of a PhD in Philosophy.

     Let’s go.

203. Lost in Dhankuta

     June 7, 2015 1:25 am Leave a Comment

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Women-Looking-Out-300×200.jpg

     Over the past few days I’ve felt like I’m simply going through the motions; smiling at those who smile at me and greeting those that greet me. Yesterday was filled with political figures and members of parliament in positions of authority. The majority of them were men; men who sat above the women and spoke with authority, not entirely seeing the needs of the people they represent. One of the funny things that kept getting to me about this culture is the etiquette when it comes to meetings and cell phones . Of course in the United States if you’re in an important meeting you don’t have your cell phone on and you surely would not take a call in the midst of an important figure making a comment or speech but that happens time and time again in this country. Even the important officials take calls while speaking and no one thinks twice about it.

     It’s an interesting patriarchal society; filled to the brim with a deep desire by the women and even some men to make change. The people are are very kind, always smiling; and always staring at me (mostly because I’m African American and they don’t see people that look like me very often). They are most interested in my hair. I have to remind myself, when they stare that they’re just interested in me and are often too shy to talk to me even if they speak english. Last night at a dinner being held prior to the health camp I sat next to an 8 year old girl. She really wanted to talk to me so she asked her father if he would introduce us. He did and she spoke amazingly good english. We sat and chatted about school and her life and the songs she’s teaching her little sister. She even had an opinion about the ongoing politics in Nepal. I’m quite certain that she will be President of Nepal some day.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/IMG_0132-300×225.jpg

     I seem to be more of a celebrity than anything else around here. All of the young girls keep coming up to me and asking my name and if they can take a picture with me. When they find out that my name is Maya they are so excited because it’s a Nepali name. Which means love in Nepali; in case you didn’t know. 🙂 When I explain to them that I was actually named after famous author and poet Maya Angelou they have no idea who she is. I did recite my favorite Maya Angelou poem for a few of them. I think they got a kick out of that, even if they didn’t understand most of it.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/IMG_0129-300×190.jpg

     Tomorrow we are heading off to Mare Katare, Dhankuta Nepal for the first health camp of the summer and I’m sure to learn more about this whole process and the people of Nepal.

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     Over the past few days I’ve felt like I’m simply going through the motions; smiling at those who smile at me and greeting those that greet me. Yesterday was filled with political figures and members of parliament in positions of authority. The majority of them were men; men who sat above the women and spoke with authority, not entirely seeing the needs of the people they represent. One of the funny things that kept getting to me about this culture is the etiquette when it comes to meetings and cell phones . Of course in the United States if you’re in an important meeting you don’t have your cell phone on and you surely would not take a call in the midst of an important figure making a comment or speech but that happens time and time again in this country. Even the important officials take calls while speaking and no one thinks twice about it.<\/p>

     It’s an interesting patriarchal society; filled to the brim with a deep desire by the women and even some men to make change. The people are are very kind, always smiling; and always staring at me (mostly because I’m African American and they don’t see people that look like me very often). They are most interested in my hair. I have to remind myself, when they stare that they’re just interested in me and are often too shy to talk to me even if they speak english. Last night at a dinner being held prior to the health camp I sat next to an 8 year old girl. She really wanted to talk to me so she asked her father if he would introduce us. He did and she spoke amazingly good english. We sat and chatted about school and her life and the songs she’s teaching her little sister. She even had an opinion about the ongoing politics in Nepal. I’m quite certain that she will be President of Nepal some day.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0132-300×225.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0132″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0132.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:371},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/7-515557fbd7182f2f431921d2c6f7eb78.jpg”,”width”:495,”height”:371,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:111807}},{“id”:”10″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:14,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”6-6″,”childs”:[[{“id”:”15″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I seem to be more of a celebrity than anything else around here. All of the young girls keep coming up to me and asking my name and if they can take a picture with me. When they find out that my name is Maya they are so excited because it’s a Nepali name. Which means love in Nepali; in case you didn’t know. 🙂 When I explain to them that I was actually named after famous author and poet Maya Angelou<\/a> they have no idea who she is. I did recite my favorite Maya Angelou poem for a few of them. I think they got a kick out of that, even if they didn’t understand most of it.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}],[{“id”:”16″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/IMG_0129-300×190.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0129″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/IMG_0129.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”100%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:323,”height”:205},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/16-c9d51d57b64d8ef7223de8cb2204992b.jpg”,”width”:323,”height”:205,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:48554}}]]},{“id”:”17″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”18″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Tomorrow we are heading off to Mare Katare, Dhankuta Nepal for the first health camp of the summer and I’m sure to learn more about this whole process and the people of Nepal.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

204. On the Road Again

     June 6, 2015 3:05 am Leave a Comment

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/IMG_0113-300×225.jpg

     On Friday June 5th Yunesh and I packed our bags and headed to Dhankuta It was supposed to be for a 10 hour trip in a “pretty nice bus” according to Yunesh. Well, the bus was not “pretty nice and the trip was not 10 hours. At least we were not on a boat for a 3 hour tour. Not sure how good a Gilligan I would have made. Needless to say, I will be taking the option of flying back to Kathmandu when the time comes. 

     Despite the fact that it was a longer trip than I’d anticipated I enjoyed some lovely views. Nepal is quite the beautiful country.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/IMG_0111-225×300.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/IMG_0114-300×225.jpg, http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/IMG_0118-300×225.jpg

     When we finally arrived at the Care Women Nepal office many women were there to greet us with hugs and welcomes and the views from the office were even more breathtaking than those we’d seen on the way there. Now to begin my adventure of the next few weeks.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/2015-06-07-03.25.34-300×200.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/The-Heavens-2-300×200.jpg

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:18,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”3″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0113-300×225.jpg”,”alt”:”IMG_0113″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/08\/IMG_0113.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”75%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:495,”height”:371},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/3-30bcd958f0256d7efeefab0e2c266d52.jpg”,”width”:495,”height”:371,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:74645}},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     On Friday June 5th Yunesh and I packed our bags and headed to Dhankuta It was supposed to be for a 10 hour trip in a \”pretty nice bus\” according to Yunesh. Well, the bus was not \”pretty nice and the trip was not 10 hours. At least we were not on a boat for a 3 hour tour. Not sure how good a Gilligan I would have made. Needless to say, I will be taking the option of flying back to Kathmandu when the time comes. <\/p>

     Despite the fact that it was a longer trip than I’d anticipated I enjoyed some lovely views. Nepal is quite the beautiful country.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”gallery”,”itemWidth”:211,”itemHeight”:159,”items”:[{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/IMG_0111-225×300.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-thumb-4eb45090f84565a19da1334b209eace6.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:6943},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-large-4eb45090f84565a19da1334b209eace6.jpg”,”width”:225,”height”:300,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:4044}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/IMG_0114-300×225.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-thumb-a09e2ffaab6e84f9980a762bcd1e2281.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29396},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-large-a09e2ffaab6e84f9980a762bcd1e2281.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:225,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:50124}},{“source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/IMG_0118-300×225.jpg”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-thumb-ccd309397ee5fd80a4a586092099a632.jpg”,”width”:211,”height”:159,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:29040},”large”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-large-ccd309397ee5fd80a4a586092099a632.jpg”,”width”:300,”height”:225,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:49591}}]},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”divider”},{“id”:”12″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     When we finally arrived at the Care Women Nepal office many women were there to greet us with hugs and welcomes and the views from the office were even more breathtaking than those we’d seen on the way there. Now to begin my adventure of the next few weeks.
     <\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:13,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”6-6″,”childs”:[[{“id”:”14″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-07-03.25.34-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”2015-06-07 03.25.34″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-07-03.25.34.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”100%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:323,”height”:215},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/14-311db7bae8a59bbae066d23c75fbea13.jpg”,”width”:323,”height”:215,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:59670}}],[{“id”:”15″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/The-Heavens-2-300×200.jpg”,”alt”:”The Heavens 2″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/The-Heavens-2.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”100%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:323,”height”:215},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/15-70f419ee07c9ef6bdd6c828dd2065fdc.jpg”,”width”:323,”height”:215,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:33445}}]]}]}[/content-builder]

205. Welcome to Nepal

     June 3, 2015 1:45 pm 3 Comments

     WELCOME TO NEPAL

     I’ve been having the hardest time trying to come up with what say in this first blog entry. I keep thinking I should come up with something profound and insightful to help people understand why I’ve traveled 30 hours and 7,564 miles across the world to help women suffering from uterine prolapse. I just had a chat with the Program Director of the Advocacy Project and she told me to stop putting so much pressure on myself. So, instead of being profound, here is a bit about my trip and a few photos I’ve taken over the last 2 days; some with the help of my new photography assistant Bisaal.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/2015-06-02-17.46.291.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/2015-06-02-20.16.49.jpg

     My welcome to Nepal was very warm, both figuratively and literally. I sat next to a lovely Nepalese couple who live in New York and hadn’t been home for 2 years. They were very nervous and excited about their visit and thanked me for coming to help out. They were so friendly and went out of their way to make sure I figured out the VISA system and where to go when I arrived. 

     After meeting the Director of my organizations son, we headed to their home via taxi. It was quite dark, so I couldn’t really make out much of anything. After arriving, I was greeted with many Namaste’s, dinner, a much-needed shower and a bed. I was very grateful.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/2015-06-03-07.11.40.jpg

     My first morning in Nepal was filled with this little guy. His name is Bisaal. He was very interested in my new camera; so I taught him how to use it and here are some of the photos he took.

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Scarf.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Maya-smile.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Element-2.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Bisal-Pic-Effects-1.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/kids-bike.jpg

     http://www.advocacynet.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Bisaal-Mom.jpg

     It has been a nice couple of days filled with a lot of jet lag and getting used to things. I’m heading to the small village of Dhankuta in just a couple of days and will fill you in on more details when I’ve gotten the lay of the land.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:15,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     WELCOME TO NEPAL<\/span><\/h2>\n\n

     I\u2019ve been having the hardest time trying to come up with what say in this first blog entry. I keep thinking I should come up with something profound and insightful to help people understand why I\u2019ve traveled 30 hours and 7,564 miles across the world to help women suffering from uterine prolapse. I just had a chat with the Program Director of the Advocacy Project and she told me to stop putting so much pressure on myself. So, instead of being profound, here is a bit about my trip and a few photos I\u2019ve taken over the last 2 days; some with the help of my new photography assistant Bisaal. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-02-17.46.291.jpg”,”alt”:”inevitable wing shot…”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-02-17.46.291.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:166,”height”:124},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/3-38624260a5c0ae826d6cc1d88fe1613e.jpg”,”width”:166,”height”:124,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:12181}},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-02-20.16.49.jpg”,”alt”:”Arriving in Nepal”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-02-20.16.49.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”25%”,”position”:”center”,”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/4-7558fc87a04e51cd00f706ba131b3cf3.jpg”,”width”:166,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:28868},”size”:{“width”:166,”height”:220}},{“id”:”5″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     My welcome to Nepal was very warm, both figuratively and literally. I sat next to a lovely Nepalese couple who live in New York and hadn\u2019t been home for 2 years. They were very nervous and excited about their visit and thanked me for coming to help out. They were so friendly and went out of their way to make sure I figured out the VISA system and where to go when I arrived. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

     After meeting the Director of my organizations son, we headed to their home via taxi. It was quite dark, so I couldn\u2019t really make out much of anything. After arriving, I was greeted with many Namaste\u2019s, dinner, a much-needed shower and a bed. I was very grateful.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-03-07.11.40.jpg”,”alt”:”Maya & Bisal”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/2015-06-03-07.11.40.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:247},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/6-fea121ce214fb1ff5222e2e7d4a3e973.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:247,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:74304}},{“id”:”7″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     My first morning in Nepal was filled with this little guy. His name is Bisaal. He was very interested in my new camera; so I taught him how to use it and here are some of the photos he took.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”8″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Scarf.jpg”,”alt”:”Scarf”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Scarf.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/8-84bb75edace45c5ebd3e8ffd808c31f5.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:86173}},{“id”:”9″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Maya-smile.jpg”,”alt”:”Maya smile”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Maya-smile.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/9-26772f283659c54f88717c57dc9f92d9.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:40964}},{“id”:”10″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Element-2.jpg”,”alt”:”Element 2″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Element-2.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/10-9e9285d56e8bd628c705892430e89088.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:92704}},{“id”:”11″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Bisal-Pic-Effects-1.jpg”,”alt”:”Bisal Pic Effects 1″,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Bisal-Pic-Effects-1.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/11-83024c5ccca904013c80a925cc25186a.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:95060}},{“id”:”12″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/kids-bike.jpg”,”alt”:”kids & bike”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/kids-bike.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/12-8a01f31bd8955e06fee36d40b898daaf.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:87080}},{“id”:”13″,”block”:”image”,”source”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Bisaal-Mom.jpg”,”alt”:”Bisaal Mom”,”link”:”~wp-uploads\/2015\/06\/Bisaal-Mom.jpg”,”class”:””,”scale”:”50%”,”position”:”center”,”size”:{“width”:330,”height”:220},”store”:{“source”:”~upload\/13-81e11580491c25c9039e94a53a19c5b9.jpg”,”width”:330,”height”:220,”mime”:”image\/jpeg”,”size”:53760}},{“id”:”14″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     It has been a nice couple of days filled with a lot of jet lag and getting used to things. I’m heading to the small village of Dhankuta in just a couple of days and will fill you in on more details when I’ve gotten the lay of the land.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

206. Changing Seasons, the Brick Kilns Begin

     November 20, 2014 12:05 am 2 Comments

     The rain has ended. There air is now cool. Rice fields have been harvested. Dasain and Tihar festivals have come and gone. For thousands living in Nepal the changing season means work begins in the brick kilns. For children of brick kiln employees, the changing season means leaving behind their homes, schools, and a feeling of security. The changing season means leaving behind their childhood.

     The migrants have started the long journey from their homes and villages traveling from the poorest and most remote areas of Nepal to Kathmandu Valley. For the next six months they will be working tirelessly from sun up until sun down in the harsh, dust-filled brick kilns. Not only do brick kiln employees endure unforgiving hours and conditions, but their children are also forced into working in the tough, hazardous environment.

     

     Temporary homes where entire families live during the 6 month brick kiln season

     I visited two brick kilns in Bhaktapur that CONCERN works with and watched as families that have already arrived, till the land that was recently rice paddy fields. People were busy chopping, digging, and burning the remains of the roots and prepared the fields to become smooth areas for bricks to dry. Families labored together building their temporary homes made of bricks and tin roofs that will provide modest shelter through the chilly working season.

     In the distance young boys were diligently hauling broken bricks from last year’s season to make room for the new batches of bricks. A group of toddlers played on a large sand pile near a water ditch used to make the clay for the bricks as women prepared tea over an open fire.

     By next week over 1,100 employees and their families will labor and live at these brick kilns. A major upheaval in the lives of families for the next six months for a promise made to their broker to make enough bricks in the hopes to be paid by the end of the season.

     Out of the 1,100 people working and living at the two brick kilns over 300 are children. These children pay the heaviest price. Their education is halted and they are often forced to work alongside their families, exploited and vulnerable. For these children the changing season means being stripped of their childhood.

     

     Young boys help prepare the land

      

207. Income Generation Program

     September 5, 2014 11:24 pm 1 Comment

     “I didn’t want to study anymore” says Ramesh, now 18, about dropping out of school at the age of 13. He then traveled from his home in Nepal to India to work with his parents. He worked in a candy shop for a few years where the employers treated him badly and kept most of his wages. Wanting to earn more income he came back to Nepal, joining his aunt and uncle working in W. Brick Kiln in Lalitpur district. He carried heavy loads of bricks on his back from 5 AM to 5 PM. Ramesh worked in the physically demanding, health hazardous brick kiln for nearly a year and suffered severe backaches and malnourishment.

     Just because Ramesh did not want to study, does not mean he was doomed to the harsh environment of brick kilns for life.

     Ramesh now runs a small restaurant, making anywhere from 700-1,000 N.R a day (7-10 USD). Ramesh was able to escape the labor intensive work, that was very strenuous on his small frame, and pursue an alternative career option with the ‘Income Generation’ program run by CONCERN. The program provides financial assistance to individuals to pursue an alternative career. They are also provided vocational training depending on the area they’d like to work in. Ramesh received financial assistance purchasing gas to cook with, utensils, pots and pans.

     

     Ramesh was actually referred to CONCERN by his employer at W. Brick Kiln. CONCERN has a strong interaction program with employers and parents in seven different brick kilns in the two districts of Bhaktapur and Lalitpur. Through the interaction program they are able to work with and reach out to children and adolescents in the brick kilns. CONCERN facilitates classes on the rights of a child, encourages employers to comply by labor laws, and inform parents on the importance of education, vocational training and alternative career options.

208. Nguyen Thanh Luan, Agent Orange, and Living Histories

     September 1, 2014 10:27 pm 1 Comment

     The verdant mountains of the Troung Son Mountain Range reside along one of the tightest overland corridors in Vietnam, a plot of land abutting the strategic supply route now known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail, a mere 20 miles from the East Sea to Laos linked by the District of Le Thuy.

     Like any important place of antiquity, Le Thuy is home to contradictions. Vietnam’s most revered general Vo Nguyen Giap began his humble beginnings here, as did deposed tyrannical president Ngo Dinh Diem. Depending on who one speaks to, and the circumstances they faced after the American War, opinions shift on these architects of modern Vietnamese history.

     Nguyen Thanh Luan has lived in An Thuy Commune in Le Thuy District his entire life. Like many Vietnamese who were in the military, he still wears loose-fitting military fatigues. Luan was just a teenager during the majority of the American War. But by 1974, at the age of 19, he enlisted in the North Vietnamese Army where he saw the final campaigns of the war, and would became a man of living history, witnessing what most of us can only read about: the conquest of South Vietnam and the Fall of Saigon.

     In the army, he was trained as a communications logistician tasked with disguising miles of telephone cable through the jungles of Laos and the South of Vietnam, in areas relentlessly bombed by American forces. He did this by camouflaging the wires with available shrubs and branches, running them through the dense, tropical canopies, and traveling unseen on the ground floor by American planes passing overhead. Other times, he was forced to dig, meticulously uncovering layer after layer of sediment, burying the cable 2 to 3 feet deep beneath the bombed-out loam of the earth.

     After the end of the American War, he continued his career in the military fighting in modern-day Cambodia along the Vietnamese border provinces of Binh Duong, Dong Nai, Binh Phuoc, Song Be, the outcome of which led to the eventual overthrow of the genocidal Khmer Rouge Regime.

     Although the last ‘‘official’’ spraying of Agent Orange ended in 1972, these dates are, depending on memory and the retelling of divergent histories, contested. Luan remembers the planes and the trails of dioxin-laden white smog. Through his travels he saw countless fields that resembled burned, cratered landscapes, as if one had fallen asleep in a tropical storm and awoken to find themselves on the moon.

     Luan’s wife was a nurse, and when the war broke out, she was recruited as a military medic at one of the many medical camps organized for wounded soldiers in the provinces of Binh Duong and Dong Nai. After the war, she started to exhibit unusual symptoms. Eventually, she was diagnosed with epilepsy, issues in blood circulation, persistent rashes, kidney failure, stomachaches, and the slow degeneration of her eyesight. With Luan, she would carry two miscarriages, and although they have only four living children, they still tell me they had six.

     Luan has had significant health problems since he returned home from the military in 1995. A doctor from Le Thuy District diagnosed him with heart disease, discovering shortly thereafter that the onset of large ulcers in his stomach would require surgery. Although the doctors were concerned about his heart’s ability to withstand the operation, they deemed the risk necessary. When Luan’s heart failed shortly after the surgery, a vein was removed from his right leg for the bypass.

     At the time, Luan had not worked in years, and the costs of the surgery were far beyond his ability to pay, ever. 120, 000, 000 VND ($5,640 USD) was an inconceivable amount for a disabled veteran whose monthly pension is less than 1% of that sum. If he weren’t using the little money he gets to put rice and noodles, morning glories and bamboo, and thin slices of pork on the table for his family, he could conceivably pay back his loan in 10 years.

     But then, almost anything is conceivable with time, something neither he nor his family have enough of.

     So Luan did the surgery, reasoning his worth to his family as greater alive than dead, even if it meant borrowing from a bleak future. In order to finance the operation, he sold the mortgage on his home to a local bank. When I ask him if he could lose his home over this, he replies, “what choice did I have?” He confides in me that he knew all along he would never be able to pay back the loan.

     Luan asks me if I want to take pictures of the purple, cauterized scar running the length of his chest and another from his ankle to his upper thigh, his constant reminder of the wages of life.

     But this didn’t matter, at least, not now it doesn’t.

     Luan’s two daughters, Ng Ngoc Thang and Ng Thi Minh, were born healthy. But his two sons, Ng Thi Phyong and Ng Ngoc Vy, were both born deaf. Phyong was able to overcome his disability, excelling at a local school for persons with disabilities and mastering sign language. In fact, he did so well that he eventually became a teacher at the same school, despite the school only offering classes to the fifth grade.

     As Luan speaks, I notice in his home something I did not notice before, an unfamiliar quiet. Vy, who has been half-asleep in a hammock since we started the interview, is watching a muted TV. Unlike his brother, Vy is deaf and mute, and suffers from ischemic heart disease, a life-threatening condition that causes blood in his heart to leak from within, manifesting in Vy as a bewildering state of constant fatigue.

     But Vy persevered and finished the program at the school his brother now teaches at. Since then, Luan and his wife have developed their own household sign language with Vy: they point to different parts of the body to signal different family members. Luan is the head; his mother, the chest; and Vy, the hands.

     A family is held together, one way or another.

     We say goodbye to Luan and his family, thanking them for sharing their lives, however brief with us. As we driver through the narrow roads of the commune, I gaze out at the waters, the rice fields, and the mountains. The proximity of the Troung Son Mountains to the sea provides an abundance of naturally fertile soil.

     Many families have made their homes along the tributaries, tending paddy fields, banana trees, and private gardens. We pass women laundering clothes and children bathing in the rivers with the sun warm and blazing overhead. Small temples dedicated to ancestors accent the piety of these communes, and high gates mark each commune, their curled corners converging in pitched garbled tops. Beneath the passing archways and the wild foliage, among their rich saturation of color and zest, one could almost believe that all conflicts in this country are over.

209. Home Again

     8:24 am 1 Comment

     Last Sunday, after 36 hours of flights and layovers, I made it back home to Boston, and now after several more hours of sleep, I’m ready to share the summary of my last week in Nepal.

     It was a pretty exciting last week.Gisele Bolton (Advocacy Project Peace Fellow), Bijaya Sainju (executive director of CONCERN-Nepal), and I met with the Israeli and British Ambassadors in Nepal. We also met with members of USAID, and a deputy director at the Japanese Embassy. We talked to them about the problem of child labor, and in particular, child labor in brick kilns. They were open to our suggestions.

     We were hoping to gain support for the project that I spent the last twelve weeks helping CONCERN-Nepal to create. Under this plan, children in brick kilns will be able to get the educational support they need in order to emancipate themselves from the cycle of hazardous labor work in the brick kilns. I think we opened the door toward successfully executing the plan we put together, but we still have a long way to go. We still need to find the funds to support this project.

     Programs like this are desperately needed. While there are many child advocacy groups in Nepal, there is a need for programs that provide academic support for child laborers. Child labor is seen everywhere in Nepal everyday, and I dealt with it every moment from the time I arrived until I left Kathmandu.

     On the day that I left Nepal, I was sitting in a taxi on the way to the airport. My taxi was stopped in traffic, and I was staring out the window opposite me taking in my final views of Kathmandu, when suddenly a young boy, about 10 years old, popped his face in the open window next to me. He held his hands in prayer and was mouthing words I couldn’t quite make out. I felt so bad for the boy.

     I gave him nothing, and my taxi drove off. My principle on this is such a hard one to follow. Giving him money encourages him to be out on the streets, but then I think what will be his choices if I don’t give him money.

     The only thing that alleviates my feelings about this situation is that I’m working to make his life better. At least I hope that his life will be better, and while I am not in Kathmandu, I still plan to support CONCERN-Nepal and The Advocacy Project. I’m also heartened by the fact that The Advocacy Project sent Gisele Bolton to pick up where I left off with CONCERN-Nepal. She will help in the execution of the project that CONCERN-Nepal and I worked to put together. If you want to continue to follow the work of CONCERN-Nepal and The Advocacy Project, make sure to visit Gisele’s blog.

     Thank you all for your support over the past weeks. It has been an amazing experience.

210. The Seven Children of Le Ba Thuan

     August 25, 2014 2:26 am 2 Comments

     Le Ba Thuan dashes into his home for his silver rimmed glasses and a white button-up shirt. He returns with a woven floor mat, the kind often laid out for guests, and invites us to sit. His wife serves us hot artichoke tea from a white porcelain teapot adorned with a flower motif. She disappears as quickly as she came, vanishing into an adjacent room where the distinct sound of a person moaning can be heard.

     As Thuan tells us the story of his life during the American War, he gazes, every so often towards the room. When he speaks, his glasses become murky, as if a fog were forming behind his eyes. He is a deeply emotional man, and for everything he has seen, one would wonder how you could be any other way.

     Thuan had just finished his teenage years when he joined the National Front for the Liberation of Vietnam in the American War. An exceedingly bright and astute young man, he was sent to the Ho Chi Minh Trail, and its peripheries along the southern trade corridors of the Laos/South Vietnam border, where he was trained as a political advocate for the military. His task was to encourage rural Vietnamese to join in the resistance against South Vietnam.

     He remembers the work being rewarding, but taxing. In his experience, the American military strategy of winning the “hearts and minds” of the Vietnamese people through non-violent action was working in the rural highlands; and the large, seemingly-endless supply of resources coming from the South was more than enough to persuade many middle-of-the-road Vietnamese in the North to detract.

     Far from straight forward, but armed with tact and the ideas of Ho Chi Minh and Vo Nguyen Giap, Hang’s job was to bring a new perspective, to draw the argument away from the short-term promises of the South, and plant the thinking deep in the annals of Vietnamese history. The country’s history was one near endless colonization, imperialization, and war: first by the Chinese, then the French, and now the Americans. This time, Vietnam was in the midst of an ideologically driven, proxy war–the outcome of which would determine the future of Vietnam and its independence from foreign bodies.

     During the war, Thuan was stationed all over South Vietnam: Quang Tri, Quang Nam, Da Nang, and Saigon. He recalls the American planes overhead and the steady stream of Agent Orange. By intuition, he knew that the air and water had been exposed and made every effort to avoid the contaminated areas. But he did not have much choice. To this day, he copes with the symptoms he developed during the American War: ischemic heart disease, high blood pressure, stomachaches, joint pain, constant headaches, and skin rashes.

     By the end of the war, he returned home to Quang Binh Province, an adult at the age of 30. He was unable to find work in politics—his commune had already established a political entity. So he returned to a life of fishing.

     He gets up and fetches an old ziploc bag filled with photos. This is my eldest daughter, he says, producing two photos. She died of nose cancer and initiated a Child Cancer Donation Charity massive event to help others who are affected from the same illness. In the photos, his daughter lays in white clothes on a wooden bed. Her arms and legs are emaciated to the bone, bending at the joints as if they were broken. One of her eyes is swollen closed, the other, stares distantly out of the frame. Her neck is filled with four soft-ball sized lumps that seem to be crushing her airways, and her nose has small black spot on one side.

     

     In addition to his eldest daughter, Thuan had another child that was born with severe birth defects who died several hours after birth, and another that was miscarried. Of his remaining four children, he has two boys that are fishermen. They live nearby, in the same commune as Thuan, and visit often. They are married and both are healthy—save for frequent bone pain.

     Both of Thuan’s remaining two daughters have degenerative muscle diseases. One of his daughters was born with myasthenia gravis and porphyria cutanea tarda, but the effects of the diseases have been gradual, following a pattern of severity and remission. This has enabled her to live a somewhat normal life, attending school and getting married. But now, as her muscular fatigue intensifies, her concern has turned outward, to her daughter. Her daughter was diagnosed with rickets at a young age, and it remains to be seen whether or not medical treatment will help her condition.

     Thuan’s youngest daughter, Le Thi Hang, lives with her parents. She is epileptic and has been paralyzed from the neck down since birth. She is unable to move or communicate, and her eyes have degenerated into blindness. During our interview, she was in an adjacent room, suspended in a hammock, and rocked tenderly by her mother. When she experiences a seizure, she often cries, says her father. He describes Hang’s seizures as unpredictable “oscillations.” Because Hang is completely immobile by herself, Thuan and his wife must carry her to their pit latrine multiple times per day. They bathe her, feed her, massage her, and play the radio for her—soft Vietnamese ballads, the only thing that seems to calm her through the night.

     In his household, Thuan and his daughter are the only members of their family that receive a governmental allowance for exposure to Agent Orange/dioxin. Thuan receives 1,500,000 VND ($70.00 USD) and his daughter receives 1,200,000 VND ($56.00 USD). Thuan says the amount is enough to meet the needs of his daughter and his wife, but he cannot say it without tears. The anguish of his children transfers through him, a pain he has known most of his life, and all of theirs.

211. Agent Orange, Terms of Kinship, and the Meaning of the Word “Đau”

     August 21, 2014 12:26 am 3 Comments

     Ho Thi Thiu joined the American War in Vietnam from 1971 to 1972 in the northernmost province of Southern Vietnam, Quang Tri. She was assigned to Division 559, where she worked on the construction of roads for military vehicles, assisting the loading and unloading of supplies from the north.

     While she worked, she lost track of the number of planes flying overhead, “one after the other.” She soon became very ill, frequently dizzy and unaware, and falling unconscious on the job. Eventually she was removed from active duty and sent for diagnosis in a military hospital in Quang Tri. The medicine they gave her helped, but it was not enough to return her to the battlefield, and she was sent home to Quang Binh Province. Since that time, she has experienced a crescendo of symptoms: stomachaches, headaches, arthritis, hair loss, and numbness throughout the body.

     Thiu’s husband, Hong Thuy Long, joined the army from 1964–1968. He was one of the original trailblazers of the Ho Chi Minh trail, braving the war zone of the 17th Parallel to transport food, weapons, and supplies from the Northern Army to the Viet Cong insurgency in Southern Vietnam. Due to the constant barrage of American bombs during the day, he was only able to travel by night through the dense tropical forests of Quang Binh and Quang Tri. Because he slept in the daytime, he never witnessed the spraying of Agent Orange, but he did notice the browning of shrubs and foliage, and an advancing barren landscape on the routes he knew so well.

     Then the headaches, followed by chest pains, and a heavy pressure wishing to burst forth from his lungs. Other soldiers around him were experiencing the same symptoms, but it went unexplained. They had no choice but to ignore it ignored as best they could. The war demanded it of them. This type of complete dedication towards nation definitely gets awarded in the form of challenge coins. Some of the reputed serve like giving services of  Custom Challenge Coins For Sale.
     

     Today, Thiu, and her husband, Hong Thuy Long live in a sprawling corner of the Hai Trach Commune in the district of Bo Trach. They were fortunate to receive a lump sum of money from the government that they used to purchase two homes on the same property.

     They share the property with their four daughters and some of their grandchildren: functioning in the dual role of parent and caretaker. Three of their daughters were born with severe cognitive disabilities and epilepsy. Their eldest daughter, Nga, is showing the first signs of neuropathy, having constant tingling in the arms and legs. She has an extreme overbite and teeth that buck outward from her mouth, making it difficult to eat. Nga and her young sister, Thien, both have spinal degradation and experience pain from routine movements like walking.

     

     Thiu’s second oldest daughter, Thanh, is considered the healthiest of the family, but by no means is she free of Agent Orange linked symptoms. She suffers from short-term memory loss, kidney failure, and numbness—a condition possibly linked to the neuropathy of her sisters. The kidney failure especially had rendered her distraught, because the chanca piedra pills she used helped her to an extent but soon it became obvious that she needed a surgery to expunge the stones out of her system. Her husband is a general laborer who works within the commune. The two of them, with their daughter and son, live in the second home on Thiu and Long’s property.

     Thanh’s daughter is six but is already showing signs of cognitive disabilities and severe speech impediments. When she speaks, she doesn’t speak in sentences, but in single words. In school she is struggling. Her teachers do not know how to help her, and the commune does not have the resources for special education classes. Thanh is worried her son will experience similar problems: he is nearly two years old, but is unable to walk on his own, crawling to get around their house. As near as the family can tell, he is mute because he does not speak.

     This accounts for everyone in the extended family with the exception of Thiu’s only son, who died very young. Encephalomalacia is considered one of the most dangerous and terminal types of brain damage in an infant. An early diagnosis of this is almost always fatal, particularly in countries ill equipped with the medical expertise for treatment.

     Perhaps this helps to explain why Thiu’s only son was never named. But I am curious, insatiably so, and because Thiu has so far appeared comfortable with the interview and candid with her answers, I press further. Did you have a name planned for your son? How did you refer to him?

     She seems confused by the question. Undoubtedly, there is some kind of cultural distortion stemming from the different ways we process our languages and understand the relationship between the personal “I” and the external world. In Vietnamese grammar, the subject is inexplicably linked to the object and its place in time with you. The rules of these “terms of kinship” mean an older aunt is given one title, a slightly older aunt another, a much older aunt another, and an aunt younger than you, yet another. This concept is absent by Western linguistic standards where individualism gives rise to personal freedom and agency. But, it can also be divisive, separating us from our families, our communities, and our greater society.

     Vietnamese is different, emphasizing the relationships between people rather than the people themselves. A mother speaks to her child uniquely, and the child, by speaking age, affirms the same. This grammar is at once common and unique, defined by the relationship between, rather than the objects of, mother and son.

     How then does Thiu process the loss of her son?

     I, of course, cannot answer this. But I do know, wherever the answer presides, it is between a mother and her only son, as it is between all mothers to all sons. A name is one thing; to be, another—but to be with others is the zenith of human existence.

     Between the two of them, Thiu and Long receive 3,098,000 VND per month (about 146.00 USD), and their four daughters 4,450,000 VND (about 210.00 USD). For the loss of their son, they are compensated nothing at all: their memories, the proof of his existence.

     Still, the amount is one of the largest governmental allowances I’ve encountered so far. Rather than asking them my usual question: is the allowance enough? I ask them if they are able to save—one of the quieter hallmarks of a thriving middle class in other parts of Southeast Asia. They answer as if the thought had never crossed their mind. Yes, we live comfortably, but that’s it; We have never saved.

     I thank them for their time, and ask for a portrait of the family. They agree, their daughters and granddaughters noticeably excited.

     

     As we’re leaving, Long shows me out, speaking quickly in Vietnamese. My translator, Tra My, has moved ahead far ahead is out of earshot. Unfortunately, I do not understand anything Long says, but I try to mentally process a word he keeps repeating, which to my ear sounds like the Vietnamese word for six. I ask Tra My over lunch. She is not sure at first, but then knows what I’m saying. It was not an “s” I heard, but the Vietnamese letter “đ,” which has a “z” sound to the unaccustomed. The word was “đau,” the meaning of which is varied, but is approximately understood in English as sick, ill, and pain.

212. Father, Son, and Granddaughter: Agent Orange through the Generations

     August 12, 2014 7:17 am 2 Comments

     The commune of Nhan Trach, in the district of Bo Trach, parallels the East Sea, separated from the sea’s waves by mountainous sand dunes. Like a desert oasis, it is a bizarre and unexpected geography for the lush tropics of Vietnam.

     Instantaneously, the dunes disappear as homes and roads spring forth from the ground. Nhan Trach is a tight cluster of a few thousand homes. They have a local government, schools, and health clinics. The central market is a buoyant, noisy place of trade: rice cakes in banana leaves and dragon fruit are stacked high in pyramids, scattered shops with sample sizes of shampoo for sale. Despite the activity, our journey has led us into one of the most impoverished areas in Quang Binh Province where the majority of laborers are either fishers or home-bound caretakers, if they work at all.

     Exiting the car, our guide from the local governmental organization on Agent Orange leads us through an odd and hazardously planned grid of narrow streets and small concrete homes. Some of them are finished, many are incomplete. The poorest of the poor live in wooden shelters, the exterior of which is gummed with mold and black residue. Bricks and bamboo poles are piled everywhere. The occasional red flag and yellow star of Vietnam fly high above them. Progress, they seem to say, is having the resources to build at all.

     Unlike the cities, the commune roads are barely a car’s width apart–built for a time when cattle carts and water buffalo were the largest vehicles of commerce to traverse these tracks. Occasionally the commune roads are paved, but more often than not, they are chunks of gravel and earth. Children scamper along the edges of the road as motorbikes race by. Occasionally, a cart passes carrying a load of sweet potatoes or cassava, the driver wearing the iconic conical hat of Vietnam, shielding their necks and face from the white hot sun overhead.

     Ambling through the confined streets, we soon arrive at the home of Pham Van Giang. He is shirtless with a toothless grin, his wide brown eyes beneath snowy, wiry eyebrows. Although he has a distinctive limp, he does not let it slow him down. Without hesitation, he takes my hand with his, clasping it with the other, leading me and my entourage into the single room that functions as his entire home.

     Entering, I see his wife unmoving laying on a bed stripped bare save for blankets and cross boards. She is like a corpse, comatose save for her eyes and an occasional low moan emanating from deep within her mouth. Through my translator, Tra My, I ask Giang if his wife has ever come in contact with Agent Orange. He shakes his head solemnly: no, no, she is bedridden from old age. It’s my son and I that were exposed.

     He invites us to sit and, as we do, his son, Dung, arrives with Giang’s sister-in-law. The sight of me (a white, Caucasian, American male) sends Dung into a frenzy. He cries out in Vietnamese, Don’t let him arrest me! Don’t let him arrest me!, a fully grown man thrashing his arms and screaming. No one in the family treats this behavior as out of the ordinary, yet I am growing increasingly uncomfortable. However, Giang looks on softly, reassuring me: it is ok, just wait.

     Slowly, Dung calms down and limps to his mother, he lies down beside her still body on the bed. And, it’s as if nothing has happened, his face relaxes, and the pupils of his eyes sink low—the fingers of his left hand, which are permanently curled inward toward his palm, settle. As if the silence were his cue, Giang begins his story.

     Giang grew up in Nhan Trach Commune where he now presides. He was a fisherman by trade, and one of the best. Before the American War, he had four healthy children, all of whom would eventually follow in their father’s footsteps: his sons fishing the East Sea and his daughters selling the fish and squid in local markets.

     In 1965, at the age of 28, Giang joined the National Liberation Front. His past experiences at sea moved him quickly through the ranks to naval captain where he was entrusted as the commander of a ship of 24 men, tasked with developing maritime logistics for the Viet Cong along the northern continental shelf of Southern Vietnam. His travels during the war would take him through the tributaries of Phu Yen Province and the waters of the strategic port city of Da Nang.

     When a malfunction in his boat forced his crew to dock and deliver their food, weapons, and supplies to land, he noticed a strange yellow and black smog on the horizon of the countryside. Shortly thereafter, he developed relentless migraines that would stay with him for over a decade. But he persevered, going back to sea until one day, during a firefight with an American plane, Giang’s boat was rocked by an explosion, the impact of which threw him violently to the hull. He survived, but his injuries were so severe that he was removed from his station and sent to Hanoi for treatment. He never made it back to the war and walks with a limp to this day.

     By 1975, Giang returned to his family in Nhan Trach Commune where he fathered Dung. From birth, Dung had muscle complications and cognitive disabilities. As he grew older, his legs bowed inwards at the knees, and the fingers on his left hand curled within, as if it were going to fuse into a fist. The lack of special education in the commune meant Dung was unable to attend school. His entire life, he has been cared for by Giang, his wife, and their extended family.

     In his mid-twenties, Dung married a woman with severe cognitive disabilities. They had a child together, but shortly afterwards his wife left the commune. No one knows why she left, and she has not returned since. When I inquire further, Giang shrugs, changing the subject to Dung’s daughter. She is eight years old, born in the peak of physical health, and without any cognitive disabilities. She is clearly the pride and joy of the family: proof that even the terrors of dioxin can be survived. Her certificates of achievement adorn the walls of Giang’s home, and Giang is mindful to point out each one out to us.

     In total, Giang’s family receives 600,000 dong per month (the equivalent of $28.00) for Dung’s disability, as part of an allowance from the Vietnamese Government It is possible Giang could also qualify for an allowance, but he has been unable to prove his involvement in the American War, having lost the tiny piece of paper that certifies him as a veteran.

     I ask Giang if the allowance is enough income for his family’s expenses. He replies modestly, noting if it is not enough, he will simply borrow from his children. Also, Dung’s daughter has all of her school fees waved due to her father’s condition, and the government waved the fee for electricity in their home. In characteristic Vietnamese humility, he treats money as a necessity, but not a preoccupation. When his needs and the needs of his family are met, he is satisfied.

     When our interview is finished, I ask him if I can take photos of his family. He agrees without hesitation. I am still nervous about frightening Dung, so I take my time, removing the camera bit by bit. No sudden movements.

     By this time, Dung has moved from his mother’s bed to the floor. His aunt and father help lift him to his feet. Dung grabs the bedpost of his mother’s bed with his only good hand. He whimpers from the pain of standing, his legs wobbling, nearly buckling beneath him. On his feet, his aunt gently moves away, and he gazes at the camera. I feel accepted by him, yet its a forgiveness and grace I do not understand, given everything he and I and our countries have been through.

     I take his picture with his father and his daughter. Three generations: father, 78, son, 38, and granddaughter, 8 years old.

     I thank Giang for his time and provide him with a small gift, 2 liters of cooking oil, enough for a month of cooking. He thanks me multiple times for it, smiling a genuine, heartfelt smile. It was as if these little bottle contained the cure for all his pains; the magic potion to heal his wife and son, and grant his granddaughter a full life free from unnecessary suffering.

     As we walk down the narrow road, he smiles and waves; his sister-in-law has started preparing morning glories and rice for lunch. His wife, son, and granddaughter watch and wait as another day advances.

213. Artistic Depictions of Child Labor

     2:44 am 1 Comment

     Recently, CONCERN-Nepal held a painting contest for students in Bhaktapur. Students gathered from all over the area carrying their paints, colored pencils, and markers in order to paint their depictions of child labor.  If you aren’t familiar with Bhaktapur, I should tell you, it is a beautiful ancient city with the best preserved palace grounds in Nepal.  They are listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and the workmanship throughout is unbelievable, with large handcrafted wooden doors and amazing statues of giant lions and elephants.

     It was quite a surreal experience for me to watch children playing and making art in the midst of ancient history. The children had two hours to complete their paintings and submit them for judging.  They were all amazingly focused on the task and created some beautiful paintings.  You can see their entries in this video.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:5,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Recently, CONCERN-Nepal held a painting contest for students in Bhaktapur. Students gathered from all over the area carrying their paints, colored pencils, and markers in order to paint their depictions of child labor.  If you aren\u2019t familiar with Bhaktapur, I should tell you, it is a beautiful ancient city with the best preserved palace grounds in Nepal.  They are listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and the workmanship throughout is unbelievable, with large handcrafted wooden doors and amazing statues of giant lions and elephants.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

     It was quite a surreal experience for me to watch children playing and making art in the midst of ancient history. The children had two hours to complete their paintings and submit them for judging.  They were all amazingly focused on the task and created some beautiful paintings.  You can see their entries in this video.<\/span><\/p>“,”class”:””},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”video”,”url”:”https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=iZRE9fombWU”,”class”:””,”ratio”:”16:9″,”scale”:”default”,”size”:{“width”:500,”height”:281}}]}[/content-builder]

214. Sending Your 10 year old Daughter Away to work Part 2: Delusional Altruism

     August 6, 2014 7:49 am Leave a Comment

     Continuing from my last post…

     After talking to Ram Dwari Chaudhary about her daughter, Sharmila Chaudhary, who had been sent to work as a “domestic servant” in Kathmandu when she was only eight years old, we headed to meetup with the employer in Ram Dwari’s village that had recruited Sharmila to work.

     Compared to the empty hut, in more than one ways, that greeted us when we went to meet Ram Dwari, the home of the employer was bustling, not with family members, but with people seemingly working for the household. The compound greeted us with a two storied brick house with two fish farms, a pig farm, a chicken farm and some goats and buffaloes grazing around the house.

     An elderly lady quickly came out to greet us, who introduced us as Shanta Hamal’s, the employer, mother (I will refer to her as Mrs. Hamal). We introduced ourselves, and told her that Ram Dwari had come to speak to her daughter, and if possible I wanted to have a conversation with Shanta Hamal as well.

     As Mrs. Hamal was trying to reach her daughter in Kathmandu, I inquired about the professions her daughter and son-in-law were engaged in. Mrs. Hamal replied that her son-in-law was a teacher at some school and her daughter worked for an NGO! The phone went through, and after talking to her daughter for a while about how the family was doing, she introduced us as “people from THAT organization, SWAN, have come to talk to you about Sharmila.”

     I asked Shanta Hamal the organization that she worked for, without any hesitation she said she worked for “Youth Campaign for Social Progress Nepal”, which is apparently funded in particular by UN agencies. I asked her if Sharmila could speak to her mother, to which she replied that Sharmila was “washing her hands and feet” and asked us to call back after five minutes in order to speak with her. I looked at SWAN’s social mobilizer, Sita Chaudhary, and we both knew that the five minutes was not for Sharmila to wash up, but for her to be coached on what to say.

     During the five minute wait, Mrs. Hamal started explaining to us how she was certain that Sharmila was enjoying herself in Kathmandu, and how staying there would be good for her. Shanta Hamal, herself, seemed convinced that she was doing a great favor to both Sharmila and her family by employing her. I asked her if she knew how old Sharmila was, and she evaded the question by saying she was not sure but she had registered her as 12 years old in a “private boarding school”. Also, Shanta Hamal kept on referring to Sharmila as Jessica, which apparently was the name given to her when she moved to Kathmandu.

     I reminded Shanta Hamal that it was illegal under Nepal’s law to employ someone who was 10 years old, or even 12 for that fact, to which she replied, “We treat her like one of our own, and people even comment that she is my second daughter. She hardly does any work here, and compared to the work that she was doing there it is like heaven for her here.”

     I tried to interject by saying that even though that might be the case, what she was doing is still illegal, to which she commented, “We do not treat her harshly at all. I work in an NGO and know the appalling conditions that exist; we are not like THOSE people. There are people out there who mistreat girls, but we are not like those people. I am actually talking to my organization in trying to send her abroad for studies in the future.” I was truly aghast to hear the arguments she was presenting, especially as someone who admits to be “working in similar field.”

     I quickly realized that anything that I said was just falling on deaf ears, so I asked if Sharmila, a.k.a Jessica, could speak with her mother instead. Ram Dwari eagerly talked to her daughter even though she had a hard time operating the phone. She let Sharmila know that her elder brother had gone to work in Ramechhap and that she was doing well with her little brother. The sound of excitement you would expect from a 10 year old on hearing her mother’s voice seem to be absent. Ram Dwari asked her when she would return home, to which she replied in about a month, in time for Teej festival.

     After the conversation between Ram Dwari and her daughter seemed to be coming to a halt, social mobilizer, Sita Chaudhary started asking questions to Sharmila through speaker phone. Sita asked her how she was doing and what kind of work she performed. After a brief silence, we could hear voices prodding her in the background asking her to answer the question. Sharmila eventually replied that she was doing well and everybody was nice, and that she did not have to do a lot of work. Sita Chaudhary asked her if she had to cook or wash clothes;

     Sharmila replied that she did not do either and “aunty” did all of those. When Sita asked who washed her own clothes, she replied she did that herself. As I was listening to Sharmila’s response via speaker phone, Shanta Hamal and her husband were as vigilant and probably attuned to the questions being asked at the other end. Sita asked Sharmila if she wanted to come back home or if she enjoyed staying there with “aunty.” Sharmila replied she wants to stay in Kathmandu, and upon asking why she replied “because I get to wear pretty and new clothes.” Ram Dwari just smiled at that comment.

     The conversation with Sharmila seemed to either have been expertly choreographed, or she actually felt happier being away from her family and home, both possibilities felt disturbing to me. After talking to Sharmila, we decided to reinstate our case to Shanta Hamal about employing a 10 year old. During our conversation on the speaker phone when both Sita and I started reminding her of the explicit law that forbade what she was doing, even if bound by good intentions, she, for the first time, sounded irritated by our consistent argument. It was then that she replied back to us with a tinge of vehemence and resentfulness, “If that is what she (Sharmila’s mother) wants then I am happy to send her back, there are plenty of others who are in the same situation like her (Sharmila)!!!”

     As we headed towards Ram Dwari’s house so that we could meet her younger daughter, I was trying to process the arguments that had been made in favor of employing a 10 year old. Shanta Hamal persistently reminded us that Sharmila was getting education in a “private boarding school” and not any ordinary run-of-the-mill public school; she was apparently fed well and the hard tasks she would have to do in a village life were replaced by menial chores; Sharmila, it seems, could have a better future in Kathmandu than she would ever had in the village of Dang; and her mother who takes care of three other children had an extra source of income and did not have to worry about taking care of her elder daughter.

     However, the parting words Shanta Hamal threw at us, made it clear she saw Sharmila, and anyone like her, as commodities that could be easily replaced and Shanta Hamal could easily feel good about herself for “helping” someone else. As we were walking to Ram Dwari’s home, she mentioned that the first year she had received Rs. 6000 for a year of Sharmila’s work, but two years since the family have been telling her they are “investing the money on making gold ornaments for Sharmila.” We asked Ram Dwari why she would not ask for Sharmila to be relieved of her work and be returned home, Ram Dwari replied she would do that when she came home during Teej this time!

     It took a while before Indra Kumari Chaudhary, Sharmila’s younger 9 year old daughter, came back home from playing with friends. Indra Kumari herself had been sent to work as a Kamalari in a nearby village, but she returned in less than a week after she found the work too hard for age. We asked her if her sister talked to her about her time in Kathmandu when she came home. Indra Kumari did not say anything. We asked her if her sister had invited her to come to Kathmandu as she was enjoying her time over there, Indra Kumari replied that her sister had never invited her to Kathmandu and that she would not leave her home as she “like(s) it here”.

215. Kids Doing It for Themselves

     2:20 am 1 Comment

     Last week I had the opportunity to attend a Children’s Club Conference. Well over a hundred children from the ages of 5 to 17, all dressed neatly in their school uniforms, attended from throughout the city of Kathmandu. They met to discuss and brainstorm on the problem of child labor, because who understands the problems of children better than children?
     
     I also had the treat of a visit from Advocacy Project fellows Sugam and Richa. This was an extra bonus because Sugam helped to translate things at the conference that I didn’t understand. The meeting started off with a talent portion that included songs and jokes. I didn’t quite understand the jokes, but Sugam was busting a gut laughing over them. He just kept saying, “You won’t understand. It’s Nepali.”

     After the entertainment portion, I was introduced as a special guest, and I was asked to light the lamps for the ceremony. I felt honored that I was able to speak to these groups on behalf of the Advocacy Project and voice support for the conference.

     After me, there were a few other speakers. Bijaya spoke on the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. After the speeches, the children broke off into task groups, and brainstormed on child labor. These were a determined group of children. I’ve done my fair share of work with children, and I’m used to having to do a bit of wrangling to get children focused. These children just sat down and got to work. It was amazing. I felt moved by their intense focus on the subject.

     The children who attended this conference may not have the ultimate solution to child labor, but these meetings give them the opportunity to think critically on the subject, and when they grow up, they will look at the problem from a perspective they would not have otherwise.

     CONCERN helps to form these children’s clubs because the organization believes strongly that children should have a voice in laws and activities that affect them, and these children’s clubs help the children achieve that.

216. Agent Orange, From Those Who Know It Best

     August 5, 2014 12:27 pm 2 Comments

     It’s been many weeks and preparation, but here we are in the first official day of the Agent Orange survey. Yesterday I worked with the AEPD staff drafting the online transcription of the English version of the survey, and then a staff professional development survey to begin transcribing the Vietnamese version. I had envisioned learning Google Forms would be a challenge, but the AEPD staff caught on with little prompting from me.

     We now have online versions to share with our outreach team from the Department of Labour, Invalids, and Social Affairs, (DOLISA) and the Agent Orange Association of Quang Binh. Both of these governmental organizations work with AEPD on a regular basis and are connected to the provincial, district, and commune levels of government and civil society groups. Tomorrow we will be conducting trainings and preliminary tests on the survey with representatives from DOLISA.

     Today, AEPD’s senior program manager, my translator, our hired consultant (a professor from Hue), and myself all met to discuss the survey from English to Vietnamese and back again. While much of the survey had already been translated, this meeting allowed us to get into the finer points. We discussed the nuances of Quang Binh Provinces and the cultural expectations of the rural Vietnamese as well as issues in formatting and structure.

     At one point during the meeting, our consultant, Ms. Hoa, pointed out how strange a five answer multiple choice asking an Agent Orange survivor if they were very unhappy, unhappy, neither happy nor unhappy, happy, or very happy would sound in Vietnamese.

     At first, I misunderstood her. Was it obvious how an Agent Survivor feels? I asked her.

     Ha, not even close. She replied. The issue with the question was the feeling of being neither happy nor unhappy. I described this intermediary feeling as “ambivalent,” and together we looked up the word for ambivalent in the Vietnamese/English dictionary. It returned an answer roughly equivalent to “conflicted.” We both agreed that wasn’t really what was meant. After thinking about it, Ms. Hoa made another excellent point: what exactly is “ambivalent happiness,” much less “ambivalent unhappiness.”

     But the take away from this meeting wasn’t just about senitments, it was also about the hubris of Western “understanding” for the Agent Orange issue. The most blatant version of this argument suggests that the resource base and the professional studies are more robust in the West, thus only western studies can be taken as legitimate. Of course, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

     And it makes obvious sense why: the Vietnamese are the single highest percentage of people exposed to Agent Orange/dioxin in the world. Doctors in Saigon were reporting on this issue as early as 1967, only five years after the spraying campaign began. Those doctors never stopped even though they had little idea why so many children were suddenly being born deformed. And the Vietnamese families who came in contact with Agent Orange never stopped learning about dioxin from the moment the chemical was first used. In total, the largest first-hand, experiential knowledge of Agent Orange/dioxin belongs to the Vietnamese. No one knows the issue better than the Vietnamese.

     Over the course of the meeting, we discussed the need to arrange the Agent Orange/dioxin linked conditions by the generations affected by the conditions. For instance, direct exposure to Agent Orange is known to cause only a certain subset of all the possible conditions dioxins can cause. Skin disease is high as are cancers and piercing headaches. Then, the children of the direct survivor, the first generation, are now susceptible to new conditions passed on through the genetic line, and so on through the second and third generations.

     Where this gets increasingly complicated is in the determination of who a second and third generation survivor actually is. Consider: a young Vietnamese soldier from the North goes to fight in a heavily sprayed area in the Southern part of the country. This solider comes home after the war, has children (the second generation), and then falls sick and dies at a young age. Those children are then adopted by a caring family from the commune that the solider is from. By the time the 3rd generation children are born, one family’s history has become two, and the link backwards in time to the original exposure of Agent Orange/dioxin is that much harder to prove.

     Or consider, the case of a person who is double or triple exposed. A mother who consumes food contaminated with Agent Orange passes on the dioxin to her daughter who also consumes the same food. Would the daughter’s daughter be a first or second-generation Agent Orange victim? Is double exposure additive? And would the double exposure be a higher priority than single exposure?

     Obviously, I do not have the answers, but then I wasn’t even able to think of these questions. All told, I walked away from this meeting with a much greater understanding of the semantic and cultural variations between Vietnamese and English. In our search for understanding of the Agent Orange issue, we can learn much from those who know it best.

217. The need to ask “Why?”

     August 3, 2014 11:07 pm 1 Comment

     Lately I’ve been thinking about the narratives we use when we talk about public health. There are plenty of nuanced, complex analyses out there, but more often than not we treat health as a particularly black and white issue. Disease is the bad guy. Scientists and development practitioners are the good ones. We fight pathogens with mosquito nets and medication as our weapons.

     Think, for example, of the recent coverage of the ebola outbreak in West Africa. The heroic images of WHO personnel clad in their plastic aprons and gloves. I in no way mean to criticize their efforts; ebola is a horrific disease and there are many brave men and women risking their lives to get the epidemic under control. But it is one more example of the way in which we portray Western medicine as a heroic force in the face of dark and nefarious disease.

     But this doesn’t tell the whole story. People don’t get sick because disease is insidious or cruel. While luck has something to do with it, it’s far from everything. People get sick because of poverty. They get sick because of injustice. They get sick because structural inequalities become written in and upon our bodies.

     In order to see these powers at work, we need simply ask ourselves, “Why?”

     Let me begin with the example of malaria. I worked on malaria education for a couple years in West Africa. More often than not, we treat mosquitoes as the bad guys. If people don’t get bitten by mosquitos, they won’t get malaria. If we provide them with mosquito nets and teach them to avoid standing water and use repellents at night, the problem will be solved.

     But we have to dig deeper. Why do people get bitten by mosquitos which carry malaria? We’re inclined to think that it’s because they don’t have nets. Sometimes this is true, and again – I don’t mean to criticize the efforts which have saved many lives over the years. But sometimes it’s more than this. Sometimes people have nets, they just don’t sleep under them. Why not? Because they don’t like the way that the nets obstruct air flow. Because they keep their nets at home and during the planting season they sleep in the fields. Because they don’t know that mosquitos are how you get malaria, so they don’t understand the use of the nets. Even if they do try to use them, they may not understand proper instillation.

     How is it that people don’t know that mosquitoes are how you get malaria, and how is it that they don’t know how to use a net? Well, a lot of people are illiterate, so they can’t read the materials distributed by health centers. They may not know and trust the doctors giving out information. Many people have never been to school. They can’t go because of lack of infrastructure, poverty, and priorities of their parents. Those who do go to school often don’t make it past primary school. Primary school is often taught in a European language which isn’t the student’s first language. Creative thinking isn’t a priority in the system – rather rote memorization is valued. Many students I worked with knew that malaria comes from “l’annophelle femelle” (a female of the species of mosquito which does indeed transit malaria) but they didn’t understand that l’annophelle femelle was a mosquito. They didn’t understand the practical implications of their learning.

     This is a tiny slice of the whole story, but already we see that the problem isn’t necessarily just a lack of nets. It’s the education system, it’s infrastructure, it’s poverty. This is why people get malaria, not because of mosquitoes.

     So if we begin to ask “Why?” when we look at uterine prolapse in Nepal, we find that here, too, the story is rather complicated.

     Why is the problem of uterine prolapse in Nepal so great? Lots of factors, the most cited including the fact that not many women give birth at medical facilities, many women return to work shortly after giving birth, and women do particularly grueling physical labor. Also, women don’t seek treatment when the problem is still minor.

     Well, why don’t most women give birth at a medical facility? Because the infrastructure is lacking – many women don’t live near clinics. Because of poverty, women can’t afford the fees or the transport. Because of social norms – their families don’t support them going to the hospital. Because of education – they don’t know the advantages to giving birth at a clinic.

     Why are so many women so far from clinics? The terrain in Nepal is definitely challenging for expanding infrastructure. Beyond that, hospitals that do exist in remote areas have trouble getting adequate staff, as many Nepali doctors want to go abroad where they can make more money, or to work in Kathmandu or another big city. The government’s budget is limited, as the country faces many challenges. Nepal went through a decade long war during which health infrastructure couldn’t be a priority.

     Why do women return to work so soon after giving birth, and why do they do such particularly grueling physical labor? Cultural and social norms – it is expected that women will work hard to support their families. Poverty and economic need. Lack of other options – women are less likely than men to be literate, less likely to own assets, more likely to marry younger. These factors limit a woman’s options beyond agricultural work.

     Why are women less likely to be literate, less likely to own assets, and more likely to marry younger? Deep-rooted gender discrimination which is present in society and in institutions.

     Why don’t women seek treatment early on for this condition? Many don’t know that prolapse can be treated at all. There is a lot of shame and stigma associated with the condition. Those who want to may not have a clinic which is easily accessible or the money for treatment or transportation.

     Why don’t women know that prolapse can be treated? Why is there so much shame and stigma? Lack of education, gender discrimination. Emphasis on a woman’s value being directly related to her ability to produce children (especially sons). Cultural norms.

     Again, this is a small snapshot of the story and these are only partial answers. But it begins to highlight how uterine prolapse is more than a health problem. It is a direct result of gender discrimination, of poor infrastructure, of conflict, and of poverty. Uterine prolapse in Nepal is just one more example of the ways in which disease is the legacy of inequality and injustice which becomes imprinted on our bodies – especially on the bodies of the most marginalized members of society.

218. A Call to Arms Against Child Labor

     July 30, 2014 3:12 am 1 Comment

     Last week, I took a trip to Bhaktapur with Dr. Bijaya Sainju, the executive director for CONCERN for Children and Environment-Nepal, for a press conference that CONCERN was hosting. At approximately 74 kilns, Bhaktapur has the greatest concentration of brick factories in Nepal. Over the past several years, CONCERN has initiated a significant number of projects to help curb the amount of child labor in Bhaktapur’s brick factories.

     Well over 20 journalists attended the press conference.  During this conference, Bijaya announced the partnership between The Advocacy Project, and told the journalists that I am in Nepal to stand as a witness to Nepal’s actions. He essentially called the government, politicians, and media to task and said that Nepal has a responsibility to eliminate child labor in its country. Dr. Sainju pointed out that as a signatory of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of a Child treaty, Nepal has a moral obligation to end child labor. Dr. Sainju and other representatives of CONCERN discussed CONCERN’s joint project with Save the Children that helped reduce the number of child laborers in the brick kilns.

     This program focused on education and empowerment, which is the cornerstone of CONCERN’s platform for change. Dr. Sainju said that using tools such as education, human rights training, and vocational support, children can be provided with economic sustainability that can lead to the complete end to child labor. Dr. Sainju stated that if Nepal focused on programs such as these, child labor could be completely eliminated in Nepal in five years. The key at this point is to get the public support to make it happen.

     CONCERN has significant support from the media. As of the date of the press coverage, CONCERN was cover in nine Nepali newspapers, and I just finished watching television news coverage on one of CONCERN’s recent programs. Hopefully, the public will follow suit.

219. The Unseen Children

     July 21, 2014 8:29 am 1 Comment

     

     Home in America, I’m often struck by the lack of children. Not that I never see children at all, but there are times I can go days without seeing them. The park across from my apartment in Medford, Massachusetts often sits quiet and empty. Last Halloween, I think I only had six trick-or-treaters knock on my door.  This shouldn’t be much of surprise since America’s birth rate has declined over the years, but every time I pass a quiet park, I feel a certain loss.

     In Kathmandu, there are children of all shapes and sizes wherever I go.  At least ten children live in the house next door to me, and every evening when I walk home from CONCERN, they all run up to me and shout, “Namaste!” After a good rain, I often see children jumping around and playing in puddles or splashing in rain runoff. At about 4:00 pm I see swarms of children pass by CONCERN’s offices, all dressed in school uniforms: the girls in navy blue skirts and sky blue shirts, the boys wearing navy pants and sky blue shirts, and all of them wearing perfectly knotted ties. They are laughing and cheerfully walking home. Sometimes the girls will be holding hands, and the boys will either be locked arm-in-arm, or have their arms tossed over the shoulders of their friends.

     But if I look closer, past the giggles and the splashes and the playing, I see the other children: the child laborers. I wouldn’t notice them if I weren’t looking for them. A few times a day, I will see a child duck behind a house or down a side street, and it’s obvious that the child is in the middle of a very long work day. Yesterday I was in Thamel, buying groceries and grabbing dinner, and I saw a girl walk out from behind a restaurant carrying a metal container of potatoes. She was about eight-years old. It was wet in Thamel Saturday, and she was trying to jump over puddles and was having a hard time of it.

     Also in Thamel, I saw children who looked very much like they lived on the street. Two boys in particular looked the worse for wear. They were tiredly walking along the street. One was carrying a drum, and the other a long pole a bit over six feet long. One boy stopped to look at something on one of the vendor tables, and people just walked past him as if he weren’t there. I feel at a loss for what to do in situations like that, and I wish I knew more than a few words of Nepali. Then I think, the best thing I can do is the work that I’m doing. I hope that soon, the efforts of the many people working to end child labor in Nepal come to fruition.

220. Dispatch from a Health Camp

     July 17, 2014 2:37 am Leave a Comment

     On July 4th & 5th, Care Women Nepal held its 3rd uterine prolapse screening camp. In some ways this was to be the climax of my summer – to finally see in person what it’s all about, to see the organization in action. I prepared myself for an exciting and exhausting weekend.

     On the night of the 3rd I went with Indira (the founder and executive director of Care Women Nepal) to a nearby hotel to greet our chief guest – Dr. Shekhar Koirala. Dr. Shekhar Koirala is a member of the Nepali congress and physician. He is also the nephew of the prime minister. This was my third time meeting him and I was struck once again by how humble and grounded he seemed for someone who is so important in Nepal. It is very refreshing to meet a politician who genuinely has the best interests of his people as his first priority.

     On the 4th, things got off to a slightly late start, as is wont to happen here in Nepal. Usually a given time is give or take a couple hours. By 10am, though, we were off. We started with an inaugural ceremony, at which speeches were given and rudraksha mala (a traditional holy necklace) were distributed to guests. Dr. Koirala gave a really terrific speech which highlighted the underlying social and economic aspects of uterine prolapse. He did the honor of examining our first patient. Then the whirlwind began.

     Nearly 300 patients were seen over the course of 2 days. The community space we used was a multi story building which was built into the side of a hill. It was spacious, but sometimes congested and confusing. As is to be expected, there were ups and downs. The registration process was swift, and the doctors were amazingly courteous, respectful, and fast. I have seen far too many doctors that condescend and mock their patients.

     Nevertheless, there were complications. The doctors didn’t bring the ultrasound machine on the first day and many women were upset that they wouldn’t get lab examinations. Some women were upset when the doctors deemed them healthy and without problem – they felt like it was a waste of time if they weren’t given some free medicine.

     I had the chance to see several cases of 3rd degree prolapse and it was even more horrible than I’d imagined. I talked to several of the women after their examinations and many of them had similar stories – they live in a rural area, never attended school, had children young. Almost all of them had had at least a couple children die. These were lives with much suffering, but the women all seemed very matter-of-fact about it all. While prolapse caused many of them pain and inconvenience, it was also just a part of life – one woman had been suffering from it for 20 years. Some even feared getting surgery, as they were worried that they might not be able to work after the surgery. It broke my heart a little that these 70 year old women still had to be in the fields everyday, doing hard physical labor.

     The doctors counseled the women on the benefits of surgery. For those who need it, the surgeries will be happening in a week or so, as soon as Care Women Nepal can raise the funds. If you’d like to learn more about the successes of the camp, or contribute to our fundraising efforts, please visit http://advocacynet.org/partners/care-women-nepal/.

     The camp proved to be a really terrific experience. I was inspired by the dedication and compassion of the volunteers and community members who made it possible. I was pleased that Care Women Nepal seemed open and aware of all the problems, and committed to continuing to improving these camps.

     At the heart of this camp was a group of people who are committed to improving the health, dignity, and quality of life of the most underserved women. And I was proud to be a part of it.

221. Profile #1

     July 10, 2014 2:54 am 1 Comment

     Hello world,

     Namaste from Tulsipur!

     As I mentioned in my last entry, I will now be posting the profiles of a few children at the Children’s Peace Home in Ghorahi, Dang. First, a brief introduction of the Peace Home: Children’s Peace Home has been operating through the support of Mr. Bhola Nath Yogi for the past eight years. Apart from rescuing thirty-five children from bonded labor and domestic and political conflicts, Mr. Yogi financially supports children from the neighboring communities whose parents cannot afford to send them to schools. This has worked out pretty well because in addition to providing a home for the rescued children and financial support to the ones in the community, Mr. Yogi has founded a school called Hindu BidhyaPeeth School. And this is where the children get their education, free of cost.

     Mr. Yogi says that because the funding is personal (in addition to some help from his relatives abroad), he has not been able to expand on the existing hostel, and would love to pursue that endeavor if he receives funding from donors. Nevertheless, what he has managed to create from his passion of bettering children’s lives is remarkable. The sight of rescued children working together to create a secure future for themselves is beyond humbling. Most flinch when they tell their stories, remembering their lives before the hostel. Others tell them in a matter-of-fact manner, maybe a result of confiding in their new-found family way too often.

     Today, I introduce you to Durga Kumal (8), one of the sixteen rescued girls in the hostel.
     

     

     Name: Durga Kumal

     Home: Baini, Dang

     How did you break your arm?

     “I climbed the black plum tree to get some fruits. The tree was slippery and I fell..

     My cast will come off in two weeks”

     How did you end up in the Children’s Peace Home?”

     “My father was always drunk… When my mother was pregnant with
     my brother, he beat her so much that my brother was born with a disability.”

     “She did not want the same thing to happen to me…”

     My mother used to work here (in the hostel) too”

     “One day, he called her and begged her to come back, promising that he will never beat her again…

     When she went back to him, he beat her, many times…She used to called me, crying”

     Where are they now?”

     “I don’t know.”

     Please follow my my upcoming blogs for more profiles. Until then, read, comment, donate and advocate!

222. The Legacy of Agent Orange and the American War in Vietnam

     July 8, 2014 4:20 am 1 Comment

     In 1961, acting on a request from US-ally and South Vietnam President Ngo Dinh Diem, and with the approval of US President John F. Kennedy, the American Military began a drastic scorched earth policy to combat the escalating civil war in Vietnam. Working primarily with chemical manufacturers Dow Chemical and Monsanto, the US military developed Operation Ranch Hand, which involved the systematic spraying of Central and Southern Vietnam with a family of potent herbicides.

     The chemical family came to be called Agent Orange after the orange stripes on the barrels of the highest used formulation, although Agent Blue, Agent White, and others, known by their respective barrel stripes, were also used throughout the country.

     This decision would prove to have dire consequences for Vietnamese and Americans, impacting generations after the war and the well-being of the ones who fought it.

     Partially bolstered by the successful use of Agent Orange by the British during the communist insurgency of the Malayan Emergency of the 1950s, the US Government approved the use of Agent Orange to augment the on-the-ground war with the guerrilla fighters of the National Liberation Army of South Vietnam or the Vietcong. The use of Agent Orange was an attempt to disrupt communist supply lanes, reduce ground cover, and foil potential ambushes, overtaking the apparent terrestrial advantage of the Vietcong.

     In total, between 1962 and 1971, the U.S. Government sprayed 20 million barrels of chemical herbicide in Vietnam on 4.5 million acres of land, totaling 10% of the total landmass of the southern half of the country. “By 1971, the US Air Force [had] run 19,905 spray missions, an average of thirty-four daily, over the forests, jungles, and fields of southern Vietnam. The defoliation campaign [burned] a 5 million acre parking lot, an area the size of Massachusetts, into Vietnam’s countryside.”

     With it, Agent Orange decimated entire ecosystems. In the coming years, the southern tracts of land beneath the demilitarized zone and the 17th Parallel came to ruins. As if overnight, the once pristine tropical vegetation transformed into blighted aridity.

     The lavish application of the herbicide in Central and Southern Vietnam, and the prolific way in which the chemical seeped into the soil, ensured its legacy: entering the food chain of military and civilian Vietnamese alike, as well as drenching the American Soldiers ordered to soak the countryside. These veterans would later report they experienced lightheadedness, excruciating migraines, skin inflammation, and spontaneous bleeding from the nose and mouth:

     “US records suggest that 2.6 million hectares were sprayed with [Agent Orange], that more than half were sprayed at least four times and that between two and five million people were sprayed directly. In at least 42 cases, emergencies meant that entire planeloads, 120,000 litres [approximately 1,050 barrels], were dumped in 30 seconds instead of the usual four to five minutes. Anyone underneath could have been soaked in [Agent Orange].”

     Although it was not the stated intent of the US Military to target rice paddy fields and vegetable farms in the beginnings of Operation Ranch Hand, the de facto protocol proved otherwise. As early as 1963, journalists decried the use of herbicides as “dirty-war tactics,” knowing full well that the campaign was about much more than ground cover defoliation. By 1965, as much as 45 percent of the Agent Orange payloads were directed at crops. They contended, the use of Agent Orange was not solely being used to reduce ground cover, but to eliminate food sources outright, starving Vietnamese Soldiers and Civilians and contaminating their food supply.

     Thus, through agriculture and regular spraying, Vietnamese civilians and soldiers came in direct contact with the chemical, where it entered into their blood streams, fatty tissue, and breast milk, and where the chemical would stay.

     If Agent Orange were in fact harmless like the American Military and the chemical manufacturers contended, none of this would matter. But the sheer number of increased miscarriages, cancers, malignancies, and other unexplained health defects, began to circulate amongst the Vietnamese during the war:

     “[The Vietnamese Farmers] said that farm animals grew weak, got sick, and even died after being exposed to defoliants… Saigon newspapers risked publishing stories about babies born with heads shaped like mice, pigs, and sheep, [sic] about two-headed babies. Peasants whose families had lived on the same land for generations said they’d never encountered such strange phenomena. Doctors and nurses who delivered these babies could not recall having seen similar birth defects before the American War.”

     The North Vietnamese and the Vietcong began a large campaign reporting these incidents during the war, but the American Military dismissed it as communist propaganda.

     It is known today, as the chemical manufacturers undoubtedly knew in 1965, that an unintended byproduct was created in the production of Agent Orange. A 50/50 mixture of two common herbicides known as 2,4-Dichlorophenoxyacetic acid (2,4-D) and 2,4,5-Trichlorophenoxyacetic acid (2,4,5-T). Neither of these two chemicals are particularly dangerous. However, 2,4,5-T, when processed too quickly, and without adequate temperature safeguards, produces 2,3,7,8-tetrachlorodibenxo-p-dioxin or, simply TCDD-dioxin, one of a class of chemicals regularly described as “the most toxic substance known to science.”

     Dioxin is known to be poisonous to fetuses and cause malformations during their development. In laboratory mice, dioxin caused the failure of red blood cells, the rapid growth of tumors, and the degeneration of neurological communication throughout the body. It is known to cause cancer of white and red blood cells, lymphatic systems, liver, prostate, lung, larynx, and trachea. It is suspected to cause the swelling of infant brains to the size of their bodies, to cause children to be born without eyes or fingers beyond the second knuckle. It is speculated that dioxin might even be capable of mutating our genetic code.

     Over the course of the American War in Vietnam at least three million were exposed to this substance. By 1975, the American defeat, and the Fall of Saigon, Vietnam was about to inherit one of the most complicated post-conflict situations in the history of modern warfare, the effects of which are still felt four decades later. However, as history has shown, despite the wanton destruction of war, chemical, or imperial power, the Vietnamese would not be defeated.

223. In search of happy endings

     July 7, 2014 5:08 am Leave a Comment

     A week or two ago, a nurse at the local hospital told me a story. It was about an old grandmother who was sitting by her son, who worked at the health clinic. He noticed a foul smell. He started asking his grandmother questions and, after probing deeper and deeper, discovered that she has uterine prolapse. She has had it for 30 years and she had never told a soul until she told her grandson.

     The nurse who told me this story pulled out her phone – she had a picture of the old woman’s prolapse saved on it. The women I’m meeting here who work on the issue of prolapse all have pictures of it on their phones. This seems odd, from an American perspective, to keep something so grotesque and horrifying on your phone. In addition to an invasion of privacy, it seems voyeuristic, looking at a nameless woman’s most intimate secret, her suffering on display.

     A week later I would be seeing prolapse first hand at Care Women Nepal’s uterine prolapse screening camp. In pictures or in person, seeing the condition produces a visceral effect. The women I talked to all had very sad stories, though they didn’t think of them that way. They told them matter-of-factly, because that’s just the way life is. There was Maya, who is 62. She never went to school, and works in the fields. She developed prolapse after the birth of her 1st child – 36 years ago. She gave birth to 5 children since developing prolapse, only 2 now survive. After giving birth she only rested for 2 or 3 days, then she went back to the hard labor that has consumed her life. She was reluctant to talk about the ways that prolapse caused her suffering – but her daughter-in-law (who had made her come in for the camp) said she has bloody discharge, pain while urinating, and clear trouble walking and moving.

     Then there was Satya, 68, who has been experiencing prolapse for 20 years. Of her 6 children, 2 have died. She also never attended school and does household and agricultural work. She gave birth to her first child at 16. Both she and Maya gave birth to all their children at home, never in a clinic. Satya told me that the prolapse does cause her pain and make it difficult to work – but she’s scared to get surgery because she’s afraid that any complications might make it so she can’t work at all.

     After seeing prolapse in person and hearing the stories of these women, I began to better understand why the women I work with keep pictures on their phone. It’s precisely because they know it it produces horror and discomfort. That’s what they want. They want to horrify people, because they realize that horror might actually spark action. They want people to be as upset and outraged as they are that women suffer this way.

     The grandmother at the beginning of our story did not have a particularly happy ending. She was brought to a hospital but the doctors said she wasn’t in good enough health to undergo surgery. By providing screening, facilitating treatment, slowly breaking down the stigma surrounding uterine prolapse, and motivating others to act, it is the hope of Care Women Nepal to give more women happy endings.

      

224. An Intercontinental Partnership to Address Agent Orange

     June 30, 2014 10:05 pm 1 Comment

     It is only my first week in Vietnam (and my second day in Dong Hoi City where I now reside), and I am already feeling at home with the kindness and generosity  of AEPD. But first, a little more about the organizations I work.

     The Advocacy Project, which hosts my blog and Flickr, is an NGO, based out of Washington D.C., that aids marginalized communities to tell their stories, claim their rights, and produce social change. Through The Advocacy Project, I have been placed with the Association for the Empowerment of People with Disabilities (AEPD) in Dong Hoi City, Quang Binh Province, Vietnam. Under The Advocacy Project, I am responsible for a number of services directly linked to increasing the online presence of AEPD, their visibility to local and international media, producing website content through videography and photography, and blogging through The Advocacy Project’s online network of past and present fellows.

     In addition, I am also working with AEPD and their organizational goals. AEPD oversees the empowerment of Vietnamese living with disabilities along eight key areas: 1) access to health care, 2) social inclusion and empowerment, 3) economic support, 4) community based rehabilitation, 5) livelihood opportunities, 6) climate change workshops, 7) education and information, and 8) advocacy. The World Health Organization estimates as much as 15% of the Vietnamese population is currently living with a disability. While not all of these disabilities can be linked to past conflicts in the country, many members of the disabled population in Vietnam have conditions that are due to events from the American War in Vietnam.

     Thus, two areas of central focus for AEPD are the disabilities arising from the large number of unexploded ordinances leftover from the wars and medical afflictions linked to the chemical defoliant, Agent Orange. Increased attention by international donors has led AEPD to expand its outreach in Central Vietnam to include a wider range of coverage for victims of dioxin poisoning, and increasing awareness about the large number of existing unexploded ordinances scattered throughout the country.

     Because dioxin poisoning can be very difficult to identify, especially in parts of the world where medical resources are limited or too expensive, AEPD has been working hard to gather on-the-ground data to support and augment the existing literature. The latest initiative is to conduct community surveys that will help to determine the likelihood of dioxin exposure along a list of known indicators. In order to do this, the organization has chosen to design a series of surveys to be disseminated to the public at large. The Advocacy Project is providing support on the donor end as well as consulting on the technical aspects of the project.

     Despite all of this, the survey has been procedurally very complicated. The lack of “good evidence” and epidemiological studies, along with a series of legal battles in the 80s, 90s, following court cases from American Veterans who believe their disabilities and the disabilities of their children were caused by their contact with Agent Orange, has placed Agent Orange in a murky, indeterminate place. American Veterans “won” a case in the 90s, which expanded VA services for veterans of the American War in Vietnam, but failed to establish any sense of clear liability, for the chemical’s manufacturers (Dow Chemical, Monsanto, and others) and their part in rectifying the ecological and human consequences of its use.

     In other words, conducting a survey on Agent Orange is like proving climate change: the backlash is fierce, the debates uneven, and the politics rarely demonstrative of the truth. Despite a mountain of studies, films, books, personal anecdotes, and the living proof of the survivors themselves—the black and white of Agent Orange is still gray. This survey is not out to prove the causal relationship between birth defects and Agent Orange, and it is far from establishing any new ground on the legal responsibility of the parties involved. Rather, this survey is doing what civil society and NGOs do best: identify an issue and tackle it with or without the politics.

     I spent the last few weeks in Washington D.C. working with The Advocacy Project to develop a survey which would use the Veterans Administration and the Government of Vietnam’s own criteria for determining a victim of Agent Orange. This amounts to a list of 20 or so conditions that, when coupled with time served in known Agent Orange hot spots, their designation is a survivor of Agent is cleared. But this procedure is on a much smaller scale in Vietnam, largely due to a lack of resources.

     With AEPD, I am developing a survey to determine the likelihood of dioxin exposure, as well as designing a database to catalog new and existing data. This survey will be implemented in one district in the province of Quang Binh. These surveys will be co-developed with AEPD and will be collected through structured and semi-structured interviews with AEPD’s clients, following an extensive documentation review of relevant historical, medical, and cultural data.

     Once the data is collected, a report will be made identifying the needs of Agent Orange survivors in the area and, with donor help, there will be a follow-up project to carry individual packages of support to those survivors.

     It’s an ambition project, but one with an exceptional partnership and great potential.
     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”It is only my first week in Vietnam (and my second day in Dong Hoi City where I now reside), and I am already feeling at home with the kindness and generosity  of AEPD. But first, a little more about the organizations I work.

     The Advocacy Project<\/a>, which hosts my blog<\/a> and Flickr<\/a>, is an NGO, based out of Washington D.C., that aids marginalized communities to tell their stories, claim their rights, and produce social change. Through The Advocacy Project, I have been placed with the Association for the Empowerment of People with Disabilities (AEPD)<\/a> in Dong Hoi City, Quang Binh Province, Vietnam. Under The Advocacy Project, I am responsible for a number of services directly linked to increasing the online presence of AEPD, their visibility to local and international media, producing website content through videography and photography, and blogging through The Advocacy Project\u2019s online network of past and present fellows.

     In addition, I am also working with AEPD and their organizational goals. AEPD oversees the empowerment of Vietnamese living with disabilities along eight key areas: 1) access to health care, 2) social inclusion and empowerment, 3) economic support, 4) community based rehabilitation, 5) livelihood opportunities, 6) climate change workshops, 7) education and information, and 8) advocacy. The World Health Organization estimates as much as 15% of the Vietnamese population is currently living with a disability. While not all of these disabilities can be linked to past conflicts in the country, many members of the disabled population in Vietnam have conditions that are due to events from the American War in Vietnam.

     Thus, two areas of central focus for AEPD are the disabilities arising from the large number of unexploded ordinances leftover from the wars and medical afflictions linked to the chemical defoliant, Agent Orange. Increased attention by international donors has led AEPD to expand its outreach in Central Vietnam to include a wider range of coverage for victims of dioxin poisoning, and increasing awareness about the large number of existing unexploded ordinances scattered throughout the country. \n

     Because dioxin poisoning can be very difficult to identify, especially in parts of the world where medical resources are limited or too expensive, AEPD has been working hard to gather on-the-ground data to support and augment the existing literature. The latest initiative is to conduct community surveys that will help to determine the likelihood of dioxin exposure along a list of known indicators. In order to do this, the organization has chosen to design a series of surveys to be disseminated to the public at large. The Advocacy Project is providing support on the donor end as well as consulting on the technical aspects of the project.

     Despite all of this, the survey has been procedurally very complicated. The lack of \u201cgood evidence\u201d and epidemiological studies, along with a series of legal battles in the 80s, 90s, following court cases from American Veterans who believe their disabilities and the disabilities of their children were caused by their contact with Agent Orange, has placed Agent Orange in a murky, indeterminate place. American Veterans \u201cwon\u201d a case in the 90s, which expanded VA services for veterans of the American War in Vietnam, but failed to establish any sense of clear liability, for the chemical\u2019s manufacturers (Dow Chemical, Monsanto, and others) and their part in rectifying the ecological and human consequences of its use.

     In other words, conducting a survey on Agent Orange is like proving climate change: the backlash is fierce, the debates uneven, and the politics rarely demonstrative of the truth. Despite a mountain of studies, films, books, personal anecdotes, and the living proof of the survivors themselves\u2014the black and white of Agent Orange is still gray. This survey is not out to prove the causal relationship between birth defects and Agent Orange, and it is far from establishing any new ground on the legal responsibility of the parties involved. Rather, this survey is doing what civil society and NGOs do best: identify an issue and tackle it with or without the politics.

     I spent the last few weeks in Washington D.C. working with The Advocacy Project to develop a survey which would use the Veterans Administration and the Government of Vietnam\u2019s own criteria for determining a victim of Agent Orange. This amounts to a list of 20 or so conditions that, when coupled with time served in known Agent Orange hot spots, their designation is a survivor of Agent is cleared. But this procedure is on a much smaller scale in Vietnam, largely due to a lack of resources.

     With AEPD, I am developing a survey to determine the likelihood of dioxin exposure, as well as designing a database to catalog new and existing data. This survey will be implemented in one district in the province of Quang Binh. These surveys will be co-developed with AEPD and will be collected through structured and semi-structured interviews with AEPD\u2019s clients, following an extensive documentation review of relevant historical, medical, and cultural data.

     Once the data is collected, a report will be made identifying the needs of Agent Orange survivors in the area and, with donor help, there will be a follow-up project to carry individual packages of support to those survivors.

     It\u2019s an ambition project, but one with an exceptional partnership and great potential<\/span>.
     \n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

225. Across the Streets of Hanoi

     June 25, 2014 7:19 am 7 Comments

     On advice from the front desk agent, I opt to wander the byzantine streets of Hanoi nestled in the old quarter of the city, soaking in the cool air and the moist breeze. Although Hanoi is rapidly developing, divisions in wealth are still heir apparent, shaded though they are in the neon of its nighttime glow. If monotony thrives where nothing changes: Hanoi is a safe bet for decades of excitement.

     The variety and excitement of the street life is never ending, vespas packed in blocks and rows, beer gardens spilling into the streets, ramshackle homes, dank alleyways of swamp, the green light of storefronts illuminating the banyan trees, casinos, restaurants, boutiques, general stores, tattoo parlors—even a dentist’s office in the midst of an incisor picking. All is showcased on the road.

     But, for the number of people playing games like bola tangkas,  laughing, eating bowls of beef and chicken phở, I see many ambling about, but almost no one crossing the street. And this is alarming. In theory, the route should not be difficult, but the streets of Hanoi are far from a pedestrians paradise. Sprawling, seemingly unplanned roads collide: a two way street merges into three that merges into seven. But the force at which these vehicles travel together is downright frightening, a literal onslaught of motos and horns much akin to killer bees. A single streetlight regulates the flow that most motorists ignore. Of those who do mind its perfunctory authority, a complete stop is out of the question. At these levels, one couldn’t regulate it if they wanted to.

     Dang.

     The relentless unofficial business of the moto-taxis makes much more sense now. Those motos don’t navigate the road; they pilot its culture. They know the dictates of sound judgment: like how to shoulder the road into oncoming traffic avoiding the inefficiency of circling the block. They know how to conduct pavement rides, swerve, cradle babies, and text/talk/drive.

     And the moto-taxis do well.

     Their knowledge of the roads—their key to the epistemological certainty of the streets—is what, in the end, you will pay for. It’s pure madness, but there’s no proof of the madness. Nothing is happening, accidents are not occurring. People get from Point A to Point B with almost zero effort. The mass of Hanoian motos moves as one, not killer bees, but the murmurations of starlings.

     The thought comes to mind: what would people back home believe when a critical mass of vespas mauled and—literally—tired me to tiny bits? It this really how I will go out? Would their eventually be a “why did the chicken cross the road joke about me?” And would it be funny? Do they have those jokes in Vietnam?

     Fortunately, I didn’t stand there pondering oblivion too long. A fellow pedestrian, an older Vietnamese woman about half my size, sidestepped me straight into the road, looking neither direction for oncoming traffic. To my complete disbelief, every vehicle stopped for her, or California-stopped for her, as she gently roamed across. Knowing this was my only chance, I jumped in after her, mimicking her every move. To the motorists, it must have looked like we were dancing, a synchronized shuffle through the mayhem.

     People always say this after they’ve done it, but, sure enough, the other side was closer than I thought.

226. The 2014 Trafficking in Persons Report and Other Thoughts on Human Complacency

     June 22, 2014 9:41 pm Leave a Comment

     So this week wasn’t one of the most productive weeks of my life.  I started off Sunday at CONCERN working on a grant application in order to gain support for CONCERN’s women and children’s advocacy program, which we are trying to fund.  This program would help educate public entities about the enforcement of human rights violations.  This program is something that the Government of Nepal greatly needs.  I will discuss why a program like this is needed in my next blog post.

     By Monday, I had put a pretty decent dent in the grant application, but I was starting to feel ill.  I figured I must have eaten something I shouldn’t have, and that it would pass, and all I needed to do was drink plenty of fluids.  It did not pass.  I ended up spending a few days in the hospital, and I was unable to attend an important child labour task force meeting on Friday between several Nepali NGO’s.

     One good thing that came out of my stint in the hospital was that I had access to television, and I was able to watch John Kerry announce the release of the 2014 Trafficking in Persons report. I caught him just as he began his opening remarks.  I discuss some of his key remarks below.  The transcript can be found here on the Department of State’s web site.

     Kerry’s Remarks

     Kerry began by acknowledging key people in attendance and acknowledging their work.  He then discussed the report and emphasized how the report was about more than statistics.  He stated, “This is a call to action. It’s a call to conscience.”

     He acknowledged those whom he called “heroes” and “distinguished guests,” whose stories he went on to share later in his speech.  Then he said something very poignant:  “If the cries of those who are enslaved around the world today were an earthquake, then the tremors would be felt in every single nation on every continent simultaneously.”

     This is true.  Every country on this planet has been affected by the horrible tragedy of human trafficking.  The comparison to an earthquake made me think of an actual natural disaster.  Whenever we see one of those tragedies on television, the world pulls together to provide aid.  Just as the world gathers together to provide water and food to countries suffering in natural disasters, we should gather together to end the trafficking of human beings.

     Human trafficking is an unnatural disaster.  Children’s legs are crumbling under the rocks they are forced to carry for ten hours a day or more in stone quarries.  Girls are falling through the chasms of the sex trade.  The family foundation is falling down all around us, and all we do is watch it all, or fail to watch it at all.  We need to go beyond passive acknowledgement.  There are serious wrongs occurring here. It is a world-wide tragedy, and we need to act.  As Kerry pointed out in his remarks:

     “Whether it is a young girl trapped in a brothel or a woman enslaved as a domestic worker or a boy forced to sell himself on the street or a man abused on a fishing boat, the victims of these crimes all have names, all had families. And they each have been robbed of the right to lead their lives the way that they might choose to for themselves.” 

     Many communities and many families consider forced labour and human trafficking to be nothing more than the way things are done, a fact of life, a necessary evil. But this is just an excuse for inaction. Forced labour and human trafficking are not “the way things are”;  they are illegal activities. Every time we buy products without knowing where they came from, every time we see a domestic situation that looks a little odd and say that it’s none of our business, every time we see a child who looks too young to be doing the job he or she is doing but keep silent, and every time we know that there is something we can do, and we do nothing, we are complicit.  We are accessories to criminal activity, participants in this unnatural disaster, and we need to stop being passive.

     If you haven’t already, take time to review the 2014 Trafficking in Person’s Report from the State Department.  Take note of the condition of your home country and the countries with whom you do business.  Think about what you can do to end this tragic crime.

     Kerry closed his statement with the following words,  and I think we should carefully consider his words and take heed: “And it’s a call to action to governments and citizens around the world to uncover modern slavery and hold it accountable to identify the victims, and bring their abusers to justice. There cannot be impunity for those who traffic in human beings. It must end. So that is the standard that we intend to hold ourselves to.”

     So please, help end this unnatural disaster.  If you are wondering how to do this, supporting NGOs like CONCERN is a great way to start.  CONCERN has been working to end child labour for over 20 years and has started many programs to help accomplish this.  If you are interested in donating, you can use the donate button at the upper right hand side of my blog and make sure to note that your donation is for CONCERN.  Thanks in advance for your support.

227. We Need to Fight Against Child Labor Everyday

     June 14, 2014 9:51 pm 2 Comments

     I arrived to Kathmandu late Monday night. After close to 30 hours of flights and layovers, I was very excited to be here; however, part of me was disappointed because I arrived at night and I wouldn’t be able to truly see the city until the morning.

     I am staying with a wonderful family in the Shawyambhu area of Kathmandu.  My room has an amazing view of Shawyambhu Stupa which is also known as “The Monkey Temple,” for the many monkeys that surround the area.

     On Wednesday afternoon I walked to CONCERN’s office to meet with the executive director, Bijaya Sainju. I also met many of the dedicated staff. We discussed our many goals for the summer, which include putting together a plan for the arrest and prosecution of child labor law violators. As far as I know, this would be the first arrest and conviction of its kind in the history of Nepal. We agreed that this will likely be a long-range goal. It will take far longer than my three month fellowship, but hopefully by the end of the summer we will have a reasonable blueprint that can be implemented.  At the end of our meeting, Bijaya invited me to join CONCERN for a rally being held the next day in Bakhtapur for World Against Child Labor Day, so…

      

     At about 5:00 A.M. on Thursday morning, I woke up and headed over to Bakhtapur to observe the rally and take pictures.  There were dozens of groups and organizations in attendance.  The total number of participants was close to 500.  They marched through the streets of Bhaktapur, ending in Bhaktapur Square where we saw many speeches, musical performances, and one live drama on the horrors of child labor.  It was a successful day, and we definitely got the message out.

     Sadly, the problems of child labor go beyond a day.  Around the world, there are millions of children who put their lives at risk every day just to have a meal.  Why aren’t we in the streets every day as well screaming to end this terrible practice?  We can justify complacency by saying there are people with problems everywhere and we can’t help them all.  True, but these are children.  They have no choice.  Adults with problems often have choices about how to deal with those problems.  Children forced to work have no choice, they are slaves to circumstance.

     So it may seem unreasonable or unfeasible to march in the streets every day demanding the end of child labor, but it is unthinkable to do nothing.  A child is the world’s responsibility.

228. Settling In

     June 13, 2014 9:55 pm 1 Comment

     I had almost forgotten the highs and lows of being abroad. It’s different than just travel – it comes when you are trying to live somewhere, to establish a home for yourself, even if it’s not for long. And it comes with this kind of work – the amorphous, complicated, occasionally inspiring work of “international development.”

     There’s the simultaneous terror and exhilaration of placing your life in the hands of someone you barely know. Suddenly, I’m racing through Kathmandu on the back of a motorcycle with someone I met only a week ago, wind and dust lashing at my face, trying not to wince at the chaotic, weaving traffic. Suddenly, I’m boarding a turboprop plane for a place I’ve never heard of with two people I’ve known for days. They’re practically strangers, yet they are my guides, my hosts, and my lifeline.

     Fortunately, Sugam’s a good driver and we made it to Swayambhunath in one piece. We climbed an unreasonable amount of stairs, marveled at the vistas, laughed at the monkeys, and eventually even made it to have french fries and coffee in Thamel. Fortunately, the turboprop plane was steady and quick, the roads surprisingly good, and Indira, Yunesh, and I made it to the hilly town of Dhankuta in due time.

     What I love about this is how, when I’m forced to put my trust in people I just met, they so rarely disappoint me. I have received so much remarkable kindness, guidance, and protection from people I barely know around the world. Sugam is already a friend – there’s a camaraderie of shared experience that comes with being a Peace Fellow. Indira and Yunesh continue to take good care of me – Yunesh with his patient translations, Indira with her ample servings of daal bhat and her kindly tug on my sleeve when I am walking on the wrong side of the road.

     The work confounds and excites me – again, the dualism of the highs and lows. At one moment I feel like I have no idea what’s going on, no idea what my role in all this is. At the next I feel invigorated and I know exactly what we’re going to do, how it will happen, and I can’t wait to jump into it. This isn’t a straight-forward job. There are a lot of pieces to sort through.

     And so I’m sorting through the pieces and finding friends where once there were strangers. I still feel unsure of myself, but each day I’m a bit more comfortable. Some days are great, some… not as great. But I savor the highs and survive the lows and slowly but surely find my footing.

229. Video Blog: Peace Fellow Training in DC

     June 11, 2014 8:41 pm 1 Comment

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”video”,”url”:”https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=2wy0AiWNfts”,”class”:””,”ratio”:”16:9″,”scale”:”default”,”size”:{“width”:500,”height”:281}}]}[/content-builder]

230. First Impressions Video Log

     June 9, 2014 3:42 pm 2 Comments

     A video log of my first impressions of the Advocacy Project Fellowship and my impending departure to Vietnam!

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:4,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     My first attempt at editing and creating a video. My expectation-video during the AP training in Washington D.C. 

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:7,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     The statistics are alarming<\/a> , and even worse is the action or a complete lack thereof, taken by state institutions in ending the illegal practice of child labor in Nepal. Last year\u2019s Peace Fellow to Nepal, Emily MacDonald, looked into the issue of a lack of prosecution<\/a> for people who employ child workers , even though there are specific laws relating to the issue, and Nepal is a signatory to and has ratified international conventions pertaining to child labor and the rights of a child. My work with Society Welfare Action Nepal (SWAN)<\/a> this summer will entail strengthening legal channels for the prosecution of employers of children, and creating a collaborative long term action plan in helping end the practice of child labor in Nepal. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Apart from the scorching summer heat that I will be struggling with personally, advocating for the rights of child workers in western Terai region will not be an easy undertaking. SWAN operates out of Dang district, which has one of the highest numbers of bonded laborers in Nepal. The Kamaiya <\/i> practice (debt-bondage system, akin to slavery), which was rendered illegal in 2002 still rears its ugly head in the region. Without substantial support from the government when the bonded-laborers were set free, many families still resort to sending their children to work in order to gain extra income for their families. SWAN has been fighting this practice since it was founded in 1994, and I am extremely honored and look forward to working alongside dedicated people who have not only experienced the hardships on a personal level, but have dedicated their lives in fighting this social injustice<\/a>. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     I will also be closely working with Richa Adhikari<\/a> and Katerina Canyon<\/a>, two extremely bright and committed Peace Fellows, who will be working with Backwards Society Education (BASE) and Concern for Children and Environment Nepal \u2013 CONCERN respectively on the  issue of ending child labor in Nepal. We will be creating a joint action plan that will be implemented by the three organizations simultaneously, which will focus on prosecuting employers and rescuing and rehabilitating child workers, while creating a long-term program to tackle the issue of child labor. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     I am really thankful to all my friends, family, and well wishers who have supported me in pursuing this endeavor. The Advocacy Project\u2019s partnership with SWAN will hopefully change many lives for the better. I look forward to comments, suggestions, inquiries, criticisms, and hopefully continued support and encouragement as I carry out my work and document them here for the next 10 weeks. Thank you for reading, and I look forward to hearing from you.  <\/span><\/span><\/p>“,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”video”,”url”:”https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=3vcfwnFYyXE”,”class”:””,”ratio”:”16:9″,”scale”:”default”,”size”:{“width”:500,”height”:281}},{“id”:”4″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     My first attempt at editing and creating a video. My expectation-video during the AP training in Washington D.C. <\/span><\/span><\/p>“,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

231. Prologue: On the Trail of Agent Orange

     May 29, 2014 10:45 pm 150 Comments

     In one month, I will be traveling by night train from the capital city of Vietnam, Hanoi, to the central province of Quang Binh, where I will be working alongside the Association for the Empowerment of People with Disabilities (AEPD) on a fellowship that is now coming to be called “On the Trail of Agent Orange.”

     This fellowship is due to one of the most important NGOs I know of working in Washington DC: The Advocacy Project (AP). Over the years, AP has sent fellows into locations many people want to forget exist. Our pre-departure training over the past week has recounted stories of fellows covering the United Nations relief effort in Bosnia, building the capacities of NGOs and civil society actors in Kosovo and Afghanistan, and launching a successful (scalable!) field program to prevent war rape in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

     Over the years, AP has amassed a network of past fellows and supporters that now includes seasoned writers, government officials, gender specialists, development practitioners, and civil society professionals. What makes them all stand out is the complete conviction in systemic social change, the kind that can only come from the empowerment of our world’s most marginalized populations. It is almost literary that we, the latest group of Peace Fellows, have our pre-departure training at the Church of the Pilgrims, not for religious reasons, but for the secular meaning of pilgrim, what my dictionary defines as: “one who campaigns vigorously for political and social change.”

     And, while each day we learn something more about social media or photographic perspectives or NGO management or fundraising, we are also learning about each other and the kind of infectious optimism that breathes life into the areas Fellows go. It reminds me that day in and day out, there are people all around the world turning up in underfunded NGOs, defending the rights of women and children, as well as the untouchables, the stateless, and the disabled, in what amounts to—I’d argue—our global humanity.

     I am deeply fortunate to be joining AEPD at a time when the issues facing persons with disabilities in Vietnam are widening in focus, including what should have been acknowledged and dealt with long ago. Agent Orange and the dioxins used during the Vietnam War have denied over three million people, including 500,000 children, the right to live with the physical and cognitive advantages of the rest of us. As an American, I find it redeeming — as I hope those I encounter in Vietnam do too — that momentum is gathering and something, once and for all, will be done for the survivors and families of Agent Orange.

     ___

     If you have read this far, I hope you will consider signing on to my blog’s listserv (I promise I won’t spam you!) and the blog’s of my fellow Peace Fellows. If you feel so inclined, send this around in the social media of your preference. Over the next few months, I will be producing original website content for AEPD, including more videos, photographs, musings, and blogs “On the Trail of Agent Orange.”

232. What Do I Expect During My Fellowship?

     3:24 pm Leave a Comment

     

     A picture of Katerina Canyon taken outside Advocacy Project office on May 28, 2014.

     I honestly do not know what I should expect from this fellowship opportunity.  In my experience, the minute you make plans or set expectations, something colossal will happen to change those plans and expectations. Therefore, I expect anything to happen, and I am prepared for everything to happen. I have spent a great deal of time researching Nepal, the Advocacy Project,  CONCERN, and the work that the people with these organizations do to help improve the conditions of the lives of children in Nepal, and I am in awe of the work that has been accomplished so far.  Looking forward, I see there is still a good deal of work yet to do.

     I have been thinking about the services I plan to provide which require a certain level of understanding of human rights and nonprofit management.  All Advocacy Project fellows are specially trained for the areas in which we are assigned, and we are a diverse group of people working any vast and differing areas.  However, we all share one common quality: hope.

     Personally, I hope that when I arrive in Kathmandu  I get the opportunity to work closely with the people of CONCERN, and I am able to contribute work of substantial use.  I grew up as an underprivileged child with a lot of hope.  I hoped that someone would just take the time to stop and look at me and see what I was going through, but not just look at me.  I wanted someone to do something to help change my circumstances, so upon more reflection, I have to change what I said earlier in this blog about expectations.  I do have expectations.  I expect to see a lot of children, try to understand what they are experiencing, and help them achieve a positive change in circumstance.  Hopefully, I will do this in a way that allows me to gain long-lasting memories and experiences.

233. New beginnings

     May 20, 2014 12:56 am 1 Comment

     In a way I feel like this adventure has already started. I’ve packed my bags, sublet my room, said my goodbyes. At the same time, I have barely begun to wrap my mind around the summer which awaits me. I’ve thought of some of the practicals – what are my deliverables? Have I packed an appropriate wardrobe? Will I need malaria medications? 

     Lost in the tangibles, it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve remembered the big picture, the stuff memories are really made of. What will the rain smell like? What’s the first thing my coworkers and I will laugh over? What sounds will wake me up in the morning? What will I learn about the country and the people in the mere 10 weeks I am there, and what will I still fail to understand?  

     Perhaps I’ve gotten a little cavalier in my approach to travel. 19 countries under my belt, nearly 3 years spent out of the United States between Peace Corps service, study abroad in undergrad, and other miscellaneous jaunts, and I feel like I’ve got this down. But it’s still an adventure, and it’s still a little scary when it gets right down to it. Some people jump out of planes – I get on them, bound for distant lands full of unknowns: people I’ve never met, languages I don’t speak, foods I can’t identify. 

     Starting this journey under the auspices of the Advocacy Project brings a degree of certainty to the picture. This summer I will be working with Care Women Nepal in Dhankuta, in eastern Nepal. Care Women Nepal treats women suffering from uterine prolapse and I will be working with them to profile beneficiaries, produce fundraising materials, develop a media presence, and conduct research on prolapse in this district. I will be working with an incredibly dynamic and enthusiastic team who are committed to improving the lives of women. It will be a challenging summer with a lot to get done. However, with a solid work plan (and a lot of tea) I think we can do it. 

     So I’ll begin to shape that work plan, develop questionnaires, read my travel guide. All this as I ponder that which is uncontrollable and intangible. In less than a week I board a plane to Nepal (with a pit stop in Abu Dhabi), and the adventure really begins.  

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     In a way I feel like this adventure has already started. I’ve packed my bags, sublet my room, said my goodbyes. At the same time, I have barely begun to wrap my mind around the summer which awaits me. I’ve thought of some of the practicals – what are my deliverables? Have I packed an appropriate wardrobe? Will I need malaria medications? <\/span><\/p>

     Lost in the tangibles, it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve remembered the big picture, the stuff memories are really made of. What will the rain smell like? What’s the first thing my coworkers and I will laugh over? What sounds will wake me up in the morning? What will I learn about the country and the people in the mere 10 weeks I am there, and what will I still fail to understand?  <\/span><\/p>

     Perhaps I’ve gotten a little cavalier in my approach to travel. 19 countries under my belt, nearly 3 years spent out of the United States between Peace Corps service, study abroad in undergrad, and other miscellaneous jaunts, and I feel like I’ve got this down. But it’s still an adventure, and it’s still a little scary when it gets right down to it. Some people jump out of planes – I get on them, bound for distant lands full of unknowns: people I’ve never met, languages I don’t speak, foods I can’t identify. <\/span><\/p>

     Starting this journey under the auspices of the Advocacy Project brings a degree of certainty to the picture. This summer I will be working with Care Women Nepal in Dhankuta, in eastern Nepal. Care Women Nepal treats women suffering from uterine prolapse and I will be working with them to profile beneficiaries, produce fundraising materials, develop a media presence, and conduct research on prolapse in this district. I will be working with an incredibly dynamic and enthusiastic team who are committed to improving the lives of women. It will be a challenging summer with a lot to get done. However, with a solid work plan (and a lot of tea) I think we can do it. <\/span><\/p>

     \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<\/p>

     So I’ll begin to shape that work plan, develop questionnaires, read my travel guide. All this as I ponder that which is uncontrollable and intangible. In less than a week I board a plane to Nepal (with a pit stop in Abu Dhabi), and the adventure really begins.  <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

234. Guilty!

     May 13, 2013 7:52 pm 9 Comments

     In a couple of weeks I will embark on my journey to the home of the himalayas, the home of my ancestors. Other than meeting friends and family after years, there is another reason for my excitement, my fellowship. As of right now, I will be frank my emotions are all jumbled up, I haven’t been able to distinguish it from excited to apprehensive. However, as I near the date of my departure I am hoping my emotion will settle. My trip this summer will be focused on an issues I have had plenty of time to ponder upon and something my guilty soul hopes to bring a slight change to – bonded child labor.

     Yes, my family and I are guilty. While having conversations with my grandmother about my childhood I get recollections of an innocent face peering from behind a propped open door. The face that would bring out the chia and biscoots when we had guests, the face that would never make eye contact with any person in the room – the face of the servant’s son. “Your school is not meant for our kids maiya” Kanchi didi, the Rai housekeeper, would tell me when I asked why Shyam, the face, did not attend my school. As I followed the routine of a chetri child, Shyam would follow the routine of a thallo jaat, servant – his day starting at 4AM, mine at 8AM.

     This is a scene of the early 90’s in Nepal, days when the caste system was followed more as a way of life than a system put into place by the hindu culture. However, times have changed and in 1995, as a member of the ILO-IPEC the Nepalese government constituted a National Steering Committee on Child Labour. Since then efforts have been made to eliminate child labor nationally, yet, the lack of enforcement and prosecution has caused child labor to remain a pressing issues.

     In a couple of weeks I will be in Tulsipur, Nepal working with Backward Society Education (BASE). With a mission to reduce child labor, they have successfully captured and rehabilitated multiple bonded children by designating 313 Child Friendly Villages (CFV) in five districts of western Nepal. With this said, however, there are significant changes left to be made, most importantly strict enforcement of child labor laws and prosecution of perpetrators.

     I feel privileged to have this opportunity this summer to not only pay for the crime my family once committed, but to also give a voice for justice to those children who have dismissed the idea of a better life. There’s going to be many bumpy roads and hazardous twists on this journey, LITERALLY, and I am looking forward to your thoughts and feedbacks as I approach them. Thank you for your support and I will talk to you soon from the home of the himalayas!

     Sujita ✌

     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sloR8sfvYQ
     BASE Child Friendly Village; Video by previous AP Peace Fellow

235. Marathon for A Good Cause!

     November 22, 2012 6:04 am Leave a Comment

     Have you ever done a marathon?

     I still remember my first marathon day in the senior high school. In the last lap, my lungs felt so tight, breathing in and out very fast, grasping for breath, my mouth was dried, my chest was burning. I was not even sure if I could finish the marathon without fainting. Thank God, I finished the marathon alive.

     No wonder, I always admire marathoner. But, if you asked me to do a marathon, I’d certainly say that I very much prefer swimming for many laps.

     Earlier this year, Malcolm Langford, my lecturer at the University of Oslo, mailed me that he wanted to raise some money by participating in a ski marathon. I was quite shock, I knew he hurt himself in the ski area not so long ago, but it could not stop him. He then mentioned that it will be for charity and would like to donate the fund for bonded child labour cause. I was very impressed. I wished him my very best.

     Before the race, Malcolm had contacted his friends, colleagues and networks who then promised to donate their money.

     

     Malcolm making his way to the finish line

     I must say that I am sure I have experienced more painful things in life than the last ten kilometers of the race, but at this stage I can’t remember what they were. (Malcolm Langford)

     And, he made it!!
     He managed to collect around USD 1,054 in total which was more than the sponsor pledges.

     The fund has been channeled through the Advocacy Project for a collaborative project with BASE. The project seeks to collect data and information regarding bonded child labour practice which prevails in the south-western Terai area of Nepal. Later on, this data will be used to strengthen further efforts in eradicating bonded child labour practice, such as prosecution, rescue, rehabilitation, and recovery processes.

     A big thank you for Malcolm and all of his supporters,

     from us (cheering on the sidelines)…

      

236. As El Santa Closes the Circle, So Do I

     December 16, 2011 8:09 pm Leave a Comment

     Back in August, I wrote about the discovery of the remains of Gilmer Ramiro León Velásquez, Pedro Pablo López Gonzáles, Denis Atilio Castillo Chávez, Pedro Federico Coquis Vásquez, Jesús Manfredo Noriega Ríos, Jesús Roberto Barrientos Velásquez, Carlos Alberto Barrientos Velásquez, Carlos Martín Tarazona More y Jorge Luis Tarazona More, all from the town of El Santa. The bodies were found in three graves by the side of the Panamerican highway on the arid Peruvian Coast, a short drive north of El Santa.

     

     At the time, I mentioned that the late finding, which took place 19 years after their abduction and execution at the hands of the sadly infamous Grupo Colina, was symptomatic of the lack of attention being paid to the issue of the 15,000 Peruvians that were disappeared during the period of the internal armed conflict (1980-2000) and the plight of their relatives by the Peruvian State and successive governments since the end of the conflict.

     

     The graves containing the bodies were discovered by accident, and not as part of an investigation to find the remains. Given the numbers of disappeared in Peru, this might not be very surprising, except for the fact that when the members of the Grupo Colina were tried and convicted for the El Santa disappearances, they provided relatively precise indications of where the bodies had been discarded and buried.

     To make matters worse, over the weeks and months that followed the discovery, the relatives of the victims repeatedly complained of the excruciatingly long time it took before the remains were returned to them. For largely unexplained reasons, the Public Ministry’s Instituto de Medicina Legal deemed that DNA testing was necessary to establish the identity of the victims, leading to an inordinate amount of time before the remains could be recovered by the families.

     

     To many observers, this seemed unnecessary given that during the exhumation, the clothing worn by many of the victims was recognized by relatives. In addition, the circumstances in which the nine campesinos were simultaneously abducted from El Santa left no doubt as to the identity of the other bodies. Not to mention that the findings corresponded in number and location with the indications that some of the members of the Grupo Colina had given during their trial.

     

     To re-emphasize what I wrote then, because I think it gets to the crux of the matter regarding the way the State has (or, perhaps more to the point, has not) been dealing with the problem of its disappeared, the clear lack of a humanitarian concern in the way the El Santa case was handled demonstrated an obvious disregard for the needs and priorities of the relatives of the disappeared.

     

     A humanitarian approach to the search of Peru’s disappeared would mean that the investigation and collection of evidence are realized with the objective of providing answers to the relatives and returning the remains of the missing for their proper burial. Instead, the approach preferred by the State can be characterized as judicial: the search of the missing is typically only allowed to take place as part of judicial processes (a grave problem given that for the wide majority of the crimes committed, the evidence to convict specific individuals simply does not exist, so that judicial processes are very unlikely to take place).

     

     Under this approach, the evidence that is collected as part of the investigation is strictly limited to evidence that can be used to prove guilt in a court of law. In the case of El Santa, sufficient evidence was found to convict the members of Grupo Colina of the crime without the bodies. The official search for the remains was therefore put aside. In other cases, the difficult task of determining the identity of remains that may be found is not necessarily a priority.

     

     This is why organizations working on behalf of the disappeared and their relatives are calling for a National Plan for the Search and Identification of the Disappeared; one­ with a humanitarian focus. The first step would be to know exactly how many are missing and who they are. Then, a strategy would need to be elaborated to locate mass graves, perform exhumations, identify the remains, and return them to their rightful owners. It is not that Peru does not have the capacity to elaborate and carry out such a Plan. The problem is one of clear lack of political will and leadership, worsened by a near total absence of popular pressure and interest in the issue.

     

     Respect and concern for the suffering of the relatives, which is initially magnified when the remains of loved ones are exhumed, would mean ensuring that the bodies can be recovered as rapidly as possible after an exhumation. Yet took three months before the El Santa victims were returned to their families. Be that as it may, promptly upon recovering the recovering the remains, a mass funeral was organized in the town of El Santa to finally put the nine victims to rest. I travelled the 6 hours up the coast from Lima to attend the event with EPAF’s Percy Rojas, Gisela Ortiz, and family.

     

     We arrived to El Santa, just north of the city of Chimbote, on the evening before the funeral. The nine coffins had been laid out in the town’s main plaza for the traditional velatorio (performed privately in the relatives’ homes the night before but moved to the main plaza given the public nature of the deaths). A cultural act had been organized to honour the memory of the victims. As sombre as I expected the mood to be, the evening felt more like a celebration that the long-awaited moment when justice would reach this isolated place and finally bring some comfort to the relatives of the victims, many of whom are now elderly, had arrived. The coffins, surrounded by flowers, candles, and photos, created a sad but beautiful sight against the backdrop of the lit-up church. Many of the townspeople showed up to pay their respects to the relatives and partake in the event.

     

     The following day began with a public ceremony in the main plaza in which the Bishop of Chimbote, local authorities, representatives from various NGOs, relatives and the general population participated. During the ceremony the Plaza’s flags were raised at half-mast, and Jorge Noriega, father of one of the victims, made an emotional speech, saying that as much as he was relieved that his son had finally been found, he felt ashamed that the Plaza’s flags should be raised at half-mast for a reason such as this one.

     

     One by one, the nine coffins were then carried by relatives into the church for the religious ceremony. After, the coffins were slowly walked around the main plaza, as if to allow the disappeared to say one final farewell to their town, and show everyone that they were finally back in El Santa, after all this time. Then, under a blistering and unforgiving sun, the remains were taken by relatives to their final resting place, the Santa Municipal Cemetery, with townspeople and reporters in tow.

     

     This is how the story of the disappeared of El Santa ends, and how the story of my time with EPAF ends as well. It has been an honour to be allowed to make a contribution, small as it may be, to the important battle that is being waged in Peru for justice, memory and reparation for the relatives of the victims of enforced disappearance. I take many memories away from this experience, and can only hope to one day be as strong as some of the people I have come to know during my time here; people who tirelessly fight day in and day out for what they believe is right.

     And the battle continues… Today, on Dec. 16^th 2011, for the second year in a row the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team is holding a public event called “It Is Christmas and We Are Still Waiting For Them” in Lima’s Plaza San Martin. I wish them the best in this and all future endeavours for the sake of the relatives of Peru’s 15,000 disappeared.

237. Lobbying in Lima (or The Relatives Unite Part III)

     December 10, 2011 5:52 am Leave a Comment

     I left off my previous post with EPAF staff and victims’ representatives from different communities of the Pampas-Qaracha River Basin region of Ayacucho boarding an overnight bus to Lima after spending four eventful days in Ayacucho (see The Relatives Unite Part 1 and Part 2). One major problem facing the relatives of Peru’s more than 15,000 disappeared from the period of the internal armed conflict (1980-2000) is that they are mainly from isolated regions of Ayacucho. Accordingly, their voices are very seldom heard in Lima, the economic and political center of the country.

     Bringing the relatives to Lima, particularly after the leadership and empowerment workshops realized in the communities over the past year and in the previous few days in Ayacucho, was an attempt to break through this invisibility, and various public activities were planned to ensure that this objective was reached.

     On the first day in Lima, the relatives from Ayacucho met with relatives and representatives from different victims’ organizations from Lima. This encounter was used to elaborate a letter to President Ollanta Humala that would be signed by all before being handed in directly to the President’s Office. The letter outlined eleven demands related to truth, justice and reparation;  such as the elaboration of a National Plan for the Search and Identification of the Disappeared and the provision of reparations to the victims in an integral manner; both collectively and individually.

     In addition, the document expressed the total opposition of the relatives to any and all form of amnesty granted by the State regarding violations of human rights committed during the internal armed conflict: “We consider that the meaning of justice for the relatives entails the completion of the sentences received [by violators of human rights] so that it may serve as a lesson for future generations, and so that these events never occur again.” The letter closed by demanding respect and immediate attention to their demands. The full text of the letter can be accessed here (in Spanish).

     Then, on the next day—All Saints’ Day—a commemoration was held at the Ojo que Llora memorial (The Eye that Cries) in honour of all of Peru’s disappeared. The event served as a symbolic and powerful reminder that while the rest of Peruvians flock to cemeteries to visit their dead every year on All Saints’ Day and the Day of the Dead (November 1^st and 2^nd), the relatives of the disappeared have nowhere to go to.

     Many relatives from Lima and Ayacucho showed up for the event, and so did many of the television channels invited by EPAF, providing an opportunity for the Ayacuchan relatives to break the silence they are often forced to live with. The following is a short video I filmed during the event:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc3uHtCYqD4

     The rest of the week was spent lobbying different persons and entities. The relatives met with Congressman Javier Diez Canseco, official from the Ministerio de la Mujer, the Ombudsman’s Office, the CMAN, etc. By the end, one could tell they had gained experience and confidence in presenting their case, making demands and generally requesting that their voice be heard.

     I believe the relatives went home to Ayacucho feeling energized to continue their long battle for the truth, justice and reparation. I hope that hearing the experiences of other relatives, be they from other rural communities, Ayacucho’s capital, or Lima made them feel like they were part of a community rather than alone in their fight. I was also encouraging that many of the authorities contacted were willing to receive the relatives and listen to them—even if that represents no real guarantee that they will do something about the issue.

     There is a real need for this not to be a one-off event, but for empowerment and leadership work with the relatives of Peru’s disappeared to be ongoing. It is only by publicly repeating the same stories and the same demands over and over again that they have a chance of becoming part of the national consciousness, allowing for memory and justice in all senses. Although I will no longer be there to document it, EPAF’s work in Ayacuchan communities affected by the political violence will continue. Moreover, the relatives that took part in this “meeting of relatives” were given the responsibility of transferring what they had learned and experiences to the other relatives of their communities. As I see it, small as they may be, these are all steps that will hopefully eventually allow for the issue of Peru’s disappeared to be given the attention it rightly deserves.

238. The Relatives Unite Part II

     November 22, 2011 6:17 pm Leave a Comment

     It’s done; my fellowship is over. As a matter of fact, I have already left Lima. I am currently sitting in a coffeeshop in the gorgeous southern city of Arequipa, and tomorrow I will try my luck at ascending the 5,822 meters of the mighty Misti volcano, before moving on to Bolivia for a few weeks of travelling. Nevertheless, over the next few days and weeks I will continue to process the material I have collected during the last very hectic weeks I spent at EPAF.

     So, without further ado, the Relatives Unite Part II.

     As I mentioned in my previous post, the first part of a week-long meeting of relatives from the Pampas-Qaracha river basin region of Ayacucho took place between October 27th and 30th in Ayacucho’s capital, Huamanga.

     After a presentation and warm up activity, the first morning of activities began with a workshop aimed at elaborating a common agenda and a set of common demands that would later be communicated to various authorities. The reasoning behind this was that the scheduled meetings of the next few days would be much more effective if the relatives were able to express clearly and succinctly a set of demands reflecting the common needs and rights of the relatives of victims of enforced disappearance.

     

     To begin, the representatives were asked to divide into groups representing each community, and write down their demands for each of the relevant entities they would later meet representatives from: the Seguro Integral de Salud (SIS), the Consejo de Reparaciones, the Comisión Multisectorial de Alto Nivel (CMAN), and regional authorities.

     During this activity, it was easy to see the difference between those communities where EPAF has been realizing empowerment workshops or communities that have long-standing victims’ associations (Raccaya and Sacsamarca, for instance) and communities where EPAF has only just started working. There was a noticeable difference in the level of information and awareness about what the institutions were, their respective roles and responsibilities, and recent developments affecting the relatives’ right to justice and the truth, such as the Supreme Decree 051-2011 on reparations, about which I have written before (link).

     The delegates were then asked to choose one person to present their community’s demands to the rest of the group. While some of the demands were specific to each place; many others reflected common issues and problems, which made the next task of synthesizing the morning’s work into a set of common demands much more manageable. Many of the demands centered on the difficulties of accessing the health benefits they are entitled to as victims and around their opposition to the terms of reparation set out by the Supreme Decree 051-2011, especially with regards to the amount established, time limit, and age requirements.

     

     In the afternoon, the group took a break from this intense activity and made its way to the Universidad Nacional San Cristóbal de Huamanga’s Cultural Center, where the 7th annual Latin American Forensic Anthropology Conference was taking place. As organizer of the event, and given its emphasis on working with and for the relatives of the disappeared, EPAF insisted on including a roundtable on the experiences of the relative at what was an otherwise scientifically-oriented conference.

     The roundtable was moderated by EPAF operations director, La Cantuta relative and activist extraordinaire Gisela Ortiz, and included the participation of Alfredo García from Raccaya, Adelina García from ANFASEP, Dionisio Arguedas from Huamanquiquia and Felipe Huamán from Sacsamarca, who all shared their experiences with the substantial crowd of professionals from all over Latin America, students and others.

     

     The roundtable was concluded by an emotional tribute to the relatives during which flowers were distributed among the audience so that each person could personally pass them on to one relative as a symbol of the recognition of their suffering and as a way to apologize on behalf of Peruvian society, which generally stood idle from the safety of its cities while the Ayacuchan countryside was being torn apart and massacred by both sides of the conflict.

     

     On the next day, the ladies from ANFASEP came to visit the relatives. ANFASEP is probably Peru’s oldest victim association, created in 1983 by mothers tirelessly searching for their disappeared son. Their determination is legendary and they are a true symbol of the fight for human rights and the search for justice of the relatives of victims of enforced disappearance in Peru.

     The morning turned into a rich and fruitful exchange—conducted entirely in Quechua—between the ladies of ANFASEP and the relatives gathered in Huamanga. For most of the relatives coming from remote villages, it was the first time that they had heard of ANFASEP or were exposed to a victim’s association that had been active for so long. Hearing about ANFASEP’s experience left them captivated and they had many, many questions.

     I think an exchange of experience like this one was invaluable for the relatives; more than teaching them about the importance of organization and persistence in the fight against impunity, they also recognized their story in the ladies’ story—fully realizing perhaps for the first time that their communities were not alone in their suffering; that the same horrors had actually happened all over Ayacucho. This sense of solidarity, of shared experience, can—and seemed to—be very empowering for the relatives.

     

     Perhaps the motherly aspect of the “madres de ANFASEP” also helped to create a strong bond with the other relatives. By the end of the meeting, everyone had vowed to keep in touch and collaborate together, and the relatives made sure to invite the ANFASEP ladies to visit their respective villages.

     

     That afternoon, another meeting was held with representative of the CMAN’s office in Lima and Ayacucho (responsible for the elaboration of policies on reparation), CONAVIP-Ayacucho (an umbrella organization of organizations of people affected by Peru’s political violence), the regional government’s human rights office, and a former human rights activist recently elected to the regional government. It was an occasion for the relatives to share their concerns with these regional authorities and bring forth the demands they had jointly discussed and elaborated the previous day. Once again, the meeting was productive; it offered a chance for people who often feel isolated and helpless to express their concerns and demands to the pertinent authorities, and feel like at the very least they were listened to.

     

     The next day was spent with an leadership workshop with REDINFA’s Raúl Calderón in the morning, and a visit in the afternoon to some of Huamanga’s “memory” attractions such as the ANFASEP museum, the “Memory Park,” and a memorial to the journalists killed in Uchurracay in 1983. In the evening, we all packed into a bus for the night-long trip to Lima, where the meetings, workshops and other activities would continue.

     

     This post is already too long so I will limit myself to making a few observations. During the workshop in Huamanga, an aspect that struck me was that men were generally appeared much more informed than women. As a result, the few women that were present did not participate as much as the men did.

     

     Moreover, women from isolated Quechua-speaking villages often cannot not express themselves as fluently in Spanish as the men. While everyone was fully encouraged to speak in their native Quechua and every effort was made to translate the Spanish portions, I still got the sense that there were at times language barrier issues; that they were holding back somehow.

     This is something that should be taken into account by any organization working in Peru’s post-conflict communities. There are specific issues affecting women much more than men, such as the widespread use of sexual violence against women during the conflict and the psychological marks this has left, and these are unlikely be given the attention that they should unless women are specifically targeted and attended to.

     

     Also, the meetings made me realize the power and importance for these communities to be organized. News simply do not travel to them the way that we are used to. Developments at the national level highly relevant to their search for truth, justice and reparation can take months to reach them, if they ever do. More and better communication is necessary among communities, and between the communities and the capitals Huamanga and Lima. These communities are so isolated that it is difficult to foresee them realizing major achievements unless they are very organized and put their collective weight down.

     Coming soon, The Relatives Unite Part III (in Lima).

239. The Relatives Unite Part I

     November 5, 2011 4:55 pm Leave a Comment

     I feel like this is the first time in the past two weeks that I am able to sit down long enough to catch my breath and reflect on everything that has occurred since then. A lot has been going on, so this will probably turn out to be a two- or three-part blog entry!

     On Tuesday, October 25th, I left for Ayacucho on the night bus with EPAF’s Gisela Ortiz and the Red para la Infancia y la Familia—REDINFA’s Raúl Calderón. We were going to a “meeting of relatives” organized by EPAF in the city of Huamanga from the 27th to the 30th, to be continued in Lima from October 31st to November 4th.

     This encuentro was in some ways the culmination of the work that EPAF has been realizing in the communities of the Pampas-Qaracha river basin for the past year or so, but in other ways it was also the beginning of new endeavours.
     
     December 2011 will mark the end of “Paraguas Humanitario,” a project funded by the Open Society Institute and whose overarching goal has been to empower the relatives of the disappeared from communities of the Pampas-Qaracha river basin to be the main promoters and defenders of the search for their loved ones. Nevertheless, work in the region will continue as part of the newer “Iniciativa” project, which shares many of the same objectives.

     As I blogged a few months ago following my first visit to the region, the Pampas-Qaracha river basin was where the Shining Path first violently imposed its authority in the early 1980s, and was the main theater of the internal armed conflict. It is an extremely isolated region that has been one of the most affected by the violence and repression—and the sequels are still visible to this day. The community of Hualla, just to name an example, counts the highest number of disappeared in all of Peru, and was reduced to a fraction of its former self by the years of violence.

     EPAF’s work in these communities revolves around three main axes. First, forensic investigation; which includes everything from preliminary investigation, collection of testimonials, verification of gravesites, determination of the number of victims, etc. On the basis of this information, the processes of exhumation and identification of victims may be undertaken by EPAF if granted permission by the Public Ministry.

     The second mode of intervention in affected communities is psychosocial support, which is done with psychologists from REDINFA. Even decades after the end of violence, the “post-conflict” reality in Ayacuchan communities is made up of a heavy mixture of silence and fear, of unspoken truth and tension, with catastrophic results for the social fabric. For instance, countless women were victim of sexual violence during the conflict—yet this is not something that is spoken about. Through group sessions, the victims and victims’ relatives can begin the process of healing their wounds and acquiring the self-confidence needed to join collective action.

     

     The last, but not least, mode of intervention is the formation and empowerment of victim’s associations. This is done under the understanding that the reinsertion of the victims into society as full rights-bearing citizens can only be achieved once they have the capacity do exercise their right to speak, participate, and organize themselves; and perhaps more importantly, to effectively make demands to the government.

     An important part of EPAF’s work in communities of Ayacucho is therefore to help them establish a common agenda, identify opportunities of participation in various bodies, develop awareness-raising strategies, and lobby relevant authorities. Before all this, however, victims and victim’s relatives must know their rights, for example their right to a formal investigation over what happened to their loved one, and recognize the importance of having them respected.

     

     The past two weeks’ encuentro fed squarely into these objectives. It reunited representatives from victims’associations from communties where EPAF has been working for a while—such as Colcabamba and Racaya—but also communties where they have just started working, such as Apongo (see a post on my visit to Apongo here). The main idea was to help them join forces and develop a set of common demands, which would then be passed on the relevant regional and central authorities. By uniting with other associations in Huamanga (such as the iconic mothers of ANFASEP) and Lima, the intention was also to create political pressure and turn the plight of the relatives of the disappeared into a national issue.

     The delegates from each community began arriving to Huamanga on the 26th. No activities were planned on this day for the relatives given the lengthy travels some of them had to undertake to get to the city. Gisela, Raúl and I, now joined by Virgilio Vallejo, a Huamanga-based, Quechua-speaking anthropologist that recently started working for EPAF, took advantage of this fact to attend the inauguration of the 7th Latin American Forensic Anthropology Congress. The Congress was organized by EPAF, and we met up with a large part of the team there.

      

     The inauguration speech of the Congress was given by the ex-Prosecutor Dr. Avelino Guillén,  who served as one of the key Prosecutors in Alberto Fujimori’s trial. He commented on the battle between impunity and justice raging in the country, and suggested that forensic sciences had an important contribution to make to tilt the balance towards justice. He also reflected EPAF’s position by emphasizing that forensic anthropologists can not and should not limit themselves to “collect remains”, but should act in a humanitarian perspective to help end the relative’s pain. He further commented that the state should facilitate the work of civil society forensic experts such as EPAF, rather than place obstacles in their way.

     

     Guillén concluded his speech with a searing remark: “How is it possible that Peru still has not clarified grave human rights violations that occurred 20 years ago? It is because we lack the will, because we do not care about the disappeared.”

     I don’t want to make this post too long so I will stop here for now. Coming soon: The Relatives Unite Part II!

240. A little bit about Raccaya

     October 28, 2011 7:09 am Leave a Comment

     Alfredo García, the relative of a victim of the Peruvian political violence, relates his personal experience and that of his community, Raccaya (Víctor Fajardo Province, Ayacucho) during the violence. He eloquently touches on many different acpects, such as the difficulties he encountered in Lima as a displaced person from Ayacucho, the experience of the community with the Public Ministry, and the differences between the legislation on paper and what is done for the relatives of the disappeared in reality. I am reproducing his testimonial here because it is emblematic of the experience of many Peruvian communities affected by the violence. This was recorded at the Symposium “Forensic Sciences in the Search for Justice in Peru” organized by EPAF at the Pontifica Universidad Católica del Perú on September 16th 2011.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69pYl1G5eXA

241. A full circle

     October 24, 2011 10:17 pm Leave a Comment

     As the end of my fellowship with EPAF is fast approaching, I feel like somehow I have gone a full circle (or at least half of one!). Lima is a different city now than the city waiting for me when I arrived almost 6 months ago, and which I have learned to love. It is now often sunny, something I never thought was possible, and some days are actually warm. And there is something in the air, some latent energy that reminds me of the Canadian sprintime I love so dearly.

     Ciro Castillo’s body was finally found at the end of last week, after more than 200 days of frantic searching. I have written about Ciro’s disappearance before, so I won’t repeat the details. The search for Ciro has been a constant backdrop to the months I have spent here, and I think that it is the fact that he has finally been found, more than the few weeks left before my departure, that makes me feel like a cycle is somehow ending.

     Today, the EPAF office was bombarded by television and radio channels requesting interviews with its executive director, José Pablo Baraybar, hoping to get his views on the events leading up to Ciro’s death. This media circus has made me realize, once more, the contrast between this one very high-profile disappeared and Peru’s 15,000 disappeared. In the months I have spent at EPAF, very rarely has a news channel resquested an interview to talk about the disappeared.

     Peru’s disappeared are, for all intents and purposes, still invisible in a country so focused on its potential and future.

242. Just for a laugh

     October 19, 2011 8:57 am Leave a Comment

     Forget the doom and gloom, I have decided today’s post will be a light one. An informative event on the disappeared last week at Lima`s San Marcos University included a exhibit consisting of blown-ups of caricatures by Carlín. Carlos Tovar, commonly know as Carlin, is an excellent political cartoonist published daily in La República newspaper. Given the human rights theme, the caricatures chosen for the exhibit were mostly on the Fujimori family, and I am reproducing them here for everyone’s viewing pleasure.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

243. The Roots of Disempowerment

     October 18, 2011 11:24 pm 1 Comment

     The other morning, I was on my daily walk to the office when I came across an interesting scene. A girl around the age of 7, was taking a small boy around the age of 5 to school, which was made apparent by his school uniform, tie included. I actually heard the pair before they came into sight, as the girl was literally half dragging and half carrying her brother(?), as he kicked and screamed. She was near tears, and wearing clothing that appeared tattered and dirty in comparison to the small boys bright and clean uniform.

     I believe that this scene presented itself very differently than if I had witnessed it before my internship at WRRP. Previously, I would not have likely questioned as to why the boy was going to school wearing a uniform, while the girl was dressed in tattered clothes. She was clearly not attending school, or at least not the same English private school that he was. Why wasn’t she wearing a uniform? Was she going home to help her mother with chores for the rest of the day, or did she attend a government school, which I have heard have much lower quality education than that of Nepali private schools? I will never know for certain, but my experience tells me the answer that is most likely.

     Since my arrival in Kathmandu, I have learned that the birth of a baby girl is generally a disappointment in Nepal. A Canadian friend of mine recently gave birth to a baby girl, and when I searched a Nepali gift shop for “congratulations on your baby girl” card, I found only cards for boys. Perhaps all the cards for girls had been sold, or maybe there was not a high enough demand. Regardless, to me it was yet another subtle reflection of the general attitude toward daughters in Nepalese society.

     

     From the day a girl is born in Nepal, she is at a disadvantage. She is less likely to attend school, will most likely eat her meals after the male members in the family are finished, and will be responsible for most or all household work. There are of course exceptions, however, from my observations and the Nepalese friends of mine I have spoken with, this is the norm.

     After I began exploring this inherent preference for boys, I discovered a number of reasons why the apparent need for a boy child is so ingrained in society. According to the 2001 census, over 80% of the Nepalese population practices Hinduism. For Hindu parents, a son is a necessity because the eldest son is responsible for performing funeral rites, and the “lighting of the funeral pyre and conducting of the kriya (funeral rites) are perhaps the most important duties of the son”. If absolutely necessary, funeral rites can be performed by another male relative, but “only a son can guarantee a swift and peaceful passage through death”.

     For Hindu believers, it is vital for a son to be present to do these last funeral rites, and if there is no son, the parents’ immortal souls could be in jeopardy. Thus, “only a son can speed his parents on to heaven or on to a beneficial rebirth. The son also guarantees the family line will be carried on, another sacred obligation of the parents”.

     This belief alone left me wondering, with this type of inherent belief, what hope is there for Nepal making progress toward gender equality, and how can gender discrimination even begin to be reduced? And of course, since gender discrimination is believed to be the root cause of uterine prolapse, what is the best approach in eradicating this problem from the 10% of women in the population who are affected?

     Reference:

     Burbank, J. (2001). Culture Shock Nepal. Singapore: Times Media Private Limited

244. Fighting Indifference one Conversatorio at a Time

     October 16, 2011 8:07 pm Leave a Comment

     Two weeks ago I went to Callao, Lima’s port, to attend an event organized by the Coordinadora Contra la Impunidad (CCI). The conference was held at the Universidad Nacional del Callao during the 5th Inter-university Day for Human Rights and Against Impunity, and in commemoration of the 18th anniversary of the disappearance of two of its students, Martin Roca and Kenneth Anzualdo. Speaking were the respective fathers of the two students, Javier Roca and Felix Anzualdo, as well as EPAF director José Pablo Baraybar, who testified as an expert in the trial for the Anzualdo case.

     
     Martin Roca Casas was detained by members of the Marines’ Intelligence Service on October 5th, 1993. He was never seen again. In the weeks previous to his disappearance, he had been the victim of harassment by intelligence officials, reason for which his father sought legal assistance, and Martin contacted Callao’s police department by writing to request guarantees for his life and personal safety; a request that was denied.

     Kenneth Ney Anzualdo Castro was also a student at the university, and Martin’s friend. Since he had been with Martin on the last day the latter was seen, he was scheduled to testify at the prosecutor’s office regarding his friend’s disappearance. He never did, however, as he was himself disappeared by members of the Army’s Intelligence Service on December 16^th, 1993. It was later established that, like his friend, he was detained, tortured, executed, and cremated in the basement of the Intelligence Service headquarters.

     
     Despite the unrelenting efforts of his relatives, the disappearance of Martin Roca has occurred in complete impunity, as the case was archived permanently for a purported lack of evidence. Meanwhile, the Interamerican Court of Justice found the Peruvian State guilty of the enforced disappearance of Kenneth Anzualdo in 2009.  According to the ruling, the State is obligated to investigate, take to court, and sanction those responsible for this crime, to proceed to the search and localization of his remains, and pay an indemnization to his family. This sentence has yet to be carried out.

     This was the second university “conversatorios” I attended—a previous one was organized by EPAF back in September during the Pontifica Universidad Católica’s Human Rights Festival. At both events, the turnout was disappointingly low, despite EPAF’s best attempts at promoting the events.

     
     I have been wondering about the reason behind this low attendance, trying to understand, for example, how it is that out of a total of 15,000 students at the Universidad Nacional del Callao, only a few dozens would be interested to learn about the abduction, torture, and execution of two of their own.

     
     It may be the fact that this occurred 20 years ago; that students feel like this is not relevant to their reality. I had an interesting conversation about this with Marly Anzualdo, Kenneth’s sister. According to her, today’s youth are subtly (and not so subtly) taught not to question the “official” history of Peru’s dark period, even not to think about it. This indifference is very hard to break through.

     During the period of political violence, the mere fact of being a student made you suspicious of being a terrorist in the eyes of the government. Military bases were even set up on the grounds of many universities. Consequently, as Javier Roca recounted during his presentation, many parents would tell their children to avoid becoming involved in any type of activities or protests on their campus. Which is exactly what the government wanted: “Leaders of this type always need people that are asleep, people that never do anything, so that they themselves may do anything they wish, as if they were on their plot of land. This is what happened.”

     
     According to Javier, the general indifference to the themes being discussed at the conference suggests that this tactic has been successful. “In meetings, in Congress, in seminars, I always hear people ask: “Why did this happen?” But in this fight, I have found the resounding answer, and I no longer have doubts. This happened because, just like now, the rest of the country’s population was indifferent. Of all the people that were in the sector where [my son] was, no one did anything, no one said anything.” Javier continued: “I don’t know if one day, we will be able to shake ourselves up, react, and be able to show unity and protest when faced with an injustice.”

     

     At the beginning of the conference, a representative of the Coordinadora Contra la Impunidad emphasized to those present that the goal was not merely for them to become more informed about what happened. The objective, rather, was for them to become actively involved in the search for justice and the truth; for them to mobilize their friends, their colleagues, and their families in this fight. Likewise, Marly Anzualdo concluded the conference by commenting that everyone had a responsibility to ensure that the death of her brother, and of so many others, not be in vain.

     Javier Roca was one of the people interviewed and photographed in 2009 by Renzo Aroni and Jonathan Moller. Here is a video montage of the material I have produced for EPAF’s “Not One but Fifteen Thousand Voices” series.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH55ci11PEA

     Finally, following is a poem written by Marly Anzualdo in honor of her brother:

     Kenneth – Hermano

     Tú no tienes una tumba
     Porque eres como el viento.

     Tú no tienes una tumba
     Porque eres como el tiempo.

     Tú no tienes una tumba
     Porque eres esperanza.

     Tú no tienes una tumba
     Porque eres libertad.

     Tú no tienes una tumba
     Porque tú no estas muerto.

     Tú naciste para vivir por siempre
     Te amo.

     To learn more about the Roca – Anzualdo case, visit the Asociación Pro Derechos Humanos – APRODEH’s page (in Spanish).

245. From Bus to Hotel, Journalism Training in Nepal

     October 15, 2011 4:48 am 2 Comments

     

     The grassroots journalism project is complete, and ten Jagaran Media Center affiliated Dalit journalists are now active on blogs and other social media platforms. Prakash Mohara and I crisscrossed the country, from Sunsari district in the east to Kailali in the west, and Baglung in the north, training and meeting journalists and local human rights-focused NGOs. The travels were often long and uncomfortable and difficult and plans fell through or were side-tracked, and creative problem solving was always on order.

     The grassroots project’s premise is to extract caste-discrimination stories from the community, publish them on online platforms (Nepali media outlets do a poor job in publishing cast-discrimination cases), use these stories in advocacy and lobbying efforts, and try to provide local justice and accountability through newly affiliated local NGOs. On a macro level, it’s an attempt at making the JMC a media hub for Dalit news and advocacy in Nepal. While at the micro level, it’s intent is to provide justice to those whom justice has forgotten.

     The first training occurred in the eastern district of Saptari with Rajkumar Paswan, trained by JMC a few years ago who now reports on local issues for National News Agency, Katwal Radio Magazine, edits and publishes his own magazine, New Kanchan Weekly, and is a founder and president of a local NGO, Rastriya Dalit Shamrakshyan Manch Nepal.

     At first, the training was slow as Rajkumar’s English is poor and WordPress’ interface is in English. Another difficulty arose as WordPress (like most programs) doesn’t allow one to type blogs in Devnagari script. The blogs must first be written in Nepali on Microsoft Word, cut and pasted onto an online Unicode converter, and then re-copied onto WordPress as Unicode script. We practiced these steps more than a few times, and training then moved on to the uses of Facebook in advocacy and journalism, and sharing his blogs online with his friends.

     I would either do the training in crowded Internet cafes, with curious onlookers swarming around a slow desktop computer, in free wifi areas at restaurants and tea shops, plugged into slow landlines at offices, or using my mobile Internet card at hotels (when a signal was available). Prakash would be by my side translating when Internet language didn’t translate well (or do the training himself near the end). The juxtaposition of computer and technology training and the surrounding area of rickshaw drivers and samosa stands and decrepit overcrowded Tata buses was pronounced, and seemed to disturb the natural order of things.

     From Rajkumar in the east, we pushed further eastward through Biratnagar and Dharan and spent time in Dalit villages. In one, the Tharu Chaudharys ransacked, pillaged, and burned the Dalit village one early evening, accusing them of stealing business and jobs, forcing the villagers to flee with few possessions, and only returning some time later, on edge, and forced to rebuild.

     In the north, we met and trained Prem Nepali and Mahesh Khati, two veteran JMC affiliated journalists. In the west, the same went for five other journalists. In each place we stopped, we met an interested NGO working on human rights and Dalit issues, and convinced them of the project and to hop on board. All the meetings were positive, and all were quite enthusiastic of helping out in their communities and changing backwards attitudes towards the Dalits.

     We traveled six to eight hours on a bus between each stop and met the journalists and NGOs afterwards. We would bargain for hotel prices, try and find the best dal bhat and roti in town, and be in bed early, readying ourselves for the next bus ride and training session.

     A few weeks have passed since the project was complete, and I hope it continues and prospers into 2012 and beyond. Some of the journalists post stories regularly, while others need more cajoling in their online activities. The JMC is enthusiastic about the project, and knows that it will be their focal point as a media organization in the second decade of the 21st century. Nepali media’s web presence is still at its infancy, but to stay ahead of the curve, the JMC must take advantage of their Dalit media niche and own that online space.

246. On the road again…

     October 7, 2011 10:02 pm Leave a Comment

     On my last trip to Ayacucho last week, I was fortunate enough to witness first-hand the investigative work of realized by EPAF. Much of it feels like attempting to place together the piece of a grim puzzle. We know such a person was disappeared from such a village. Villagers say that there are bodies buried in such and such a place. By reconstructing the events through interviews with relatives and witnesses, EPAF tries to link the who with the where. But the thing with enforced disappearance is that where the body ends up can often not be deducted from the crime itself. As José  Pablo Baraybar,  executive director of EPAF, once wrote: “Those that disappear people do it so that the people never re-appear, otherwise it would be too easy.”

     

     In Apongo, one of the villages I visited last week, the rumor is that some people from Hualla are buried. Hualla is a community I have visited before on a previous trip, and counts one of the highest numbers of disappeared in Peru . To think some of them may be in found in Apongo touched me deeply, and made me fully grasp the significance of EPAF’s work on the ground in these communities. If we can go back to just one of the numerous people who were kind enough to let us into their home and strong enough to recount in details what was undoubtedly the most difficult period of their lives—if we can go back to just one of these people, and tell them we have located their loved one, then all EPAF’s efforts are worthwhile.

     

     This recent trip to Ayacucho was the first time that I was in prolonged contact with relatives of the disappeared outside of Lima. If there is one thing I can take away from the experience, it is that their concerns are very much in line with what EPAF is advocating for. They want the truth, and they want the remains of their loved ones. Apart from that, what they want is reparation. They have been waiting for years, they say, and nothing has come forward. Nothing demonstrating that the state is acknowledging the harm done to them, and asking for forgiveness.

     

     How long will this situation be allowed to linger? Many of the relatives are old; a good number have already died, without ever knowing the truth or seeing a hint of justice. EPAF’s efforts in the search and identification of the disappeared are crucial, but they are not enough in and of themselves. What Peru needs is a National Plan for the Search and Identification of the Disappeared. Nothing controversial, or politicized; just a little bit of goodwill, a lot of common sense, and a good old plan. Is it really too much to ask for?

     

      

247. A Few Words on Ethics and Advocacy

     September 30, 2011 1:22 pm 4 Comments

     A few weeks ago, one of the projects I have been working on took shape as EPAF launched the series Not One, but Fifteen Thousand Voices (No una, sino 15 mil voices). The series represents an intent by EPAF to bring to the public the stories of the disappeared though the relatives’ own words and voice. Given the majority of victims of enforced disappearance during Peru’s internal armed conflict were from remote Andean provinces, their voices are almost never heard in Lima, the country’s political, economic and cultural center.

     In 2009, American photographer Jonathan Moller and Renzo Aroni from the Memory Area of the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF) set out to capture the personal histories of some of the relatives of victims of enforced disappearance. The motivation behind it is simple: Yes, there are 15,000 missing persons in Peru. Yes, that is an impressive number. But to understand the tragedy of enforced disappearance, one must look beyond the numbers and into the particular story of each of the missing and the impact left on each of the relative. Each has its own ways to process the pain and memories left by the enforced disappearance of his or her loved one. Each also has an inalienable right to truth and justice.

     The first videos of the series, presenting the stories of Aurelia, Marina and Mauro—all from the village of Hualla, in Ayacucho—are available with English subtitles on EPAF’s website on the disappeared in Peru, Desaparecidos ¿Hasta Cuándo?.

     Working with testimonials of relatives of missing persons—often in their original Quechua, translated by the ever helpful Percy Rojas—has made me reflect on ethics in a general sense, but more specifically ethics in the context of advocacy work. Advocacy is not only about raising awareness, but also about enlisting support for a cause. Thus, one is always tempted to use the image that will shock the most; present the most tragic story, etc, in order to ensure a strong reaction among the audience, whoever the audience may be.

     

     But might that not amount to an exploitation of people’s suffering? Of course, it is for a good cause. Ultimately, it is to help the victims. But I still feel that the line between diffusion and exploitation is a thin one to tread.

     It is difficult to describe the impact left by hearing a woman sob through her story, because even 25 years later she is unable to control her emotions when describing circumstances in which her loved one was taken away, never to return. Suffice to say that it is not something that is easily forgotten. But this is precisely the type of material that people will not see in the series, as we have made a conscious decision not to use material showing the relatives crying so as to avoid their re-victimization.

     The same applies to the collection of testimonies itself. As a man from the small Andean community of Huacaña told visiting EPAF members last week, “Many organizations have come before you to collect our story, and it has not done anything for us”.

     In some places people are eager to tell their stories. This is mostly the case in remote areas that feel abandoned by the State, and by Peruvian society in general; places that the Truth and Reconciliation Commission investigators never reached, for instance. In other places, however, EPAF researchers have been met by people that don’t want to tell their story anymore. Re-living traumatic events is painful. Too many people have come to collect their stories in all the gritty details, and left never to return, and what did that get them? The answer, locally and concretely, is often: very little.

     How much does wanting to help justify using people’s pain as material for diffusion? This is a question I have no answer for. The best I can come up with is that this sort of question probably needs to be resolved on a case by case basis. Ultimately, it should be up to the victims themselves to decide whether they want their story made public.

248. International Cooperation for Human Rights and Peru’s Fight Against Impunity

     September 17, 2011 7:54 pm Leave a Comment

     In 1985, while serving as a second lieutenant in the Peruvian Army, Telmo Hurtado ordered soldiers under his command to gather and kill 62 unarmed villagers, including 23 children, from the remote Ayacuchan community of Accomarca. After torturing the men and sexually abusing the women, the military locked the villagers into various houses, shot at them and set fire to the houses. They then threw grenades at the houses to destroy them entirely.

     When news of the massacre spread and an investigation was undertaken, Hurtado personally led back a group of soldiers and proceeded to kill seven additional people who either witnessed or survived the initial crime. Nevertheless, weeks after the massacre, he openly admitted responsibility for it in front of the investigating commission. He justified the execution of children with the assetrtion that they were terrorists.

     What followed is a classic case of Peruvian-style impunity. Hurtado was absolved of the charge of qualified homicide in 1993 by a Peruvian military council, and was sentenced to a mere six years in prison for abuse of authority; a sentence he never served. Rather, he rose in the ranks of the military, and was decorated during the government of Alberto Fujimori.

     In 1995, he benefited from Fujimori’s controversial law that granted amnesty covering all human rights violations committed by state forces, and remained in active service of the military. In 2002, after the amnesty law was annulled following a ruling of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights and the possibility of a new trial for the Accomarca case was renewed, Hurtado fled to the United States.

     The Accomarca case was finally brought to court in 2010, 25 years after the events. Hurtado is one of the 29 accused in the case, consisting of military of all ranks. He was apprehended in Miami in 2007 and prosecuted on criminal charges related to visa fraud and making false statements. His arrest was part of a program to detain and deport torture suspects from abroad that are found in the United States.

     In 2008, Peru requested his extradition on criminal charges of murder, abduction and forced disappearances. Following a long judicial process, Hurtado was finally extradited back to Peru a few months ago to face justice. He is currently facing a maximum sentence of 25 years of prison.

     International cooperation was also instrumental in the arrest and sentencing of ex-President Alberto Fujimori for human rights violations. The latter fled to Japan in 2000 when corruption scandals led the Peruvian Congress to relieve him of his functions.

     
     A review of the Fujimori administration led to Congress authorizing charges against him in 2001. Upon demand of Peruvian authorities, Interpol issued an arrest order on charges that included murder, kidnapping, and crimes against humanity. A request for his extradition was also submitted by the Peruvian government to Japan in 2003, but Japan proved unwilling to accede to the request.

     In 2005, Fujimori was finally arrested and detained in Chile on order of a Minister of the Supreme Court following a request by the Peruvian embassy. Two years later, the ex–President was extradited to Peru to face various accusations. That same year, the trial for his role in killings and kidnappings by the Grupo Colina death squad during his administration began.

     In 2009, Fujimori was convicted of human rights violations and sentenced to 25 years in prison for his role in the Barrios Altos and La Cantuta massacres, in addition to the kidnapping of two individuals. The verdict marked the first time that an elected head of state has been extradited back to his home country, tried, and convicted of human rights violations.

     The cases of Telmo Hurtado and Alberto Fujimori have much in common. Both tried to evade Peruvian justice by fleeing to other countries, and both ended up being extradited back to Peru to face the charges against them. Yet for every extradition, there are countless violators of human rights living comfortably in foreign countries. International cooperation and legally-binding international human rights instruments can play a crucial role in remedying the situation.

     One such instrument is the UN’s 2006 International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance. Thus far, 88 states have signed the convention and 29 have ratified it. In South America; Peru, Guyana and Suriname are the only countries that have yet to sign.

     In a meeting between state representatives, civil society actors and victim’s representatives last September 5th, which included EPAF members, Second Vice-President Omar Chehade pledged that his government would finally sign the Convention and that is would support initiatives dealing with the issue of enforced disappearance.

     This is of crucial importance, as it is the first time that Peru officially recognizes the importance of the issue of enforced disappearance. The symbolism of the Convention would do much to re-ignite hope among the relatives of Peru’s 15,000 disappeared, many of whom have been disheartened by five years of an administration that has been completely unresponsive to the issue.

     Let’s all hope that the new government keeps its word.

     (On a side note, neither the United States nor Canada have signed the Convention.)

249. Grassroots Advocacy: Interview with Anju Rai

     September 16, 2011 3:48 am 209 Comments

     Meet Anju Rai, a WRRP campaigner. Campaigners are advocates that go door to door within their community, educating their neighbours regarding uterine prolapse, nutrition, and reproductive health, as well as engaging their peers in dialogue regarding these topics. Training and sending out these individuals is part of WRRP’s preventatives strategies for reducing uterine prolapse.

     We went to meet Anju during my previous visit to Lahan. Her village and working area is in Siraha district, which is located along the Nepal-Indian border. Anju was one of the painters in last year’s advocacy quilt project, where a group of women painted panels that displayed different scenes of discrimination and life within their communities.

     It was a long two hour commute in the blistering heat to visit Anju in her village. Once we arrived, myself and Shubhakamanaa,  WRRP colleague, were observed with interest by the local villagers. We were soon greeted by Anju’s daughter, who brought us to her home. There, after a brief introduction and pleasantries, we sat under the trees in Anju’s backyard and proceeded with the interview. The woman shown in the photo below was doing laundry at the water pump right beside where we were conducting the interview. It was interesting to be doing an interview about uterine prolapse and discussing early marriage, while a 20 year old five month pregnant woman did her laundry a few meters away.

     

     As I cannot speak Nepali, Shubhakamanaa had to act as translator throughout the interaction. One of the many interesting points that arose during the interview was how traditional beliefs can increase a woman’s chances of having uterine prolapse. For example, Anju described how during pregnancy, women avoid eating green vegetables because “people have a concept that if they have green vegetables during their pregnancy and delivery, the umbilical cord won’t come out”, or “they think that if they eat green veggies during pregnancy they may catch pneumonia.” Poor nutrition affects a woman’s ability to heal after the pregnancy, hence increasing the likelihood of uterine prolapse. Anju also noted that “in the houses where the family agrees and accepts the information, we can see a lot of improvement, but those who think this is not a topic of our concern, we don’t like this, we don’t want to know about nutrition and vitamins, there is no improvement at all. But we are trying our best to convince them of these things and inform them”.

     In the video below, Anju shares a positive experience she had during her door to door campaigning, as well as discussing early marriage as a cause of uterine prolapse in her community.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwEl9tnidyA&feature=youtube_gdata

      

      

250. A public goodbye

     September 14, 2011 8:10 pm 1 Comment

     Crowds lined one of Pashupati’s bridges over the Bagmati River and opposing viewing gallery, pressing for a view onto the spectacle of an influential man’s last rites and cremation. For death here, and its aftermath, are public affairs. Mourning and grief and shock are communal, while the remains of the dead go up in smoke for all to experience (‘for all to see’ would be a misnomer, for it is a sensory experience: sight, sound, smell, taste, and thankfully little touch).

     

     Pashupati is the famed and historic Hindu temple of Lord Shiva that lines the Bagmati, and is the preferred and busiest cremation site in Nepal. At its northern edge, ghats jut out from the southern landscaped concrete bank like miniature helipads neighbouring steep descending steps into the calm water. The river is the centerpiece of this open-ended stadium of ancient rock and worship. Ghat attendants dressed in white stoke the fires of the departed with long bamboo poles, working in pairs and guiding the family through the Hindu ritual, while all else sit back and watch.

     Suvash Darnal, the 31-year old Dalit leader and founder of my affiliated organization, according to a car accident attorney he died in a tragic car accident in Washington four weeks ago. His car accident lawyer said the transfer to Nepal was delayed overseas in bureaucratic entanglements and Hurricane Irene, only touching down in his home country two weeks later, after the fact. There was an initial public viewing in an open casket hours after his arrival, followed by a procession through Kathmandu’s streets to his last destination. If you hаvе bееn hаrmеd bу аnоthеr person – whеthеr it іѕ еmоtіоnаl раіn or ѕtrісtlу аn auto ассіdеnt injury, you have еvеrу right to fіlе fоr a personal іnjurу сlаіm. Hоwеvеr, уоu must kеер еvеrуthіng оn file. Frоm dосtоrѕ files to mеdісаl bіllѕ аnd fееѕ; thіѕ is the оnlу wау уоu are gоіng tо back uр that уоu really dо need соmреnѕаtіоn. Duе tо thе person’s fаult, you dо nоt only hаvе tо lеаvе wоrk, but you also hаvе fіnаnсіаl burdеnѕ ріlіng up. When уоu dо еnd uр in аn accident and acquire an auto accident injury, you muѕt fоllоw thе rіght ѕtерѕ аnd find rіght lаwуеrѕ.

     The lаwѕ gоvеrnіng реrѕоnаl іnjurу vаrіеѕ frоm state to state. If you are living in thе Bоѕtоn аrеа and аrе іnvоlvеd іn a саr accident thеn it may bе necessary for уоu to соntасt a Bоѕtоn саr ассіdеnt lаwуеr іf thе ассіdеnt was nоt уоur fault оr if thе іnѕurаnсе соmраnу іѕ nоt рауіng for your dаmаgеѕ. A Bоѕtоn mоtоr vеhісlе ассіdеnt lawyer саn hеlр уоu lеаrn everything уоu nееd tо knоw аbоut еѕtіmаtіng the vаluе on уоur саr accident іnjurу claim. In fact, іf уоu рrоvіdе уоur Bоѕtоn mоtоr vehicle ассіdеnt аttоrnеу with аll thе nесеѕѕаrу information thеn уоur lawyer wіll likely bе аblе tо fіll thе claim оut fоr you. It’s nоt еаѕу tо undеrѕtаnd thе lаw, сlаіmѕ, and еѕtіmаtіоnѕ especially іf уоu hаvе bееn іn a саr accident аnd hаvе been іnjurеd. Sо, let уоur lаwуеr hаndlе thе negotiations and сlаіmѕ аnd уоu ѕіmрlу рrоvіdе the nесеѕѕаrу іnfоrmаtіоn.

     While аll оf these thіngѕ аrе vital, уоu will never wіn a саѕе unlеѕѕ you hаvе a personal injury lawyer. Hіrіng a personal іnjurу lаwуеr will іnсrеаѕе уоur сhаnсеѕ оf соmреnѕаtіоn, but insurance соmраnіеѕ tеnd tо nеgоtіаtе ԛuісkеr whеn thеу ѕее that you hаvе ѕuрроrt. Yоur Bоѕtоn lаwуеr will nееd tо аѕk уоu questions аbоut the car ассіdеnt, hоw іt happened, аnd the іnjurіеѕ thаt were ѕuѕtаіnеd. Of соurѕе, the аmоunt of money you owe or hаvе spent on mеdісаl саrе wіll be іnсludеd іn the іnjurу сlаіm. Mеdісіnеѕ, hоmе health nurses, аnd thе lіkе аrе also іnсludеd іf thеу wеrе necessary. Rehab аnd any mеdісаl dеvісеѕ уоu mау hаvе nееdеd оr uѕеd аrе also include іn the claim. Onсе уоu hаvе a rоund numbеr from whаt hаѕ bееn spent уоu nееd tо look fоrwаrd tо whаt health care wіll bе needed tо cure уоur injuries оr whеthеr уоu will be affected fоr lіfе. Cоmіng uр wіth a quote for this іѕ also іmроrtаnt. Thеn, уоu wіll need tо mоvе оntо lost mоnеу.

     If you wеrе іn an auto accident аnd wеrе іnjurеd іt is vеrу lіkеlу thаt уоu were оut of work fоr at lеаѕt a реrіоd of time іf nоt lоng tеrm. It is еvеn роѕѕіblе уоu wіll nоt bе аblе tо work fоr mоnthѕ or even уеаrѕ as a rеѕult оf your іnjurу. So, уоu must come uр with lоѕt іnсоmе аѕ wеll bеfоrе уоu саn file an ассurаtе injury сlаіm. Thеrе аrе likely other соѕtѕ like раіn аnd ѕuffеrіng as well. Yоur lаwуеr wіll be аblе tо guide you and hеlр уоu come up wіth an accurate car ассіdеnt іnjurу сlаіm.

     The cremation itself, and the process leading up to it, is more graphic and moving than I had expected. The body is first publicly stripped of its clothes and carefully shrouded in cloth, and then placed on a waiting wood pyre. And this being a procession of a famed resident, it was held in a VIP section with an accompanying viewing area, with a bright orange cloth awning over the ghat. Close family and friends paid their last respects with flowers, while the immediate heirs conducted the last rites – the senior male of the bunch lighting the pyre.

     As the flames build and consume the mass of wood and straw and body, being in attendance is no longer a passive experience. The smoke and smell of the burning body wafts over the crowd, while crackles and pops boom from exploding pressure pockets and collapsing supporting wood beams of the pyre, followed by shrieks from family and friends. The ghat attendants continually stoke and monitor the flames, adding kindling and straw ever so often to ensure a strong burn. At times, it all appears to be only a burning mass, while at others, open pockets reveal glimpses into the process at hand, as the harsh reality of what’s being done in front of you becomes undeniable.

     

     It is strange to comment on these affairs, as it was a mentor and friend’s funeral that I am writing on, and I do not have an impartial perspective. Experiencing a friend’s being go up in smoke while his charred remains turn to ash before your eyes was something else, but I am in a sense thankful.

     The life he lived is over. The public cremation verifies this, and there is no possibility for delusion and denial that his end was but a bad dream. You reflect on the individual and their life as the slow process goes on. Over three hours as the body and pyre burn, your thoughts on the person’s life evolve with the cremation. At first, they are strong and vivid as it starts with the first crackles and puffs of smoke, but over time, finality and contentment take hold.

     There is a common saying on death and the cycle of life in most religions, that we’re born into this world naked of the womb, and depart it equally naked and bare. In much of the West, our lives and that of the community are more private than they are here. In these shadows of the Himalayas, time passes in the community as part of a larger social family, or at least in more plain view. As part of this cycle, death and bereavement are no exception. Back home, it takes place within walled confines with a guest list, while here, there is no such barrier. A life is public, and ends in public, naked in a shroud on the shores of the Bagmati, all watching the fire.

251. On the Anniversary of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Can Peru Celebrate?

     September 11, 2011 8:26 pm 1 Comment

     On Friday, August 26th, I attended a commemoration of the 8th anniversary of the presentation of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s final report. The event begun at the Ojo que Llora, a monument to the victims of Peru’s internal conflict located not far from EPAF’s office, and was followed by a march to Plaza San Martin, in Lima’s historic city center.

     

     The CVR, as it is referred to in Peru from its Spanish initials, was created by the transitional government that followed the fall of ex-President Alberto Fujimori to investigate the abuses committed during the 1980s and 1990s, and was made up of prominent and well-respected members of civil society, including intellectuals, scholars, priests and journalists.
     
     The CVR spent two years holding public meetings, collecting testimonies, and conducting forensic investigations. On August 28th, 2003, it presented its final report to President Alejandro Toledo. The document, an imposing one by any measure, has become a reference on the years of internal armed conflict, and I have referred to it frequently in this blog.

     

     The final part of the report issued various recommendations oriented toward reconciliation and ensuring that the horrors of the 1980s and 1990s never recur. These recommendations have become a benchmark from which to measure the progress achieved in the post-CVR period. Indeed, the question “X years after the CVR’s final report, how much have we advanced?” has become a favourite discussion theme among human rights organizations, and, sadly, the answer is generally: “not much.”

     

     In previous posts I have discussed the failure of successive governments to follow-up on some of the recommendations of the CVR, in particular of the inadequacies of the advances made in the area of reparation of victims of the internal conflict, and the worrisome and exasperating inexistence of a national plan for the search and identification of Peru’s 15,000 disappeared.

     

     Of course, some advances have been made. The single fact that Alberto Fujimori and Vladimiro Montesinos are currently serving prison sentences for human rights violations should be enough to make anyone overly pessimistic reconsider their position. Nevertheless, advances have been few and far between, and have occurred in spite of the lack of political will—clearest during the administration of Alan García—of successive governments to advance issues of justice, memory, reparation, and forensic investigation.

     

     Beyond transitional justice issues, an objective of the CVR was to bring to attention the deep social breaches that both contributed to the emergence of the conflict and facilitated its perpetuation during two decades, and propose reforms to correct them. Of the 85 recommendations of the CVR, 53 concerned institutional reforms. Fully implemented, these recommendations would amount to nothing short of a complete overhaul of Peruvian society and institutions.

     

     Perhaps unsurprisingly, the majority of recommendations have remained just that: recommendations. In terms of institutional reforms, to date very few, if any, advances have been made. In other words, the state has not taken advantage of the opportunity created by the CVR to learn from its mistakes so as to avoid reproducing the same conflictive society. It has preferred to focus virtually all of its attention on maintaining and stimulating the country’s economic growth based on a model that has time and time again proven unable to reduce the sharp social, cultural and economic inequalities existing in most Latin American societies.

     

     The organizers of this year’s commemoration of the anniversary of the CVR chose not to dwell on the few advances achieved in the past, but rather to look hopefully towards the future, and the installations at Plaza San Martin—such as an impressive “carpet” of the disappeared—were heavily focused on the disappeared.

     

     Hope for the future there indeed is, as the new government of Ollanta Humala has affirmed its commitment to following the recommendations of the CVR. Moreover, at a meeting with civil society actors—including EPAF members—last week, Vice-president Chehade pledged that the government would finally sign the UN’s 2006 International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance, and that it was willing to support initiatives to deal with the issue of the disappeared.

     

     But the new government has also given cause for concern, as the new defence minister recently made comments that were widely interpreted to suggest he favours a blanket amnesty for former or current members of security forces accused of human rights crimes during the country’s internal war. Be it as it may, the new government will ultimately be judged by its actions and not its words; and actions have yet to be seen.

     

252. Presentation on social media, its influence, and Nepali journalism

     September 6, 2011 11:21 pm 36 Comments

     August 9: Social media’s vindication from a narcissistic, techno-utopian, and impersonal medium to one of seriousness and influence was qualified with the Arab Spring, or so the story goes. Facebook groups like “Khaled Said” and “April 6^th Youth Movement” gained popularity as revolutionary hubs for information and direction while protesters flooded the streets of Cairo and Tunis demanding change, and got it.

     Journalists are still on the ground in the Arab world covering these events, with social media often being a key source for their information and reporting: following and posting Tweets, Facebook, Google+, Flickr, and YouTube updates. Reporters now use these tools to interpret events, getting immediate ‘analysis’ from whomever deems themselves qualified to interpret, while developing contacts and establishing a narrative for their forthcoming reports.

     

     As events unfold and gunshots are fired and protesters marching and buildings burning and falafels eaten and noses picked and deals reached, they are Tweeted and updated and photographed and filmed for the world to see and read, instantaneously. Activists and journalists feed off this stuff as it identifies locations of activity, and warns the cautious of places to avoid. All this, though, is presupposing that the state apparatus has not ‘shut the Internet down’, as has been done in many revolutionary countries of late.

     Internet penetration in Nepal is relatively low, standing at 8 percent, compared to 8.5 in India, 10.9 in Pakistan, 30 in Egypt, and 33 in Tunisia. Within that 8 percent, nearly 50 percent are on Facebook in Nepal, with smaller percentages on Twitter – faring slightly better on the Internet penetration-to-Facebook user ratio than India or Pakistan, although with the massive caveat that Nepal’s population is small (est. 30 million). Internet users in Nepal are mostly middle-upper class and urban, while those on social media are the younger cohort – not unique. (As a point of reference, the U.S. and Canada have Internet penetration rates of 78 and 79 percent, respectively.)

     In this context, I presented to eastern Nepali media editors and journalists on social media and its journalistic and political/social uses. Most in the room had never interacted with these tools in a serious manner, if at all. Many were new to email and Google, with the most progressive bunch having a Facebook account and an idea of Twitter. My goal was to introduce the concept while contextualizing its popularity in recent political affairs, and not to discourage those in the room that it’s a fruitless endeavour considering Nepal’s poor level of development and technology, since there are some great technology advances you can learn from, and you can find in sites like Fifth Geek that have the best technologies reviews for those interested in this subject.

     I first identified, through translations by my colleague Prakash Mohara, the various free tools of social media and how they’re useful in journalism and activism. I then went into a brief synopsis of the development of the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions and the role social media played in those, while mentioning that social media, to some degree, aids the reporting in ongoing revolutionary struggles.

     It had to be addressed that social media is only a modern communication tool of international reach to bypass governments and is but a facilitator of social movements, just as the fax machine was in 1989 in East Berlin, and the underground press in occupied territories in the world wars. In other words, causation still lies at the feet of the brave storming the streets, not at the tired fingers updating Twitter – although they can be one and the same, with mobile devices.

     I proceeded to then offer my own ideas on how those in the room could use social media in their reporting, and address Nepal’s hierarchical, corrupt, and unrepresentative political and media culture, especially as it relates to caste and human rights issues. While Nepal’s Internet and social media usage is largely an urban and middle-upper class affair, and their reporting is both urban and rural, this should not be a hindrance to their uptake of the technology. What it allows these eastern Nepali journalists and editors is an opportunity to reach a wider audience and develop better contacts and circulate stories nationally and internationally and affect power structures.

     

     Importantly, for the purpose of my talk and the Dalit-focused organization I represent, is that journalists no longer have an excuse to not publish or circulate stories that would help Nepali democracy that are not being published: human rights abuses, caste-discrimination cases, corruption at all levels, etc. Social media is a medium that can bypass entrenched prejudices and power, and allows untold stories to gain social salience.

     If newspapers refuse to publish certain controversial stories, such as caste-discrimination, then as one committed to the ethics of journalism, equality, social justice, etc., then one’s interest is to get these stories out via blogs, Tweets, Facebook updates, photos and videos, etc. And as social media use in Nepal is urban and middle-upper class focused, then that in itself speaks to the influence and power and money of those that can be reached with these tools, along with the international human rights community that can be accessed in an instant.

     As my talk went on, some at the back were talking amongst themselves, maybe about lunch or my irrelevancy to their work. One or two were resting on their arms on the table, while a respectable-enough interested cohort at the front, was engaged. They were taking notes and nodding their heads in thought and asking questions and wanting to learn, while the rest remained entrenched in their views.

     One astute journalist asked about journalists’ safety in Canada, as Nepal has recently seen a lot of violence against journalists, and how safe and accurate social media is. Good point. Most social media tools can afford the user some amount of anonymity, as fake names can be used to avoid identification. But that’s a two-way street, as misinformation and propaganda can be spread anonymously, and repressive security personnel can pose as allies and arrange unfortunate meetings. The latest social media tool, Google+, makes anonymity difficult, which has helped recent revolutionary activists avoid persecution and allowed them to continue in their struggle.

     It was hypocritical of me, in a safe and secure position, to advise those in the room to report freely on the Internet on subjects that could bring them harm. I’ve personally dealt with Bangladeshi activists in exile for their exposés, and witnessed the trauma and personal anguish that followed their torture by security forces. The business of journalism in repressive and corrupt societies is a difficult game, and there is no other way to say it appropriately, but it requires guts and sacrifice. If one is committed to truth and transparency, then social media can be a conduit for acting on one’s ideals, with caution.

253. Ciro Castillo and the Unrelenting Search for One Disappeared

     September 4, 2011 6:58 pm 5 Comments

     In Peru, everyone knows the name of Ciro Castillo Rojo. The young man disappeared almost five months ago in the Colca Canyon, in the southern region of Arequipa. Literally every day since I have set foot in Peru, I have seen Ciro’s face (or his parents’ or his girlfriend’s) grace the frontpage of at least one local newspaper. In fact, catching up with the headlines about his case has become a ritual of sorts for me, as for countless others.

     The saga of Ciro’s disappearance and the on-going search for him (or, at this point, his remains) has captivated the nation, and for good reason. The story has all the ingredients of a detective novel: a young couple goes trekking in the world’s deepest canyon, gets lost, and decide to part ways for unclear reasons. The girlfriend is eventually rescued a few days later, dehydrated but in otherwise good shape; the boyfriend is never seen or heard from again.

     Daily accounts of the investigation, of the efforts of research and rescue teams—brought from as far as Mexico—of the frequent turnarounds in the case, and of the unflinching determination of Ciro´s parents to find their son, can be found in all media. Partly, this is due to a widely shared suspicion that there is more to the story than the rescued girlfriend is letting on, based on inaccuracies and changes in her story, her apparent lack of grief for the missing Ciro or sympathy for his famiy, and her perceived unwillingness the help the investigation.

     

     Being based at EPAF, it is hard to miss the obvious parallel between this one disappeared and the 15,000 Peruvians disappeared during the period of the internal armed conflict. Only, while the country gasps and awes at each new revelation, each turn of events in the Ciro case, the search for the 15,000 missing persons that EPAF works to locate and identify goes widely unnoticed.

     “Ciro’s parents will never be at peace until he is found”—I read a few days ago at a newsstand. This is true. But equally true is that the parents, siblings, spouses, and children of Peru’s 15,000 disappeared are not at peace either. In the majority of cases, they have not been at peace for more than 20 years. Where are the headline stories about them? Could it be that the fact that they have been suffering for so long makes their suffering less important, less relevant?

     A recent street poll conducted for EPAF’s new WebTV show Duro de Roer clearly demonstrated that people in Lima know very little, if anything, about the issue of the disappeared in their country. Asked how many of them there might be, answers ranged from “Ciro Castillo” to “120” to “1 million”.  I like to think that if people were more aware and informed on the issue, popular support for such measures as a national plan for the search and identification of missing persons, the need for which EPAF has iterated and reiterated ad nauseum, would soar.

     In my view—and I am fully aware that my position as an outsider makes it only too easy for me to critique—Peruvian civil society has not yet managed to coalesce around the issue with the level of coherence and effectiveness required. And the mainstream media, a potentially crucial ally, has certainly not been as supportive of the issue as it could be. At at time when human rights organizations are finding it more and more difficult to secure funding, the challenges they face are as great as ever…

254. Journalism Training in the East, First Day

     August 29, 2011 9:33 am 2 Comments

     August 8: We had traveled throughout the night, and were in Janakpur in the east for journalism training. The JMC, sponsored by the Finnish government, conducts trainings for aspiring and established journalists. The aspiring ones are generally Dalits, and the goal is to get them working for the Nepali press, and hopefully be more representative of the Dalit cause in their reporting. While the media veterans are trained in social issue reporting, human rights, and Dalit awareness.

     At this session, all in the room were non-Dalit media editors and journalists from radio, television, and print in the surrounding districts. The session began with introductory remarks by various leaders of journalism organizations, most extolling the importance of covering social issues and the ugliness of caste-discrimination in Nepali society.

     Introductions followed, and each was asked to state how much they report on caste issues, and how important it is to them and their organization. The majority spoke confidently of their passion for the Dalit cause, and how frequently they reported Dalit stories – missing the obvious point that their mere presence in the room suggests that they are probably not, in fact, reporting Dalit issues.

     

     One reporter shared a personal story of frequenting a local restaurant, and only finding out some time after his first visit that the cook was a Dalit. At first shocked and appalled, he then realized that nothing had come of it – not death, not ailment, not torment, not bad luck, not metamorphosis into something awful. Since that momentous day, he boasted that his family had stopped practicing caste discrimination and held everyone in equal regard. That, is the plight of Nepal’s Dalits!

     Finally, one young radio presenter shot up, and said the roundtable discussion seemed like a farcical Constituent Assembly (CA) member meeting to her – everyone saying they were covering the issue in question, one upping each other as the discussion went around the table, and not admitting any failings. Some smiled and giggled and blushed in quasi-agreement without protest, and an air of shame hung in the room as this proud and confident young woman continued in her reality-check. Bravo!

     Breakout groups and discussions followed on how they could report Dalit stories more effectively, and what issues are not being reported. Presentations were made, and promises pledged that journalism would thereafter be more socially inclusive.

     

     The day finished with Ramses Jha, the President of the Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) of Dhanusa District, delivering a harsh critique on Nepali journalism. He laid bare to everyone that most Nepali journalism was lazy and easy, and mostly covered the political leadership (their every speech, move, event, press conference). These events and words and speeches are covered as is, while those who report it know full well it’s full of misinformation and lies. It’s a top-down leadership focused media, reporting on the easy stuff in city-centers. If this continues, the Dalits and other minority groups will never achieve equality. He finished by saying that real journalism is hard work, and that the most pressing issues are in the communities and villages, away from everybody’s gaze.

     Next up, in the morning, was me, and my presentation on social media and its political power. More to come on that…

255. Travel – Nepal Style

     August 22, 2011 12:26 am 3 Comments

     This is the video I made in response to Corey Black‘s blog, Wretched Travel. I have been in the Kathmandu office for the past five weeks, but this video shows some of the interesting times spent in between Kathmandu and visits to the field.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xP5LNtExiqg

256. The Journey to Love Blanket

     August 21, 2011 8:10 pm Leave a Comment

     “Yesterday is a History, Tomorrow is a Mystery, Today is a Gift, That’s why it’s called the Present”

     An inspirational quote, an ancient one which has been modified into various version. I got familiar with it after watching one of my favorite animation movie, Kung Fu Panda. On the scene, Master Shifu (the wise sensei) was trying to cheer up Po (the clumsy panda bear) when he felt down.

     The quote implies an important message to make the most of time we have, regardless of the past we had or the uncertain future we face. I personally believe that the quote also means that we need to learn from the past without getting trapped by it, as Sukarno (Indonesia First President) taught Indonesian not to forget the history, but also to look at the future without being obsessed by it.

     Drawing upon the quote, this time, the Love Blanket carries the message about the past and the future of Nepali children. Without losing its original philosophy as a symbol of love and protection (First Love Blanket), the Second Love Blanket also tells about the experiences of the rescued child laborers and the dreams of brighter future of Nepali children. The blankets consist of panels which were made by rescued child laborers and school children. I hope the blankets can be a good means to learn about the plight of child labor in Nepal and be a trigger to do something in order to help those children reaching a brighter future.

     Producing the panels with the children was exciting. But it was not without challenges. Expressing their feeling, experience, or dream through art was not common for them, most of them haven’t even tried painting before. By the help from BASE’s staffs in the field we managed to organize the children to paint on the panels using brushes and colorful paints, but it got more challenging when we asked them to paint based on a theme. Figures such as house, water pump, and mountain were their favorite.

     A letter was written to accompany the panel. The children wrote letters about their experience, their dream of the future, or simply about their daily activity. I found out it wasn’t an easy task either. Some rescued children were left out at their study because they used to work while others enjoyed schooling, they needed help to write just a simple letter.

     It was such a journey to meet the children, a journey that brings me to the reality of child labor in the south-western part of Nepal.

     Check out the video and feel the journey!

     For those interested in attending or hosting Love Blanket exhibition, feel free to contact me.

257. Get to Know More about Child Friendly Village (CFV)

     7:25 pm Leave a Comment

     Meet Jogilal Chaudhary, (BASE community activist) and Rama Paudel (President of Child Friendly Village Committee) to better understand how a child friendly village is being operated, its impact on the community and the response of the community. I have explained about Child Friendly Village (CFV) model which developed by BASE on the previous post.

      

258. The Fall of a Nepali Icon

     August 18, 2011 12:00 pm 2 Comments

     

     Few people I’ve personally met have left an indelible impression on me for their greatness, as in over the course of our conversations, an existential crisis gradually looms as the value of my being gradually fades into inconsequence and my ego dissolved, as compared to this looming impressionable tower of an individual. Their ideas, vision, drive and sensibility wow one’s senses to admiration, while their accomplishments shrinks one’s own worth to embarrassment and forces one to rethink the life plan and work ethic.

     At 31 years of age, Suvash Darnal had already founded or co-founded three Nepali organizations of political and social influence, while traveling the world lecturing and learning from leading institutions and making friends and admirers of international leaders. His entire being was self-made, and his life a true rags to riches story to which the American Dream can only be envious. A soft-spoken man of conviction who aggressively pursued his ideals without prejudice or malice towards his foes, he grew to become one of, if not, the most respected and influential Dalit leaders in Nepal and south Asia, elevating an entire segment of the population’s plight onto the national and international stage, eliciting uncomfortable and revolutionary debates in a prejudiced society.

     While in the United States pursuing a month-long fellowship at Stanford University’s Center for Democracy, Development and Rule of Law, and visiting Washington, D.C. to meet political leaders, he was killed in a tragic car accident leaving Dulles International Airport. The only passenger to die in the SuperShuttle van, the accident was needless and inexplicable in its tragedy, and the driver is now charged with reckless driving. Accident injury, or injuries, are often most annoying not just for your body but also for your psychological status. Though, litigating may be a right, which nobody are often bereft of , however many of the people also lose their faculty of decision-making to make a decision if they really should litigate and what to say just in case they litigate. Following are certain things which you ought to consider very carefully before approaching the law courts. You can see this more information about chicago car accident lawyer.

     When you work as an independent truck driver contracted to a company, then you should remember that when you are involved in a truck accident, the costs are on you. They include the lawyer fees and insurance fees. When you have a good truck accident lawyer behind you, then you can enjoy the same kind of benefits as you would with insurance coverage.

     A lawyer will help you resolve issues that could arise in terms of whether you are a regular employee or a contracted worker. The fact is that lawsuits can get heftier for drivers who are mistaken for direct employees but a lawyer helps in making sure that such confusions do not occur to avoid the hefty lawsuits that could favor the plaintiff.

     A truck accident lawyer comes in handy in dealing with the special stipulations as far as big truck insurance goes. These are stipulations that you would otherwise not know about when working without the professional assistance of a good lawyer especially for serious accident injuries. If you want to know more detail about the Orlando truck accident attorney, visit here.

     A lawyer can help you know your options as far as the lawsuit goes and you can actually do with some consultation for cases that are not that serious and therefore do not require the representation by a lawyer in court. He can guide you on how to handle the situation successfully on your own for less serious truck accident cases.

     Personal injury lawyer are great for helping you with a personal injury case. You may need an accident lawyer if you have been in an automobile accident, have been hurt at work, injured from a defective product or have been a victim of assault. Accident lawyers will do their best to provide you a strong case from provided details and medical history. For more details regarding to accident lawyers, you can navigate here. Accidents can happen in some ways starting from slight negligence in handling your stove to crossing roads despite of being fully careful. Therefore, the primary thing which you ought to consider before litigating for any accident injury is to realistically determine your own involvement within the mishap. this is often often, and understandably, tough since we all check out things from our own perspective and not as a neutral observer. However, you ought to know that the courts are neutral observers and shall not necessarily endorse your point of view. Hence, always attempt to determine your role in making the event happen. The result you deduce from this retrospection can vary. Here you can find more about Long Island UBER and Lyft Accident Injury Attorney. If you discover that you simply were somehow involved in turning the otherwise smooth happening into an accident, then you would like to know the extent of your own involvement within the said event. you would like to understand whether you had committed a minor mistake that cause the unfortunate incident when supplemented by another small mistake by the accused. If this is often the case, you shall get compensation from the courts but this compensation shall never be adequate to the complete compensation which one is entitled to after an accident injury caused absolutely by the error of the accused. So, don’t attempt to invite unrealistically hefty full compensation just in case you’re also involved in inflicting the accident injury upon yourself as this shall weaken your case before the jury.

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     Suvash’s life began of humble origins in a small Nepali village in Palpa district, maturing to become the first Dalit to graduate high school in the area. He soon moved to Butwal, the closest large city, thinking he was destined for India as a labourer. He quickly developed relationships with other passionate Dalits, and moved to Kathmandu with nothing but energy and ideals, and initially sold cheap watches, roadside. Him and his friends soon began photocopying and distributing Dalit news stories across the city, and writing for small publishing houses.

     Streetwise and ambitious beyond rationality, he co-founded the Jagaran Media Center at the age of 20, quickly growing it into the largest Dalit media organization in south Asia. Their mission was to empower Dalits with information, get Dalit stories published in the mainstream press, train Dalit journalists, hold public officials accountable, and ultimately, create a more equitable and just Nepali society free of caste-based discrimination.

     Once the JMC was firmly established, and as Nepal’s progress towards democracy backpedalled under King Gyanendra’s autocratic rule in the early 2000s, and wanting to play his part in his country’s political history, he co-founded the Collective Campaign for Peace (COCAP). It became a hub for the civil democratic movement at the time, and was influential in the monarchy’s collapse. Soon after, he set his sights on establishing a Dalit-focused policy think tank in 2009, initially called the Nepal Center for Dalit Studies, renamed the Samata Foundation. Its goal is to bridge the gap between government policy and caste discrimination, and is now the leading hub for Dalit research in Nepal, if not south Asia.

     While building a more equitable and representative Nepali media landscape, being center stage in the collapse of a monarch and transition towards democracy, influencing Nepali public policy, attending international symposiums, and studying abroad via prestigious fellowships, he happened to edit, write, and/or publish two books: A Land of Our Own: Conversations with Dalit Members of the Constituent Assembly and a translation of the work of iconoclastic Indian thinker and Dalit activist, Dr. Amedkar.

     Clearly, this was a man with a restless mind occupied by transformative and revolutionary ideas, all in the hope of helping his fellow countrymen escape a historical cycle of oppression. At 31, Suvash had already become a leader of the Dalit movement in Nepal, and was representing its interests and vision internationally, most recently at the U.N. in Geneva. From humble beginnings to a movement’s leader, one can only speculate as to what great heights this man could have reached in the years to come: Prime Minister? President? Overseeing the end of Dalit oppression in Nepal? South Asia? Who knows.

     My time with Suvash was memorable, and much too brief. We had many long conversations at his Samata Foundation office and at the JMC, always beginning with discussions on political theory, philosophy, and the state of Nepali public and political discourse. We shared our admiration for Amartya Sen’s The Idea of Justice, discussed a recent paper by his Stanford professor Francis Fukuyama, and had a similar life goal of establishing a respectable home library – for the books we read are mementos to our evolving thoughts and maturing minds.

     Suvash helped me to navigate the labyrinth of cultural peculiarities of Nepali politics, institutions, and media. He advised me on how to proceed during difficult times in my work and stay in Nepal, and provided guidance and ideas for projects I was involved in. Always supportive, thoughtful, and critically engaged, his presence and influence on my life and relatively short time in Nepal cannot be overstated.

     Suvash was a man I admired for his charm, compassion, vision, intellect, and unflinching commitment to a noble cause greater than himself. Since his death, the days have passed slowly and aimlessly, and it’s difficult to grasp the reality and impact of his passing. He was too young, too visionary, too influential, too kind, to leave us suddenly under such tragic circumstances.

     The vacuum left by his sudden departure is substantial, and the Dalit community is now reeling by the tragedy. He was the guiding light to so many individuals, causes, and ideas, and the loss of such an influential figure cannot easily be replaced.

     Lessons to be learned from his passing are hard to come by, as it was such a senseless and careless accident. But as American poet Henry Longfellow once said, “So when a great man dies, for years beyond our ken, the light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men.” For Suvash’s influence and importance will now be the guiding light for those he lead and inspired, and for those that will ultimately follow in his footsteps and fill the void.

     To borrow from Cormac McCarthy, we must carry his fire, in his honour, and for the movement he inspired. The fight for Dalit justice and an equitable Nepali society will continue, and those committed souls working under his soaring shadow will not let the Dalit cause languish. He was a towering giant of influence, and his deeds and vision will not pass in vain.

     Suvash leaves behind a wife, Sarita, and a young daughter.

259. Day in the Life

     August 17, 2011 9:54 pm 1 Comment

     No day for me is ever quite the same. Different projects come up and impromptu trips to the field are common. My mornings however seem to start the same. I wake up at around 6 am, then realize that this is far too early and go back to bed. Sounds of chickens and construction workers tend to wake me up for good around 7 though, which means it’s time to start my day with……….
     

     

     Vietnamese Coffee

     Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back to real coffee. I’ve drank my weight in this stuff and I’m a little concerned nothing will ever compare.

     After my injection of concentrated caffeine, it’s a short walk to the AEPD office where I get to work with amazing people. Like these guys….
     

     

     AEPD Staff Members

     The gentlemen in the photo are both outreach workers. Mr. Luu has an amazing life story that a previous peace fellow (Simon Klantschi) has written about. I’d highly suggest checking it out here. In the middle is the amazing Mrs. Nga, the monitoring and evaluation officer for AEPD. She is always with me during my field visits, and I owe her a huge debt of gratitude for all her help.

     Generally I have some office work to do in the morning. Editing reports, writing profiles of their beneficiaries, and whatever else comes up. The Vietnamese workday generally go’s from 8am – 6pm, but with a longer lunch break. This gives plenty of time to take in all the sights and sounds of Dong Hoi, which is best done on the seat of motorbike.
     

     
     If I’m lucky, I get to spend the rest of my day travelling off the beaten path to the rural communes of Quang Binh Province. The scenery is beautiful, and I always get to meet to the most incredible individuals. During my last trip, I got to meet the following people, who I’m hoping I’ll be able to profile more in depth.
     

     

     Mr Tuan, IT specialist and aspiring philanthropist

     

     Mr. Huan the Engineer

     

     Mr. My who is blind, provides weather updates for local fishermen with his radio

     Every time I go to the field I meet the most interesting people, but Mr. My is exceptional. Born blind, life is a constant struggle for him. His family is always struggling financially, yet he finds the time to volunteer as the weather liaison for the local fishermen of his commune, providing updates on approaching storms. There’s no way to know how many lives he’s saved in total, but fishermen often go to his house to provide him gifts in appreciation. I’m planning on writing a much more in depth profile on him, so stay tuned.

     Central Vietnam isn’t exactly known for it’s nightlife. Most shops close down by 8 or 9pm. This has it’s advantages and disadvantages. After living in a place like Cairo however, it’s nice to be in such a serene place. Generally I do some more writing in the evening before dinner, then I enjoy the views from my balcony and call it night.

     Another great day in Dong Hoi.

      

260. El Santa and the Search for Peru’s 15,000 Disappeared

     August 15, 2011 7:42 pm Leave a Comment

     Earlier this month, four clandestine graves were discovered along the Panamerican highway in the Peruvian region of La Libertad. Immediately, the macabre discovery was linked by relatives and community members to the enforced disappearance of nine campesinos from the district of El Santa in 1992; which was later confirmed by the exhumation and forensic investigation realized by the Instituto de Medicina Legal of the Public Ministry.

     The nine victims were sequestrated, tortured, executed and disappeared during the government of Alberto Fujimori by the Colina group, a death squad responsible for some of the most emblematic cases of enforced disappearance and extrajudicial executions in Peru, such as the Cantuta and Barrios Altos cases.

     Fujimori’s historic sentence was based on his intellectual authorship of the latter two crimes committed the Colina group, amongst others (but not including the El Santa case). The members of the Colina group were sentenced last year for their participation in this shocking crime. Nevertheless, and despite accurate information provided by certain members of the group during Fujimori’s trial regarding the location and numbers of the victims, their remains had never been uncovered.

     To many, and to the members of EPAF, this is a clear demonstration of the lack of priority that has been given to the search and identification of the victims of enforced disappearance in the transitional justice process since the end of the internal armed conflict.

     The El Santa case is a good example of the priority that is given to bringing cases to formal courts of justice over the recuperation of remains. While many relatives of the disappeared demand—and most certainly deserve—justice in a judicial sense, many more, I think, are more interested in simply recuperating the remains of their loved ones, and receiving reparation (not only in a monetary sense) for the crimes committed against them, in addition to proper attention from the State.

     Learning the truth over what happened can be a form of justice; finally recuperating the remains of a long lost one so a to be able to light a candle by their grave on the day of the anniversary of their death can also be a form of justice.

     There is nothing wrong, absolutely nothing wrong, with wanting to ensure that those responsible for the vile crimes that occurred during the internal armed conflict, whoever they were and whatever camp they belonged to, pay for their crimes. The reality, however, is that in many case it is simply impossible to gather sufficient evidence, so long after the events, to prove guilt in a court of law. If permissions to conduct forensic investigations are only granted by the Public Ministry in the context of judicial processes, then, it means that the wide majority of the victims will never be found. It is that simple.

     Denying relatives a place to mourn and commemorate their dead, denying them the closure they need after decades of raw suffering by giving them some answers, is as clear a case of injustice as I can think of.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dyjjE1gX8c

     Working with testimonials of relatives over the past few weeks, I feel like I have been absorbing their pain, somehow. I think of how Aniceta, after more than 25 years of having lost her husband, still dreams about him constantly. I think of Juana, who has spent the better part of the last 25 years imagining her husband’s remains being dug up and eaten by dogs, and I can’t help but feel incredibly frustrated. ¿Como habrá sido? (How was it?) and ¿A dónde se lo habrán llevado? (Where could they have taken him?) are interrogations that come up again and again and again. These people need answers, and not 20 years from now. They need them now; they deserved them twenty years ago.

     The El Santa case, and the fact that the remains were not found as the result of a state policy for the search and identification of Peru’s more than 15,000 disappeared but rather as the outcome of the personal effort of the victims’ relatives, who never gave up the search, has brought into relief once again the inexistence of a national plan on forensic investigation or of a national office for disappeared, the creation of which was recommended by Truth and Reconciliation Commission nearly ten years ago.

     Complicating the issue is a lack of understanding among civil society, victims’ relatives, and the general public about the steps and complexity involved in the search and identification of the disappeared, no doubt stemming from a lack of information, but also probably due at least in part to the glamourized, oversimplified and distorted version of forensic work presented in ever-popular television series like C.S.I.

     “We need a National Plan of Exhumation,” stated Rocío Silva Santisteban, the director of the Coordinadora Nacional de Derechos Humanos (CNDDHH) earlier this week, to the consternation of my EPAF co-workers.

     As any forensic anthropologist will tell you, here is a huge difference between exhuming and searching for the missing. Exhuming is showing up to any of the more than 4,600 mass graves that were identified during the investigations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and digging up the remains. It is simple.

     Searching for the missing is another story entirely. It involves, amongst other things, preliminary investigation to reconstruct each enforced disappearance’s story based on witnesses’ testimonials, the collection of ante-mortem data on each victim to construct the biological profile that would allow their identification, the careful analysis of the remains, etc.

     What Peru urgently needs is not a National Plan of Exhumation, but a National Plan for the Search and Identification of the Disappeared. I see it as an important challenge for an organization such as EPAF to general political pressure and awareness among the general public on the urgent need for such a plan, especially given the recent change of government. Many of the relatives have never given up fighting, but they need support. They need the weight of Peruvian society behind them.

     Above is a short clip presenting the audio testimonial of Juana Crisante Quispe, a woman from Hualla, Ayacucho. Her husband was disappeared by the military in 1983, and she has never stopped wondering what happened to him. Her testimonial was recorded by EPAF in 2009 along with photography by Jonathan Moller. It is part of a series I have been working on, and which will be posted soon on EPAF’s Desaparecidos, ¿Hasta Cuándo? blog. Comments are welcomed!

261. Anatomy of an Advocacy Journalism Project

     August 11, 2011 9:46 am Leave a Comment

     Nepali media tends to focus it’s reporting on the political leadership and its business: meetings, speeches, events, power struggles, etc. Most is rife with misinformation and lies – promises and actions occupy two segregated parallel universes in Nepali politics – but is reported nonetheless as is. It’s lazy and easy journalism, and social issues do not get the attention they deserve in the press.

     The Jagaran Media Center (JMC) is a Dalit caste run media house and NGO, focusing most of its activities on Dalit journalism and human rights training. The Dalits they represent are the untouchables and downtrodden of Nepal, constituting 20 to 25% of the population. They are the lowest caste of Nepali society, and are often denied basic human rights like access to land, food, water, shelter, education, honest jobs and wages, information, and security.

     Through the Hindu caste hierarchy system, the lowly Dalits are denied the freedom to marry other higher castes, and families face persecution in communities where inter-caste marriages do occur. Dalits are often raped, beaten, or killed for superstitious reasons, while many Dalit women are accused of witchcraft and force-fed their own feces when natural phenomena interfere with the natural cycle of things (i.e. a diseased cow dies in a community).

     Dalits are underrepresented (if at all) in Nepali politics and media, so their plight is generally ignored. Police rarely provide justice to victims of caste-discrimination cases, politicians languish in establishing enforceable socially equitable laws and upholding those that are passed, while the Nepali press does a poor job in reporting all things Dalit.

     Thus, the journalism project I am leading with Prakash Mohara of JMC comes in. The goals of the project are two pronged. One is to extract Dalit caste discrimination stories and cases out of communities in 10 different districts, while using our new network of grassroots civil society organizations (CSOs) to provide justice and democratic accountability to the community.

     In each of the 10 districts we’re targeting (three in the east, two in the north, five in the west), we have identified a Dalit journalist to report on caste discrimination cases. His or her duty is to report these stories (that would otherwise not get press coverage), and publish them on a blog we have set up and trained him/her on, which will be hosted on JMC’s redesigned website (about to be launched).

     Using this information, our partnered CSO in the district in question will attempt to provide justice and democratic accountability to those affected. Using Nepal’s new “untouchability” bill as legal strength in its investigation, the CSO will attempt to unite the community, police, victims, and perpetrators. The goal is provide justice to cases that otherwise wouldn’t receive it, while promoting a more transparent and honest Nepali democracy.

     The second goal is advocacy, both at a national and international level. By hosting the blogs of the 10-targeted journalists, along with profiles of the associated 10 CSOs, the JMC will have a new network of Dalit media spread across the country, reporting on Dalit issues. The JMC will be able to use these sources to lobby their established network of national media houses to cover the reported caste-abuse cases and follow-up activities. Further, the JMC will be able to more effectively lobby lawmakers in Kathmandu to be more cognizant and equitable in their judicial duties towards the Dalits, having documented cases of Dalit discrimination hosted on JMC’s website that cannot be ignored.

     At the international level, social media tools will be used extensively to advocate on behalf of the Dalits, and will try to attract international attention and pressure to the issues. Through avenues such as Twitter and Facebook, along with the JMC’s established network of international partners and organizations, it will reach out and try to engage the international community. Ultimate goals of these activities are to have Dalit cases brought forward and investigated at various human rights commissions (i.e. U.N.), and receive press coverage by popular international news outlets.

     Ultimately, the JMC aims to be a media hub for the Dalit cause in Nepal, and be the destination for Dalit news that generally gets ignored in most other media. The aim is to firmly establish the project, grow it organically and sustainably into other districts across the country, and partner with an international organization for support.

     The project is ambitious, with many moving pieces operating at once. However, it is realistic in its goals, and can achieve sustainable and influential results over the long run. There is potential for Dalit empowerment and promotion of a more inclusive and accountable Nepali society in the districts it operates, and is a formula that can be replicated through organic growth in other districts.

     If some have suggestions or tips for this project, please share them in the comments section. It’s only the beginning.

262. Flashback to Huamanquiquia

     August 10, 2011 10:27 pm Leave a Comment

     Of all the rural communities that I have visited so far with EPAF, Huamanquiquia has left one the deepest imprints in my memory, due to the warmth with which we were welcomed. No doubt this was in large part because of Renzo’s (a historian with EPAF’s memory area) presence among our group. He lived in Huamanquiquia for three months while doing fieldwork for his thesis a few years back, and he is treated like family any time he returns.

     Huamanquiquia lies in the province of Víctor Fajardo, in Ayacucho. This area was immensely affected by the internal armed conflict, as it is where the Shining Path first began its activities. The community is surrounded by towering mountains; added to the seemingly never-ending hours of travelling on treacherous roads needed to reach it, I could not help but be overpowered by a sense of isolation upon our arrival. Isolation may be quaint and awe-inspiring when you are on a brief visit, but when your community is caught in a dirty war between insurgent groups and the armed forces, neither of whom are afraid to use cruelty and kill to defeat the other, I imagine that isolation can only amplify the distress felt.

     Unsurprisingly, the recent history of Huamanquiquia has been marked by the political violence, and its sequels are omnipresent, as any community member will tell you. Two horrific events are seared into the local memory: the detention and murder of more than 25 campesinos by the military in 1984, otherwise known as the Huamanquiquia case, and the massacre of 18 campesinos by members of the Shining Path in 1992.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDiEJKM_YNE

     A few weeks ago, Huamanquiquia made the local news because new exhumations were about to take place, meaning that 27 years after the 1984 executions, the families of some of the victims would finally able to bury the remains of their loved ones. From what I understand, these new exhumations are the result of the recent extradition of Telmo Hurtado from the United States. Hurtado is currently on trial for his direct responsibility in the death of 69 individuals from the Ayacuchan community of Accomarca in August of 1985. He is also the presumed author of the 1984 massacre in Huamanquiquia.

     While this is undeniably good news, it got me thinking about all the widows and orphans we met in Huamanquiquia, and the conditions they live in. I wondered if recuperating the remains would ever be enough to close the circle of suffering they find themselves in. This inspired to re-visit the material I filmed in Huamanquiquia back in June to make a short video. It is an attempt to portray the current situation in Huamanquiquia, and by extension the situation of countless post-communities in Peru, through the testimony of a local victim’s representative.

263. The project begins

     4:28 am 3 Comments

     Our hired jeep (and driver) is late to get the crew at JMC headquarters, so we finally hit the road at 8pm, four hours late. We start off by picking up “spare parts” at the garage, and head for dinner in the downpour in Kathmandu – still no progress.

     

     Beers and Nepali red wine fill the table, along with a feast of curry dishes, lentils, dried meats, naan bread, and rice. We down the drinks and stuff our faces, while the driver sticks to the Asian Red Bull – the original syrupy kind in the small gold can. The driver had been driving all day, having taken a Constituent Assembly member to Pokhara in the north, so was already tired.

     Up and over the mountains is our direct route, trying to shave off a few hours of our trip to Janakpur – in the southeast on the Indian border. We sail past dormant small towns on the outskirts of Kathmandu, on paved single lane potholed roads. The rain’s coming down hard, but the jeep is holding up.

     The road goes rugged and the pavement switches to mud trenches and stones in an instant. The road now swerves directly up via a series of tight switchbacks. Those who had done the trip before, all say, “so the journey begins,” with a laugh.

     As they say this, Bollywood music is playing, and it appears to be some tragic love song. An Indian Britney Spears incarnate is pouring her heart out, yearning for adolescent love, and our heads are thrashing uncontrollably like bobble-head dolls in our seats on the bumpy trail – AC/DC tunes would have been more appropriate.

     Ten-foot high hemp plants now line the route, while evidence of past mudslides pass us every 200 meters. One had washed half the road away, pushing it over the cliff. We can only tell that we’re driving in the mountains because of the odd flickering light bulb hundreds of meters directly above and below, placing us on the edge of something steep and invisible in the night.

     We pass other jeeps every 30 minutes, and share information on the state of the roads to the other drivers – each telling the other foolishly to be wise and rest until clear skies and daybreak. The same goes for those manning the police and military checkpoints along the route, advising us to rest. Hell no we say, “we’ve got a journalism training workshop to attend in the morning, and this Canadian guy in the back knows a thing or two about social media!” On we press in the rain.

     We eventually rest for two hours on the side of the road, by a military base. Our crazy driver heads for the roof for a nap, in the rain, protecting himself with a strange blue tarp sleeping bag contraption. Sleep barely comes to us, and with no relaxing effect from our sleep we continue on as the military brass start their early morning exercises at 4am.

     We eventually go up and over three mountains, and descend into the terai plains as day breaks into sunshine. The roads are smooth and straight, and the fast wind relieves the jeep cabin of stale alcohol breath and B.O. smells.

     

     We swerve around two dead dogs, pass road side monkeys foraging on garbage, and witness masses of Madhesis dressed in orange worshipping a Lord Shiva festival along the rivers.

     We’re finally in Janakpur, 10 hours later, exhausted and a bit hungover (except for the driver, of course). Time to rest, and get to this journalism workshop. I also have to prepare a presentation on the concept of new/social media for Nepali news editors, but that can wait until later.

     Before the workshop begins, while we’re eating breakfast after a quick nap, the leader of the CPN UML party’s (Marxist-Leninist) youth wing is shot three times  in a drive-by in Janakpur’s market, a short walk from our tables. We’re scooping rice into our mouths and rehydrating, and the town down the road is lighting up in gunfire.

     Now on to the real work…

264. Year of Disasters

     August 9, 2011 7:07 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     Disaster relief project with AEPD, Caritas and CTC

     By all accounts, 2010 was a terrible year. It brought us awful films like the remake of “Clash of the Titans”, the ear cringing sounds (I hesitate to use the word music) of Ke$ha, a second season of “Jersey Shore”, rising unemployment, continued wars and occupations, cats and dogs living together (Murray, Bill 1984) and the list goes on. The Mayan prophecy of 2012 seems to be right on track. As if the cultural, economic, and political downward spiral weren’t enough, it was a hellacious year of natural disasters, which also means that it was a particularly bad time for Persons with Disabilities (PWD’s), who are amongst the most vulnerable groups during these events.

     Depending on what indicators you use, 2010 may go down as the worst year ever for natural disasters. Most sources cite a figure of nearly 300,000 deaths and financial costs of up to 130 billion US dollars. The earthquake in Haiti of course takes up a significant share of the casualties but there’s there were many other disasters that also contributed to these mind boggling numbers. Floods in Pakistan, blizzards in China, quakes in Chile, Russian wildfires and sub-zero temps in Peru are just a few of the 950 natural disasters from 2010. Somewhat lost amongst all these events were the historic floods that wreaked havoc on central Vietnam during October of last year. Flooding is simply a part of life for those who live on the coast and central highlands of Vietnam, but the severity and erratic patterns have caused great concern for the region, forcing communities to become more aware of climate change issues and how it affects their lives.

     The floods of October 2010 mostly affected Quang Binh province, which is where AEPD is headquartered. Total deaths are unknown but the figure most often reported is around 80 with some dozens still missing and presumed dead. Quang Binh took the brunt of the storm with 45 deaths and over 100,000 homes submerged in water. Moreover, entire fields of rice and other crops were swept away in the flood water, crippling the base of the region’s economy. Further complicating the issue is the disproportionately high level of PWD’s in the area, which account for nearly 5% of the province’s total population. Along with the elderly, PWD’s have greater risks than others during disasters like flooding. For those in the US, we need only to look at our experience during Hurricane Katrina as proof. Paralyzed civilians were left behind, nursing homes were deserted, and the overall lack of planning and coordination concerning this vulnerable community was unfortunately brought to light. Check out this article from CNN for an overview of the problem.

     Emergency relief after natural disasters is not an easy endeavor. Many times resources aren’t mobilized fast enough, are misallocated, or wasted. There’s also an oversaturation issue. There are simply too many cooks in the kitchen, dispensing either unneeded or impractical relief, like during the tornadoes in Alabama earlier this year when broken toys and used underwear were donated from across the country Yes, this actually happens. check it out here. The world simply hasn’t quite perfected emergency relief quite yet. Here in Quang Binh however, I’m seeing a level of coordination in response to natural disasters that makes me a little envious. If enough people comment on this post, maybe we can persuade some of them to work for FEMA.

     AEPD  Disaster Relief Movie Part 1

     AEPD  Disaster Relief Movie Part 2

      

     

     Mr. Tran of the District People's Committee talks about lessons learned

     Recognizing that a large sector of the community wasn’t benefiting from the various relief programs provided by the government and NGO’s, AEPD partnered with Caritas Switzerland, Challenge to Change (a UK NGO) and various authorities from the communal and district authorities. Caritas was very smart to seek out AEPD. They’ve been working with the PWD community for over 7 years now in Quang Binh, and have their fingers on the pulse of the PWD community. They knew exactly where most of the PWD’s lived and what types of assistance they’d actually need. They also have some of the most professional and dedicated staff in the area, as their team of outreach workers constantly had their boots on the ground, evaluating and monitoring the execution of the project. AEPD was constantly in contact with Caritas who funded the project, as well as various local government departments ensuring distribution of aid was efficient. When it was all said and done, 16 tons of rice and 400 kg of dry fish were given out to 860 needy households in 3 different communes. It also provided 250kg of seed and 75 tons of fertilizer to produce crops on 50 hectares of land, which is enough to support the dietary needs of nearly 1800 people. The project also focused on home reconstruction, with an aim to make them more resilient in future storms. 30 homes were repaired, along with 3 heavily damaged kindergartens. For a complete overview on the storms of October 2010 and the relief project, check out part 1 and 2 of a film produced by AEPD posted above.

     I had a chance to talk with many representatives from Caritas, Challenge to Change, local government personnel and the project beneficiaries themselves during an experience sharing workshop held a few weeks ago.  Mr. Lan who heads the Caritas Vietnam office reaffirmed my sentiments about the project. He has ample experience in disaster relief operations and was very pleased with the outcome of the project “Access to information and coordination of different agencies is always a challenge” he told me. “Not this time though. The cohesion amongst the government and NGO’s was exemplarily and a big reason for the project’s success”. This feeling was also shared by Mr. Tran of the District Peoples Committee. “The big lesson I learned from this workshop was the value of planning. We had great criteria and beneficiary selection because we listened to the community and various organizations closely. This is something we must continue to do in the future”.

     

     The outreach workers of AEPD reflecting on their experiences

     I was skeptical when I first heard that AEPD was branching out into emergency relief and climate change advocacy. I feel that when NGO’s try to take on too many projects, their core function gets diminished. After learning more about AEPD’s role in the disaster relief project however, I realized there simply isn’t a better organization around that could fit the role the project required. Caritas wanted to fund a project that helped vulnerable people after the October flood, particularly PWD’s, so AEPD was an obvious partner. Not only are they able to identify at risk individuals and raise awareness on climate change, but they have earned a stellar reputation in the community and have strong relationships with local government offices. Not every PWD is so lucky however. Try and think of your own hometown. Is there a group working to protect the vulnerable in your area in case the improbable happens? Do you think the elderly, single mothers, or PWD’s would be well provided for in case of a natural disaster? If you can’t name a group besides the Red Cross or FEMA, than perhaps your neighborhood should be taking the pre-emptive steps like the people of Quang Binh Vietnam. It’s not the most pleasant thing to think about, but failing to do so could lead to tragic outcomes.

265. A Child Club Unites To Support A Former Child Laborer

     August 7, 2011 5:00 am 3 Comments

     What happens when you run up against the deep problems of life and the mystery, you find that they aren’t any easy answers. This week, I was again reminded that it only takes a small number of dedicated people to effect change. Regardless of the adversity that the children in this community face, they are committed to encouraging each other and to break this vicious cycle of relying on child labor practices as the only source of income. These families are often landless and marginal farm households and cannot afford to send their children to school. The irregularity of the parents’ employment often see the children’ labor as an additional or more stable income source for the family. Even when the children do attend school, they are still expected to contribute to the family’s income.  The fellowship with BASE takes me different districts every other week, to the hardest places to reach in an effort to gain great insight of the causes of child labor practices. This community-based approach allows me to understand the factors that affect child labor recruitment and to formulate prevention strategies. Below are the stories of Amina and Dipak Chaudhary. I was caught off guard when I found out that they were siblings. Their last name is a common last name in the Tharu community.

     

     Dipak Chaudhary, 17 years old. Former child laborer

     Dipak Chaudhary is the oldest of four children, two sisters and two brothers. Dipak’s father died long time ago and the family is now being raised by their mother. At age 14, Dipak ran away from home to Kathmandu. His mother could not afford sending him to school and they do not own any land where he can at least work. For two years, he worked in Kathmandu in the carpentry business. His masters enrolled him in school, in Level 1 instead of Level 3. For two years, he was pushed back in his education and for his labor, he was paid a mere 5000rps ($71) a year. Most masters tend to enroll the child laborers in a lower grade because the enrollment fees are cheaper. When Dipak returned to his village for a visit, the Shanti Citizenship Child Club intervened and convinced him to stay and go to school. Dipak agreed to stay but later dropped out of school. He felt embarrassed that he was attending classes with students two years younger than him.  Again, the child club came to his side and attempted to find an alternative than Kathmandu.

     The work of the Shanti Citizenship Club should be admired. The current child club president, Ginesh Chaudhary along with the other members thought that Dipak could build up on the skills learned as a child laborer and utilize them to build a career. The club wrote a proposal to BASE asking for funds to cover Dipak’s apprenticeship program. His proposal was approved for 5000rps. Dipak is now a certified carpenter, earning 250rps ($3) a day. To put it into perspective, as a self-employed Dipak makes $93 a year, $22 more than he was earning as a child laborer. He helps his mother to provide for the family.

     

     Amina Chaudhary, child laborer for three years. She is now 16 years old

     His sister, Amina Chaudhary is now sixteen years old. She was sent to work in Gorahi, a nearby village, at the age of five. However, she ran away after few months as the living conditions were intolerable. Upon her return, her mother sent her to another landlord.  Amina worked from 6am to midnight every day cleaning the dishes, washing clothes and taking care of the landlord’s children.  In addition, Amina, who was six at that time, took care of the landlord’s one-year old by feeding and bathing her daily. She spent three years at the house until she was rescued by BASE in partnership with Friends of Needy Children (FCN). Her rescue came at a time when FCN was starting to provide financial help to children, those at risk of becoming child laborers. For now Amina is in school, after spending six years of her life as a child laborer and not attending school. However, she also goes to work to the same landlord every weekend along with her mother. Their double income along with Dipak’s carpentry position allow them to live comfortably.

     So, yes.., there are no easy answers. For now, these stories illustrate the courage of a child club. It took 22 members of the child club and $71 to save Dipak and to encourage him to use his skills to advance his career. They helped him realize that he was capable of more and that he can use his skills to pursue a profession that will generate an income for his family. Ginesh and the club members I met are incrementally saving children from exploitation. The feeling of hopelessness that overcomes me is often due to my inclination of looking at the problem as a big and almost impossible one to tackle. However, I cannot succumb to pessimism, as I believe my reaction would be a dismissal of the time and resources that these children put in to saving each other from exploitation.

266. The Child love blanket completed.. Byana project next…

     4:43 am 1 Comment

     As promised, below are the pictures of the final product, the love blanket. It is probably better to start this blog by congratulating AP fellow, Maelanny who was also a peace fellow with BASE and had begun the blanket project prior to my arrival. The blanket represents paintings from 77% of former child laborers from Banke and Bardiya districts. After the collection of all the panels, they were assembled in two blankets. I really enjoyed meeting the children and understanding child labor issues. If you are in the United States, I will be inviting you to one of the events that I hope to organize upon my return. The quilts are a powerful tool of advocacy, a way that the children can relate to us on their experiences as child laborers and on the need for all of us to do what we can to eradicate the child labor practice. Maelanny will do the same in her home country Indonesia as well as when she returns to school at Oslo University. In the past, past fellows have been able to raise money for their organization and I am hoping that we can follow in their footsteps as BASE is doing a lot of good work in the community and can use more resources, especially in rescuing more children from child labor.

      

     

     The love blanket

     The inspiration to create another quilt, this time showcasing the Tharu culture came during my field visit with Maelanny to Bardiya District. I met Asmitha Chaudhary who invited me to her house and to meet her family. During our walk around her neighborhood, I observe her sister making a ‘byana.” A byana or as called in Tharu language “banka” is a hand fan, unique to the Tharu community. It I beautifully made of wool of colorful colors as well as bamboo sticks. I am particularly interested in creating a quilt out of these byana because; most of people who are affected by child labor practices as well as bonded labor are Tharu. The end result will be a compilation of these byana sewed together into a quilt. Unlike the love blankets where we had an idea of the end result, I have no clue on the byana project. This is a learning process for me and of course you will all be joining me on this journey. For now, cross all fingers that it turns out to be a good quilt.

      

     

     Bayna- a Tharu tradition

267. “Con Nuestra Memoria, Resistimos la Impunidad”

     July 27, 2011 10:24 pm Leave a Comment

     “With our memory, we resist impunity” – Statement by the relatives of the victims of La Cantuta in the protest against a possible presidential pardon for Alberto Fujimori

     On Friday, July 15^th, I attended a protest march in Lima Centro against a possible presidential pardon to ex-president Alberto Fujimori. A few weeks before, I had attended another event in opposition to a pardon; many of them have been taking place over the last few weeks as the presidential term of Alan García is coming to an end (Ollanta Humala will take over as of July 28, 2011, which is also Peru’s national independence day). What made last Friday’s protest special was that it was organized by the relatives of the Cantuta victims (see my previous post) in commemoration of the 19^th anniversary of the massacre.

     

     Around the time of the Peruvian presidential elections and the candidacy of Fujimori’s daughter Keiko, I wrote about what Alberto Fujimori represents for human rights, or more to the point, for impunity in Peru. His sentencing to 25 years in prison on charges of human rights violations and corruption represented a break with the long tradition of impunity in the country, and was internationally regarded as an important step in global efforts to end impunity in cases of crimes against humanity.

     

     The forced disappearance and execution of nine students and a professor from La Cantuta is also very symbolically charged in Peru as it was one of the three cases that Alberto Fujimori was condemned for in 2009. He was deemed to be the intellectual author of La Cantuta, as well as of the Barrios Altos executions and the kidnappings of journalist Gustavo Gorriti and businessman Samuel Dyer. The Cantuta relatives, including EPAF’s Gisela Ortiz, sister of one of the students killed, are emblematic of the fight against impunity in Peru.

     

     Unsurprisingly, Fujimoristas have never accepted the sentence against Fujimori, and have been fighting against it in all ways possible. A few days before the presidential elections this past June 5^th, Fujimori’s defense filed a plea with the Constitutional Tribunal to find that the conviction is not valid because the judges were not impartial. According to Jo-Marie Burt, an acceptation of this argument by the Constitutional Court would amount to a revocation of the ratification of the original sentence, and a new trial would be held that could lead to Fujimori’s exoneration, or to a different sentence that could facilitate a presidential pardon. The plea will be revised, during a public audience, on the 4^th of August.

     

     Following the defeat of Keiko Fujimori in the presidential elections, a new story quickly began to dominate headlines, that of a possible presidential pardon to Fujimori on “humanitarian principles”. It began with a congressman commenting to the press that President Alan García should pardon the ex-president because he is “old and apparently sick.” Then there was intensive press coverage of the flailing health of the former president— that he suffered bleeding in his mouth; that his mouth cancer could be recurring; that he had lost 15 kilos; etc.

     Some have argued that this represents a change in strategy by fujimoristas attempting to free the ex-president; a media campaign pushing for a presidential pardon. Despite the fact that an independent doctor confirmed Fujimori’s condition was not life-threatening and that his weight loss was due to depression, and that various analysts have stated that a pardon would be illegal under both Peruvian and international law, the rumours of a presidential pardon have not completely subsided.

     

     Followers of Peruvian politics fear that Alan Garcia might pardon Fujimori, presumably in exchange for a future promise of protection from prosecution for human rights violations committed during his first term as president during the 1980s. Let it not be forgotten that his current administration has also been responsible such disasters as the 2009 massacre in Bagua.

     

     Given the severity of the crimes committed by Fujimori and the lack of a legal or medical foundation for his pardon, I have to admit that I have trouble understanding why the possibility of a pardon on humanitarian grounds is even being discussed. But if there is anything to be learned from Peruvian history, it is that when politics are concerned, nothing is too far-fetched.

     The question is not, as some out here have tried to turn it into, whether or not Fujimori deserves to die in prison.  Personally, I doubt anyone does. The point, however, is that reputable doctors have stated that his condition is not life threatening. The point is that his conviction is the most potent symbol of the fight against impunity in Peru, and that his pardon would represent a terrible blow to human rights and to the victims and victim’s relatives of the atrocities committed by his regime under his orders.

     

     UPDATE: I finished writing this post a few days ago but for a variety of reasons I have not been able to publish it until today. As Ollanta Humala takes over as President today, it seems that Alan García decided that a pardon to Fujimori was not in his best interest. The issue is not completely over, though, as back in June, President-elect Ollanta Humala stated to the newpaper El Comercio that he would consider pardoning Fujimori on humanitarian grounds if his health worsened. Moreover, the examination of the “Habeas Corpus” presented to the Constitutional Court by Fujimori’s defense will take place next week…

268. It’s a Sign!

     July 20, 2011 10:54 pm 1 Comment

     Environmental awareness is a HUGE problem across the globe, so it makes me smile whenever I see little reminders to be green scattered across India.  I haven’t always had my camera, but here are some of my favorites for your viewing pleasure!

     

     

     

     

     

     Once I got into the habit of snapping photos of signs, these funny ones also caught my eye…enjoy!

     

      

     

     

269. Rice Planting 101

     10:47 pm 4 Comments

     My alarm goes off at 5 am. I am nowhere near ready to arise, but reluctantly force myself out of bed and throw what I need for the day into my backpack. Most importantly: Laptop and camera with battery fully charged. After a three-minute walk to the WRRP office from my hotel and I am already sweating. Shubhakamana (WRRP staff, about my age) has some bread and jam ready for breakfast on the roof. We eat it and enjoy the breeze while we both agree that it was too early to be heading out for the day’s work. We intend to travel to a nearby village (two-hour bus ride) in order to speak with some of the women that painted panels for the quilt project that the previous WRRP intern, Kate had done. I am also hoping to capture footage to better understand the work these women do on a daily basis.

     We catch the first rickshaw we see along the road to the main market, and switch to the bus where we wait until it fills with passengers. Once it is full, aisle included, we began the long stretch to the village of Rajbiraj. I do not enjoy the man who is standing in the aisle, leaning on my shoulder although it was his chair. Shubhakamana makes a motion to say something to him, and I tell her not to worry, if it really bothers me I will give him a small shove or maybe pinch. We both laugh. What’s another over-crowded bus in forty-degree weather?

     We arrive at 10 am, about 2 hours behind schedule, as often happens with Nepalese public transit. The field coordinator is there to meet us, along with two of the village women. We exchange greetings, and began walking through the village of mud and brick houses, with roofs of dried grass, and the smell of livestock. We draw some stares, as foreigners such as myself are rarely seen in this remote area. We stop at one of the houses, and are brought to the water pump to freshen up. The water is cool and clean. We sit down on the front porch, taking our sandals off before we go up the steps, even though the floor is actually made of mud. Shubhakamana begins to speak in Maithili, the local language, explaining that we are here to show them their videos, as they have not seen them before. We also like to learn about their work and shoot some video showing the type of work women do in this village.

     

     We show them their videos with my Macbook, and talk about uterine prolapse, which at least one of them has experienced and received surgery for. After this, the women are eager to provide us with an example of the work they engage in at this time of year. Shubhakamana and I are lead out into the middle of a field of rice paddies by three of the women. Ewakari, the most outgoing, is very animated in describing the work and is excited to show us. I tell her she should be an actress, and she agrees.

     We arrive where there appears to be some smaller green sprouts in the middle of the never-ending field rice paddies. Turns out, these are the “seeds”. The two women jump right into the cubic swamp and began to rip up the seeds and shake off excess mud. I realize later that they are doing this because they eventually carry a large cluster of these seeds on their heads, tied together with long blades of grass, to the planting area. We follow them as they lead us there.

     

     They began planting the rice, singing Maithili folk songs as they go. They ask me if I’d like to try planting. I of agree of course, and join them in the paddy. They laugh as I attempted to plant the rice as quickly as they did in perfect rows. I fail miserably, but enjoy their reaction. After I climb back onto the path because I am only getting in the way, one of the women pull out a clump of seeds from the mud and show me how there are LEECHES clinging to it. I quickly do a thorough check of my legs, feet and hands as they again laugh.

     

     Never again will I enter a rice paddy, however, the point was certainly made. These are the kind of physically demanding chores that rural women are expected to perform day in and day out, monsoon or shine. After an hour, it was time to have some lunch at Ewakari’s home, and talk about the Uterine Prolapse Network the women of this area have formed to empower women and educate women and their families on the issue. More to come…

      

270. Early Dark Nights

     3:01 am 2 Comments

     We had come back to our guesthouse in Tulsipur from dinner around 10pm, staying late at a restaurant on the outskirts of town. En route, crossing the rubble streets, lined with vegetable stalls and shops, the only movement disturbing the night was the odd wild dog gnawing on garbage, and a few flickering household lights. Without streetlights, the town’s streets were dark and deserted, and it was as if walking in a post-apocalyptic version of London from 28 Days Later, emerging from a coma to a vanquished civilization. Did we miss the outbreak, and the evacuation? Where is everybody? It’s only 10 o’clock, and we were only gone for two hours.

     Here, people wake and kids play as soon as the first rooster crows at daybreak, and all shutter inside soon after the last handful of dal bhat is shoved into mouths at dinner. Television sets sometimes play Nepali and Indian movies and shows into the night, but not late. As soon as the sun stops shining its light, most public activities stop. This is no town of nightly social gatherings, or sipping drinks and tea at local establishments.

     In Kathmandu, Nepal’s biggest and most energetic and diverse city, the situation is only a little different. On a Friday night, one can run out of options quickly as the police shut most establishments down early (except for the odd tourist bar), and be in bed sipping tea, thinking “it’s still early for a Friday, and I’m in bed?!” And as you’re driven home in a taxi, you wonder where all the people are, and why everything is so dark – this being the Nepali night of celebration after a six-day workweek. There are no streetlights again, nor stoplights (Kathmandu has one working pair), and few people are walking about (most trying to peddle hashish to lingering tourists in Thamel), outnumbered by the roaming wild dogs.

     Nepal is a country shy of the night, and is a place Hemingway would have little patience for.

     Apart from evident reasons of poverty and little disposable income to spend on socializing, along with the strains imposed by grueling long workdays, something else is at play here. For this, one must look to the remnants of war and the long shadow it has cast over the Nepali psyche.

     Nepal’s Civil War lasted 10 years, between 1996 and 2006, and was between Maoist guerrillas and government forces, ending in a 2006 peace agreement. Throughout the conflict, 15 000 people were killed and around 150 000 were internally displaced. As the conflict matured, tensions and violence mounted, paralyzing most of the country in blockades, curfews, and fear.

     Maoist guerrillas would often march into towns, ransacking the place for goods and supplies, destroying factories and police outposts, and whatever other lewd behaviour that came with it. The same can be said of government forces, terrorizing locals and throwing about accusations and threats of sympathizing and supporting the Maoist enemy. Maoists controlled rural Nepal, while government forces controlled Kathmandu, the prized possession.

     After the peace agreement of 2006, social and psychological effects of the war linger – one being the fear and horror that would occupy some nights. Not knowing how the night would begin, or end under the curfews. Whether it would be peaceful or violent, whether one’s restaurant’s supplies or farm animals would still be left in the morning, whether one’s children were safe, or whether one would be assaulted and disappeared. As the curfews and the violence became the norm over 10 long years, the fear of the night became engrained.

     Pinky, a manager at Backwards Society Education (BASE) has told me that it was not like this in Tulsipur before the conflict. People would stay out later into the night, socializing and hanging out at shops and restaurants and each other’s houses. The sun’s set did not automatically mean an end to the day.

     The curfews, and the fears they inspired, changed the meaning of Nepali darkness. For those too young to remember, or not yet born, its lessons are imparted on them by their forefathers and an altered social landscape.

     Every night, I can be found lying on my mattress-less bed, reading under a ceiling fan, with nothing else to do. Hemingway’s become a good companion here, appreciating his bar hopping and social ideal more than ever, although still amazed and frightened of his alcoholism.

271. A Big Week for Memory

     July 19, 2011 1:13 pm Leave a Comment

     This week has been an eventful one in Lima. The mood is festive, with pre-celebrations of the Fiestas Patrias taking place (the national independence day is on July 28^th) and Peru’s unexpected qualifications to the semi-finals of the COPA América, the importance of which anyone having spent some time in fútbol-crazy South America will be well aware of.

     On Sunday night, as I was deafened by the fireworks marking the culmination of the annual, exuberant parade announcing the Fiestas Patrias, I was reminded that merely two decades ago, Lima was experiencing an altogether different kind of explosions. In fact, aside from the glitz and the joyfulness—and, I feel, overshadowed by them—this week was also the anniversary of two tragic events dating from the period of the Peruvian political violence. Both occurred in 1992, and each is sadly emblematic of the barbary reached by the two sides in the conflict.

     The first event, the Tarata street bombing, was authored by members of Sendero Luminoso. Throughout 1991 and 1992, the terrorist organization had gradually shifted its focus away from the Peruvian highlands, and Lima had become the principal target of its subversive actions, forever imprinting the expression of “coche-bomba” (car bomb) into the memory and vocabulary of every Limeño and Limeña.

     The most remembered of “coche-bomba” attacks is probably the bombing of Tarata street, in the center of the financial and commercial district of Miraflores (and a short 10 minutes walk from my current home).  In the evening of July 16^th, 1992, two vehicles containing more than half a ton of explosives were set off, killing 25 and injuring 155 bystanders, and dispersing any remaining notion among Limeños that the Peruvian internal conflict was occurring out there, to others.

     In response to the Tarata street bombing and many other “coche-bomba” attacks that followed, in the early hours of July 18, 1992, the “Grupo Colina”, a secret paramilitary commando made up of intelligence army officers as part of a clandestine government war against subversion, entered the Universidad Nacional de Educación La Cantuta to sequestrate, execute, and disappear nine students and a professor.

     La Cantuta, as numerous universities in the country, had a leftist reputation, and its students had indiscriminately been labelled as terrorists by the government and the military. Immediately following the event, and despite the testimonies of hundreds of witnesses, the massacre was denied by military authorities. The calcined remains of some of the bodies were discovered the following year. It was later revealed that the students and professor had been transported to a remote location where they ended up with gun shots to the head. The bodies were buried and later burned and re-buried in a different location to conceal what had happened.

     In 2009, Fujimori was sentenced to 25 years in prison for his responsibility in the Cantuta case, among others.  Last Friday, I attended a march organized by the relatives of the Cantuta victims and various human rights organization in commemoration of the 19^th anniversary of the massacre and against the possible pardon to Fujimori (this deserves a much longer entry, and will be the topic of my next post).

      

     All in all, then, it has been a big week for memory. The anniversary of these two events once more highlighted the divided nature of Peruvians over the period of the political violence and the polemical figure of Fujimori. A cursory glance at the comments section of this news report on the commemoration of Tarata confirms it: countless comments thank the ex-president they affectionately call “el chino”. Many decry the fact that his role in eliminating the terrorists is not mentioned, for instance, in the Tarata commemoration. Others specifically refer to the Cantuta case, thanking Fujimori for eliminating “esos terrucos” (terrorists). More worryingly yet, a good number blame human rights for getting in the way of the proper recognition Fujimori supposedly deserves.

     As controversial as they may be, the commemoration of Tarata Street and La Cantuta at least allow for a dialogue to occur over what happened, they allow for the slow and continual construction of memory, and, perhaps even more importantly, they provide the relatives of the victims with an outlet for their grief and the reaffirmation of their commitment to the search truth and justice.

     The same cannot be said for the wide majority of the massacres that occurred in the Peruvian countryside, particularly during the first decade of the country. Tarata Street and La Cantuta represent both sides of the conflict, but only in its urban dimension. In rural areas, people’s memories of the events are rarely if ever provided with the opportunity to be externalized in this way; they are repressed, yet not forgotten.

     These past few weeks, I have been working with relatives’ testimonials that were recorded by EPAF in 2009 in various communities affected by the violence. Listening to one testimonial after the other, I have had to fight back my own emotions at the authors’ evident inability to control theirs while recounting their story. I have interpreted this as a reflection of the unprocessed nature of people’s pain and distress over events that occurred more than 20 years ago, and as an obvious need for an outlet and recognition of the events that changed their lives in the worst possible way.

     A wonderful initiative contributing to the construction and preservation of memory in Peru is the “Un Día en la Memoria” blog and calendar; for most days of the year, it uses newspapers records and the final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to identify events that occurred on “un día como hoy” (on a day like today), supported by great graphic art. Here is the image for the Tarata street bombing:

     

     Read the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s report on the Cantuta case, in Spanish.

     Read the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s report on the Tarata Street case, in Spanish.

     Read former AP Fellow Karin Orr’s blog post on last year’s anniversary of La Cantuta.

272. Sonu and Rekha – the story

     7:51 am 1 Comment

     Sonu and Rekha both come from working class migrant communities from different regions and religions. They met in Halol where Sonu lived with his mother, who rented a space in Rekha’s family home. Sonu was born female but identifies as male. The two are close in age and over time their friendship developed into love.

     

     Sonu and Rekha look happy together even though they are in the police station.

     On January 1, 2006 Sonu and Rekha ran away together. Rekha’s family charged Sonu with abduction and theft. Rekha’s family along with the Marwari community convinced the police to detain Sonu’s parents, alleging that they had helped the couple escape. Both parents were held for 4-5 days. Sonu’s brother was also detained to put pressure on Sonu to return. The police held him without legal justification for 3 months before a lawyer was able to secure his release.

     Sonu and Rekha evaded detection for several months before they were finally caught on March 5. The couple was brought back to Halol and kept at the police station there. While in custody, both partners were examined by a male doctor to verify their sex (Rekha’s family thought that Sonu was actually male) and age (if Rekha had been under 18 the abduction charge placed on Sonu would have been converted to a kidnapping charge). After being held for several days, the pair was finally brought before a magistrate. In a groundbreaking judgment the Magistrate said: “Rekha and Sonu are both 18 years of age. Both have the right to live their lives independently as per the rules of the Indian Constitution, there cannot be any restrictions on them.” Outside of the courtroom the town was in chaos. The case had gotten so much media attention, everyone wanted to see what would happen. The police had to try to control the throngs of people so that traffic could move. Word spread that Sonu and Rekha had been granted their freedom by the court and when they finally emerged from the courtroom people tried to pelt them with stones.

     

     Photographs of Rekha and Sonu appeared in newspapers all over Gujarat.

     Despite the judgment, it was not safe for Sonu and Rekha to stay in Halol. They did not want to stay in shelter homes and could not return to their families if they wanted to be together. Police escorted them out of town in a jeep and as they left Rekhs’a family tried to pull her out. Police drove the couple to Baroda where they stayed with Parma for several weeks. People around Baroda began recognizing the pair from all of the coverage in the newspapers and the leaders of Parma felt it was no longer safe for them in Gujarat. Parma arranged for the couple to go to Bangalore to stay with an organization called Sangama. Going from Baroda to Bangalore – a large city with different language and food – was too much for the couple and they returned Baroda to stay with Parma for a few days while a new solution could be worked out.

     Parma contacted Sonu’s father and arranged for the couple to go back to Halol to stay with Sonu’s family. Sonu’s father signed a letter stating that he agreed to take the couple and was responsible for their safety. He also agreed to contact Parma if he needed any additional help in the future.

     Continued family tensions and difficulty finding work took their toll on the couple. Although they still shared love and passion, they also fought frequently. In the end, Sonu was the one who ended the relationship by calling Rekha’s family to take her back. When Rekha’s family arrived to retrieve her, Sonu couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. He ran to the bathroom and poured kerosene on himself and his brother had to forcibly stop him from finding matches. Rekha embraced Sonu and told him all he had to do was ask her to stay and she would. Sonu was silent. The relationship was over.

273. (More) On Reparations

     July 15, 2011 1:09 pm 1 Comment

     After writing last week on the process of reparation to the victims of the Peruvian political violence and their relatives, I felt that there was still a lot ground to cover on the issue. Following the publication of my blog post, I had an interesting conversation on reparation with a colleague, and I thought his insights on the issue were worth sharing.

     Ricardo Alvarado is a historian who has been dedicated to human rights work and activism since 1998. An avid blogger, he represents a dissident voice within the Peruvian human rights movement and is critical of the transitional justice process initiated by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Here are his thoughts on the importance of reparation, the recent Supreme Decree (see my previous post), the attitude of the government on the issue, and the actual state of the human rights movement in Peru.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K69isVVZWzI

274. Veterans, Tattoos, and Bonsai Trees

     1:57 am 341 Comments

     It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to go into the field and meet the  people that AEPD supports. There was an issue with our vehicle and the staff and I have been busy preparing for a workshop on climate change (blog post to come) that just recently finished, so I was very eager to get back out there. I wasn’t disappointed with my latest visit. I met three extraordinary individuals who deserve more than a simple blog post to tell their stories, but it’s my hope that I can convey how truly inspiring I found them to be.

     All three beneficiaries I met with were former members of the Vietnamese military and two of them are veterans of the American war. There’s something about the camaraderie and brotherhood experienced in the military. Unless you’ve served yourself you probably couldn’t totally understand. I knew beforehand that the people I would meet were all soldiers at one point, so it was my intention not mention my time in the US Army. I just wasn’t sure if there would be any bitterness or resentment towards me. People in Vietnam are very inquisitive though. When they began asking me about my life, it became really difficult to explain the 4 year gap that I left out of my biography. So I reluctantly shared that I too was a former service-member. The reaction was far better than I could have anticipated. Usually they responded with “That’s great, I was too”. So just like that, I felt like I was back at Fort Bragg hanging out with my old Army buddies sharing war stories. I immediately felt a connection with them the same way I would with a US veteran, which made our conversations together very personal. Here are the brief, but amazing stories.

     

     Tattoos and the Army go together like peanut butter and jelly. Airborne soldiers in the US Army prefer a pair of wings, Marines have an affinity for the Tasmanian devil, and Air Force PJ’s display a green footprint on a body part that shall rename nameless. Today there is a somewhat disturbing trend of returning US vets inking the Arabic word Kafir (Infidel)  on their bodies, which I hope is just a fad. Much to my mother’s dismay, I also have a permanent memento from my army days on my back. So when I saw some faded blue ink on Mr. Hoa’s left arm, I immediately assumed it had something to do with the Military. “April 2^nd 1975” he told me. That is what was etched on his forearm and was the day that altered his life forever, when an unexploded bomb claimed his right leg. It’s not as if he needs a reminder that he is a person with a disability (PWD), but whenever he looks at it, he told me it gives him energy. It’s a personal reminder that he has to work harder than everyone else if he wants to succeed, which from my viewpoint he definitely has.

     He earned his fortune with a forestry business growing various trees in a plantation about 12 km from his home where he’s lived for over 20 years. He amassed quite a bit of money from this business, but the road to get there was full of hardship and struggle. Twice all his crops and fish ponds that he used as a source of income were swept away by floods and  he lost his first born son when he was still very young. With the help of a government loan and a land grant, Mr. Hoa turned an untamed plot of forest into a vibrant and profitable plantation. Now he focuses his attention on helping others like him, providing vocational training in producing votive paper (or “ghost money”) which is used during ancestral worship in Buddhist ceremonies. He has done so well for himself and his community that companies like dead tree extraction Atlanta have promoted his story and continue to lend him their support. With the support of AEPD, he’s provided free training to over 200 persons with disabilities. He’s also the head of the Bac Nghia club for people with disabilities, managing the 42 person organization and distributing loans for business startups for the members, all of which comes out of his own pocket. Like me, Mr. Hoa joined the Army when he was 18 years old, and is very proud of his time in the service, showing me numerous awards he received. While I have much in common with Mr. Hoa, I hope one day I’ll fully possess his qualities. A heart filled with compassion and an unbreakable spirit.

     

     When I came to Mr. Can’s house, there was an imposing miniature tree outside the gateway with vibrant pink flowers. This must be the house of the “bonsai master” I’ve heard about. He was in incredibly high spirits when we met, as he just learned his daughter gave birth to a healthy son, making him a grandfather for the first time. After congratulating him on his good fortune, he showed me around his expansive garden. He told me he had somewhere around 150 bonsai trees in his shop. “It’s my passion” he explained. “I’ll do this until I can no longer move”. Mr. Can fell in love with bonsai trees during his time in the Army in the 1980’s, where he led an element of 40 men (something similar to a platoon). He came across a book written in Japanese about the art of bonsai, and was instantly intrigued, furiously reading books on the topic whenever he could. He’s been trimming and caring for bonsai trees for over 15 years now, and his eyes lit up whenever I asked him a question about the techniques he uses. His passion hasn’t come without pain however.

     One day he ventured deep into the forest searching for young bonsais he could cultivate when he stumbled upon one of several thousand unexploded bombs still scattered in the country, losing his right hand. Now this might cause many people to question how they spend their leisure time, but not Mr. Can, as he took his passion one step further by making it his vocation. He saw there was money to made from bonsais, so why not combine his love of bonsais with his livelihood? He also mentioned how he was still quite capable of performing the necessary tasks with one hand, and it was the one outlet he had besides his family that distracted him from the pain caused by his accident. He’s also been in touch with the staff of AEPD, and received a grant to open a workshop where he makes clay pots to house his magnificent trees. This new aspect of his business has been more profitable than the bonsai’s themselves, and he now provides free training to PWD’s in the community. This is a recurring theme with people I meet through AEPD. An intense desire to give back to the community and empower others, encouraging PWD’s not to live in the shadows of society. While helping others has rivaled his passion for the bonsai trees, it’s still clear how important they are to him. “Sometimes my wife complains that I love these trees more than her” he joked. “This isn’t true of course” he assured me.

     

     Had Mrs. Phon been born in any other country, I’m quite sure she could’ve been a general. A 19 year veteran of the Vietnamese Army, she led a unit of over 30 other women in an air defense battery during the American War. As we began talking, she started reminiscing over her time in the service and began showing me several accommodations she received and also a group photo from 1966 where she was standing next to famed Vietnamese General Vo Nguyen Giap. Like most veterans of war, she seemed to have mixed emotions about her experiences. Trying to remember the good times and forget the painful ones, which is almost impossible. She was injured during a devastating air strike during the war, losing many members of her unit but escaped with only minor injuries. It was much later in life when she experienced her life changing accident. There’s something almost perverse about living through intense combat and avoiding injury only to be severely wounded later during peacetime, but this all too often seems to be the case in Vietnam. She lost her hand when an industrial sewing machine malfunctioned and caught on to her clothing, pulling her arm into the dangerous contraption. She struggled early on coping with her injury and trying to support her family with her husband, eventually finding the art of bonsai as a healthy outlet and a source of income.

     She’s been perfecting her craft for 30 years and her skill is quite evident as you walk through her garden. One tree she recently agreed to sell for 60 million VND (about $3,000 US), which would probably sell for 3 times the amount in the US. It’s bitter sweet for her, as she has grown attached to this particular tree which was one of the first bonsais she ever worked on. Part of her doesn’t want to let it go. This is the problem with the bonsai business model. The payoff can be huge, but the time span to earn the returns can sometimes be decades. So she needed to find alternative sources of funding, and found that AEPD was willing to assist. She raises poultry and pigs nearby her home and also built a small building for ceremonies and meetings that brings in significant revenue. All of this was sponsored by AEPD, which when supplemented with her bonsai business, has allowed her to support her 6 children who all went to college.

     

     Mrs. Phon, decorated soldier standing next to famed Vietnamese Genral Vo Nguyen Giap

     This was a great experience for me. As a combat veteran, it’s easy to dehumanize “the enemy”. I suppose for soldiers, this is a necessity, an almost survival instinct that gets drilled into your mind during training. After the fighting stops though, these feelings can still linger which is a completely unhealthy and irrational habit. Feelings of resentment towards America by the Vietnamese have seemingly disappeared  judging from my encounters with these veterans. I would like to think that if any US veterans from the war still held on to any feelings of animosity, their opinions would quickly change if they met the great people I have. Their determination is inspiring, and the way they’ve handled themselves against incredible adversity should be lessons to us all.

275. Wretched Travel

     12:00 am 1 Comment

     

     Looking on. Bus ride in Nepal.

     The best, and funniest, description of Nepali bus travel I’ve ever come across, courtesy of AP Fellow Chelsea Ament’s text messages (sorry Chelsea):

     “Get this. They just filled the luggage compartments with goats, as well as filling the roof rack w/ goats. They are peeing and its running down my window… loving this bus ride… so much”

     “It is dripping through the roof onto the seat i was originally sitting in. Thank god i moved or i would have been showered in goat piss. I guess it could still happen…”

     “The goats on the roof are screaming. Im telling PETA”

     “Blog title: Goat Busters”

     Wretched! Enjoy the travels fellow Fellows.

276. From Malaria Eradication to Bonded Child Labour: A Counter-Intuitive Relationship

     July 13, 2011 5:52 am 4 Comments

     Can our seemingly altruistic actions, conversations, policies affect the progression of history in unintended ways, altering relations and behaviours of individuals, networks, or systems? Is equilibrium forever on the precipice, only needing a nudge to tip its fine balance, one way or another? Reference here is to the butterfly effect and chaos theory, where actions in one non-linear system can lead to larger changes down the road.

     In Nepal’s terai (plains) southern region, the Tharu people have braved its tough climate and geography for some 600 years. Arriving from India, they had to clear its dense jungle to grow crops and defy its fearsome wildlife and virulent malarial mosquitoes. The few Tharu that survived and prospered had natural anti-malarial immunities, and were the only Nepalese that could survive in the terai year round – Darwinian evolution, epitomized. Other upper-caste Nepalese from the hills would come in the mosquito-free winter months for agriculture and hunting, but had to depart once the mosquitoes appeared in the hot springs and summers.

     

     Researcher Thomas Cox notes that in the 1950s and ‘60s, USAID and other aid agencies implemented anti-malarial programs in the terai, mostly eradicating the disease from the region. As malaria vanquished, the upper and educated castes of Nepal’s hills moved in permanently, clearing and claiming most of the jungle’s remaining land. Once settled and organized in the region, the upper castes (including Brahmans, Chetri and Thakuri) forced most Tharus off their land, or took advantage of their illiteracy and tricked them into legally signing away their land, or using their land as debt collateral at inflated prices. All told, close to 80 percent of the Tharu had lost their land by 1980.

     Without land and its means of production, the Tharu were helpless and took loans from the upper castes to pay for basics like food, medicine, clothes, etc. As a way of paying back the loans, Tharu were used as bonded or tenant labourers for meager wages of 10 to 20 rupees per day (15 to 25 cents). Tenant labourers were paid a small percentage of the crop towards the debt, while bonded labourers worked under similar conditions, but paying back debt incurred generations ago (reinforced by Nepal’s old legal code). As these labourers’ wages are so low, they’re forced to go further into debt with landlords and masters. And through this system of bondage, Tharu families send their children to work in the fields (kamaiya) or as domestic servants (kamalari) – robbing them of a childhood, friends, education, and chance of a brighter future.

     

     Another brief malaria example is courtesy of Dambisa Moyo, and her criticism of Ashton Kucher’s Twitter campaign that lead to a donation of close to 90,000 malaria nets ($1 million) to Malaria No More. Malaria No More does not source local malaria nets, and the flood of nets from abroad ran the local net producing industry out of business, leaving scores unemployed. Yes, good was done and malaria rates went down for those recipient communities, but local capacity was reduced, nets will need to be replaced (by whom and with what money?), and Africa’s ability to sustainably address their own issues was not addressed.

     So, foreign aid flaps its altruistic wings on one side of the ocean, and causes a hurricane on the other, with the wreckage only beginning to be cleared. The innocence of eradicating one deadly disease leads to the robbery and enslavement of an indigenous people on their own land. Our grand actions from afar, schooled in our detached and isolated institutions, can often have disastrous unintended local consequences in foreign lands.

     Examples abound of this inverse relationship of altruism and misfortune, and serve as a lesson that reality is often more complex than first conceived, and it’s understanding requires deep analytical thought. Of course, not all aid and generosity has negative and unintended consequences. Much good has and continues to be done.

     Our ability to predict outcomes and the future is quite limited, as the social world is an infinitude of processes competing against each other. An innocent butterfly once flapped its wings, and a tornado appeared over the plains years later.

277. Advocacy Quilt, the Beginning

     July 11, 2011 10:25 am 7 Comments

     As some of you know, the Advocacy Project has been working with its fellows and partner organizations all over the world to create Advocacy Quilts! Thus, one of my projects with Chintan is to initiate the program here, and complete at least one quilt made by waste-pickers to contribute. There are high aspirations for the final product, so keep following as this story unfolds over the next few weeks!

     Background:

     An Advocacy Quilt is a creative and thoughtful way for members of a marginalized community to showcase their struggles, triumphs, and emotions. Advocacy Project has successfully completed Advocacy Quilts with individual programs around the world and each quilt reflects the unique community that constructed it. This initiative was started to give communities a chance to communicate with the world through their art, and in many instances, such as with victims of sexual assault and survivors of the Srebrenica massacre, the artists find the process of making the quilt cathartic. The quilt also gives the advocacy groups associated with the communities a chance to use a tangible representation of first-hand accounts when reaching out to the general public.

     Here are some excellent examples of previous quilts and the heartwarming stories that accompany them:

     Bosfam Weavers for Hope:

     

     Survivors of Sexual Violence in the Congo:

     

     LOVE Blanket Project with Child Laborers in Nepal:

     

     Waste-Picker Quilt with Chintan: Chintan hopes to join the ranks of the organizations to successfully promulgate a quilt, and I am helping make this a reality. This quilt will be different from many of the other quilts that have been produced because we have decided to only use materials from the community. This means that all of the fabric for the quilt came from one of the waste-picker slums and was previously discarded by someone else! Here are some pictures of my expedition to Bopura to gather the fabric,

     The children were very helpful at picking out some of the cleaner pieces! 

     Weighing the fabric…

     

     Transporting the fabric back to the office…

     

     Tomorrow is my first day in the field specifically for the quilt – I will be working with Chintan’s No Child in Trash Program (wish me luck!). I will ask the children to draw pictures (with fabric markers) about where they live, where they go to school, and what their parents do for a living. After they are finished drawing they will be interviewed to explain their art, so check back soon for some of the videos. This is the first time that a quilt is being made with fabric paint, instead of embroidery, and so we will see how it turns out. I foresee that this quilt may not be as (traditionally) beautiful as some of the others because of the fabric being used and the age group of the participants, but it will represent the community at large and will therefore be an excellent tool for advocacy.

278. It’s really just about human rights

     1:51 am Leave a Comment

     Sam Syverson wrote a blog earlier this summer in response to the question “aren’t there bigger problems in India?” In it, she argued that advocating for transgender rights is just as important as fighting poverty and other traditional issues people think of when working in a developing country because transgender individuals deal with these same problems, often at a magnified level. Even in the United States, one of the most developed countries in the world, transgender individuals struggle to access basic services like healthcare (see Dagen’s video on transpeoplespeak.org).

     One of the most significant hurdles that advocates face in the fight for equal treatment for transgender individuals is that most people do not think of transgender rights as human rights. The United Nations disagrees. On June 15, 2011, the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHCR) passed a resolution on human rights violations based on sexual orientation or gender identity. In the resolution, the UNHCR expressed “grave concerns” about the acts of violence and discrimination that people around the world face as a result of their gender identity and sexual orientation. The Council also commissioned a study “to document discriminatory laws and practices and acts of violence against individuals based on their sexual orientation and gender identity.” The study will also explore “how international human rights law can be used to end violence and related human rights violations based on sexual orientation and gender identity.”

     The resolution was based in part on the Yogyakarta Principles, launched at the UNHCR meeting on March 26, 2007, which begin with “the right to the universal enjoyment of human rights.” Some of the other twenty-eight principles include: the right to recognition before the law, the right to security of the person, the right to privacy, the right to an adequate standard of living, the right to education, the right to the highest attainable standard of health, the right to freedom of movement, and the right to found a family. They seem pretty simple, right? For most of the individuals that Parma works with, these are not much more than a dream.

     Parma is currently conducting a survey of transgender individuals in Gujarat, India, the community that they serve. While every story is different, at least some of the respondents thus far have indicated that they:

     1)      Are self-employed, because the harassment and discrimination that comes with working for a public or private organization is not worth the job stability;

     2)      Are unable to move freely within or outside of India because they cannot obtain a passport or other form of identification that matches their true gender;

     3)      Are unable to obtain adequate health care because the gender on their identification document does not match their gender expression (external manifestation of their gender identity) or they require sexual reassignment surgery that is unavailable;

     4)      Did not obtain a sufficient level of education because they were not able to wear the uniform of their true gender;

     5)      Are unable to start a family because non-heterosexual marriage and civil unions are illegal in their country, which also blocks access to all of the rights that come with a legal recognition of their commitment to their partners.

     While there is hope among India’s LGBTI community that the Supreme Court will recognize at least one of the Yogyakarta Principles – the right to privacy – by upholding the Delhi High Court’s decision to decriminalize sodomy, transgender Indians in particular still lack even the most basic human rights, as recognized by the international community.

279. In the name of honor

     July 9, 2011 8:44 am 1 Comment

     I want to make clear that this post isn’t meant to reflect on Indian society as a whole. The practice discussed is an extreme example of violence that most Indian people, and indeed the Supreme Court, find barbaric. The following discussion is meant to illustrate the sometimes life or death consequences of defying a community’s sense of what is culturally appropriate.

     So-called “honor killings” occur when an individual or couple is killed for defying tradition or family honor. The murders frequently occur in cases of inter-caste marriage, but have also been reported in the LGBT community. In April, two widows who were accused of being lesbians were publicly bludgeoned to death as hundreds of villagers looked on. The murderers had threatened the villagers of dire consequences if they tried to save the victims. Honor killings are usually committed by members of the victim’s own family. In this case, one of the murderers was the nephew of one of the victims. Honor killings are sometimes sanctioned or even encouraged by village-based caste councils.

     

     Village panchayat. Photo: BBC.

     The Supreme Court of India has recently been making efforts to crack down on honor killings. The more recent opinion categorizes honor killings as one of the “rarest of rare” cases that deserve the death penalty. Given the lack of remorse in the perpetrators of honor killings, even those sentenced to life in prison, and the questionable deterrent effect of capital punishment, it is unclear whether the opinion will have any impact. Another recent opinion directed state governments to hold police accountable if they failed to ensure that caste panchayats were investigated for their role in honor killings. If enforced, this opinion may have an effect over time as families will no longer be under direct pressure from community leadership to take the drastic action of killing one of their own.

     

     Supreme Court of India. Photo: India Today

     For every confirmed honor killing there are many more that go unreported or unsolved. In Gujarat, Parma has been involved in several cases that could have been instances of honor killing, but it is unlikely that anyone will ever know for sure. In one case, the grizzly murder of a known lesbian went unsolved. Her partner had disappeared years earlier after the two disclosed their relationship to the public. The other case was closed as a double suicide, but the circumstances surrounding the case leave doubts as to whether the couple really took their own lives. Because there were suicide notes, there was never a proper investigation. The couple was known to be deeply in love.

280. Nepalgunj: the paradox of success

     July 8, 2011 1:27 am 5 Comments

     The difficulty of regulating child labor in Nepal becomes obvious as one travels across the country. While in Nepalgunj, we were served by a waiter who was probably around the age of 12. He cleaned our tables, cleared away the dirty dishes, brought us water and took our orders, tasks that he performs many times throughout the day and into the night. His piercing eyes seemed to silently condemn us for enjoying the naan that was served to us. I couldn’t help but noticed how many children were working in teashops and restaurants in Nepalgunj. These children were not the ones we saw in the villages, playing and interacting with us. They were not Birendra, Samita, the children who shared with us their homes and their future aspirations of becoming engineers. These children working in Nepalgunj are no more than 14 years old.  Yet, the harsh conditions in which they are compelled to work in have prematurely aged them. I take this moment to contrast what the government has legally pledged to do and what I experienced while in Nepalgunj.

     It is worth nothing that BASE and other nongovernment organizations, recognized that one of the leading causes of child labor is poverty and to that end have implemented many programs aimed at boosting the literacy rate and at providing economic development to many at risk communities. Additionally, the government has implemented many laws and amended other rules providing free education, prohibiting the use of child labor and, establishing the minimum age for work and employment.

     

     Children free of child labor, Banke District

     After a week traveling through the western part of Nepal, in mostly rural areas, I had for one moment forgotten about the pollution, the animals, the traffic, etc.  My scenery was instead replaced by mountains, rice fields, cows, buffalos and of course goats. I became inspired with the development that BASE is doing in the districts I visited. The child friendly village model is definitely working and I was fortunate enough to interact with rescued children and as stated in my previous blog, we collected paintings that will be assembled into a love blanket.  I returned to the city of Nepalgunj, a city with the record for the hottest place in Nepal (reaching above 104 degrees). Close to the Indian border, the city receives many visitors from both India and other Nepal cities, for business and touristic purposes.

     Many international organizations (UN) and other NGO’s have their offices located in Nepalgunj. It definitely has a vibrant society, retail shops, restaurants, factories and hotels. If you are in Nepalgunj, you have to try the samosas, the best in Nepal.  There is the constant traffic and it has currently been exacerbated by the raining season which makes it almost impossible for travel. As typical of other Nepalese cities, the presence of the respect of all life that the Buddhist and Hindu religions inculcated in their followers is well and alive in Nepalgunj: all animals, I mean all animals, roam the street untouched. It is amazing to see the very narrow streets being shared by goats, donkeys, cows, dogs, and pedestrians, small and big cars in a somehow organized chaos!

     I got a chance to talk to Dilli Raj Dhital, a member of the Nepal Bar Association and an expert on Nepal Human Rights. According to him, there are provisions in the National Constitution (1990 and 2000) and the interim Constitution that all pledge for the advancement of children and the right against exploitation with a specific clause that state that “no minor shall be employed to work in any factory or mine, or be engaged in any other hazardous work.” Additionally, the Nepalese government endorsed many international laws that indicate the government’s commitment to eradicate child labor. One of the international agreements is based on the Convention on the Rights of Child (CRC) ratified by Nepal in 1990. Under Article 32, state members “recognize the right of the child to be protected from economic exploitation and from performing any work that is likely […] to be harmful to the child’s health or physical, mental, spiritual, moral or social development.”

     In 2000, the government even went further by raising the minimum age for hazardous work from 14 to 16 years old.  However, children under the age 14 are still prohibited from working and only those between 14-16 years can engage in light duty work or work that may not hinder their development.  Nepal is also one of the first countries to sign the International Labor Organization (ILO) Convention Number 138. As per Article 1, by being a signatory to this convention, Nepal has the duty to “pursue a national policy designed to ensure the effective abolition of child labour and to raise progressively the minimum age for admission to employment or work to a level consistent with the fullest physical and mental development of young persons.”

     The government legally committed itself to end child labor; however the progress has been delayed with the lack of the implementation of those laws into practice. The very fact that child labor issues are handled by three different ministries:  the ministry of Labor and Transportation, the Ministry of Women and Child and the Ministry of Land and Property should be of concern.

     If it is not the lack of available laws, then what needs to happen to save these kids from further exploitation?

     The sad reality is that everywhere I went, even where I was staying, I contributed to further exploitation of children. At my hotel, I was served by a boy who was probably 10 years old. He was still working when I went to bed and woke me up in the morning with chiya (tea) at my door step.  With every dollar that I spent in a restaurant in Nepalgunj, I reluctantly accepted the normalcy of employing children. These children, according to the law are prohibited from working. Yet, Nepalgunj, a fast growing city in Nepal, thrives on the exploitation of these children, crippling the next generation. I left the city wondering  about the  factories I passed, and if there are any children working there and what the likely consequence of those chemical exposures can do to their bodies…

     Nepalgunj may be a flourishing business center, but at what cost?

281. Promoting Human Rights, Eradicating Child Labor

     July 7, 2011 5:55 am 5 Comments

     It is widely known that child labor issue is about deprivation of child rights. In Nepal, particularly in the south-western tarai, it is much more complex than that. It is not only about child rights or right to education, but also tied closely to indigenous people rights, land rights, poverty, backwardness, even marginalization.

     There are many rules and governmental bodies which focused on eradicating child labor in Nepal. In Child Labor Act of 2000, The Government of Nepal increased minimum age of hazardous works from 14 to 16 year old. The government has also set up Child Welfare Board under the Ministry of Women, Children, and Social Welfare in every district in order to disseminate and implement the rules and regulation in alleviating child labor. However, there are still so many child laborers are employed by high educated people, landlords, even governmental officials.

     As a complex issue, I believe, child labor problem cannot be solved only by enrolling children to school while their family have nothing to eat, or punishing employers while parents keep sending their children away to work. It is not only about giving enough money or providing good job to the people. As Birbal Chaudhary, BASE Bardiya District Coordinator, mentioned that changing people’s attitude is necessary needed in this case. Apparently, it won’t be solved overnight, it needs time, it will involve various elements of the country, it requires a holistic yet effective approach to reach the goal.

     Human Rights Based Approach to Child Labor

     In development fields, Human Rights Based Approach (HRBA) is widely implemented. With regard to child labor issue, HRBA puts children in the center of attention. HRBA recognizes that children often forfeit their right to education and other rights to guarantee their holistic development irrespective of the kind of work they do, as well as the centrality of exploitation through work done by children. HRBA help to address this centrality and to identify the conditions and factors that contribute to this problem (Karunan, 2005). Additionally, the programmatic implications of such approach imply coordinated and multi-sectoral interventions in a variety of fields related to the effects of hazardous and exploitative work on children (UNICEF).

     I found HRBA is being implemented by BASE.

     Different from mainstream, HRBA applies bottom-up approach by highlighting family as the first line of protection for the child and rendering appropriate support and assistance to parents and legal guardians in the performance of their child-rearing duties in order to facilitate the capacity of the family to protect the rights of the children and their enhancement (Karunan, 2005). In line with that, BASE develops Child Friendly Village (CFV) project which covers more than two hundreds villages in five districts; Dang, Banke, Bardiya, Kailali, and Kanchanpur. CFV ensures that children in the area attend school and free from child labor. CFV aims at protecting children as well as supporting families and communities.

     Empowering children is another key point of HRBA to child labor. In order to empower children to participate actively in the improvement of their lives, BASE helps children to organize by forming Child Club in every Child Friendly Village (CFV). Child Club involves school children and rescued child laborers. The formation aims at enhancing their capacity, increasing awareness of their rights and responsibilities in the community, most importantly, identifying child laborers, their living condition in their employers’ house, and advocating for their rights. Child Club leaders are elected in democratic way every 2 year. BASE facilitates them with training on leadership and advocacy. More info on CFV & Child Club can be found on Adrienne Henck’s blog.

     

     BASE Child Friendly Village (CFV) Signpost in Burigaun VDC, Bardiya District Photo by: Maelanny P

     As Karunan puts it, “one of the reason behind the failure of conventional approach to child labor is its too narrow focus on removal and rescue operations of children in bondage and servitude in the worst forms of child labor, with too little attention and resources invested in providing sustainable alternative livelihoods for rescued children and their families, income generation, and improving the quality, relevance, and accessibility of education and the schooling system. The approach to combat child labor must, therefore, take this variables into account” (Karunan, 2005). In consistence with that BASE provides skill development and vocational training for youth and older rescued child laborers. Parents are also given the opportunity to join income generation program which consists of agricultural training and microcredit.

     In addition, BASE supports 27 schools in its 5 working districts by facilitating toilet construction, building reparation, and furniture improvement thanks to the cheap tablecloths in bulk found online, etc. BASE also develops several model schools which now being adopted by governmental schools in different districts.

     BASE regularly conducts rescue and rehabilitation program as well as awareness campaign for child laborers. In doing so, Child Friendly Village Committees, Child Clubs, Youth Groups and partners are actively engaged. Generally, the rescue is held during Maghi Festival and Dasai Festival, big Tharu and Hindu celebrations when children usually return home to meet their family.

     Earlier in this year, BASE started a cooperation with local government to improve Child Friendly Villages’ quality. BASE and districts government agreed to ‘match fund’. Each of them contributes around three hundreds thousands rupees to support various interventions in CFV that I mentioned earlier.

     Having said that, I believe BASE approach is an invaluable contribution to sustainably eradicate child labor problems in Nepal.

     (From various sources, Karunan in Weston, 2005; UNICEF research paper; BASE Annual Report 2010)

      

     It is widely known that child labor issue is about deprivation of child rights. In Nepal, particularly in the south-western tarai, it is much more complex than that. It is not only about child rights or right to education, but also tied closely to indigenous people rights, land rights, poverty, backwardness, even marginalization.

      

     There are many rules and governmental bodies which focused on eradicating child labor in Nepal. Based on Children Act of Nepal, employing children below the age of 14 year old is a crime. The government has also set up Child Welfare Board under the Ministry of Woman and Children Affairs in every district in order to disseminate and implement the rules and regulation in alleviating child labor. However, there are still so many child laborers are employed by high educated people, landlords, even governmental officials.

      

     As a complex issue, I believe, child labor problem cannot be solved only by enrolling children to school while their family have nothing to eat, or punishing employers while parents keep sending their children away to work. It is not only about giving enough money or providing good job to the people. As Birbal Chaudhary, BASE Bardiya District Coordinator, mentioned that changing people’s attitude is necessary needed in this case. Apparently, it won’t be solved overnight, it needs time, it will involve various elements of the country, it requires a holistic yet effective approach to reach the goal.

      

     Towards a HRBA to Child Labor

     In development fields, Human Rights Based Approach (HRBA) is widely implemented. With regard to child labor issue, HRBA puts children in the center of attention. HRBA recognizes that children often forfeit their right to education and other rights to guarantee their holistic development irrespective of the kind of work they do, as well as the centrality of exploitation through work done by children. HRBA help to address this centrality and to identify the conditions and factors that contribute to this problem (Karunan, 2005). Additionally, the programmatic implications of such approach imply coordinated and multi-sectoral interventions in a variety of fields related to the effects of hazardous and exploitative work on children (UNICEF).

      

     I found HRBA is being implemented by BASE.

     Different from mainstream, HRBA applies bottom-up approach by highlighting family as the first line of protection for the child and rendering appropriate support and assistance to parents and legal guardians in the performance of their child-rearing duties in order to facilitate the capacity of the family to protect the rights of the children and their enhancement (Karunan, 2005). In line with that, BASE develops Child Friendly Village (CFV) project which covers more than two hundreds villages in five districts; Dang, Banke, Bardiya, Kailali, and Kanchanpur. CFV ensures that children in the area attend school and free from child labor. CFV aims at protecting children as well as supporting families and communities.

      

     Empowering children is another key point of HRBA to child labor. In order to empower children to participate actively in the improvement of their lives, BASE helps children to organize by forming Child Club in every Child Friendly Village (CFV). Child Club involves school children and rescued child laborers. The formation aims at enhancing their capacity, increasing awareness of their rights and responsibilities in the community, most importantly, identifying child laborers, their living condition in their employers’ house, and advocating for their rights. Child Club leaders are elected in democratic way every 2 year. BASE facilitates them with training on leadership and advocacy. More info on CFV & Child Club can be found on Adrienne Henck’s blog.

      

     As Karunan puts it, “one of the reason behind the failure of conventional approach to child labor is its too narrow focus on removal and rescue operations of children in bondage and servitude in the worst forms of child labor, with too little attention and resources invested in providing sustainable alternative livelihoods for rescued children and their families, income generation, and improving the quality, relevance, and accessibility of education and the schooling system. The approach to combat child labor must, therefore, take this variables into account” (Karunan, 2005). In consistence with that BASE provides skill development and vocational training

     for youth and older rescued child laborers. Parents are also given the opportunity to join income generation program which consists of agricultural training and microcredit.

      

     In addition, BASE supports 27 schools in its 5 working districts by facilitating toilet construction, building reparation, and furniture improvement, etc. BASE also develops several model schools which now being adopted by governmental schools in different districts.

      

     BASE regularly conducts rescue and rehabilitation program as well as awareness campaign for child laborers. In doing so, Child Friendly Village Committees, Child Clubs, Youth Groups and partners are actively engage

     It is widely known that child labor issue is about deprivation of child rights. In Nepal, particularly in the south-western tarai, it is much more complex than that. It is not only about child rights or right to education, but also tied closely to indigenous people rights, land rights, poverty, backwardness, even marginalization.

     There are many rules and governmental bodies which focused on eradicating child labor in Nepal. Based on Children Act of Nepal, employing children below the age of 14 year old is a crime. The government has also set up Child Welfare Board under the Ministry of Woman and Children Affairs in every district in order to disseminate and implement the rules and regulation in alleviating child labor. However, there are still so many child laborers are employed by high educated people, landlords, even governmental officials.

     As a complex issue, I believe, child labor problem cannot be solved only by enrolling children to school while their family have nothing to eat, or punishing employers while parents keep sending their children away to work. It is not only about giving enough money or providing good job to the people. As Birbal Chaudhary, BASE Bardiya District Coordinator, mentioned that changing people’s attitude is necessary needed in this case. Apparently, it won’t be solved overnight, it needs time, it will involve various elements of the country, it requires a holistic yet effective approach to reach the goal.

     Towards a HRBA to Child Labor

     In development fields, Human Rights Based Approach (HRBA) is widely implemented. With regard to child labor issue, HRBA puts children in the center of attention. HRBA recognizes that children often forfeit their right to education and other rights to guarantee their holistic development irrespective of the kind of work they do, as well as the centrality of exploitation through work done by children. HRBA help to address this centrality and to identify the conditions and factors that contribute to this problem (Karunan, 2005). Additionally, the programmatic implications of such approach imply coordinated and multi-sectoral interventions in a variety of fields related to the effects of hazardous and exploitative work on children (UNICEF).

     I found HRBA is being implemented by BASE.

     Different from mainstream, HRBA applies bottom-up approach by highlighting family as the first line of protection for the child and rendering appropriate support and assistance to parents and legal guardians in the performance of their child-rearing duties in order to facilitate the capacity of the family to protect the rights of the children and their enhancement (Karunan, 2005). In line with that, BASE develops Child Friendly Village (CFV) project which covers more than two hundreds villages in five districts; Dang, Banke, Bardiya, Kailali, and Kanchanpur. CFV ensures that children in the area attend school and free from child labor. CFV aims at protecting children as well as supporting families and communities.

     Empowering children is another key point of HRBA to child labor. In order to empower children to participate actively in the improvement of their lives, BASE helps children to organize by forming Child Club in every Child Friendly Village (CFV). Child Club involves school children and rescued child laborers. The formation aims at enhancing their capacity, increasing awareness of their rights and responsibilities in the community, most importantly, identifying child laborers, their living condition in their employers’ house, and advocating for their rights. Child Club leaders are elected in democratic way every 2 year. BASE facilitates them with training on leadership and advocacy. More info on CFV & Child Club can be found on Adrienne Henck’s blog.

     As Karunan puts it, “one of the reason behind the failure of conventional approach to child labor is its too narrow focus on removal and rescue operations of children in bondage and servitude in the worst forms of child labor, with too little attention and resources invested in providing sustainable alternative livelihoods for rescued children and their families, income generation, and improving the quality, relevance, and accessibility of education and the schooling system. The approach to combat child labor must, therefore, take this variables into account” (Karunan, 2005). In consistence with that BASE provides skill development and vocational training

     for youth and older rescued child laborers. Parents are also given the opportunity to join income generation program which consists of agricultural training and microcredit.

     In addition, BASE supports 27 schools in its 5 working districts by facilitating toilet construction, building reparation, and furniture improvement, etc. BASE also develops several model schools which now being adopted by governmental schools in different districts.

     BASE regularly conducts rescue and rehabilitation program as well as awareness campaign for child laborers. In doing so, Child Friendly Village Committees, Child Clubs, Youth Groups and partners are actively engaged. Generally, the rescue is held during Maghi Festival and Dasai Festival, big Tharu and Hindu celebrations when children usually return home to meet their family.

     Earlier in this year, BASE started a cooperation with local government to improve Child Friendly Villages’ quality. BASE and districts government agreed to ‘match fund’. Each of them contributes around three hundreds thousands rupees to support various interventions in CFV that I mentioned earlier.

     Having said that, I believe BASE approach is an invaluable contribution to sustainably eradicate child labor issue in Nepal.

     (From various sources, Karunan in Weston, 2005, UNICEF research paper, BASE Annual Report 2010)

     d. Generally, the rescue is held during Maghi Festival and Dasai Festival, big Tharu and Hindu celebrations when children usually return home to meet their family.

      

     Earlier in this year, BASE started a cooperation with local government to improve Child Friendly Villages’ quality. BASE and districts government agreed to ‘match fund’. Each of them contributes around three hundreds thousands rupees to support various interventions in CFV that I mentioned earlier.

      

     Having said that, I believe BASE approach is an invaluable contribution to sustainably eradicate child labor issue in Nepal.

      

     (From various sources, Karunan in Weston, 2005, UNICEF research paper, BASE Annual Report 2010)

282. Tackling the Issues

     July 6, 2011 9:27 am 3 Comments

     Before running any type of interactive teaching activity, you always ask yourself… “Will it work? Will the level of participation be high or low? Will the message be well received?” Reflecting on my experience in Surkhet, the use of games and interactive discussion was indeed an effective method of teaching different aspects of reproductive health (RH), then they had time to play Richtigteuer games. Without these types of programs, many of the participants would not have access to accurate information regarding sexual health.

     One study conducted in Kathmandu found that adolescents’ knowledge on reproductive health and responsible sexual behavior is inadequate. Another Nepalese study, found that adolescents are engaging in risky sexual behavior, and although knowledge was greater regarding sexually transmitted infections (STIs) and HIV/AIDS in schools than in the general community, the overall knowledge of all participants in all aspects of this topic was very low. According to the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF), young people have the right to information about sexual and reproductive health. This way they can be empowered (have the information and knowledge needed) to make informed choices regarding their sexual health.

     

     The right to know about: sex and sexuality, family planning (birth control), STIs, & HIV/AIDS

      

     How does this relate to WRRP’s main issue of uterine prolapse? As stated by a WRRP staff member, “Talking only about uterine prolapse to this age group would not be effective. This issue is not a concern for them at this time in their lives. We must talk about their issues, and then introduce our issue”.

     Thus, the strategy is to discuss sexual and reproductive health from the perspective of the adolescent, and then gradually bring up the issue of uterine prolapse and its causes, specifically early marriage. In Nepal, early or child marriage is defined as marriage before the age of 18. Early marriage is often one of the main causes of uterine prolapse, as it results in early childbirth.  In the school program, the topic of early marriage is introduced through the use of specific games and discussion. For example, participants are asked to share their life dreams and ambitions with the group. These types of activities encourage the youth to be confident in achieving their goals, completing their studies, and becoming independent individuals. The assumption is that if adolescents have a strong desire to continue their education and establish a career, it is less likely that they will choose early marriage over achieving life goals. The main challenge lies in that early marriage is a strong cultural tradition that is still practiced today.

     

     The “Love Game”

     What makes WRRP’s strategy unique is the use of interactive activities and games. Some RH education is provided in Nepali schools, but shortage of time, the taboo nature of sexual education, and lack of knowledge or comfort in teaching sexual health among teachers present a challenge. WRRP is conducting programs that involve the participants in discussion, provide interesting methods of conveying the message (games), as well as targeting the contributing factor of early marriage. This type of program can be passed on as a method of RH education to teachers and the youth leaders of different schools and communities, making it sustainable.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Cd4pScT9QU

     At the end of this week, I am heading to the East end of Nepal, where the mission will be to pick up where Kate left off in 2010… this time, I am travelling alone, on another grueling 12-hour bus ride to Lahan. Excited to see what adventures are in store! 😉 (I seriously need to do a blog about my bus rides thus far!)

283. On Reparations

     July 5, 2011 11:13 pm Leave a Comment

     The issue of reparations to the victims of the internal armed conflict is one that I have been meaning to write about for a while, being transversal to many of the themes that are part of my daily orbit here in Lima: memory, justice, reconciliation, development. Following my last trip to Ayacucho and a recent decree promulgated by the Peruvian Supreme Court, I feel now is an appropriate time to tackle the issue. A word of warning, though:  since I have done a fair bit of reading on this topic lately, this post is a bit lengthy, and has a more academic bend. You will have to forgive me just this once!

     In 2003, the final report of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission recommended the creation of an Integral Plan of Reparations as part of a state policy that would allow for the material, moral, mental and physical recuperation of the victims of the armed conflict and restore their rights.

     The necessity of reparations in post-conflict situations is widely accepted, as states have a legal duty to acknowledge and address widespread or systematic human rights violations, in cases where the state caused the violations or did not seriously try to prevent them (for instance, the UN’s Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation explicitly recognize reparations as a right). But above and beyond a legalistic perspective, it is also nearly undisputed that reparations are a necessary condition in the process of reconciliation.

     

     As part of the transitional justice process, reparations should serve a double purpose. The first is to recognize the harms suffered by the victims, and publicly affirm that victims are right-holders entitled to redress. The second goal is to provide actual benefits to the victims, whether in symbolic or material forms, providing the conditions for future relationships based on the mutual recognition of the equality and dignity of all.

     In theory, then, reparations should both compensate for the losses suffered, helping to overcome the consequences of the violence; and be future-oriented, helping to eradicate the underlying causes of the violence and victimization. In a country like Peru, where historical marginalization, discrimination and injustices against Andean and native populations preceded and in a certain sense gave rise to the internal conflict and the massive violations of human rights that came along with it, the second goal is particularly important.

     What it implies, however, is not always well understood. To begin, it implies that a transitional justice restoring the victim to the original situation before the gross violations of human rights occurred can hardly be called justice, when the original situation included blatant violations of economic, social and cultural rights. Thus, it also implies moving away from the notion of retributive justice and towards distributive and transformative justice. As stated in this briefing paper by the International Center for Transitional Justice—ICTJ: “When the causes and consequences of poverty are not seen as directly relevant to transitional justice, reparations programs … may only lead to frustration and resentment.”

     

     But back to the Peruvian case. The Toledo government realized important advances in the implementation of an Integral Plan of Reparations, as proposed by the Truth Commission. It promulgated a plan and the laws to regulate it, created a multi-sectorial commission to coordinate and monitor its implementation, and formed a Council of Reparations in charge of defining the beneficiaries and policies of reparation. The Program of Economic Reparations is a component of the Integral Plan of Reparations, along with other measures such as reparations in the areas of health, education, access to housing, etc.

     Contrary to its predecessor, the outgoing government of Alan García has advanced little on the agenda of reparations. The only reparation program that has seen any substantial progress has been the program for collective reparations. To date, this program had benefited 1,672 communities affected by the violence.

     While collective reparations do represent an expression of recognition of the state’s responsibility as well as an effort by the state to fulfill its obligation to compensate the victims of the internal armed conflict, successive evaluations of the implementation of the program by APRODEH and the ICTJ (the second and third evaluations are available online) found serious limitations to their reparative effect. They showed that, in practice, collective reparations were used as a way of compensating for the lack of basic services and infrastructure in the population, and were often not understood those affected as related to their status as victims of the internal conflict.

     

     Collective reparations project are decided upon through participatory consultations with the affected communities. Given the depth and breadth of unmet basic needs in those communities, the chosen project are most often infrastructural in nature. In this context, the link between the harms suffered from the violence by the community and the chosen projects is not always clear. The communities simply do not have the luxury of identifying the project of reparation most symbolically appropriate to acknowledge and make up for the damage suffered; their immediate development needs and priorities win over.

     Collective reparations, in these cases, rather than representing the implementation of a right that dignifies the victims, end up being mere attempts at satisfying a necessity. But the problem runs even deeper: by acting as substitutes for basic services that the state should be providing anyway, they negate the dignity and the rights of the population to these services.  Needless to say, the opportunity to restore the status of full-rights bearing citizens to the affected individuals is lost in the process.

     As opposed to the Program for Collective Reparations, the process of individual reparations (which is what many of those affected are waiting for – see for example Karin Orr’s video “Request for Reparations in Putis”) has precariously moved along, dogged by a lengthy and bureaucratic process of registering the victims into the Registro Único de Víctimas—RUV, budget cuts, and  likely a lack of political will.

     

     On June 16, 2011, while I was away in Ayacucho, Decree N° 051-2011-PCM on individual economic reparations was promulgated by the Supreme Court. The Decree establishes the amount to be granted to victims on the armed conflict that have been duly registered on the RUV and sets a conclusion date to the process of inscription onto the RUV. Given its contents, it was immediately and unequivocally rejected by organizations of people affected by the violence and defenders of human rights (a press conference held by various NGOs demanded the derogation of the Decree; also read EPAF’s official position on the matter).

     The Decree states that on December 31^st, 2011, the process of determination and identification of the beneficiaries of individual reparations will close. However, given the complexity of the process, the high number of victims that still have not been registered to the RUV, and the isolated location of many of those affected, it is difficult to justify such a closing date. During our last trip to Ayacucho, EPAF exceptionally accepted to distribute certifications of registration to the RUV on behalf of the Council of Reparations in the communities we visited. In the process, it became obvious how much confusion, misunderstandings, and expectations there are about what the RUV is, who can register, how to register, etc. It is, to put it simply, absolutely impossible for all of those eligible for reparations to be registered to the RUV by December 31^st, 2011.

     The amount of 10.000 soles per victim offered is another major cause for concern, as it demonstrates a not only a disregard for international principles and standards on reparation, but also for the suggestions made by the affected regarding what may be an acceptable amount. Yet another contentious aspect of the recent Decree is that to be currently eligible, affected relatives of victims of enforced disappearance or execution must be over 80 years old, and victims of sexual violations must be over 65 years old—the latter being rather ironic, given the fact that victims of sexual violation were almost always young women, who would not have reached 65 years old today.

     

     What does all of this say about the commitment of the current administration to justice and the dignity of the victims of the armed conflict? It is a vicious circle of victimization; a violation of the right of victims to receive reparation for previous violations of their rights.

     As I mentioned in my last post, seeing the difficult conditions in which individuals affected by Peru’s internal conflict continue to live, and becoming aware of the linkages they themselves see between their experience of the violence and their conditions of poverty and exclusion, has made me reflect lately on the concept of justice. Justice undoubtedly involves compensation for the harms suffered.

     But what might constitute appropriate compensation? The reality I am witnessing in communities like Huamanquiquia, Sacsamarca, Hualla and Putis, is that long-standing cultural, economic and social conditions, combined with weak public policies that at times could be mistaken for virtual absence of the state, continue to violate the basic rights of the population.  In this context, it is difficult to see how a reparation program limited to the one-off construction of an infrastructural project or individual monetary compensation that may or may not come depending on such arbitrary factors as one’s age may restore the dignity of victims and their status as full-rights bearing citizens.

     I highly doubt that the legacy of the armed conflict is a debt that can be settled by any specific action or measure; it requires the affirmation and recognition of the dignity and rights of the victims on a continual basis. The Truth Commission understood this when it proposed an Integrated Plan that would provide for simultaneous measures in health, education, housing, etc. Unfortunately, this plan was only partially implemented by the successive governments. The coming change of government presents an excellent opportunity to revisit the policy on reparations, and hopefully follow more closely the recommendations of the Truth Commission on this matter.

     In my view, the only acceptable reparation to the victims would not only compensate for the violence suffered, but also allow victims to overcome the consequences of their historical marginalization. By empowering them to take control of their own future and providing them with adequate conditions for the full exercise of their citizenship, it would establish equal relations among all Peruvians.

     From this perspective, it is difficult to see where reparation as such ends, and where “development” begins. A program designed to correct the consequences of historical marginalization could include the implementation of preferential measures in the areas of education, agriculture and productive development, housing, health, etc. But if reparation is to take these forms, the way and context in which it is provided  is key to deliver the message that society acknowledges and values the dignity of the victims, and to differentiate reparation from social or development policies, making it clear to the population exactly what they are being compensated for.

284. A Day in the Life

     6:34 pm 1 Comment

     This past Sunday Meredith and I went on a field visit with Maya and Indira from Parma. We visited a family in Sankheda to conduct interviews for a personal profile and gather facts for a property rights case study. Watch the video below to see what a day in the life of a peace fellow is like!

     [youtube hoXKwrhpFY8]

285. Waste, waste, everywhere

     3:32 am 4 Comments

     In Delhi, trash is part of the day-to-day reality; it’s on the streets, it’s in the rivers, it’s everywhere. Since this is not the reality I experience in the United States, it would be easy for me to divorce the waste management issues I see in Delhi as solely being India’s issue, but that would be a mistake. In fact, waste is one of the few things that ALL humans have in common. We may not see trash, but don’t be fooled! Issues related to waste management are rampant in the US as well. Here are some interesting articles about waste-related issues that caught my attention!

     – According to this Grist article, half of the litter in the San Francisco Bay area comes from fast food!

     – This New York Times article describes a conflict between affluent Upper East Side residents and nearby residents in a less affluent area about where to locate a waste transfer station. The article details how waste transfer stations are disproportionately located in low income areas and the class conflict that this breeds.

     -There are new electronic waste rules for North and South Carolina that are outlined in this Huffington Post article. I found this one particularly interesting because the other Chintan intern, Abby, is working on India’s new e-waste rules because lots of e-waste is exported to India where waste-pickers work with it in abismal conditions.

     – This Grist article describes how Austin, Texas could become the first city to have a no-packaging grocery store! If people generate less trash, then waste management becomes more manageable, and landfills don’t fill up as quickly. People often forget that with waste management comes questions about consumption (and over consumption) patterns.

     – For those of you who are business minded, this article in the Sustainable Business Forum overviews how sustainability is essential for “high performing supply chains.” The article quotes an excellent paper written in the European Financial Review by Dr. Chris Laszlo and Dr. Nadya Zhexembayeva (authors of a new book Embedded Sustainability: The Next Big Competitive Advange):

     “the linear throw-away economy, in which products and services follow a one-way trajectory from extraction to use and disposal, can no longer be supported, as we are simply running out of things to unearth and place to landfill. Consumers, employees, and investors are beginning to demand socially and environmentally-savvy products without compromise, while radical transparency is putting every company under a microscope.”

     Another issue that is intimately tied to waste management is water pollution. If you haven’t heard of the Pacific Ocean Garbage patch, read this. To give an overview, the Pacific Ocean Garbage Patch is literally an aquatic landfill approximately the size of Texas (some estimates are much larger) that was discovered in the Pacific Ocean. Some say that this is the largest landfill in the world, and to think – it happened by accident. Trash from all over the world entered waterways where it just floated along and followed natural currents. These natural currents trapped the garbage in a large gyre, and created the landfill. The majority of garbage in the Pacific Ocean Garbage patch is plastic, read about the effects that plastic has on the ecosystem here.

     

     Despite the size of this issue, it is still relatively unknown so Plastiki (a boat made entirely of plastic bottles) and crew set sail across the Pacific in 2010 to raise awareness. Read more about this incredible journey here.

     So remember, even though you aren’t in Delhi with me looking at the trash on the streets – you can still be learning about waste management and waste related issues. Just because you don’t see the problem doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist or that you aren’t unknowingly contributing. Here are some things you can do:

     1) Stop using plastic bags because there is really no excuse to be using plastic bags anymore. Delhi has actually banned them to help with it waste management problems. If people in Delhi can do it everyday, you can too. Yes it takes a few times to remember to bring your reusable bags to the store, but here in Delhi if you don’t have them you have to buy new ones! Try holding yourself to that model and you’ll learn quickly.

     

     2) Find out where your trash goes. Ask some questions about which transfer station your garbage goes to so that you can be more aware about space limitations and other issues. In MA we bring our trash directly to the transfer station (rather then have trash pickup) and that is certainly a cool place to go. If you haven’t ever been to a transfer station, it’s worth a visit.

     3) Recycle. If you recycle, then those materials do not end up in the garbage, and ultimately end up being reused rather then going to a landfill or the ocean. If you have to use plastic water bottles, make sure to recycle them!

     4) Vote for environmentally aware politicians on the local, state, and federal levels. With the presidential election coming up, make sure to consider the environment when selecting your candidate.

     Read any good articles or have tips of your own? Post them in the comments!

286. Drawing my childhood..( the process of making a love blanket)

     July 4, 2011 6:00 am 1 Comment

     What would my childhood drawings look like? When I was little, my father used to ask me to draw him and his friends. He would beam with pride as he shows off my drawings, which I was told were nothing more than just four lines to make legs and arms and an oval shape for the head! My childhood upbringing was fortunately free of forced labor of any kind and I was left to use my imagination in drawing all sorts of images. I am returning from a week visiting four child friendly villages in Banke and Bardiya districts. The experience brought back good childhood memories although I am sure my attempt at drawing will be as mediocre as it was in the past!

     

     Sunita Chaudary, 16 years old. child laborer at age 12. Rescued by BASE.

     The process of making a love blanket:

     

     A child transferring the image onto the cloth.

     The project involves giving each child a piece of cloth with the hope that they would visually depict their lives: whether as a child right now or as a former child laborer. The pieces will be assembled into a blanket: the love blanket. Past fellows have created amazing blankets from Nepal, Congo, Peru and Bosnia. The concept of child friendly villages is a blanket itself, a place where the children are surrounded by love and protection and free to have a normal childhood and attend school. The blanket once wrapped around us gives us a source of comfort and protection. The same concept is used for the love blanket. The purpose of the blanket is to compile the stories of the children, including former child laborers, who all live in these child friendly villages.  The paintings show a certain level of innocence, imagination, hope and fear as they draw not only what they see on a regular basis but also improvise with the use of bright colors (yellow cows, red goats) which make the pieces more interesting.

     The children fist practice on a piece of paper and then paint those images on a piece of cloth.  I suspect that this concept of drawing their experiences on a piece of cloth, relying on their imagination is a foreign concept. But the children never shy away from participating and you can see their excitement the moment that the BASE staff translates into Nepali our instructions and the purpose of our visit. The children giggle, laugh at each other’s attempt at drawing a person and copy each other’s concept. The innocence of the children is undeniably the same everywhere and transcends cultural boundaries. I myself used to rely on the school textbooks for inspiration on how to draw a dog or a house. Some children look with a blank face while others chew on their pencils, their mind pacing hoping to eventually land on an inspiration thought enough to translate into a picture.

     The thoughts finally come together into pictures on their piece of paper and their mind goes somewhere else, a world they would like to imagine or for the former child laborers a world they would rather forget. Some of the children manage to draw their experiences; others draw obscure and dark images and others imagine trees being blue or yellow.

     

     Birendra Chaudhary, 12 years old. was a child laborer from age 8. until he was rescued last year.

     

     Ram Prasad Tharu and Berandra Chaudhary copying each other!

     The most reoccurring images are the Nepali flag, a house, water pumps, things all too familiar to them. As the images start to take form, from a paper to a cloth and added colors, the children’ faces bloom with joy and excitement in anticipation for the final product. The pieces that they produce all tell a different childhood experience. They are all colorful with the popular color being yellow and pink. I am excited to see the final product. My hope is that the blanket will tell the stories of Nepali children, and serve them justice in explaining their daily lives, their struggles, their experiences and most importantly their longing to have a normal childhood.

287. Advocacy gone wrong: The Miss Landmine beauty pageant

     July 3, 2011 8:50 pm 5 Comments

     Generally speaking, I consider myself rather well informed on topics dealing with landmines and unexploded ordinance (UXO). I would never call myself a subject matter expert, but there are usually very few major developments within mine action that slip by me. So it surprised me when I came across this rather sensational story of a Norwegian theatre director who has organized two beauty pageants featuring female landmine survivors from Angola and Cambodia. According to the creator of the “Miss Landmine” beauty pageant, Morten Traavik, the goal of the show is to raise awareness of the landmine problem and to empower its female victims while challenging traditional notions of beauty. As you could imagine, reactions have been mixed. Some have applauded Mr. Traavik’s innovative form of advocacy while others have been appalled. (This story is several years old at this point, but has resurfaced due to a new documentary film that recently opened. Check it out here)

     The debate is rather straightforward. People against the Miss Landmine pageant would likely be opposed to any type of beauty pageant. It objectifies and exploits women, and suggests that being physically attractive is the main contribution that women can make to society. Dr. Jean Chapman who was a guest writer on the blog politicalminefields.com made an interesting observation echoing the main critiques against the show. She pointed out that men with disabilities have totally different avenues to empowerment. For example there is Oscar Pistorius (The blade runner), who is known as the fastest man without legs. He’s a double amputee from South Africa, who with the aid of carbon fiber prosthetics can run nearly as fast as world class Olympic sprinters. She cites a slew of other athletic events mostly catering towards men with disabilities that provide a healthy and inspiring way to empower persons with disabilities. Naturally she scoffs at Mr. Traavik’s beauty pageant, asking the question, “Is the only option for women amputees their objectification?” Furthermore, there are imperialist undertones within the show, which involves a privileged rich European male coming to developing nations and propagating what he considers empowerment, advocacy, and beauty.

     

     Promotional photo for Miss Landmine Angloa Pageant

     Judging from the comments that most people leave on blogs and news sites about this topic, supporters of the project seem generally inspired by the courage of the landmine survivors, generally agreeing with the pageant’s motto, “Everyone deserves to be beautiful”. Other supporters simply don’t see the harm in having such a pageant. After all, nobody gets hurt, the women all supposedly volunteer for the event, and the mine action sector gains the attention of the international media. Also the winner gets a cash prize and is fitted for a state of the art prosthetic limb.

     I myself had mixed feelings about the Miss Landmine pageant, but I eventually came to the conclusion that this is a terrible idea, although not for the reasons stated earlier.

     Certain topics within international development and humanitarian action go in and out of vogue, leaving the public’s consciousness when something more chic comes along. We the public, have in general, very short attention spans. So every once in a while, something dramatic and sensational is exactly what a cause needs to recapture the world’s attention. The Miss Landmine pageant almost fits this model, except I’m very skeptical about the supposed awareness it actually raised. While many stories in the media that reported on the show paid some lip service to the landmine problem, it was mostly concerned with the controversies involved with the pageant and its creator Mr. Traavik. The terms Bizarre and Circus were probably the most common words used by writers to describe the pageant, which isn’t something I would deem beneficial when dealing with landmine and UXO survivors. It indeed grabbed the spotlight for a short while, but mostly the light was cast on the pageant organizer Mr. Traavik, which I suspect was the entire point all along for him. While I believe the pageant ultimately failed in its stated goal of advocacy and empowerment, I’m more perturbed for a different reason.

     

     Participants in the Miss Landmine Cambodia pageant

     This show was a colossal waste of resources. The first pageant, Miss Landmine Angola in 2008 was sponsored by the US government as well as other development organizations. The 2009 show, Miss Landmine Cambodia which was eventually held in Norway, received funding from the Norwegian government and other donors. I can only speculate as to how much it costs to run a beauty pageant like this, but I imagine it wasn’t cheap since it required funding from a number of different government and non-government organizations. The final prize for the 2009 show winner was a custom prosthetic limb. I have to wonder, that instead of wasting money on a frivolous beauty pageant so a small elite group of people can pat themselves on the back, if all of the 20 participants could have been fitted with prosthetic limbs. I imagine they would choose this rather than the feeling of empowerment they gain from parading around in evening gowns and swimwear. This money could have been put to good use in so many other ways. Even if it didn’t go to landmine survivor assistance, I can think of a million different worthy causes that could have made a huge difference with just a fraction of the funds.

     In the end, I can think of one benefit from the Miss Landmine pageant experiment. While it didn’t necessarily raise meaningful awareness of the landmine and UXO problem, it did show some weakness in worldwide survivor assistance, one of the main tenets of the ICBL’s Ottawa treaty. If it takes something like a beauty pageant to get the world’s attention, then clearly not enough is being accomplished.

288. Commemorating the 2nd anniversary of the decriminalization of homosexuality in India

     July 1, 2011 11:32 pm 3 Comments

     Today marks the 2^nd anniversary of the reading down of Section 377 in India, but the fight for equal rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and particularly transgender individuals has barely begun. While the Delhi High Court decriminalized sodomy between consenting adults in private two years ago, conservative groups have appealed the decision in the Supreme Court of India, and oral arguments for the appeal are scheduled to begin on July 11^th. LGBTI advocates are hopeful that the Delhi High Court ruling will be upheld, but until the Supreme Court issues a decision, nothing is certain. And even if the Supreme Court does uphold the High Court’s decision, it will simply be decriminalizing certain sexual acts.

     As a comparison, eight years after the United States Supreme Court finally decriminalized sodomy in all 50 states and US territories in the landmark case Lawrence v. Texas, LGBTI individuals are still fighting to enjoy the same rights as other US citizens. 10 states plus the District of Columbia (and hopefully soon Rhode Island) issue same sex marriage or civil union licenses. In other words, only in 1 of 5 states can homosexual couples enter into marriage or a similar union, something that traditional heterosexual couples can enter into or end at almost any time. Numerous other obstacles for LGBTI individuals also still exist, including issues with obtaining and using the same identification documents as other citizens, getting access to health care, and obtaining and guaranteeing child custody.

     This post is not meant to rain on the parade (literally and figuratively) of the queer community in India, because this is a day for celebration. However, it is important to remember that this incredible achievement is just the first step in ensuring that LGBTI individuals enjoy the same human rights that are guaranteed to all citizens under the Constitution of India.

     

289. Spotted in The Times of India

     June 30, 2011 3:30 pm Leave a Comment

     For better of worse the media in India seems to latch onto stories that are, or even just seem to be, about anything involving the LGBT community. Last weekend we went to a screening of I am by Sonali Gulati. You can read more about the film and the issue of coming out in India in Meredith’s recent blog. I just wanted to share this fun item quickly. Here I am in the “Baroda Times” section of The Times of India. The caption under my photo reads “European guest looks on.”

     

290. First Day of School

     3:11 am 2 Comments

     Last week I had the pleasure of attending a ribbon cutting for one of Chintan’s schools. The school is the most recent addition to Chintan’s “No Child in Trash” program, and is made from entirely re-usable materials. The school itself is beautiful and is a beacon of hope for the community, not to mention one of the only buildings with electric fans on the premises.

     

     When I talked to the 3 teachers for some 60 students, some of the challenges that the No Child in Trash (NCIT) initiative confronts daily became evident. For instance, the children are all extremely different – they are different ages, they speak different languages, and they have had different levels of exposure to education – which complicates the single classroom setup. Many of the waste-pickers are immigrants and only speak Bengali or another regional language, so the students find themselves learning Hindi and English at the Chintan schools. Further, while this school itself is wonderful, the facilities are still extremely basic. Specifically, there are no floors. The children and teachers alike sit on thin carpets that barely contain the dirt beneath them. Remember how hard it was to pay attention to the teacher in school? Now try image paying attention with a rock sticking into your behind.

     Here is a short video that includes some community reactions to the new school

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEKHj4_RP9w&feature=channel_video_title

     At the event, I had way too much fun pretending to be a professional photographer; here are some of the most powerful images from the afternoon; to view the abridged set of photos, click through to my Flickr page here!

     
     

     You would never realize it from the number of photos I ended with, but I was very hesitant to take pictures. It was my first time with the community and I didn’t want to intrude by taking photos of people’s homes and children. I was also extremely uncomfortable about potentially promoting my own version of “slum tourism” after reading an insightful and articulate blog by Kristen Maryn, an AP Fellow in Nairobi, Kenya. However, after a few hours and some rough translation, the camera came out and stayed. Parents actually asked me to take pictures with their children, and the kids were giddy when they saw their picture on the digital screen. Many of the residents actually took out their cell phones and started taking pictures of me! If it goes both ways, it can’t be that bad? Right?

     What do you think, would you ever be a “slum tourist” and pay to see poverty? Would it matter if you became a “better” person after the experience? I highly recommend Kristen’s blog, and the articles that she linked, for some interesting perspectives. Here are the links again for your convenience: Kristen’s blog, “Slumdog Tousism” – NYT, “Rich, Famous, and Living in a Slum” -Wall Street Journal, and “Poverty as Entertainment” – Daily Nation.

291. Adventures in Cooking

     June 29, 2011 11:27 pm 3 Comments

     At home in the US, I pride myself on being a fairly good cook and I generally enjoy doing it, from the grocery shopping to the prep work, to trying new vegetables, to re-imagining recipes based on my personal tastes, to sharing my cooking with friends and family. As far as the kitchen appliances go, I think I have made excellent investments. The Air Fryers, Food processor, Slicer/Chopper and all other appliances make the whole process of cooking quite easy. Not surprisingly, the cleanup is my least favorite part, but even that I don’t mind so much. However, I realized even before I came to India that I am really only comfortable cooking in my kitchen, where I have everything set up just the way I like it (provided my roommates haven’t moved things around on me). You can check out this site for more about the appliance repair service.

     When we visited in April, and since returning, I have been both intrigued and intimidated by cooking in India. The food that we eat here is amazing, especially the meals prepared by Maya, Indira, and their friends, and I would love to be able to replicate some of those recipes. But I am also intimidated by how labor intensive the cooking is and how much they seem to be able to accomplish with appliances and utensils that I need a lesson to use. For instance, we have a hot plate with gas burners in our kitchen, which is actually pretty standard in India, but when I tried to light a burner with the “igniter-thingie” (that’s a technical term) to make tea, I couldn’t seem to get it to work and had to have Indira show me the next day. Even now, a week later, it usually takes me 5-6 tries to get a burner lit, while Maya and Indira seem to do it effortlessly in one try.

     Then there is the intimidation of the Indian produce. In the Indian equivalent to 7-11, Reliance Fresh, which is the closest grocery store to our office, I have probably heard of/used half of the produce there. The other half, while usually coming from similar food families (such as squash) is still completely new. Meanwhile, I’ve watched Indira buy a sack of produce from the vegetable lolly man near her house, open it, and instantly know how to prep and cook everything inside. It’ll take me more than a summer to be that comfortable. Without Indira by my side during the shopping and cooking, I’m sure pick the wrong vegetable for the dish or prep it incorrectly, but I’ve always been an experimenter when it comes to cooking.

     This past Monday, Sam and I decided to face our fears head-on and give cooking a try. While the food that Maya and Indira serve us for lunch and most evenings is amazing, we feel badly for always relying on them for our sustenance. So, we queried Indira on how to prepare some Indian vegetables that we had eaten, gathered our courage, and headed to Reliance Fresh. What happened next is best summed up by this little video on YouTube, with photo credits going to Sam.

     [youtube j45BfgztYSU Adventures in Indian Cooking, Episode 1]

292. Does “coming out” exist in India?

     12:32 am 5 Comments

     This past Sunday, Sam and I went with Maya and Indira to a private screening of the documentary “I am.” I highly recommend this movie, even if you do not have a particular interest in LGBTI issues, because the storytelling is extraordinarily powerful. The movie was made by Sonali Gulati, an Indian lesbian filmmaker, who returned to Delhi eleven years after her mother passed away to pack up the family house, but also to tell the coming out story of gays and lesbians in India around the time that Section 377, the Indian law that criminalizes sodomy, was being read down by the Delhi High Court.

     [youtube k98AoIh4Z6Q Trailer for “I am” on YouTube]

     While coming to terms with the fact that she never came out to her own mother, Sonali interviews gay, lesbian and transgender individuals, and often their mothers, to hear the diversity of perspectives and experiences of coming out to family. One thing that struck me in the movie was how different these coming out experiences were from the experiences of the people that Parma works with. Working with Parma, we had been told that the idea of coming out doesn’t really exist in India, and the best that most non-heterosexual/gender non-conforming people can hope for is that their families will just ignore the issue. However, the stories of the people in the documentary were mainly positive. Even if a family’s reaction wasn’t immediately supportive, most of the stories ended with the families coming to accept the individuals and their sexual orientation.

     While the documentary showed that coming out in India is not always a negative experience, I think this is largely due to the fact that the individuals interviewed were mostly from a middle-to-upper class, urban environment. In general, most people that we meet through Parma are from rural or tribal areas and have either run away from home or been pushed out, usually after they made their identity explicit by having a female partner. This has made one of our Advocacy Project responsibilities incredibly complex and complicated. Because of previous experiences of or threats of violence, most of the transgender individuals that Parma works with are not comfortable “coming out” to their families and close friends, much less to the world at large via the internet. Therefore, gathering “personal profiles” of the people that we work with is not simply a matter of determining who has a powerful story to tell (they all do), but finding a way to let them tell a story in a way that makes them comfortable, hiding their identity visually and possibly even changing their name. Even then, many of the transgender people are not comfortable sharing their story with strangers, period.

     Sharing these stories is incredibly important – hearing them has helped us to understand the roadblocks, discrimination, and mistreatment that they have endured because of the gender identity in a way that we would not have been able to otherwise, so we are working hard to find a way to share these stories with a broader audience. Over the past week or so, we have been brainstorming with Maya and Indira to generate a list of people who are more “out” and who may be more comfortable sharing their stories, and we hope to get their consent and possibly begin the process at their next group meeting.

293. Tupananchikkama, Ayacucho

     June 28, 2011 9:26 pm 2 Comments

     Huamanquiquia, Sacsamarca and Hualla. These are the names of the three communities of the Pampas-Qaracha region of Ayacucho that I visited that week, along with EPAF staff and a delegation of Canadian professors from the University of Northern British Columbia. In prevision of a future collaboration between UNBC and EPAF, the professors were there to learn about the history of the armed conflict in the region, as well as obtain a better understanding of the current post-conflict situation in the different communities.

     

     Despite the long hours of driving separating them, and their distinctive clothing and musical styles, Huamanquiquia, Sacsamarca and Hualla have a lot in common. In fact, like the majority of conflict-affected communities in Peru—many of which are to be found in this region as it was the main location of the confrontation between the Shining Path, the Peruvian Armed Forces, and self-defence groups—they share similarities that far outweigh their differences.

     

     The three communities are part of an on-going  EPAF project to empower the relatives of the disappeared to become the main promoters of the search for their loved ones, through the recuperation of memory, psychosocial counselling, and support and juridical assistance in the organization of associations of victims’ relatives. One of the main reasons for our visit was to sign agreements with local authorities to formalize the collaboration between EPAF each of the communities.

     

     As I am becoming more immersed in this work and the more of these communities I visit, certain patterns are becoming hard to miss. This time around, I was particularly struck by two elements that came up again and again, whether in official speeches and discussions or in conversations with local people. First was how much people were moved by the interest showed by outsiders—whether they EPAF staff or visiting Canadian professors—in learning about their stories.

     

     These are remote, extremely isolated communities that were deeply wounded by the internal conflict, and they have had to live with the weight of their memories ever since. The overwhelming impression I got was that communities feeling abandoned—abandoned by the State, and abandoned by a Peruvian society that cares little about the horrors that took place in this part of the country during the 1980s and 1990s. But also of people feeling trapped with their memories, their suffering and their wounds—and being thankful for any kind of outlet. Memory can be a burden as much as a liberation, and I have a feeling that some level of external recognition is crucial in the transition from one to the other.

     

     The second thread that seemed to crop up again and again was that of the various linkages between the history of violence and the present difficulties in the communities. Local people clearly understand their present as the logical continuation of the past, and many associate their current state of poverty as the consequence of the violence suffered in the 1980s and 1990s. For instance, people in Hualla repeatedly emphasized the progress achieved by the community before the conflict.  When violence came, it was reduced to a fraction of its population when the majority had to flee to cities—Huamanga, Ica, Lima—to preserve their lives.

     

     The fact that people themselves associate what I would broadly call “development” issues with their memories and lived experiences of the violence has many possible implications, which I will be sure to take up in future posts. For now, I will focus on one:  the limits of memory and the true meaning of justice. What does justice mean for the relatives of victims of enforced disappearance? Surely, establishing the truth over what happened and recuperating the remains of their deceased loved ones is a step in the right direction.

     

     But what happens after the truth has been established, after the dead have been returned and properly buried? The collective memory of what happened may live on, but the people directly affected by the violence still remain as poor and marginalized from society, preventing any real possibility of a full reconciliation. This directly feeds into questions over reparations for the violence and losses suffered. What sort of reparation is appropriate in such cases? What is the responsibility of the government in this matter? I will address this issue in my next post, as I believe it is quite fitting with what I have witnessed on this recent trip, but also with recent events in Peru.

     

     Before ending this post, I need to mention the incredible way we were welcomed in Huamanquiquia, Sacsamarca and Hualla. EPAF has managed to build a relationship of trust and respect with these communities, and this was evidenced by the extremely warm welcome we received. It is difficult to express the emotion felt after hours spent travelling on hair-raising roads to find an entire community waiting in the middle of the road to welcome your group with banners, music, and flowers. The hospitality of the people was truly humbling, and left many of us without the words to express our gratitude.

     

     There would be much more for me to say about this trip to Ayacucho, but in the interest of keeping this post short I will simply say: “Tupananchikkama, Ayacucho!” (Quechua for see you soon, Ayacucho!)

     

     The rest of my photos of Ayacucho are available on my Flickr set.

294. First week in the field

     June 26, 2011 7:22 pm Leave a Comment

     A week has passed since I have been in Nepal. I am now in Tulsipur where I will be living for the remainder of my time here. The organization that I am working with is called BASE (Backward Society Education). It is a grassroots people’s movement involving around 200,000 members. It is an organization that is ever growing in order to include other programs, all with the aim of promoting the education to marginalized communities. Their major focus and one of the programs that I will be closely working on is on the issue of spreading awareness and advocating for the ratification of child rights laws, especially in the movement to end child labor.

     One of the most stellar attributes of BASE is that they advocate for a community-based approach to development and problem solving. For example, for their movement against child labor, they have recognized Child Friendly Villages (CFV) and BASE works with the families and children in those communities. This Child Friendly Villages model is a tool of changing communities into child laborer free societies by working to eliminate child labour practices and working towards having all the children attend school. It is quite an impressive program and in my opinion a way to empower the communities themselves in effecting change.

     There are about 244 child friendly villages located in five districts: Dang, Banke, Bardiya, Kailali, Kanchapur.  BASE is involved in educating the parents about the children’s rights and the need for them to go to school. The model has been successful and in 2010, BASE annual report found that in those child friendly villages, school attendance increased by 64% (the number of children going to school in 2007 was 12,111 and in 2010 it was 22,269). The number of child laborers decreased by 59% in those villages (from 2093 in 2007 to 771 in 2010). One of BASE staff shared with me that in those villages, the communities (families and children) have agreed to all work together in order to end child laborer.

     This week, I am joining another AP fellow, Maelanny Purwaningrum as we travel to Bardiya and Banke. The purpose for this visit is to further our work in producing love quilts with the children in those CFV as well a chance to interview some of the former child laborers. BASE is an amazing organization and all the staff have been very welcoming and willing to show us around and to explain to us all the different programs that they are working on. I hope to highlight in future blogs other programs that they are involved in.

295. The Big Sacrifice in South Asia

     9:32 am 2 Comments

     Over a dinner of naan and curried vegetables in a small, hole in the wall restaurant in Kathmandu’s Jawalakhel neighbourhood, exiled Bangladeshi journalist William Gomes once told me, “I feel like a prisoner here, in my room, in Nepal… I cannot go home. I don’t have my own money, or anything. I have enough to cover food every day, but that is it. Once my allowance runs out, then what? Then where?”

     William and his legion of other exiled South Asian journalists are paying the ultimate sacrifice for being critical, and speaking up for injustice. They are from countries where reporting and researching abuses inflicted by the state can get one imprisoned, tortured, and even killed. They are from regions where those fighting for their countrymen’s rights in burgeoning young democracies are risking their lives, or at least lives as they knew it – forced into perpetual exile from family, friends, colleagues, and country, never to return home. They’re forced to live in countries of foreign customs, language, food, and people.

     William, and later Dipal Baruwa, both from Bangladesh, have crossed my path recently. William first arrived at my guesthouse four weeks ago, shipped out of Bangladesh courtesy of the Asian Human Rights Commission (AHRC). While working with the AHRC as a journalist, documenting cases of human rights abuses and disappearances in Bangladesh, he was picked up by the Bangladeshi military in a black jeep near his home, shuttled to a government prison facility. Stripped, blindfolded, submitted to cold temperatures, drugged, threatened, and verbally abused, a clear warning was made by the Bangladeshi authorities to cease his activities, or else retribution. He was dumped in the same place of his abduction near his home.

     

     (Dipal on the left, William on the right)

     Two weeks later, Dipal, a Buddhist monk, arrived in Kathmandu at my guesthouse, courtesy of the AHRC again. His story was similar to William’s – a Bangladeshi human rights activist tortured and threatened by the Bangladeshi authorities, warning him of serious personal harm if his activities continued.

     Two weeks ago, William rushed into my room in the morning, “Corey, hurry upstairs, there is an emergency with Dipal.” And there was Dipal, lying beside his bed, not talking or answering to us. He had tried to hang himself during the night, and William had found him just in time, returning from the bathroom.

     My colleague Prakash Mohara from the Jagaran Media Center (JMC), who also works with the AHRC, soon came over. We agreed to not leave Dipal alone, and would get him to a hospital. As Prakash and I were downstairs, making coffee and discussing the situation, William joined us to quickly grab a coffee. We rushed upstairs, as Dipal was left alone. He had bolted the door shut, and wouldn’t answer our calls. Three strikes with my shoulder, and the door fell, to Dipal again trying to hang himself. Medical staff soon came, and Dipal received the treatment that he needed. He has since been released, doing much better, and smiling again.

     And that is the plight of some of those who are sacrificing their lives for the rights and dignities of their compatriots. Some are suffering the same traumas of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as war veterans – depressed and disturbed by what they have experienced, and traumatized from their terrible treatment inflicted on them by state officials.

     In South Asia, independent and critical journalism is a precarious enterprise, with those questioning governments’ official narrative risking persecution and personal safety. Over the past several years, numerous South Asian journalists have disappeared, been killed, or forced into exile – most reporting on national security issues. Most recently, William’s friend Saleem Shahzad was found dead in Pakistan – a journalist researching the Pakistani military’s links to Al Qaeda.

     In Karachi, only weeks ago, captured by video and widely circulated on YouTube, a young man was shot and left for dead by the Pakistani military, in broad daylight. Clearly, parts of the state apparatus have different ideas when it comes to meting out justice and valuing life. Reforms towards more respectable democracies have ways to go in some countries, but publicizing these instances of injustice are an important part of the reformation.

     William and Dipal want to continue their advocacy work, but are now unsure where they’ll land, to continue their lives. Visa applications to foreign countries are pending, and scholarship applications for postgraduate work have been submitted, and their waiting games continue.

     In the meantime, William and his friends in Bangladesh have started a Facebook campaign, “Demand justice for journalist and human rights activist William Gomes” . It now has over 1600 members, and Bangladeshi journalists and law students have been spreading posters throughout the country, and have marched in Dhaka, demanding accountability and transparency for what happened.

     It is clear that William and Dipal’s lives are fractured, and their consciences tormented by what happened. They’ve paid the ultimate sacrifice in standing up, and have to begin their lives anew. But I suspect that William and Dipal and his fellow exiled colleagues would not change the past, and would continue on in their fight knowing the risks involved.

296. Even after Section 377, transgender people and their partners will still be vulnerable to charges.

     5:09 am 1 Comment

     In 2009, the Delhi High Court read down Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, which criminalizes “carnal intercourse against the order of nature.” The Court found that criminalisation of consensual sex between adults in private violates the Indian Constitution’s guarantees of dignity, equality, and freedom from discrimination based on sexual orientation. After an appeal by private anti-LGBT parties (the government chose not to appeal), the case is now pending before the Supreme Court of India. It is truly a landmark moment for the LGBT community in India: the Lawrence v. Texas of India.

     While the defeat of Section 377 will be a joyous occasion for the LGBT community, everyone recognizes that it is a starting point and not an end to the fight for LGBT rights. Maya, one of the leaders of Parma, often says, “even after 377, elopement is still illegal.” What she means is that even though same sex love may no longer be criminal in and of itself after 377 is finally defeated, there are still ways in which LGBT people can be subjected to criminal charges simply because they try to exercise their right to be with people that they love.

     It is extremely rare for family members to accept “same sex” love, whether between two lesbians or a female-to-male transgender individual and his partner. In order to be together in any meaningful way, and often to avoid the arranged marriage of one of the partners, the couples “elope,” meaning that they run away together. Families have a very strong reaction and frequently file kidnapping or abduction charges, depending on the ages of the people involved, in an attempt to retrieve their child. Families sometimes also accuse their children or the partner of theft. These are all ways of enlisting the police in the search for missing family members. If a family, with or without the police, finds their child they may forcibly take the child back to the family home, separating them from their partner. The only legal recourse for the partner at this stage is to file a habeas corpus petition, which will force the family to bring the child to court so that she can say what she wants. This process can take so long that by the time the child is produced in court she has been put under so much pressure by her family that she says she wants to stay with them. This problem is not unique to the LGBT community. A similar series of events often occurs with “love-marriage” couples. Perveez Mody has written a fascinating book on love-marriages that includes an enlightening discussion of the elopement issue and helps to explain how families are compelled to attempt to retrieve their child.

     After arriving in India and getting settled, we had several days of discussion with Siddharth Narrain from Alternative Law Forum.

     We were working together to identify next steps for the community after Section 377 is defeated. We agreed on several priorities and projects, including an anti-discrimination policy, which Meredith wrote about in her blog. We also agreed that couples will continue to need help navigating the difficult issues surrounding elopement. Parma and Alternative Law Forum will be collaborating over the coming months to develop a guide for couples that can help them with pre- and post-elopement issues. As part of this process we will be documenting the stories of some of the couples that Parma has helped already. I hope that I will be able to share at least one of those stories in a future blog…

297. Coca Quintu

     June 24, 2011 3:26 pm 1 Comment

     This post is going to be a very short one, as things have been rather hectic these last few days. I came back from a wonderful, week-long trip to the Pampa-Qaracha region of Ayacucho on Tuesday, and will be writing a full report once I have had time to process all of the material that I collected.

     In the meantime, since I have not posted in a while, I would like to share a short video that I filmed in one of the violence-affected communities that I had a chance to visit on this trip, Sacsamarca. It captures a moment that moved many of those of us who were present to the brink of tears, when three ladies from the Association of Relatives Affected by the Political Violence sang a traditional song entitled “Coca Quintu”. I have no doubt that much of the meaning and beauty of the song gets lost in translation (from Quechua to Spanish, then to English), but here is a rough translation of the fragments that the ladies Sacsamarca sang for us:

     COCA QUINTU
     Coca quintucha, hoja redonda
     Coca quintucha, hoja redonda
     Qamsi yachanki ñoqap vidayta
     Patacruz patapi waqallasqayta;
     Qamsi yachanki ñuqap surtiyta
     Challwamayupi llakillasqayta.

     Panteón punkucha, fierro rejillas
     Panteón punkucha, fierro rejillas,
     Punkuchaykita kichaykullaway
     Kuyasqay yanaywan tinkuy kunaypaq,
     Punkuchaykita kichay kullaway
     Wayllusqay yanaywan tupay kunaypaq.

     Rough translation:

     COCA QUINTU
     Little round coca leaf
     Little round coca leaf
     You know my life
     How much I have cried in Patacruz
     You know my fortune
     How much I have suffered in Challwamayu
     How much I have cried in Patacruz

     Iron-gated cemetery
     Iron-gated cemetery
     Open your doors for me
     So I can reunite with my husband
     Open your doors for me
     So I can reunite with my husband
     So I can converse with my husband

     Renzo, a historian that works in the memory area of EPAF and who travelled with us on this trip, explained to me that coca quintu are small and round “baby” coca leaves. In the Andes, the coca quintu are sacred, and it is believed that they can tell the future. For example, people will ask the coca quintu to tell them whether they will be in good health in the future, or to indicate whether something that has been lost will be found again. In this emotional rendition of the song, which the ladies adapted to include the names of nearby places, a woman is asking the coca quintu to indicate the whereabouts of her missing husband so she can meet and converse with him again. My thanks to Renzo for transcribing the song in Quechua and translating it to Spanish.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnbncyLfn_A

298. The journey begins… (written on June 18th)

     1:31 am 6 Comments

     If anything about the next two months in Nepal is going to be like the last 48 hours, then you are all in for a good treat and a good laugh. On June 15, 2011, I decided that I had waited enough for an Indian Visa and would rather attempt to get a visa to Nepal. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to be a peace fellow in either country. With a flight booked for June 18, 2011 to New Delhi and no visa, I was pretty sure that I was not going to go there, let alone anywhere else. But, I figured, I never give up until I have exhausted all remedies.

     So, I marched to the Nepal Embassy with a smile and a conviction that if I get to speak to someone then at least, I could know how long I should expect a response. This is the moment that I take and thank the staff at the Nepali embassy for their patience and their understanding of the fact that I had a plane to catch on June 18, 2011. Not only did they expedite my request but they also called to further assist me with anything else I needed. I was ready to depart, but had not made any preparations whatsoever. I had two days to buy all I needed, book my ticket to Kathmandu, pack and say good-bye to my friends and family.

     In the afternoon, I was caught in the rain with no umbrella and a huge shopping bag with all my items for the trip. Great…. I was soaked in rain! I said to myself if this is how the monsoon season is going to be, then I cannot stop in the middle of my work because it is raining! So I marched on and cursed at the rain… I passed people who were braving the rain, albeit, they had an umbrella. One lady took a look at me probably saying: this poor girl with an oversized shopping bag soaked in rain and wearing flip flops! She offered to share her umbrella. We talked about how we hated the rain and how the weather channel is always off on the weather! (a smart lady never forgets an umbrella)

     It is during our conversation that she informed me that she had spent six months in…. NEPAL!!! I am not quite been to a level of writing that can fully express how I felt. Here I am, in the middle of the street in downtown D.C, under an umbrella with a complete stranger and talking about Nepal. My day ended with a new appreciation for Nepal. Both my experience at the embassy and the lady with the umbrella sent a warm feeling. I knew that regardless of what would transpire in the next day before my departure to Nepal, I was ready and prepared and it felt right.

     But what I was not ready for was the cold that I got the next day. My courageous act of embracing the rain came with consequences. I was coughing and now I am voiceless….what a good way to travel! All the medicine that I bought for Nepal was prematurely opened as I continuously took medicines so I can feel better. I was not going to let this cold delay my trip!!!! So I took lots of fluids and medicine and managed to pack. I will tell you later once I open my luggage if what I packed was important or relevant to the climate of where I am going. For now.. a word of advice is.. do not pack your luggage after you have taken Nyquil!

299. A Quick Note on Nepali Aid

     June 23, 2011 9:34 pm Leave a Comment

     A recent U.N. commissioned report ranks Nepal sixth of Least Developing Countries (LDCs) for illicit capital outflows. The report, titled “Illicit Financial Flows from the Least Developed Countries: 1990-2008”, states that US $9.1 billion (NRs 657.93 billion) was shipped out of the country illegally during that 10 year period. Other highlights of the report, courtesy of The Kathmandu Post, are:

     – Trade and commercial mis-pricing accounts for 65-70 percent of the capital flight;
     – 20-30 percent is from corruption or kickbacks;
     – For every dollar of official development assistance (ODA), 1.1 dollars leaves Nepal – i.e. 1:1.1 ratio of ODA to capital flight;
     – The US $9.1 billion in capital flight during the 1998-2008 period amounts to 8.07 percent of Nepal’s GDP for that period.

     Obvious questions on Nepali international development arise: How much of that siphoned money was intended for development aid? Has international aid itself encouraged some of this financial (mis)behaviour? How effective has aid been, or can be, considering the corruption? Or is it just part of the process, and one must take the bad with the good?

     Now working with Nepali NGOs, I can see some evidence that supports the conclusions of this study. Many NGOs are excellent, delivering quality projects, are accountable and transparent, and provide genuine hope to those they help. Others, however, are inefficient, poorly managed, sometimes corrupt, and their chase for international grants is job number one. It appears to be a product of local capacities, and quality and respectable human capital running the operations. The promising shining lights are encouraging and making substantial differences on the ground, but they are not the rule.

     So does aid need to be reconsidered? The works of Dambisa Moyo and William Easterly say it does. Development has not materialized with so much being spent, and it has mostly produced corruption and wasted resources. Where aid has produced local capacity and leadership growth, some successes have been achieved. Die hard international aid supporters like Stephen Lewis will never make such an outright admission, and state that aid, however imperfect, is necessary and saves countless lives, no matter the side effects and poor record.

     To see more on this international development debate, see Dambisa Moyo and Stephen Lewis’ exchange in the Munk Debate in Toronto. For what it’s worth, the crowd voted in favour of Lewis’ position.

     What are your thoughts?

300. Cliche to Cash

     2:09 am 11 Comments

     Delhi personifies the cliche, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” In fact, for many in Delhi, trash transcends the frivolity of most treasures and provides the means to harness basic needs such as food, water, and shelter. Who are the waste-pickers? Simply put, they are the individuals, families, and communities who thrive off of materials that others deem useless.

     The process is fairly straight forward. First, the average person discards materials, maybe into a trash can (although public trash cans are extremely rare), onto the street, or into a household dumpster. Waste-pickers come around and collect the garbage (sometimes off the street, other times from knocking on doors) and haul it away in a cart that is pulled via a bicycle, and bring it to a designated area to be sorted. Yes, that is a Dominos box.

     

     Cycle Rickshaw for Trash Collection. This particular Rickshaw was provided by Chintan as part of the door-to-door waste collection initiative.

     

     This is a designated area for sorting on the side of a busy road.

     Once the waste is sorted into plastics, papers, and compostables, the waste-picker sells the materials. An extremely successful waste-picker can earn around 150 rupees a day  freelancing (about $3 USD).

     This system not only provides a livelihood for millions of people, but it also ensures that materials are recycled. In this respect, Delhi has a more advanced waste management system (albeit imperfect) then the United States, because only materials with no remaining use end up in landfills. Consider the copious amounts of recyclables/compostables that end up in U.S. landfills because of general carelessness; these materials contribute to our carbon footprint instead of being put to a beneficial use.

     This is an extremely oversimplified version of what goes on around Delhi, as there are complex procedures for the sorting and selling of waste, especially E-Waste (electronic waste); however this description captures the essence of what occurs all around this major metropolis. Remember, this entire process is done without any help, oversight, or input from the government – which means that waste-pickers comprise the informal sector and receive very few legal rights. This also means that the government does not provide municipal waste pickup for households or businesses … personally, I would not want to imagine what would happen to the (already littered) Delhi streets and rivers if the informal sector failed to absorb the waste.

     Where does Chintan fit in?

     Chintan has five major initiatives to help support the waste-pickers and their essential function. It is important to note that although this profession may not be desirable to many of us, Chintan does not seek to change the profession itself, but rather improve the inadequate  working conditions; for example, Chintan seeks to create more substantial sorting areas, specific rules for the disposal of hazardous waste, and to provide sanitary equipment for workers at affordable prices. The five initiatives are:

     1) Voice for Waste: This program creates focus groups of waste-pickers that discuss issues, policy decisions, and potential campaigns to improve their profession.

     2) Low Carbon Future: This program works with bulk waste producers such as malls, offices, and businesses to “green” their systems. In addition to requiring a reduction of waste creation, Chintan helps to manage the waste that is created by contracting it to specific waste-pickers. This ensures that it is thoroughly sorted and also provides a stable income for some of the waste-pickers.

     3) No Child in Trash: This initiative helps educate the children of waste-pickers in informal schools that Chintan builds (with the help of sponsors) so that the children can eventually join the formal education system, or at least have enough of an education to make substantial choices about their future.

     

     Informal school at the Gaziapur landfill.

     4) Scavengers to Managers: This program communicates with neighborhoods and arranges for waste-pickers to come for door-to door collection. This means that a waste-picker will have a set number of houses in a set area, as opposed to scavenging whatever possible. Chintan serves as the middle man between the communities and the waste-pickers because each household pays a monthly rate to Chintan which in turn pays the waste-pickers a salary.

     5) Knowledge Power: This initiative focuses on researching problems that waste-pickers face in order to best inform which policy platforms Chintan supports.

     I hope this overview is helpful, I myself am still learning about all the complexities surrounding this issue so please let me know if I can answer any questions!

     Hindi word of the day: acha = good

301. The King Beekeeper of Quang Binh

     12:35 am 2 Comments

     “If a man has no chance of obtaining work he is in a desperate position, not simply because he lacks an income but because he lacks this nourishing and enlivening factor of disciplined work which nothing can replace”

     The above quote is from one of my favorite books of all time, Small is Beautiful by E.F Schumacher. This particular quote comes from his essay “Buddhist Economics”, where he outlines his ideal economic system that conforms to a Buddhist world view. One of the main points of his work is that labor shouldn’t be a robotic series of movements where workers are paid as little as possible so producers can maximize profits. Work should first and foremost allow people to exercise their faculties and creativity, join people together in a common task to overcome their own egos, and produce goods and services to live a comfortable existence. AEPD’s economic empowerment model seems to follow this idea very closely, attempting to connect their beneficiaries with meaningful employment where they can both support their families and also take pride in their labor. This became quite evident during my latest excursion to the Bo Trach district of Quang Binh.

     AEPD supports many different business models for their beneficiaries, but one that particularly caught my attention was beekeeping. I guess I was curious about this because of the fairly recent phenomenon of colony collapse disorder, where honey bees seem to be vanishing in parts of Europe and North America. So I was particularly excited for this trip to the field where I would meet Mr. Phong, an apiculturist who I was told had a strong reputation in the area, and even earned the moniker of “The King Beekeeper”. Nicknames like the King are usually well earned, so maybe the King could shed some light into our disappearing bee problem.

     

     Mr. Phong showing off one his particularly strong hives

     I was half expecting to be immediately engulfed by an irate swarm of insects upon entering Mr. Phong’s home, but this of course didn’t happen. His house is peaceful and serene, and he was a more than gracious host. Mr. Phong, like many of AEPD’s clients is a landmine survivor, who lost part of his right arm during the American war (he wasn’t reluctant to talk about his injury, but I got the impression he was a man who mostly thought about the future, not dwelling on the past). Unable to continue his work as a farmer to support his family, he turned to beekeeping, which is a traditional business in his hometown.

     Lacking the necessary funds to start this new venture, AEPD was there to provide him with much needed capital and paid for the costs for his training. Before AEPD’s support, he didn’t have any full hives in his colony. AEPD provided him with the materials to support 3 bee hives, which he then turned into 36 hives in less than 6 months. In a good month, he can collect 30 liters of honey, selling them for 350,000 VND per liter. That’s equivalent to about $500 US a month, which is very high for this area. Not only has he become a successful businessman, he’s someone who commands great respect in the community. He’s the manager of a support group for persons with disabilities, and also heads the association of beekeepers for the Quang Binh Province. He’s regularly consulted by various Commune People Committees (CPC’s) so they can establish their own apiculture farms. He is also a regular guest lecturer in neighboring provinces, imparting his knowledge and experience to aspiring beekeepers.

     

     Mr. Phong's wife helping him suit up for work

     I was curious to get Mr. Phong’s opinion on Colony Collapse Disorder, but he was unfamiliar with the problem. He told me nothing like that has happened to him or any other beekeepers in Vietnam that he knew of. Hives can become weak for a number of factors he explained, but there must be outside factors causing these problems. I asked him if changes in the environment could be a cause, and he suggested that’s most likely the case. “Bees prefer a pure environment. I know some people in the west use chemicals a lot, but I’ll never use them.” He even described a natural method to encourage the production of queen bees to create new hives, where he uses ants to burrow into the colony to create a larger crevice where eggs are stored. This encourages the queen to produce more offspring, and will likely cause the birth of a new queen. Judging from the success of his thriving bee yard, this natural method may be the way to go. A recent article from the Guardian outlines the challenges facing the bee population, and seems to agree with Mr. Phong’s assessment. Check it out here.

     

     After our discussion, Mr. Phong let us sample some fresh honey as well as some homemade rice and honey wine that he makes. One my colleagues enjoyed it so much she bought a liter to take home. Mr. Phong seems to have truly found his niche. He’s a successful business man who’s able to live well, and takes tremendous pride in his work. He is constantly giving back to the community, giving free training and often sharing hives with other persons with disabilities in the area. He’s a man of great generosity and determination, and I think I understand how he earned his illustrious nickname.

302. If Section 377 is struck down, what’s next?

     June 22, 2011 9:39 pm 2 Comments

     On July 11^th, India’s Supreme Court is scheduled to begin hearing arguments in the highly publicized Naz Foundation case. These arguments had previously scheduled for April, 2011, but the court chose to defer hearing the case until the summer. In 2009, the Delhi High Court decriminalized Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, which made sodomy a criminal offence. The Indian government chose not to challenge this ruling, but in India, interested parties are also able to appeal rulings in the name of public interest.

     While there are a number of parties on either side of the case, we have been working with the Alternative Law Forum, based in Bangalore, to track the progress of the case and the arguments that will be made in the Supreme Court. On their website, they maintain an excellent primer on the arguments in favor of upholding the Delhi High Court’s ruling and the history of the case.

     Since the LGBT community in India is hopeful that the Delhi High Court’s ruling will be upheld, lawyers, advocates and experts have already begun thinking about what’s next in the fight for protecting LGBT individuals in India. One area of focus has been on getting the Indian government to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected categories under the proposed Equal Opportunity Commission bill which is currently sitting in the Indian government. The current proposed bill would prohibit discrimination based on “sex, caste, language, religion, disability, descent, place of birth, residence, race or any other” and the hope is that sexual orientation and gender identity are sufficiently analogous to these categories to also be protected under this bill. Some other concerns with the bill include questions of whether the Commission will have sufficient power to enforce an anti-discrimination policy to hold employers and schools accountable and whether (and if) private organizations should be included as well.

     This summer, we hope to help Parma use results from the survey of transgender individuals in Gujarat that they are currently conducting to help illustrate why it’s crucial to include gender identity as a protected category in an anti-discrimination policy.

303. I do (not) like Sunday – Mingling with the Children

     June 17, 2011 12:43 am 147 Comments

     I don’t like Sunday. I know this might sound anti-mainstream, but, trust me, it’s not. While in most countries people work from Monday to Friday, in Nepal people work from Sunday to Friday. Yeah, Sunday turned out to be my first day of working days. It always be more difficult to start the routine after a day of hanging-out-doing-nothing. But, last Sunday was different. I finally started my field visit to produce “Love Blanket” with the children.

     Last Sunday, I visited nearby villages with two BASE staffs and a local artist. We planned to leave at 4 p.m, around 3 o’clock the sky covered with dark cloud. A sign of heavy rain to come. Then, strong wind came and rain showered. I was a bit worry to continue. But, we did continue after waiting for about 15 minutes. By the time we arrived, the sky was clear, wet green grasses and muddy road left out by the rain. Along the road, I was amazed, the nature rapidly changed. It was no longer arid as I crossed in early May, but fresh and green. The rain is a blessing.

     

     Lalpur road, Dang District. Photo by: Maelanny P

     My first encounter with children turned out to be beyond my expectation. I didn’t expect too high on this first field visit. I understood if children might feel tired after their whole day at school. Then, I was stunned by their enthusiasm and excitement to produce love blanket. Everyone wanted to participate and contribute something, even some youngest children. It was exhausting as well as exciting. I believe, it’s the joy of childhood to see things purely, to try out new things, to do everything in their fun way.

     While waiting for the children to gather, I chatted and took some photos. Then, a boy came around, he looked like someone who has just arrived from fields with muddy spots all over his clothes. He peeped on us, then slowly joined us into the room. He was shy. He introduced himself as Onil, but later on he told us his real name as Arjun Chaudary. We asked Arjun to call his friends, he ran out, then I heard he shouted. I guess he was calling his friends. He came along with some friends. BASE local member told me that his father has passed away and his mother works as domestic worker, he has just joined schooling facilitated by BASE. I know he has this unique talent. He didn’t seems to really enjoy drawing or painting as other children did, but he helped us to collect pencils and books from his friends without even asked to do so.

     

     A boy peeping into the room, he is Arjun Chaudary. Photo by: Maelanny P

     The next day, I visited further village. The car crossed two fair size rivers, passed very bumpy roads, and stopped for several times to let cows, goats, lambs, or pigs cross over. In this village, I was able to meet some rescued kamalaris and produced ‘Love Blanket’ with them. They shared their story as child domestic servants to me. Most of them mentioned that they experienced beating and scolding while working as kamalari and none of them was sent to school.

     

     Girls of Kothari Village, some of them are rescued kamalari. Photo by: Maelanny P

     I saw strength in their innocent eyes. I’m proud of them. I can hardly wait to meet other children and find out more surprise from them. Thank you Arjun, thank you all!

     ————————

     Last Sunday, 12 June 2011, was also the ‘world day against child labor’. ILO issued a new report on children in hazardous work. The report tells that 115 of 215 million child laborers worldwide engaged in hazardous work. The biggest number is found in Asia & Pacific, followed by sub-Saharan Africa. In fact, Nepal is one of few countries where slavery—a type of ‘worst forms of child labor’—are extensively practiced. Apparently, kamalari is one of them, as thousands of kamalari still exist in western tarai (from various surveys conducted by I/NGOs).

304. Planes, trains, and automobiles. My first week in Dong Hoi

     June 16, 2011 8:42 pm 2 Comments

     It took a 10 hour bus trip, 13 hours of flight time, and a 12 hour train ride on the reunification express, but I finally arrived at my destination in the picturesque town of Dong Hoi Vietnam about a week ago. Besides the typical adjustments a foreigner usually has to make in a new land,  I’ve had plenty of time to get to know the staff of my host organization and learn about their expanding role in the community, plans for the future, and how I can best serve them during my short time here.

     

     While the staff at AEPD have done all they could to fill me in on all their current projects, there’s no substitute for seeing it up close with your own eyes. So this past Tuesday, I was taken out for my first trip to the field to see the impact that AEPD has on the community, meeting with 3 individuals who’ve been supported by AEPD. Accompanied by Mr. Luan, one of the 7 outreach workers for the organization and Mrs. Nga, the monitoring and evaluation specialist who will undoubtedly be acting as my translator for the majority of my trip, we traveled to the Quang Thuan commune about an hour away from Dong Hoi. There is a beautiful gate at the entrance of the commune, with an inscription that roughly translates to “Nothing is more realizable than freedom and independence”. The slogan no doubt is in reference to Vietnam’s complex history that has endured occupations by the Chinese, French, and Americans, but after meeting several of AEPD’s beneficiaries, this could easily serve as the motto for the organization.

     The first gentleman I met was Nguyen Ha. Mr. Ha is a disabled veteran of the third Indochina war when he fought for his country in Cambodia. Ironically, it was after the war when his injury happened. A bomb landed close to his hut in central Vietnam and he lost the bottom half of his right leg, and now makes due with a prosthetic limb. When he is wearing trousers, you probably wouldn’t even realize he’s disabled. He moves swiftly around his farmland, and in general seems perfectly mobile. Ha received support from the government for his injuries, but with rapidly rising prices it was not a sustainable income. He owns slightly less than 4 acres of farm land that he uses to cultivate rice, working around 8 hours a day. AEPD in 2010 provided Mr. Ha with 6 million VND to purchase a cow. It may not seem like much, but it makes his labor much more productive and he’s seen his income rise from 1 million VND per month to 1.5 million. Also, the cow’s value has nearly doubled since it was purchased as a calf. He plans to eventually sell the animal for a small profit and invest the returns in his business and buy new livestock.

     

     A short drive from Mr. Ha’s home we met with another AEPD client, Le Thi Be. Unlike Mr. Ha, Ms. Be is not survivor of UXO or landmines. She contracted an extremely high fever when she was 3 years old that caused her right leg to become paralyzed, which she described as having a “heavy leg”. AEPD’s role has expanded greatly since it became an independent organization last year, serving not only landmine survivors, but all persons with disabilities in the Quang Binh and neighboring provinces. Be operates a tailoring shop inside her home in the Quang Thuan commune, and is a single mother to her 3 year old daughter Taang. AEPD helped Ms. Be purchase a sewing machine, workstation, and display case for her shop. While her income is still very low, it has risen by 40% since she received support from AEPD, and she expects it to steadily increase throughout the year.

     

     For our last stop, we visited Mr. Nguyen Van Thanh. Thanh used to work as a farmer and served as a high ranking commune officer until he was victimized by a landmine while he was working in his rice field, losing both his hands and one of his legs. He was 36 years old at the time and his life took a drastic turn in the blink of an eye. He went from earning a comfortable living, able to support his mother and disabled father, to receiving just 560,000 VND per month from the social services unit of the government, which wasn’t enough to support 3 people. Luckily, AEPD was able to reach Mr. Thanh and supported him with free training and a 10 million VND grant which he used to purchase chickens and netting to build a coop. Poultry farming has significantly raised his standard of living, nearly tripling his monthly income.

     

     I’ve never been a fan of explaining currency figures in terms of US dollars, as it distorts true purchasing power and takes some issues out of context, but that’s just the economist in me talking. It can however be a powerful tool to provide some frame of reference for those in the western world. The exchange rate for VND to USD is approximately 20,000/1, and for VND to EUR 29,000/1. If you consider Ms. Be’s monthly income in terms of USD, it’s about $25 per month. Before she received assistance however, her monthly income was around $15. Mr. Ha’s labor currently nets about $75 a month, an increase of $25 monthly. If these amounts seem like a meager wage, that’s because they are.

     Whenever I hear these kinds of figures, I usually ask myself how it’s even possible to survive on such low incomes. The answer is complicated, and I’ll probably never truly comprehend the struggles it entails. Prices are of course low enough in the commune where they are able to buy essential items and they often will get help through neighbors or friends when times get really tough. I think it’s important to consider how much more difficult life would have been if AEPD hadn’t reached out to them. In some cases, their incomes increased by over 50%. I find it remarkable how a simple sewing machine or a cow could have such an impact on their livelihoods. For the disabled in Quan Binh provence, AEPD is more than an NGO. It’s an avenue to a better life, not though charity, but through their own faculties and determination. This short trip was invaluable for me. It’s one thing to read about what the AEPD does in a brochure or on a website. Meeting their beneficiaries face to face has provided some much needed context.

305. The elephant in the room, screaming for attention: South Asia’s environmental problem

     June 15, 2011 7:54 am 7 Comments

     You can see it in Kathmandu’s rivers, clogged of garbage and the occasional carcass. Slum kids play and bathe in these waters, sometimes directly below riverside pastures of buffalo, with their leaching refuse and all. If lucky, you can sometimes read it in the papers and hear it on the radio, with word of increasingly erratic monsoons, flash floods, and breached glacial lakes. You can also see it on these river embankments, where marginalized communities and castes are ghettoized into slums – forced to live at nature’s mercy, borrowed time, and within humanity’s excrement. The Dalits, and other untouchable castes, ghettoized to the margins of Kathmandu’s rivers, where nobody else dares to venture – a guaranteed location of untouchability.

     What you can see is the environmental crisis hitting Nepal and South Asia, and the pressures of economic development. Development begets consumption, and consumption begets pollution. As Asia’s population rises, so goes its pollution levels. And with an atmosphere being pumped full of greenhouse gas emissions without restraint by the global community, despite the dire warnings, an unfolding climate crisis is emerging. Social, political, economic, and environmental troubles await, requiring creative thinking by analysts and policy makers of every stripe.

     

     And that is the unfortunate part of articles like David Malone’s recent piece in The Globe and Mail, “India’s and China’s uncomfortable dance.” It neatly summarizes the usual issues of South Asian development, along with the security and political implications of two regional powers located in a volatile region full of nukes. Economic interests bind China and India’s foreign policy, so co-operation will likely emerge, albeit with some degree of competition. A demographic bulge is helping to fuel each country’s growth, which is helping them ease past this global recession. Malone concludes optimistically that, “[t]he continent and the rest of the globe are large enough to accommodate the peaceful rise of both.” Optimism and simplicity are always cherished in political analysis, but they cannot be stuck in a politico-social-economic and ecological environment of yesteryear, uninterested in thinking outside of the “International Relations 101” box. The huge elephant in the room that Malone ignores is the region’s environmental pressures.

     A quick 60-second Google search, or any two-minute phone conversation with an expert on the Asian or global environment will throw ones typical political and economic thinking into the dustbin. In Thomas Friedman’s recent piece “The Earth is Full,” he cites how civilisation’s consumption patterns are using the resources of 1.5 Earths, and growing. Most of the Himalyan glaciers that feed Asia’s rivers are melting faster than expected with global warming, and a water crisis in the region appears to be inevitable. The region’s water aquifers are also being drained at unprecedented rates due to growing agricultural and commercial demands, and nobody quite knows how much water is left. Sana, Yemen – that revolutionary hotbed and host to many Islamic extremists – could become the first major city in the world to run out of water, which could happen in the next few years.

     A recent report by the Norwegian Refugee Council states that 42 million people were displaced by sudden natural disasters in 2010, 90% of which were climate related. Over the past few years, the onslaught of natural disasters has increased substantially, as has the amount of climate refugees. Most of these refugees are unlikely to return home to their devastated and forever changed geographies, and will place their burdens on whichever country they land. And as for the Arab Spring – it’s widely acknowledged that one of the revolutionary sparks were high food prices, in part caused by climate change.

     So with the growing economies in India and China, with all their new factories, cars, clothes, television sets, and food, and consuming more water from the increasingly polluted rivers flowing from faster-than-previously-thought melting Himalayan glaciers and the Tibetan plateau, the world cannot accommodate a rise of both at current levels of growth, unless some miracle technologies present themselves. And for the rest of the region, a growing and consuming China and India present many problems. Many South Asian rivers are but a trickle as they reach some Asian country borders, with upstream dams, agriculture, and cities consuming most of the bounty.

     Malone is right when he says, “[w]hat happens over the coming decades in Asia, as its geopolitics undergo tectonic shifts, could affect us all, not least by either enhancing or disrupting international trade and hence our prosperity.” He’s right for reasons that his imagination dared not to think. They are the reasons why U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton recently warned of a creeping “new colonialism” in Africa, warning its people and leaders that foreign investors and governments are taking advantage of its natural resources. She warns of unsustainable projects by the Chinese, pillaging Africa’s natural resources, that will leave behind a scarred and empty environment. It’s a “tectonic shift” of transferring the burdens of ecological limits from one country to another, from one people to another.

     Most people in Nepal now talk about it. “Oh yes, climate change and the environment. Big problem in Nepal.” Yet nobody appears to be writing or doing anything seriously about it. In Nepal’s best bookstore, Vajra, I asked the manager if he has anything on the environment and climate change and politics in Nepal or South Asia. “Oh no, nothing has been written. Many people come in, asking about climate change. I know two French researchers are studying it right now, but that’s it.” Books on elephants, Nepali cultural dance, and books on just about anything else can be found at Vajra. But for that elephant in the room, dancing and screaming for attention, whose name dare not be mentioned in certain circles, no such luck in this bookstore. The same goes for most Nepali, and for that matter international, news outlets.

     And so it goes. Our inputs for analysis need to expand to include the ever increasingly polluted and abused ecological world.

306. A few thoughts on the current conjuncture in Peru

     June 13, 2011 8:05 pm Leave a Comment

     I am of the opinion that a disaster of tremendous proportions was avoided last Sunday when Ollanta Humala, a nationalist former military officer, defeated Keiko Fujimori in the second round of Peru’s presidential election. To me, a victory by Fujimori would have represented the vindication of Alberto Fujimori’s decade-long government and of the inexcusable human rights violations that took place during the latter; a clear case of impunity trumping memory and a cruel disregard for the dignity of the victims and families of victims of abuses committed.

     My position, and that of many human rights activists here in Lima, however, is not synonymous with an uncritical support and acceptance of Ollanta Humala. As I have mentioned in a previous post, the future president has a questionable human rights record, having battled claims that he tortured civilians as a counterinsurgency officer in the early 1990s. His closing statement in the presidential debate, during which he asserted that regarding him there were only doubts, but regarding the Fujimoristas there were proven facts, was not quite as reassuring as it was intended to be.

     Everyone here is anxiously waiting to see what direction the new government will take on human rights. Specifically, what will be its policy on the judicialization of human rights abuses committed during the internal war; on reparations for the victims and families of victims of the conflict; on the exhumation and forensic investigation of the more than 4,000 mass graves scattered throughout the country; on the fostering of a collective memory of the conflict? Each is an important dimension of the issue Peru’s disappeared.

     Most would agree that the performance of the outgoing administration of Alan García on these issues has been disappointing to say the least. The 2008 annual report of the Coordinadora Nacional de Derechos Humanos (CNDDHH) denounced the administration’s distancing from and failure to apply many of the recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commision, in addition to its passive attitude on the promotion of policies such as the National Plan of Human Rights and the Integral Reparation Plan.

     Many consider that the García regime has been guided by a narrow understanding of development in which it is equated to economic growth largely based on the performance of extractive industries. They argue that this has resulted in a scenario in which human rights have been placed second, as evidenced in cases of conflict between local populations and extractive projects (the 2009 events in Bagua being an emblematic case, and protests in Puno a more recent one).

     As we look to the future, there is cause for vigilance. Illustrative of the uncertain future of human rights, memory and justice in Peru are comments uttered on May 30 by Omar Chehade, who will be Second Vice-President under Ollanta Humala. While discussing the Madre Mía case—the very case for which Ollanta Humala has been suspected of having committed human rights violations—in an interview on the program “Prensa Libre,” he maintained that the victims were still terrorists and that they could well be alive and continuing their terrorist activities. Such accusations showed a clear lack of respect and sensitivity for the families of the victims of enforced disappearance, and an insult to the memory of the disappeared.

     Although Chehade later publicly retracted his assertions in a letter to the CNDDHH and made a public apology to the memory of the victims of the case Madre Mía and their families, the incident is still a clear indication of the battle between impunity and memory that is currently being waged in Peru.

     Now, more than ever, is a time for Peruvian civil society to be on its toes.

     

307. Ready to return

     2:48 pm Leave a Comment

     In just a few days, I leave for India to work with Parma in Baroda to advocate for transgender rights in India. I’m excited to return to Baroda exactly two months after I left in April. I’m looking forward to reconnecting with Indira and Maya, the leaders of the two organizations, to eating the delicious food, but most of all, to working with all of the amazing people that Parma serves.

     My trip in April was a whirlwind. My classmates from Georgetown Law and I had an ambitious agenda for those ten days, two of which were spent traveling to and from India. After working with Maya and Indira remotely for almost three months, we were excited to meet the leaders in person and to experience up close all of their amazing work. While we returned home exhausted, we were able to accomplish everything that we had hoped and we left even more impressed with Parma and its work than we had been before we arrived. The fact that the two leaders, and all of the members of Parma’s community, are able to accomplish all that they do in the face of strict gender roles and societal norms in India makes the work that much more amazing.

     The problems that we will be attacking this summer are legal issues, but will not be solved simply by changing the law.  Some of the issues that we will tackle are simple on the face, such as helping couples to create a legally enforceable will, but family and cultural pressures and a lack of clarity in the laws make them more complicated than most people can imagine. Other issues that we will address, such as the need for most transgender individuals and their partners to “elope” (or rather, run away from home) in order to be together are complex even on the face, and only get more difficult after families try to engage the police in bringing one or both members of the couple home.  In both these instances, it is necessary to change the laws to protect the rights of transgender individuals and their partners, but also to push forward changes in societal norms and encourage families to be more accepting.  There is a long road ahead of us to help these changes come about, but I am absolutely excited to return to India and get started.

308. Aren’t there bigger problems in India?

     4:37 am 1 Comment

     I am four short days away from my departure for Baroda, India where I will be working for the summer with Parma on transgender rights. I have been busy preparing and I have a lot left to do before I leave, but one topic has been on my mind a lot lately. When I tell people about what I am doing for the summer, a common response is some variation of “aren’t there bigger problems in India?” Somehow this question usually catches me off guard even though I have heard it before, maybe because I find the question itself a little offensive. This blog entry will serve as my response to such questions.

     Since when are people only encouraged to pay attention to a country’s “biggest” problem? Heart disease is the number one cause of death in the US, but nobody would even think of asking a breast cancer awareness advocate whether America has “bigger” problems. Maybe the question is meant to be qualitative rather than quantitative. Maybe the people who ask me this question feel that the most basic necessities like access to shelter and food need to be secured before other issues should be considered. Each year, 3.5 million Americans experience homelessness, and in 2009 more than 50 million Americans lived in food insecure homes. But last summer when I worked at an environmental nonprofit in DC, no one ever expressed concern that America has “bigger” problems. It’s true that homelessness and hunger are more prevalent in India than they are in the US, but does that mean that advocating for an issue of one’s choosing is a “first-world” privilege? I don’t think so. Every person should have the right to speak out about issues that they care about, regardless of whether they live in the developed or developing world. I also doubt that other Peace Fellows, working on issues like girls’ education in Kenya and disability in Uganda, get asked similar questions. LGBT issues in general, and transgender issues in particular, are still controversial, and I think that most of the people who question whether there are “bigger” problems simply don’t understand or can’t imagine who these people are and what problems they face.

     I have no doubt that the problems facing transgender people in India are deserving of attention. Transgender people are often excommunicated from their families, subjected to police brutality, and denied work because of their non-conforming gender identity. These are just a few examples of the complex problems facing this community, and I will be exploring these and other issues in depth in future blog entries…

309. Namaste!

     June 9, 2011 11:16 pm 82 Comments

     Today marks the one-week anniversary of my arrival in Delhi! Although I was nervous about how I would acclimate, it couldn’t be better. The weather was probably my biggest concern, as it usually hovers around 105F, but since my arrival I have survived a day that was 111F and learned to drink about 3 liters of water before dinner to help deter heat exhaustion. Now that I’ve been here a week, I also feel comfortable saying that Delhi is a carb-o-holic’s dream city. I can’t get enough of the rava masala dosa, paneer nann, and butter nann. When I take a break from the bread and potatoes, it’s usually for sweets, which lead to the (un)fortunate instance when I tried to order two scoops of ice cream, only to be served two separate, but equally wonderfully, ice cream cones.

     My accommodation is fantastic – I’m walking distance from my office, a Café Coffee Day, the Central Market, and the metro station. The market is potentially dangerous because I’ve already purchased two scarves (which are obviously necessary in this climate) and my coffee addiction has not wavered. At my house there is also a resident stray cat with kittens (she lives on the roof) but I avoid her because I saw her carrying a rat up the stairs yesterday. With the monsoon coming, I’m curious to see if I will be able to continue to walk around so freely.

     

     My Accommodation

     From my balcony, I have an excellent view of a little green area where yesterday I saw some men lowering a steel beam with only a pulley system and their feet. This picture doesn’t capture the ingenuity.

     

     This is the green area across the street from my accomodation, look closely and see a man on the right holding a basic pulley system to lower that steel beam.

     Additionally, my housemates and colleagues are fantastic. Abby and Laura are interns at Chintan with me, so click through for their blogs. Make sure to give them some comment love! While you’re at it, “Like” Chintan Environmental Research and Action Group on Facebook – one of my projects is to expand the visibility of this page and possibly create one for the waste-pickers to update themselves, but more on my projects at a later date.

     Delhi is just like any other rapidly developing city, but a few things did surprise me. First, the metro has a “ladies only” car. At first I didn’t understand the appeal of the segregation, but then I experienced what can only be called a stampede of commuters rushing on and off the train. It is not taboo to push; in fact, good luck trying to get off the metro car without pushing or being pushed. The process is fairly dramatic and I can understand how women, especially with small children, prefer not to get trampled. This setup also allows for a small safety net after dark, which gives women who travel alone to feel a little more secure in the infamous Delhi evenings. I have really come to appreciate this car’s presence.

     I was also surprised that I have to get a pat-down every time I enter the metro, just like at the airport. There is also an xray machine. Lastly, I was surprised to find that most people work at least every other Saturday. Many individuals at my office work long hours and rarely have a day off! Not my favorite Delhi tradition.

     Check back soon 🙂

     Hindi phrase of the day: queseho? How are you?

310. Putis Blossoms Video

     June 8, 2011 12:51 pm 109 Comments

     At last, I have found some time to put together a short video of the footage I filmed while in Putis. As I am going back to Ayacucho next week, expect more in the near future!

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3I0oKFrn04

311. World Environment Day

     June 7, 2011 9:04 pm 7 Comments

     I have successfully made it to Delhi and I started work right away! I arrived in the middle of the night and then worked the following day and all through the weekend because Chintan was very busy for World Environment Day, which meant that I was thrown right into the action.

     Chintan’s main event occurred at a luxury mall about 45min from the office, and involved asking patrons to sign pledges on leaf stickers to support the environment. After they were signed, the leaves were placed onto two baron trees. By the end of the three days both trees were full of pledges!

     This event was purely for outreach and did not specifically involve Chintan’s work with waste-picker communities. Despite the decent amount of patron participation, it was clear that both the staff and the patrons were split on the effectiveness of such an event. I was asked by one man if “I thought I was making a difference” and another asked me “Do you really think people will follow this pledge? What is the point?” While others were overjoyed to take a pledge and took pictures with the trees.

     These skeptics echoed my own interpretation of event, and brought up important questions about how to best raise awareness for environmental issues. What do you think, do outreach events such as this really work?

     Despite my skepticism the pledge signing was a huge success! People seemed to love the activity of placing a leaf on the tree to make it come alive, and the basil planting was a huge hit. Below is a short film about my three days at the mall that includes some great pictures and interviews. Enjoy!

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=An39pXervBg

312. Out into the field: Surkhet

     7:11 pm 4 Comments

     Upon our (Sunita and I) arrival in Surkhet, I was exhausted. The 18-hour bus ride seemed to have taken the life out of me, as it had been comparable to riding a mechanical bull, due to the consistent potholes. Additionally, I accidently leaked half a bottle of water onto my seat that I had left there during a pit stop. This meant hours of sitting in a soaking wet seat, bumping up and down continuously. When, to my relief we finally arrived at WRRP-West, we were given a room to share above the office with a gas burner to cook on and a pail of water for washing. Thus, our time in Surkhet had begun.

     

     View from our roof in Surkhet

     Our mission was as follows:

     1. Construct and carry out a reproductive health (RH) school program for adolescents

     2. Train community non-governmental organizations (CNGOs) to conduct programs independently to ensure sustainability

     After 3 days of planning an adolescent RH school program, and a Saturday of preparing materials, we were ready to give the program a trial run. We travelled at 7:30 am on Sunday to a school approximately 30 minutes from the WRRP-West office to set up for the program. (Yes, schools in Nepal generally run from Sunday-Friday).

     The WRRP team of four, myself included, traveled 2 at a time to the school via motorbike.  I arrived last to find a crowd of students swarming around Sunita (program facilitator). The festivities had begun!

     

     Students showing interest

     The activities were designed to address the following topics of reproductive health:

     1. Puberty
     2. Menstruation/nightfall/masturbation
     3. HIV/AIDs (and other STIs)
     4. Life skills (ie. Personal ambitions, how to say no to early marriage and unsafe sex)
     5. Uterine prolapse

     

     Girl laughing at picture of female growth stages

     We used a variety of games that were adapted to convey lessons on reproductive health.  For example, the group was divided into three teams, and each team was asked to generate the changes experienced during adolescence and write them on a large piece of paper. Team leaders were also selected, who in turn had to present the changes their team had written.  Games that required physical activity were also used to convey the message (video is in process).

     

     Participants describing adolescent changes

     All together, there were about 30 participants whose ages ranged from 15-19 years. Among these, some of were married (hence the messages regarding early marriage, which is a contributing factor of uterine prolapse). The group was enthusiastic, and although some had to leave early for their hour-long walk home for lunch, a select group stayed until the very end of the program. All in all, the program was a success. The group was informed, and educational RH materials and books were given to those who stayed until the end, to distribute within their classes.  Afterwards, the facilitators and members of the CNGO stayed behind to evaluate the program and provide feedback.

     The next two days will consist of training the Surkhet community NGOs to implement the program within the schools from their respective areas.

     To be continued…

313. Wild Dogs of the Night

     June 6, 2011 11:43 pm 4 Comments

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co_lCez2B7g

     (Recorded from my rooftop, June 6)

     Oh, these wild dogs. Keeping me up, barking all night long. I’m a light sleeper, and a dripping bathroom faucet is enough to keep me awake. A lot of Kathmandu’s dogs are without an owner or home, and they roam the streets – some in packs, others alone. Sleeping all day in the summer heat, they spend their restless nights barking to one another, cross-city. Just howling. Are they trying to assert some sort of neighbourhood toughness or dominance, a midnight power struggle? Or is it a battle of attrition of who can keep up the loud racket the longest?

     Last night, I had enough. With surprisingly little shame or guilt, I took care of my local leading hound in the alley behind my house with my jump rope. He was a white ugly thing, with an accompanying loud ugly bark. My sleep was sound afterwards, and I’m fine with my decision – someone had to do it, for the sanity of us all.

     Yikes. That’s been a recurring dream of mine for the past two weeks. I mostly awake from it to barking dogs, ashamed of myself that I could think such things. I’m a dog lover, and once had an annoying dog named Sam, who barked at everyone that came to the door, and would hump their leg most times on their way out. I used to give him Karma Pets treats and got him toys from Dog Gear to calm him down during times when I have guests coming over (not to mention we always had full stocks of the best fresh dog food in the house). Once he got used to you, he was cool and fun and quieter, but still humped. A good-looking dog too – even modeled for a box of dog cookies. The point being, I shouldn’t be dreaming of strangling dogs in the middle of the night so I can get some rest, no matter how annoying. I’m better than that, I think?

     These wild dogs of Kathmandu are killing me… Serenity now. Serenity now.

314. Pre-Elections Lima in Images

     June 4, 2011 7:18 pm 3 Comments

     Today, armed with my faithful camera, I set out to capture the essence of the contentious battle between Keiko Fujimori and Ollanta Humala, to be decided tomorrow in the second round of Peru’s presidential election. This is what I found:

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

315. A Different Media Landscape

     June 3, 2011 1:24 am 250 Comments

     The lead article in yesterday’s (June 2, 2011) Kathmandu Post begins with, “The UCPN (Maoist) on Wednesday unilaterally decided to end the two-layer security being provided to its leaders – a key demand of the main opposition, Nepali Congress (NC) – amid opposition from the party’s hardliners.” It goes on to explain that the security detail’s unregistered vehicles, which were once illegally seized during the Maoist insurgency, will be given up to the main government, that security will now be provided by the country’s established security forces, and concludes by providing details of political negotiations and Maoist meetings.

     Another leading article from the same paper, “NC negotiators under CWC scrutiny,” reveals how NC party leaders’ performance in recent constitutional writing negotiations is under review by a NC party committee. Some insiders believe its leaders were too stubborn, while others think they compromised too much. Another, “Yadav in a tight corner in Sunsari,” is about a group of 12 hard-line lawmakers splintering from their once popular Madhesi Janadhikar Forum-Nepal (MJF-N) party. The MJF-N is not as powerful in the Constituent Assembly as it once was, and worries are rising that its leader, Upendra Yadav, is being deserted.

     Outside of these political brouhahas, few other stories get ink. One, “Babai valley, once an ‘ideal’ habitat, now a haven for poachers,” states that this valley remains a poaching ground for rhinoceroses and tigers, despite conservation efforts. And in another, “Swelling Saptakoshi still a threat,” the out of control Saptakoshi river is said to be eroding its shores and threatens nearby villages and settlements. Quoting Nitish Kumar, Chief Minister of Bihar district, he’s all over the problem and has instructed people to work harder. Great advice.

     Yesterday’s newspaper is not unique, and most Nepali news outlets follow a similar pattern of allegiance to the political hierarchy and pay little attention to on the ground and behind the scene stories. Understanding ordinary Nepalese struggles, concerns, and views is difficult to find in the Nepali press, as is a contextual framework from which to analyze the news and compare contrasting views. What is the social significance of certain political statements and events? How have certain policies affected ordinary Nepalese, and have they been a waste of capital? What of the failing constitution writing process on Nepali society, and how have minorities in a fledgling democracy without a constitution been affected by the ongoing political impasse? What of Nepal’s environmental problem and its social effects? These questions, and others, are rarely posed in Nepali media, let alone answered.

     An Al Jazeera commentator was recently quoted in GQ magazine as saying, “If other networks are interested in the politician… Al Jazeera will always be interested in the politician’s driver.” The article goes on to say how Al Jazeera equally irks Middle Eastern, South Asian, and Western leaders. It seeks to find out how lives are lived and affected by national and international events, and intends to provide a voice to most sides. Al Jazeera is not perfect, and has been criticized for editorial bias in the past. The point being is that its journalism’s focus is bottom-up, not top-down.

     The role of media is not to present a reality removed from average citizens’ lives and interests. It is to peer behind the social and political curtain and to reveal a social fabric at times uncomfortable with itself, to understand the machinations at work that are shaping society, and to try and understand and explain where society is going, and has been.

     For these reasons, advocacy organizations and media centers like the Jagaran Media Center are so vital in weak media markets. They provide a voice for the voiceless, representing marginalized peoples who are under- or unrepresented in political and social hierarchies, businesses, and media. They aim to expose stories of ordinary lives and communities affected by ancient superstitious practices, and the hypocrisies at work within government. Where democracy is but a budding idea and practice, on the ground organizations serve to get unreported stories out, helping the transition, however long, towards a more functioning representative democracy.

     In an interview following Arundhati Roy’s Come September speech, she concluded by stating her views on how best to live a life: “To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget…” For now, power and authority is respected far too much in Nepal, and those excluded from the hierarchy exhibiting strength of character are most often ignored. Affecting change is difficult here, but some dedicated strong few are on the ground, refusing to look away, and not allowing injustices of the past and present to go unreported. With time…

316. Reflexions on Putis: Memory and Development

     June 2, 2011 10:20 pm 3 Comments

     On the way back from Putis, we hit a rock and the car went flying, bursting a tire as it landed—on the road, thankfully, as the precipice was unnervingly close. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. If you couldn’t change the tire yourself, you’d call the CAA, a tow truck, a parent or a friend, who could come to the rescue. If all else failed, you might rely on the goodwill of a passer-by. Except that on the road to Putis, there is no phone signal, no passers-by at that time, and the walk to the nearest village with a phone would be at least 10 hours. To make matters worse, the road is known for violent assaults; not an ideal place to find oneself in after dark.

     As Carlos, Erick, Nelson and Jesús, the EPAF staff I shared the car with, one after the other engaged in a battle of wills with inadequate tools and bolts that would not budge, I found myself thinking that the very isolation and marginalization that now made us vulnerable were also responsible for the vulnerability of countless communities in Peru during the internal war, and the cause of much of the suffering that ensued.

     

     Of every 4 victims of Peru’s internal war, 3 were rural, indigenous, and Quechua-speaking. The position of exclusion of the majority of rural indigenous communities in Peru exposed them to the violence wrought on not only by the Shining Path, but as exemplified by Putis, also by the brutal and mistaken response of state forces in their efforts to crush the insurgency. Moreover, it is this exclusion that permitted the horrors occurring in the countryside—particularly in the 1980s—to go largely unnoticed in Lima, the social and economic heart of the country. The victims were, for all intents and purposes, less than full citizens; little uproar was caused by the violation of their most fundamental rights.

     Where does that leave us, now that the conflict has officially been over for more than 10 years? The sad reality is that the exclusion continues, whether through the very real discrimination embedded in Peruvian society, or though the constant and mechanical reproduction of the conditions of marginalization and poverty facing rural indigenous communities, to say nothing of the sequels of the conflict itself. The exclusion continues, and it continues to impede the capacity of victims of violence and their families to have their voices heard and claim their rights. From my perspective in Lima, to say that the troubles affecting poor Quechua-speaking peasants is not part of the national psyche seems like a gross understatement.

     

     In this context, I can’t help but wonder about concepts such as post-conflict reconstruction, post-conflict reconciliation, etc. These concepts seem to imply the return to an original, desirable, situation yet I don’t think anyone would argue there is an original, desirable situation to return to in this case. And this is where memory comes into play. Memory of the mistakes made, memory of the lives lost; memory from which to learn lessons and move forward, not backward to the pre-conflict status quo.

     EPAF believes that the way forward is the transition from victims to rights-bearing citizens through the full realization of civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights. The Paradero Esperanza initiative conducted in Putis lies squarely within this line of thought. The idea is to create a seed bank of native potatoes, with the objective of helping Putisinos develop a larger, better, and more varied production that can be inserted in regional and national markets. Socioeconomic empowerment can act as a form of reparation for the suffering occurred during the conflict—particularly in the absence of a process of integral reparation on the part of the State—and, it is hoped, prevent future eruptions of violence by eradicating the historical conditions that led to its emergence.

     

     In 1984, the Peruvian military offered Putis as a safe haven for the inhabitants of nearby communities fleeing the Shining Path rebels. Villagers of all ages were convinced to dig a fish pond, only to be rounded up, executed, and buried in said “pond” on suspicion of having ties to the guerrillas. The families of the victims had to wait for more than 20 years before the mass grave was exhumed, allowing them to identify the remains and bury their dead in dignity. Today, the inhabitants of Putis continue to live in the same conditions of cultural, social, economic, and political marginalization that made it easy for both terrorists and State forces to violate their most fundamental rights.

     If you are moved by the story of Putis, you should know this. Putis is not special; it is not an exception. There are thousands of Putis in Peru; the only difference is that their mass graves still lay undisturbed, their disappeared still missing. How much longer will their families have to wait to get answers? And equally importantly, how long will their victimization be allowed to reproduce itself inexorably?

     

317. Welcome!

     3:40 am 4 Comments

     Welcome to my blog! Over the next few weeks, I will be writing about life as an Advocacy Project Peace Fellow with the Chintan Environmental Research and Action Group in New Delhi, India. I will mostly explore issues that make Chintan’s work so pertinent and meaningful, but I will also throw in my general impressions of New Delhi and the occasional embarrassing anticdote. I can’t guarantee that I will be interesting, but I will have fun trying!

     In case you haven’t heard me going on about Chintan, here is a brief overview. Chintan was founded in 1999 to empower individuals who earn a living off of waste. These people comprise the informal waste management sector of Delhi that is essential for the city’s day-to-day function, however they face adversity because of discrimination and poverty. Chintan seeks to legitimize their role in society and reduce this adversity by promoting their human rights, waste efficiency, and overall environmental sustainability.

     This fellowship would not have become a reality without the overwhelmingly positive responses I received over the past few weeks. Thus, this first blog post is dedicated to everyone who supported me through this process, please know how grateful I am. I can’t believe I was able to reach my fund raising goal, find a place to live, and make countless contacts in the span of weeks solely based on the  knowledge and generosity of family, friends, and a few special strangers. This kindness has not been taken lightly and I would love it if you all would stay in touch – check back here for more blog entries, videos, and photos! I will work my hardest to not only have a positive fellowship experience, but also to do good while I am here.

     The issues central to this fellowship are new to me so please feel free to comment, share your insight, ask questions, or start a dialogue so we can embark on this journey together. If this issue is also new to you, these resources may be helpful, Chintan’s website and blogs from previous fellows Ted Mathys, Jacqui Kotyok, Paul Colombini and Mackenzie Berg.

     I will be leaving for India in 24 hours and I couldn’t be more excited. Not much more to say now – just finalizing everything, pre-departure jitters, and remembering to do one task at a time. Will post back soon!

318. The Girl, The Goat, and The Broker

     3:36 am 6 Comments

     Maghi festival marks the New Year for Tharu people in Nepal. It is celebrated in January during the cold days of the year. Maghi also signs a completely different phase for many Tharu girls in the south-western Tarai. It is during the maghi holiday that many of brokers from different cities throughout Nepal come to Tharu villages to make deal of Tharu girls to be kamalari.

     In the previous post, I slightly touched upon kamalari issue. Kamalari has been prevailed since around 60 years ago, when the kamaiya system was on going. Kamaiya system abolished in 2000, but kamalari practice remains. Girls, as early as 5 or 6 year-old, forced to work around 14-16 hours a day as servants in the households of higher-caste families. They are fully responsible for various kinds of work, like cleaning, washing, cooking, babysitting, that far from any standards of proper working condition. They are easily subjected to physical and psychological abuses, even, sexual abuse. They often denied access to education. Yes, some were promised to enjoy schooling, but very little was realized.

     What can we get from US$ 75? Not much, I think.

     Well, you can buy a goat with those money here. But, kamalaris were sold for similar cost, even lower. The money was given to the family as the sign of contract that will be renewed per year. This means the girls will get nothing at all. They are only entitled to work, work, and work.

     These girls, mostly, grew up in destitute former bonded-laborer families. The families have no choice for them and some narrow-minded-employers are taking advantage of their destitution.

     

     A girl selling 'kafal' during holiday in Dang District. Will she be kamalari? Photo by: Swarupa

     This is not an attempt to negate boys inclusion in such practice. For some reasons, there has been a wave of feminization of bonded labor. The boys might be rarely sold to be domestic worker, but we can find a lot of them in the brick kilns industry. They are all under similar circumstances, bondage, either from loan or some advance payments.

     I don’t think there are any other terms best describe this practice except slavery. Maybe, you also know similar practices, but in different terms, in other countries. I suppose, the kamalari in Nepal is similar to the restavék in Haiti and the abd in Mauritania. These are some kind of modern slavery where people are sold like objects, forced to work for little or no pay and are at the mercy of their employers. (Find out more here)

     Don’t we have rules to stop those horrible practice?

     Apparently, we’ve got a lot of them. I mentioned prohibition of child labor on my earliest post, and we also have the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the 1956 UN Supplementary Convention on the Abolition of Slavery, the Slave Trade and Institutions and Practices Similar to Slavery which declares forms of child labor and bonded labor are slavery.

     But, all those sophisticated international legal instruments will not make any changes unless being adopted into national legislation. In 2008, UN urged Nepal to end the kamalari system. Only recently, the Ministry of Women, Children and Social Welfare of Nepal approved a bill outlining the government’s child-protection policies, which ban the practice of kamalari. However, girls are still being sold. Though it’s a criminal offense to have child slaves, the laws have no teeth, and hardly anyone is arrested or fined.

     Obviously, not all children that engaged in domestic labor in Nepal constitutes bonded labor. However, once they involved, it’s difficult to get out, poverty and lack of education trap have been waiting for them. Seems that, law enforcement alone will not be effective to tackle this issue.

     Many organizations, local and international, includes BASE, have been actively engaged in combating kamalari practices. They arranged campaigns, advocacy, and rehabilitation programs. BASE implements unique intervention on this matter, I will elaborate it on my another post. Keep in track!

     ——-

     It has been several days after the deadline of Nepal constitutional drafting, on 28 May. Since the Constituent Assembly couldn’t meet its deadline, the parties agreed on 3 months extension. Following the constitutional deadline, there were a lot of tension and bandh (Nepali term for strike). During bandh, offices, shops, and public transports, etc are not allowed to operate. Well, I did some tricky things about this. As I needed the internet (which only be available at the office), I went to the office and stayed with door and window closed. Anyway, we moved to the new office yesterday!

319. First stop: Putis, land of memory, land of hope

     May 30, 2011 8:12 pm 2 Comments

     Getting to the centro poblado of Putis in the department of Ayacucho from Lima is no small feat. To begin, one must drive for around 8 hours to Huamanga, the department’s capital, first along the coast south of Lima and then up and down the broken terrain of the spectacular Andes, following dizzying roads carved into the mountainsides. From there, it is at least another 5 hours–and potentially much more, depending on the driver’s temerity and the condition of the road–to Putis, where the memory of a troubled past and the hope for a better future have merged into “Paradero Esperanza,” a sustainable development project started by EPAF in 2010 and described by former AP fellow Karin Orr here.

     

     EPAF’s involvement with Putis began in 2008 when it worked to recover 92 human remains from a mass grave located in the community, the largest yet to be exhumed in Peru. Ayacucho  was the epicentre of the violence during Peru’s internal conflict, and it is estimated that approximately 400 people died or were forcibly disappeared in Putis only. For more on Putis’ violent past, you can read the section of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s final report on Putis (in Spanish). For a more personal take, AP fellow Ash Kosiewicz documented the exhumation process in his blog.

     

     Last Friday, “Paradero Esperanza” bore fruit as Putisinos realized their first official native potato harvest (a small pre-harvest had been realized two weeks earlier). I, along with a sizeable group of EPAF staff, travelled to Putis to celebrate and document the event, along with local and international journalists.

     

     Having left Lima on Wednesday morning and spent the night in Huamanga, we left for Putis bright and early to confirm with local authorities the details and arrangements of Friday’s celebrations. The arduous drive took longer than expected, however, so that we missed our meeting time and arrived in Putis in the middle of a downpour to find, well, absolutely no one. Hoping we might find someone further down the valley in the village of Putis itself (where the 1984 massacre occurred), we began to make our way there, only to find the road blocked by a mudslide. After waiting around for an hour or two to see if someone might show up, we finally resigned ourselves to coming back extra early the following morning to make the necessary arrangements.

     

     We spent the rest of the day in Santillana, a small village two hours away, recuperating from the previous two days’ long drives. At 5am on Friday morning, we left once more for Putis, this time to find the centro poblado bustling with activity, obviously aware and eager for the day’s events.  Nelson, an EPAF staff member based in Huamanga, coordinated the details of the days’ events in Quechua with local people—who would be in charge of killing the sheep for the pachamanca (a typical Andean meal, consisting of meat and potatoes cooked by the heat produced stones placed in the soil and pre-warmed with fire), where the events would take place, what time the journalists would arrive, etc.

     

     After finalizing the preparations, we joined a group of Putisinos that were enthusiastically harvesting the potatoes to be used for the pachamanca. I was amazed by the number of different varieties present in the plot, all of which would be showcased later on in the day. Then musicians and local press arrived, followed by EPAF director José Pablo Baraybar and journalists from the New York Times, there to report on the events.

     

     The day went as such: the potato harvest was realized (in a rather festive mood, as locals sang and joked around in Quechua—perhaps about the gringuita merrily getting her hands dirty?), then the musicians from Ayacucho performed a song written especially for the occasion. A showcase of each different variety of potatoes was done, after which it was finally time for the much-awaited pachamanca, accompanied by music and dancing. This was followed by comments by Nelson and José Pablo on the progress realized so far and the challenges to come, and words by Putis mayor Gerardo Fernández and other community members. Finally, we made our way to the village of Putis, where a local Putisino took us to the mass grave exhumed in 2008 and recounted to the journalists the horrific events that culminated in it.

     

     

     This last item on the day’s agenda brought a sombre, but necessary, end to an otherwise festive day. It also made me realise the deeply enmeshed nature of the processes of memory, reparation, and development at play in post-conflict communities such as Putis. This will be the subject of a soon-to-come entry; a more reflexive take on my visit to Putis. In the meantime, feel free to check out my Flickr set for more photos of Putis.

     

320. Rally for Women’s Rights in the Constitution

     3:04 am 2 Comments

     Having arrived at the end of my second week in the office at the Women’s Reproductive Rights Program, I must say it has been an interesting two weeks. I would like to highlight Tuesday, May 24, which began with a conference, that myself and two other WRRP staff members attended.

     The conference was titled “National Workshop on Comprehensive Health Policy from Women’s Perspective”.  During the open panel discussion, many of the women spoke and shared their stories regarding health policy. It was inspiring to see the women in their traditional dress sharing their stories with the group, even though I could understand very little of what they were saying in Nepalese.  Both of my fellow WRRP staff members also had their say in the group.

     

     There were approximately 30 women in attendance, and three men, one a government official.  After the discussion was concluded, lunch was served, and there was talk of going to a protest. When asked if I would like to participate, I replied, “YES! WHEN? AHILE?” (Nepali for RIGHT NOW?). This was followed by laughter over my enthusiasm.

     At around one o’clock, a group of about 20 women, myself included, began making our way towards where the protest was to be held. Seeing as there was a citywide banda, or strike (to read more about bandas, see here). It has certainly been interesting learning about the current political situation in Nepal since I arrived. I actually plan on drawing a diagram of the different parties, to help gain a better understanding of the structure of the Nepalese governement, because it is still unclear (Perhaps you can figure it out? Good luck).

     There have been more strikes than usual within the last few months, due to disagreements between political parties, and the delay in writing the constitution, which has not been completed as planned since the civil war ended in 2006. (To know more about the political situation in Nepal, read here or here).

     Thus, we made our way to the rally by foot in the 30-degree heat. We received many stares, onlookers appeared to be wondering, ‘Where is this group of women heading to all together? Why aren’t they at home, cooking?”

     Alas, we had other plans. (See video).

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo6lwIQd7TE

     Despite all the rallies and protests in the last few weeks, the constitution assembly was unable to reach a conclusion by the midnight of May 28^th. A third extension (there has already been two one-year extensions) was given, and there is still debate over how long this extension will be. Therefore, it is an unsure thing as to when the peace process will be complete.

     On the bright side, today, Sunita (WRRP program assistant) and I are heading west to the district of Surkhet to gain some experience in the field. The plan is to assist the WRRP team in Surkhet to conduct a school program on reproductive health.  It will be a long 16-hour bus ride, but well worth it I am sure. 🙂 More to come…

321. Ma`as-salāma Cairo

     May 26, 2011 2:49 pm 2 Comments

     When I first came across the Advocacy Project’s website, I was amazed by the truly global reach of the program. As I began browsing the various campaigns that AP would be involved with in 2011, there was one that immediately stood out for me, and that was the opportunity to work with landmine survivors in Vietnam and the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD, formerly Survivor Corps).

     Unfortunately, I will not be starting my work with the AEPD until the first week of June. While the majority of my peers in the peace fellowship program are already in their respective countries, I’m still wrapping up my spring semester with final exams and research papers. I’ve been studying in Cairo Egypt for the past year and had the good fortune of having front row seats to what many are dubbing the “Arab Spring”. Amazingly, my university (The American University in Cairo) only had to delay the beginning of the semester by 2 weeks. All things considered, I think this is an accomplishment in and of itself. Because of the slight delay, my semester continues on until the end of the month, but just as the corrupt regime of Mubarak came to end, so does this school year.
     

     

     I can’t really begin to express how excited I am to be working with the AEPD in Dong Hoi Vietnam. Issues related to landmines and unexploded ordinance (UXO) has become something I’ve intensely focused on in recent years. I first became aware of the problems UXO pose on communities in 2003 during a deployment in Iraq, back when I was in the army. Since then, I’ve taken every opportunity given to me to research and explore areas within the mine action sector. While many of my classmates have rightfully been preoccupied with the revolution and exploring topics related to civil society, I was in the library learning about the UXO situation in Northern Sinai or the complexities of the mine action sector in South Sudan.  If a professor gives any sort of creative freedom for a research topic, it almost always comes to back to land mines. This blog isn’t about landmines specifically though; it’s about the AEPD and the amazing work that they do. For an extensive crash course on the socio-economic impact caused by explosive remnants of war, check out the International Campaign to Ban Landmines website.

     In a nut shell though, Landmines are cheap to produce and expensive to disarm and remove (not to mention dangerous). Because of this, landmines and other UXO (like cluster munitions or bomblets) often can lay dormant for decades after a conflict. They don’t distinguish between combatants or civilians; they injure or kill thousands every year and are an impediment to development. There are so many unknown factors within this issue however. Any figure of how many landmines remain underground in a particular area is at best an educated guess. Surveying land is complex and expensive and the amount of landmines, or metric tons on UXO in an area is largely unknown. What we do know however is that there are thousands of landmine survivors throughout the world. The land mine issue may go in and out of vogue in western media, but the legacy of war lives on regardless. This is what drew me to apply for the fellowship. Survivors assistance has a genuine impact on communities effected by landmines. So much of the mine action industry focuses on clearance, or improved technology, while survivor assistance is of secondary importance. I argue that it should be the other way around, which is why the spotlight needs to be on organizations like the AEPD.

     Judging from the blogs shared by past fellows who worked with this program, I have no doubt that this will be a truly rewarding experience. Vietnam seems like an incredible country and the relaxed beach environment of Dong Hoi will be a nice change from the busy streets of Cairo. I can’t wait to get started with my work in Vietnam. There’s so much that I’ll be able to learn from the staff at AEPD, and it’s my hope that I can match the contributions made by my predecessors.   See you next week in Vietnam.

322. STORY BEHIND THE STORY

     May 25, 2011 4:59 am 4 Comments

     This is a real story, not a fairytale. This is a story about humanity.

     Every story consists of different parts. Like fitting scraps into puzzle, each part of the story counts as scrap that needs to be arranged to shape a clearer picture. But wait, in this story, the more part I knew, the more scrap I found, the more complex it became. No wonder, because it’s a reality, not a fairytale. Fairytale will come to happy ending, but human story? Who knows?

     This is the story about the struggle for dignity.

     Approximately, 600 years ago, a large group of people came into the Tarai area in Nepal. Tarai was characterized as wild lowland which swampy and marshy, with forest of Sal trees, not to mention its virulent strain of malaria. These people opened the jungle, built houses on elevated wooden platforms to protect themselves from dangerous animals, cultivated lands, traded timbers, lived their life in Tarai. Others have tried to settle there but failed, mainly, because of malaria. Famous of the immunity to malaria, they remained to be the only permanent inhabitant of Tarai. They are the Tharu.

     

     Distribution of Tharu in the Tarai, Nepal

     In 1950s, Nepal Government by the support of International Development Agencies conducted malaria eradication project in the Tarai. This project marked a completely different era for the Tharus. Many people from the hills migrate to the fertile lowlands of Tarai. At the same time, land reforms was introduced as part of the post-1951 modernization sought to give the tenants of the state property rights in the land they cultivated. But this system of private property relations, whose implications many ordinary Tharu tenant farmers appear not to understood. It, then, led to the exploitation at hands of some immigrants and to the loss of land they had acquired. Throughout the Tarai, particularly in the west, Tharus have lost control of land either through outright fraud, manipulation or indebtedness. In the western Tarai, many of them have been reduced to the status of bonded labor (the so-called kamaiya system).

     In the Kamaiya system, every part of the Tharu family has his/her own role. Father and son responsible for farming and agriculture, while mother and daughter work as domestic worker. Girl who work as domestic assistance is also known as kamalari. Kamaiya system forced Tharus to work as bonded laborers to pay their debt to the landowners. If a man unable to pay off the debt, it’s automatically transferred to his son. This debt bondage was also reinforced by Nepal’s legal code. In all cases the landlord was free to pay his bonded laborers as much as he wants. Generally, landlords kept the wages as low as possible, forcing bonded laborers to keep borrowing money from them. Thus, most of bonded laborers keep falling deeper into debt. Besides, bonded laborers could possibly be transferred to another landlord simply by paying off their debts to the former landowner. Every year, thousand of Tharus were bought and sold in this way in the Dang-Deukhuri, Bardiya, Kailali, Banke and Kanchanpur Districts of western Tarai of Nepal. Even though, data from the Government of Nepal showed a smaller number, most of the studies agree that in 1995 total number of bonded laborers in the western Tarai was estimated to be around 100,000—most likely the difference occurred because the government data didn’t take account women, children, and older kamaiyas. Thus, this system was equivalent to a form of slavery that is designed to maintain a source of cheap labor for landlords.

     Brought up in unjust situation, Tharu youths didn’t keep silent. A seventeen-year-old Tharu named Dilli Bahadhur Chaudary, established a development organization for their community. This organization began with 34 members, most young Tharu men from Dumrigaon and neighboring villages. Within a month of its inception the Dumrigaon Organization established a literacy class for uneducated local Tharu villagers, organization members also made plans to implement an income generating program, and launch a political campaign against oppression. Suspected as rebel, the government of Nepal threw Dilli into jail twice under the Public Security Act, and forced him to stop his organization. But, Dilli never stop. This organization, then, well known as BASE (Backward Society Education).

     Together with various organizations, local and international, BASE actively campaigned for justice for bonded laborers. Then, in July 2000, kamaiya system was abolished by the Government of Nepal, followed by the enforcement of prohibition for kamaiya Labor Act in 2002. The government of Nepal also implemented Landless People Resettlement Program and other similar programs for the recovery of ex-kamaiyas.

     

     Ex-Kamaiya Family in front of their house in Bardiya District, Photo: Kan Yan, AP Fellow 2009

     Today. The struggle is far from end.

     Many kamaiyas were liberated from their former landlords and released into poverty without any support. Others received land that was unproductive. Many ex-kamaiya families still live in chronic poverty; a lot of them settle in very remote area without access to water, electricity, and other basic needs; girls (the kamalari) are sent to the city to have a better life, but end up working day and night without education and easily exposed to abuse. Poverty, illiteracy, marginalization, and discrimination form a vicious circle that trap the ex-kamaiyas, it makes very difficult for them to escape.

     There are a lot left to do.

     (From various sources: Guneratne, 2002; Cox,1994 ; ILO Reports, World Organization Against Torture Report, 2005; etc)

     _________________

     We are developing BASE Facebook fan page. Join us to support BASE and marginalized community here to continue their struggle for dignity.

323. “Un país que olvida su historia está condenado a repertirla”

     May 24, 2011 10:27 pm 3 Comments

     (A country that forgets its history is doomed to repeat it)

     These words, a not-so-subtle warning expressed by the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission, have been echoing in my head since the day I set foot in Peru. With the second turn of the presidential elections soon coming up on June 5th, newspapers have unsurprisingly been dominated by the fierce battle being fought by the two candidates.  At it really does feel like history, quite literally, may be about to repeat itself.

     Memory represents an important line of work at EPAF. The basic rationale is that allowing victims of violence and families of the disappeared to share memories of the past and reassert the truth over what happened during the years of the internal conflict can contribute to justice, help restore their dignity, and put an end to their victimization. But this leads me to wonder whether there can be such a thing as a collective memory in a country as divided as Peru. Is memory of the conflict not doomed to remain principally, if not exclusively, a weight on the shoulders of its most direct victims? Memory seems to have very little power over people determined to forget.

     While there are notable exceptions, what I am currently witnessing in Lima is a striking lack of memory. How else to explain the first-turn victory of the two current presidential candidates, both more than a little problematic with regards to their human rights records? How to interpret the lack of any concrete proposal, by either of the candidates, to deal with the many sequels of the conflict?

     

     If polls are to be believed, the candidate currently leading the race is Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of former President Alberto Fujimori, who is currently serving a 25-year prison sentence for corruption and human rights violations. In addition to the crimes he has been prosecuted for, his regime has been blamed for the forced sterilization of nearly 300,000 indigenous women.

     The support for Keiko Fujimori builds on the bases that remember Alberto Fujimori as the president who defeated the Shining Path after years of internal conflict and restored the country’s economic growth through neoliberal reforms. Many would also argue that she cannot be blamed for the crimes of her father; her opponents, however, are quick to point out her position as First Lady during part of her father’s presidency. Moreover, there is concern that her candidacy is being run by many of the same people that used to be part of her father’s government.

     In response to the possibility of Keiko Fujimori becoming President, the Coordinadora Nacional de Derechos Humanos, an umbrella human rights organization, has initiated a campaign entitled “Fujimori Nunca Más” to ensure that electors do not forget the crimes committed by the ex-dictator on the day of the elections.

     The story is complicated, however, by the fact that the human rights record of the second candidate, Ollanta Humala, is not much shinier: from a military background, he is suspected of having committed human rights violations during the conflict. He was also responsible for a 2000 aborted coup d’état, and has been accused of being linked to another coup attempt, led by his brother in 2004. His critics further decry his association with the Chávez regime, despite his efforts during the campaign to represent himself as closer to Brazil’s more moderate Lula da Silva.

     Regardless of who is elected on June 5th, it will be difficult to consider it a victory from a human rights and historical standpoint. But the real test will come after the election: what will the winning candidate’s government do to address Peruvians’ claims for the truth, justice, and reparation? What will be its policy on the 15,000 disappeared of the internal conflict that have not yet been found?

324. Political Silly Season in Nepal

     11:02 am 2 Comments

     The banda is Nepal’s version of a strike, and a uniquely Nepali one at that. This is not your London or Madrid student protest, Greek civil servant strike, or French air traffic controller strike. Here, depending on the type of banda called, whole cities, regions, and country itself, shutdown. Enforcers, linked to whichever group or cause organized the banda, roam the streets, forcing most vehicles off the roads. Citizens respect the call. There have already been two this week, one last week, and more ambitious national ones are planned in the coming days and weeks. Since January, Nepal has witnessed just over 100 bandas.

     Nepal’s Constituent Assembly’s (CA) yearlong fruitless extension to finalize the country’s new constitution expires May 28, and internal political bickering and civil strife is mounting as the date approaches. Nepal’s constitution is far from complete, and more time is required to finalize this bedrock piece of democracy. On banda days, businesses and government offices are shut, taxis and buses don’t run, cars are parked at home, with some street vendors and food stalls open. Civil society and the Nepali economy come to a standstill, granting media headlines and dubious status to whichever group(s) (and their affiliated cause) organizes the banda. As May 28 looms near, bandas are on the rise.

     Last Sunday, the banda was organized by the Nepal Federation of Indigenous Nationalities (NEFIN), demanding indigenous rights and inclusion in the new constitution. This most recent Sunday, it was the ethnic group Chetri Samaj, demanding recognition as an indigenous community. Today, it was the CPN Maoists Matrika fraction, promoting the “people’s rights”. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday bandas are being prepared by what seems like every political party and cause under the Himalayan sun.

     How much do they influence the average Nepali? Who pays attention to the actual group that organizes them? Are their issues actually raised or debated in the media because of the banda, discussed in teashops and public squares? Not really. Society goes on, enjoying the day off, working on projects.

     The Nepali banda is the definition of a civil society in disarray, not ready for the mature compromises required in a functioning democracy. Unflinching demands permeate Nepali political parties’ platforms, including the Maoists not wanting to give up their 1000s of weapons in arms depots scattered across the country. Yes, a history not completely familiar with democratic norms and compromise is partially to blame, but that excuse only goes so far – just like the never dying idea that continues to squarely blame post-colonialism on Africa’s continuing woes. Nepal’s media generally does a poor job in exposing the hypocrisy of the political establishment (more on that in a later post), but once again, that excuse is limited.

     So, what to do? Like most things in life, act like an adult and take responsibility.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFn6k_OTcUc

     I must say, though, that a great bonus of the banda is that peace and tranquility sweeps over this crazy city. Traffic is quiet, horns honk less, kids play in the streets, the air is cleaner, and my beloved holy cows can roam the streets and munch on garbage in relative safety. On these days off, Nepalese head to their ancient squares and temples to hangout. Women and men sit on the steps and ledges of the squares’ Hindu and Buddhist temples, gossiping as the days go on, while kids play below on old red brick terraces. If you’re lucky, glimpses of Nepali beauty will catch you off guard on these slower days (see the banda spectacle below). Perhaps I shouldn’t be so critical then, but that would be too selfish of me to ease up on this silly political ill.

     

325. The Monsoon is Coming!

     May 20, 2011 7:31 am 2 Comments

     In anticipation of the monsoon, the Rain God Rato Machhendranath‘s chariot is pulled through the Lalitpur neighbourhood by his ethnic Newari devotees. Two chariots are pulled, with the community electing who gets to conduct the chariot and who gets to ride high on the chariots tall (20 meter) bamboo and pine spires. Festivals past, the chariots have been known to topple over, without any deaths, so I’m told. The Rato Macheendranath Jatra (chariot pulling festival of the Rain God) lasts about two months, and began May 7th. No doubt, one of the most extraordinary spectacles I’ve ever come across.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtSfPFxAv7A

326. Back in Kathmandu

     May 18, 2011 9:41 am 3 Comments

     Arrival in Kathmandu was very smooth, as this time I was able to avoid the men who loiter and wait for naïve foreigners, whose bags they can carry and then subsequently ask for money. Disregarding my serious jet lag, I decided to attend a wedding that I had been informed by my previous Nepali colleagues, was taking place the very day I arrived. After calling around about what I should wear, it turned out the fellow ladies attending the celebration would be wearing Nepalese “kourtas”. I was relieved, as it just so happened that I had brought one! (See video below).

     The next few days consisted of resting, eating, and attempting to find a place to stay in the Tripureshwor area, which was close to where I would be working. Finding an ideal place was challenging, to say the least. After much help from friends, colleagues, and WRRP, I postponed the search and joined another peace fellow, Corey, at a guesthouse in an area that was far (15 min. drive) from the Women’s Reproductive Rights Program office.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8MTqAzc2G4

     The first morning I woke up in my room at the guesthouse, there was an unexpected moment of fear and hesitation to go outside and face the day. As shown in a video by Kate Bollinger, the previous WRRP intern, braving the streets of Kathmandu is no easy feat!

     After doing some room-cleaning and organizing (a.k.a. procrastinating), I finally worked out the courage to step out the door, knowing that whether I liked it or not, I would be getting lost in Kathmandu that day.

     I started out the door of the guest house, and after about 3 wrong turns, managed to find my way to the market that Corey and I had visited the previous evening. I decided from there to attempt at finding my office. After taking a taxi for 150 Nepalese Rupees (equivalent to $2.00 CAD) to the area I would be working in, I realized I would not find the organization. I then attempted to also seek out Jagaran Media Center (JMC), but as I reached the area, my cell phone died, eliminating any chance of getting proper directions.

     I should probably note that in Kathmandu, road signs are few and far between (at least from my perspective). Ask yourself: if the only road signs existing in the city where you live were at major intersections: how would you find your way ANYWHERE?! In Nepal, looking up an address online is not usually  an option, as most of the roads are not shown, or are unnamed. To make a long story short, I asked for directions at least ten times, ended up lost somewhere in the general area of where I thought JMC would be, then walked back to a major intersection that I was sure that I had been at earlier. Thank goodness I managed to flag down a bus that would transport me back to the guest house for 12 rupees (equivalent to $0.27 CAD).

     Oddly enough, the day was satisfying. I had accomplished three tasks:

     1. Get over my fear of getting lost/leaving my room (and looking like a foreigner who has no clue where they are going, a feeling I am now used to).

     2. Find the general area of WRRP, so I knew where to go when it was time to start working.

     3. Discover the most economical mode of transportation yet, other than walking of course!

     Lesson learned: if you hope to find your way around in Kathmandu, you can’t be afraid to get (somewhat… or extremely) lost.

     Tomorrow I begin work at the Women’s Reproductive Rights Program. I am very excited, and a little nervous.

327. A Loud First Lesson

     8:09 am 3 Comments

     Walking the streets of Kathmandu for the first time is an intimidating and baffling exercise. Intimidating for the sheer madness and pace of the city, and baffling for what seems to be a method in the chaos.

     The morning taxi ride to my guesthouse from Kathmandu’s airport was my first and maybe most important lesson in the method: honk. As a driver, honk when swerving, honk when turning, honk when in a traffic jam, and honk when entering an intersection. Without a traffic light or stop sign to speak of in my southern Lalitpur neighbourhood, or lanes on the road, the car and motorbike’s horn becomes the director of traffic.

     Back at the guest house in southern Lalitpur, ready for a nap after 35 hours of travel, and the first lesson of this city plays an annoying game: the honk is loud and piercing. The nap must wait.

     On the streets, the honk now serves a dual lesson – act as a car and be confident, or else you’ll never cross the street. Families cross from one side to another with ease, cows roam the center lanes and sidewalks without a worry, munching on the street-lined garbage, and wild dogs snake through the traffic like veterans – looking both ways before crossing.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkrGfgAeAy4&feature=youtu.be

     Taking a break from the chaos and catching my breath from the choking pollution, I stand a few steps up on a corner shop and just watch. Vivid purples, greens, reds, pinks – saris of every kind – pass below me. A scooter rolls by with three people squished on a tiny seat, with the back passenger somehow reading a newspaper while seated sideways. A tiny old man in sandals lumbers by, carrying a heavy cupboard bigger than himself jerry-rigged to a leather strap wrapped around his forehead. And a wedding procession marches on (see 2:00 of my earlier video), all dancing and celebrating in the streets to loud drums and horns (a custom adopted from India).

     It seems that I stood on this one random street corner and saw more variety in life’s hustle and bustle in 20 minutes than I would have otherwise seen over the course of a day, week (month?) in Toronto. Life here is happening, on the streets, raw, in plain view without shame and apprehension.

     Kathmandu’s madness is in its loudness, speed, smell, and lack of formal coordination. But somehow, synchronicity flourishes in its people, and all is taken in stride – epitomized by the Nepali saying “khe garne?”, or “what is there to do?” Like a Jackson Pollock painting, there is flow and beauty in the discord. It all works, and is wondrous.

328. Bienvenido a Lima

     May 15, 2011 2:01 pm 92 Comments

     Since my arrival four days ago, I have been catching up with the sights and sounds of Lima, which is everything I remembered, only better. On my first visit here a few years back, it was cold and grey—the humidity chilled me to the bone, the atmosphere was heavy, and ironically I remember being thankful I was only passing through such a gloomy place. Still, I did appreciate the charm of the old, sprawling buildings of Central Lima and their majestic timelessness.

     

     This time around, I am staying in the posh neighbourhood of Miraflores, and to be honest I already feel quite at home. Of course, there are thousands of things I still don’t know (I have been told getting to the EPAF office is going to be a challenge—thankfully one of my co-workers is picking me up tomorrow for my first day!). What I mean is that I feel quite comfortable in my new surroundings. Here are a few things I just love about Lima: jogging on the malecón (a promenade overlooking the ocean shore), strangely exhilarating (and sometimes a little scary) taxi rides, not to mention the food (oh, the delicious food!). Yet, I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at choosing to spend my time in Peru in such an affluent neighbourhood; it is certainly not representative of the way the vast majority of Peruvians live.

     

     Yesterday, I completed a mandatory visit to the Yuyanapaq: Para Recordar photo exhibit of the internal conflict at the Museo de la Nación. I won’t say too much about the exhibit as former fellows with EPAF have already blogged about it (you can read their posts here and here), but I do want to make a few general comments. I remember visiting a similar type of photo exhibit on the conflict in the former Yugoslavia while in Dubrovnik many years back. The exhibit had a profound impact on me, and to this day it is the first thing I think of when I recall my visit to the Balkans. I have always been fascinated by photography’s power to convey messages and emotions, particularly when the stories behind the photos are so horrific that words could never do them justice.

     

     Upon arriving, I was disappointed by the very small number of people who were present. Is it from a lack of interest, I asked myself, or perhaps a lack of awareness about the exhibit? But then more and more people began arriving, until the place was busy with foreigners and Peruvians of all ages. I was even surprised by the number of children present; many Peruvians, it seems, understand the importance of remembering the unpleasant past and are intent to show their children the horrors of the war to make sure it never happens again. I left the exhibit even more convinced of the importance and relevance of the work of EPAF—but more on that in a future post. It is with much anticipation that I start work tomorrow!

     

329. First Impressions of Kathmandu

     May 13, 2011 8:07 am Leave a Comment

     My first day on the mad streets of Kathmandu, with my host Prakash of the JMC leading the way.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Wc6s1orGdE

330. TULSIPUR EXPOSURE

     May 11, 2011 5:51 am 310 Comments

     I wrote this post accompanied by my first heavy rain and strong wind in Tulsipur. The monsoon period has not came yet, but we’ve had several heavy rains. It’s strange. Anyway, I’m glad for my first tropical rain after more than 8 months in the subtropics area. I enjoy the view of water pouring down, the feeling of temperature going down, the sound of water touching the ground while thunders interrupt, and the fresh smell of wet soil and grass.

     I usually spend my day at BASE office, planning, organizing, researching, writing, etc. BASE will have a new office. Its own office,  not a lease anymore. We will be moving in soon.

     

     The office might look pretty small and casual. But, the heart of BASE people are extra-ordinarily big to struggle for their community.

     I stay not far from the office, only 3-5 minutes by walk. This so called ‘guest house’ is simple and basic. It lies on the second floor. My room is big enough to be occupied by a person. So far, I haven’t shared the room with anyone, but maybe soon I will have roommate, as BASE has many visitors with various purposes.

     

     I was hesitant to enter the food stalls here. Seriously, it’s not the type of food stall you might want to visit. But then, I get used to it. As the quote says, “don’t judge a book by its cover”, some of them do serve good foods. Well, I know a bit more lavish one at ‘The Green Peace Hotel’. Note, it has nothing to do with an environmental INGO.

     Now, I can proudly say I know some Nepali foods, struggling to remember their names though.

     Rice or Roti?

     

     Plus drink and dessert.

     

     And, the sweets.

     

     Some foods and sweets are adopted from India, not to mention the music and movies as well. But, chowmein is definitely adopted from China. What about Momo? Hmm…

     

     Some more interesting sights

     

     The women march along the road. I don’t know what do they carry on top of their head, something like pipe, some other stuffs covered by white fabric. All I can see is it looks heavy.

     Who says that Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) only for big corporations?

     

     In the middle of a busy shopping street as well as one of the main road in Tulsipur, there is a small tent with a big tank and the crowd. They line up to get a big cup of fresh drinking water. An owner of an hotel in Tulsipur provides drinking water for everyone.

     What about these children?

     I saw this boy when I visited a restaurant for lunch. He washed dishes, served meals, cleaned up the tables.

     

     These children and women carry rocks for the road construction.

     

     Yes, these children are working children. I’m not sure about their age, family and education. For sure, BASE has tried to talk to the employer. I hope it will work.

331. Time to go!

     May 9, 2011 10:06 am 253 Comments

     This is the video blog I made today… not always the best idea after a full night of packing. More to come, but for now, time for the 30+ hour commute to Kathmandu, Nepal!

     httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAHN20sRlx4

332. Pre-departure Reflections

     May 6, 2011 8:17 am Leave a Comment

     “A society cannot learn to coexist peacefully and in justice if it is not able to recognize its wounds and its pain, if it does not look back to its past in search of lessons.”

     -Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission Final Report

     Sitting in my near-empty apartment, surrounded by boxes and travel gear, it is finally sinking in that I am leaving soon, very soon. In exactly one week from now, I will be on my way to Lima, Peru, to work alongside the Equipo Peruano de Antropología Forense (EPAF) for six months as an AP Peace Fellow. As its name suggests, EPAF uses forensic anthropology to restore the identity of victims of the internal political conflict (1982- 2000) resting in hidden burial sites across the country. They also work with the families of the disappeared to find their loved ones, gain access to justice, and improve the conditions affecting their political and economic development.

     In spite of the reading I have been doing on the work of EPAF, I am still not sure what to expect from this experience. Everything about the work and its context is so far removed from my own protected existence that I find it difficult to visualize myself participating in it. At the same time, I find it incredibly challenging and I am looking forward to sharing my experiences on this blog. I hope I can effectively support the activities of EPAF, and provide a platform for families of the disappeared to tell their often-forgotten side of the story.

     Based on the experience of previous Peace Fellows, I expect to find a tension between the desire of a section of Peruvian society to forget about a painful past and move forward, and the need for others, among which victims’ families are only the most obvious, to know and expose the truth regarding what happened. It seems to me that the quote above is a fair depiction of the situation. How can a society collectively move forward if it refuses to understand and remember its past? Moreover, it is a slippery slope from forgetfulness to impunity; and recent events in Peru, exemplified by the passing (and subsequent annulment by Congress following massive civil society protests) of a presidential decree that would have made it very difficult to prosecute crimes committed during the internal conflict, suggest that the fight against impunity is a constant battle that has not yet been won.

     I would argue is it important to understand and remember the past not for its own sake, but for the sake of the present and the future. According to Peru’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (CVR), more than three quarters of the victims of the internal conflict were rural, poor and indigenous; in other words, they were the same people that have historically been excluded and marginalized from Peruvian society. Thus, the work of the CVR has clearly exposed the interrelated nature of structural discrimination in the country and the impact of political violence. Looking forward, what does this mean for the reconciliation process? Can the process be used as a space to create a more inclusive society, and ensure that political violence never returns to the country? Going into this experience, my head is filled with questions such as this one, and I hope to find fragments of answers along the way.

     Being a development student, I am also hoping to explore the links between the processes of development, reparation and reconciliation. EPAF, in addition to its work in forensic investigation, (re)construction of collective memory, and capacity-building, is also involved in socioeconomic development projects. What role does development play in reconciliation? If poverty and exclusion made indigenous peasants particularly vulnerable to the impacts of the political violence; and still impedes their ability to exercise their rights, have their story heard, and seek redress for the crimes committed against them, then is development the sine qua non of reconciliation and peace.

     For those interested to know more on these topics, I highly suggest reading the blogs of previous Peace Fellows that have worked with EPAF, Ash (2008), Jessica (2009), Zachary (2009), and Karin (2010). Also expect more—and more exciting—posts from me in the very near future. The next time I write, it will be from Peru!

333. Goodbye Canada

     7:39 am Leave a Comment

     The plane departs shortly, and I really have no idea what my work in Nepal will be like. Friends and family ask what exactly I’ll be doing over there? I can only say that I don’t entirely know apart from the job description, and brief conversations I’ve had with Prakash, program manager at the JMC. Talking and working with local journalists and people on the ground about Dalit caste human rights, traveling around Nepal, writing, taking pictures and videos – sounds about right.

     Am I nervous or scared? No. I’m ready to jump into this assignment headfirst and immerse myself in the work – whatever it may be. I have no real fears or trepidations. Yes, reporting on human rights abuses will have its interesting and unexpected moments, but none that are worrying. Nepal is a safe and inviting country, and whatever challenges I may face will be overcome, strengthening my resolve and character.

     I’ve read a few of Nepalese author Samrat Upadhyay’s novels in preparation – a somewhat cultural and mental introduction to Nepalese society. His stories are laced with allusions to Hindu gods and Buddhist shrines, and always sure to emphasize the importance of family and caste on the Nepalese way of life. His characters interact with Kathmandu’s streets, business, and politics – dodging in and out of teahouses, bars, and temples. For Upadhyay’s Nepal, like any society really, history is alive and inescapable, haunting and influencing the present. The public face of the family presented to the neighbourhood is often a mask to a darker and more complicated reality… One I hope to penetrate as my time in Nepal goes on.

     So time to depart the heavy rains of Toronto’s spring, and arrive as monsoon season prepares it’s lashing of Kathmandu. Suitcases are packed, preparations have been made, but my mind and body remain in Toronto. The work of past Peace Fellows at the JMC helps serve me as a mental guide, but it can only be that. I expect a sensory overload upon arrival in Kathmandu, but until that time, I’ll be going about my business day by day, saying goodbyes. Six months in Nepal. More to come…

334. QUICK FACTS ON CHILD LABOR IN NEPAL

     May 5, 2011 6:12 am Leave a Comment

     I’m in the process of writing an entry about bonded (child) labors in the Tarai area, where the Tharus indigenous people live, but then I consider why don’t give a more general view on child labor in Nepal before it. So, as an introduction to bonded (child) labors in Tarai area I post this entry.

     Child Labor in Numbers:

     *Statistics shows that of about 7 million children between 5-14 years old working in Nepal, about 3 million are found to be regularly working and 1.7 million children are found to be economically active.

     *Almost two fifths children of school-going age are economically active.

     *The number of child laborers is estimated at around 2,060,000 where about, 94.7% are involved in agriculture and household work and the remaining 5% are engaged in service and manufacturing industries. For every 100 children in the 6-14 years age group, 4-5 are engaged in paid work.

     *CWCD in 1998 found that 71% of rural, 52% of urban and 63% of Kamaiya children are economically active.

     *According to the ILO-sponsored national survey, of the 6.2 million children between the ages of 5-14 years, 2,596,000 are child workers, which forms 41.7% of this age group.

     *Of 2.59 million working children, 278,000 or 4.5% of all Nepali children are in paid work and 1.38 million or 22.2% of all children are in unpaid work.

     Worst Forms of Child Labor in Numbers:

     This part shows statistical data on some types of child labor which categorized as the worst forms of child labor by ILO.

     Note: As I mentioned in my earlier entry, Kamaiya system is one of the bonded labor system, generally in the agriculture sector, in Nepal. The people, usually the whole family, which employed under this system have to work to pay off debts incurred by their ancestors. Working condition under this system is far from decent.

     

     Source: flickr

     *The number of bonded children is estimated at 33,000.

     *40,000 children are estimated to be in debt-bondage.

     *40,000 Nepalese girls under 16 in Indian brothels are forced into prostitution

     *More than 9,000 girls are trafficked each year from Nepal and Bangladesh into bondage in India and Pakistan, often with the acquiescence or cooperation of state officials

     *It is estimated that at least 1 million children in Nepal are working as child laborers in difficult circumstances, often as slaves in carpet factories, brick kilns, domestic service, agriculture, plantation, construction, transportation, stone quarry, mines and as migrant workers.

     *Available data suggests that approximately 7,000 girls between 10 -18 are lured or abducted into prostitution each year. In many cases, parents or relatives sell young girls into sexual slavery

     *Among the Kamaiya families the number of children working under the system is reported to be about 13,000.

     (Source: http://www.globalmarch.org/worstformsreport/world/nepal.html )

335. Flight + Rickshaw Ride + Microbus = More Than 7 hrs

     May 3, 2011 6:36 am 2 Comments

     The temperature was hot. It was around 32 degrees Celsius when I landed in Nepalganj. Many people were lining up in the backyard of a blue building which is the airport. The airport is small and simple. The airport crew handed out our baggage to be claimed. There was an hour delay, I wasn’t sure about the reason, someone sat beside me explained that domestic flights always be late.

     It was my second day in Nepal. Before, I stayed a night at Thamel district after my long flight from Oslo through Moscow and Delhi.

     Sangita from BASE picked me at Nepalganj airport. After lunch, we headed to the bus terminal. She stopped a cycle rickshaw. I and Sangita with two big bags sat on the rickshaw drawn by a thin man. I felt terrible.

     I used to travel with ‘becak’ in Indonesia, so it wasn’t a big surprise for me to ride the rickshaw.

     

     

     But wait, this rickshaw is operated on the main road, competing with buses, trucks, cars, etc. It made me a bit (or more) worried at that time. When the rickshaw were passing through big buses or trucks which generously honking their horn, I (literally) closed my eyes.

     It took about 5 hours to reach Tulsipur from Nepalganj with an overload micro buss. Whenever the bus was stopping, many sellers came by. Many of them were children, they offered fruits, ice cream, drinks, etc. It was Friday afternoon, I hope that they have finished their classes at the school before selling those things. I saw a young couple entering the buss. I didn’t really notice them at the first place. But, because the girl wore a beautiful blinking red dress, quite similar to the dress of Indian bride that I saw from the movies, they took my attention. Sangita told me that they just got married and the husband took the wife to his house. Hmm, interesting!

     I didn’t really believe it until I witnessed it myself.

     My Nepalese friends in Oslo mentioned that Nepal has problem with power shortage. They said, it will only be available for some hours per day. I thought it happen just in particular areas in Nepal. But, I was wrong.

     I wasn’t really affected by the blackouts in Kathmandu, I think because the hostel put on their generator. Upon my arrival in Tulsipur, the electricity was off. They have schedule for the blackouts. Fortunately, since my second day here,  we have longer time of electricity than on the schedule. Power shortage for this whole country is a big challenge.

336. CHILD LABOR: DID YOU KNOW?

     April 25, 2011 10:39 am 141 Comments

     Only several days left to my departure. I spend my time by finishing the preparation, includes, researching on the topic which I will work on during summer time in Nepal. Child labor, yes, it is. One time, I had a conversation with some of my friends during lunch break. One of them asked me about my internship, then we started to discuss about child labor. She told me that she used to help her family in the plantation area when she was a child, then she wondered if it’s fall under child labor concept.

     If I mention ‘child labor’, what would you imagine?

     I suppose the image of scavenging, backbreaking work on a construction site, long hours in a carpet factory, or even child prostitution.

     Do you know Charles Dickens’s novels? For me, I’m familiar with Oliver Twist, maybe because I watched the movie. I share the opinion that Dickens’ story about his childhood as a poor boy who worked long hour in a poor condition, partly, shaped the popular image of child labor. Then the question would be whether it’s totally unacceptable for children who live in poverty to work and improve their economic condition. Well, not really improve, even maybe in some cases, to support their family life. I’m not saying that it is acceptable as well.

     There are some discussions on child labor concept. Some says light works after school or in school holidays, will be helpful for skill acquisition, while they exclude part-time engagement in such horrendous activities as child prostitution. Some might disagree. This can be a two-hour-lecture only to explain this. Anyway, I’m not going to do it. To make things clearer, I will cite little pieces of international legal instruments regarding child labor. The ILO Convention No. 138/1973 acknowledges children’s participation in economic activity, based on its minimum age, which does not negatively affect their health and development or interfere with education, can be positive. As follow up step on the ILO Convention 138 and Convention on the Rights of the Child, in 1999, ILO defines the worst forms of child labor, under the convention no. 182/1999.

     So, having in mind those conventions and some articles, I can say that there are some key elements of child labor, such as, age range of the children, exploitation aspect, and time allocation of the work, includes school enrollment. Of course, in the real case, it will include wider and more complicated aspects. I found an interesting and easy-to-read webpage about child labor, you can check it out here.

     Have you heard about Haruwa/Charuwa or Kamalhari?

     It’s the term for traditional system of bonded labor in Nepal. Big amount of the children suffers from different types of child labor. In Terai area, mid and western region of Nepal, includes Dang district, where many Tharu people live, the practice of kamalhari is extensive. If you want to know more, you can read BASE’s website and previous fellows’ blogs, Adrianne Henck & Karrie Cross.

     

     Photo from Spiegel International

     I will leave it that way for now. But for sure, this summer, I will explore the complexity of child labor in real. So, let me take you into my journey in a district called Dang in the western part of Nepal.

     Only several days left to my departure. I spend my time by finishing the preparation, includes, researching on the topic which I will work on during summer time in Nepal. Child labor, yes, it is. One time, I had a conversation with some of my friends during lunch break. One of them asked me about my internship, then we started to discuss about child labor. She told me that she used to help her family in the plantation area when she was a child, then she wondered if it’s fall under child labor concept.

     If I mention ‘child labor’, what would you imagine?

     I suppose the image of scavenging, backbreaking work on a construction site, long hours in a carpet factory, or even child prostitution.

     Do you know Charles Dickens’s novels? For me, I’m familiar with Oliver Twist, maybe because I watched the movie. I share the opinion that Dickens’ story about his childhood as a poor boy who worked long hour in a poor condition, partly, shaped the popular image of child labor. Then the question would be whether it’s totally unacceptable for children who live in poverty to work and improve their economic condition. Well, not really improve, even maybe in some cases, to support their family life. I’m not saying that it is acceptable as well.

     There are some discussions on child labor concept. Some says light works after school or in school holidays, will be helpful for skill acquisition, while they exclude part-time engagement in such horrendous activities as child prostitution. Some might disagree. This can be a two-hour-lecture only to explain this. Anyway, I’m not going do it. To make things clearer, I will cite little pieces of international legal instruments regarding child labor. The ILO Convention No. 138/1973 acknowledges children’s participation in economic activity, based on its minimum age, which does not negatively affect their health and development or interfere with education, can be positive. As follow up step on the ILO Convention 138 and Convention on the Rights of the Child, in 1999, ILO defines the worst forms of child labor, under the convention no. 182/1999.

     So, having in mind those conventions and some articles, I can say that there are some key elements of child labor, such as, age range of the children, exploitation aspect, and time allocation of the work, includes school enrollment. Of course, in the real case, it will include wider and more complicated aspects. I found an interesting and easy-to-read webpage about child labor, you can check it out here http://www.childlaborphotoproject.org/childlabor.html

     Have you heard about Haruwa/Charuwa or Kama

     Only several days left to my departure. I spend my time by finishing the preparation, includes, researching on the topic which I will work on during summer time in Nepal. Child labor, yes, it is. One time, I had a conversation with some of my friends during lunch break. One of them asked me about my internship, then we started to discuss about child labor. She told me that she used to help her family in the plantation area when she was a child, then she wondered if it’s fall under child labor concept.

     If I mention ‘child labor’, what would you imagine?

     I suppose the image of scavenging, backbreaking work on a construction site, long hours in a carpet factory, or even child prostitution.

     Do you know Charles Dickens’s novels? For me, I’m familiar with Oliver Twist, maybe because I watched the movie. I share the opinion that Dickens’ story about his childhood as a poor boy who worked long hour in a poor condition, partly, shaped the popular image of child labor. Then the question would be whether it’s totally unacceptable for children who live in poverty to work and improve their economic condition. Well, not really improve, even maybe in some cases, to support their family life. I’m not saying that it is acceptable as well.

     There are some discussions on child labor concept. Some says light works after school or in school holidays, will be helpful for skill acquisition, while they exclude part-time engagement in such horrendous activities as child prostitution. Some might disagree. This can be a two-hour-lecture only to explain this. Anyway, I’m not going do it. To make things clearer, I will cite little pieces of international legal instruments regarding child labor. The ILO Convention No. 138/1973 acknowledges children’s participation in economic activity, based on its minimum age, which does not negatively affect their health and development or interfere with education, can be positive. As follow up step on the ILO Convention 138 and Convention on the Rights of the Child, in 1999, ILO defines the worst forms of child labor, under the convention no. 182/1999.

     So, having in mind those conventions and some articles, I can say that there are some key elements of child labor, such as, age range of the children, exploitation aspect, and time allocation of the work, includes school enrollment. Of course, in the real case, it will include wider and more complicated aspects. I found an interesting and easy-to-read webpage about child labor, you can check it out here http://www.childlaborphotoproject.org/childlabor.html

     Have you heard about Haruwa/Charuwa or Kamalhari?

     It’s the term for traditional system of bonded labor in Nepal. Big amount of the children suffers from different types of child labor. In Terai area, mid and western region of Nepal, includes Dang district, where many Tharu people live, the practice of kamalhari is extensive. If you want to know more, you can read BASE’s website and previous fellows’ blogs. Link to Adrianne & Karrie blogs

     Image taken from Spiegel International

     I will leave it that way for now. But for sure, this summer, I will explore the complexity of child labor in real. So, let me to take you into my journey in a district called Dang in the western part of Nepal.

     lhari?

     It’s the term for traditional system of bonded labor in Nepal. Big amount of the children suffers from different types of child labor. In Terai area, mid and western region of Nepal, includes Dang district, where many Tharu people live, the practice of kamalhari is extensive. If you want to know more, you can read BASE’s website and previous fellows’ blogs. Link to Adrianne & Karrie blogs

     picture

     http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/bild-749955-196131.html

     I will leave it that way for now. But for sure, this summer, I will explore the complexity of child labor in real. So, let me to take you into my journey in a district called Dang in the western part of Nepal.

337. Flooding in Sri Lanka

     January 21, 2011 4:02 am 2 Comments

     Sri Lanka is currently facing its greatest natural disaster related humanitarian crisis since the 2004 Tusnami.  In the first weeks of January 2011, non-stop rains have caused massive flooding in the Eastern Province.  The Districts of Batticaloa, Ampara and Trincomalee in particularly have been severely affected, with entire villages now resembling lakes.   One million people hit by severe floods in Sri Lanka, and over 300,000 people have been displaced.  Over 1 million acres of paddy lands have been destroyed, which will make the coming months very difficult for Sri Lankan farmers.

     

     Destroyed farm lands

     To my frustration, the Western media has not paid much attention to this crisis.   After the tsunami, the US sprang into action to give aid to the affected.   I hope that as more information comes out, the world will start to pay attention.

     

     Batticaloa

338. And here I am!

     November 23, 2010 1:17 am 3 Comments

     Arriving in Sri Lanka just under a month ago, I cannot say that my expectations have been met.  In truth, I came with very few expectations, other than what can be found in the travel books and on the internet.  When most westerners think of Sri Lanka, tea and the musician M.I.A. likely come to mind, and not much else.   I have found the “Pearl of the Indian Ocean” to be exciting, beautiful and incredibly educational.   Every day I am learning something, whether it be some nuance of government relations, a new word in Tamil or Sinhala, or how not to fall out of a packed three-wheeler.

     Colombo is diverse cities filled with contradiction, both modern and traditional, secular and religious.  Walking down the same street, I see women wearing business suits and others wearing traditional saris; both may even have similar professions.  I have seen amazingly beautiful beaches usually reserved for tourists and the Colombo elite, and beaches used by locals that are covered in trash.  Some streets I walk down people don’t give me a second look, and in other situations children laugh and run away from me because they’ve never seen a white woman in person before.  I hope to explore safely off the beaten track and be exposed to, as it has been said to me, the “real Colombo,” as much as possible, and share some of the experiences I have in this blog.
     

     

     Thus far, I have found a rich and resilient culture full of people who still have hope despite decades of hardship.  Sri Lanka is a country trying to bounce back from tragedy.   In 2004, the country was devastated by a tsunami it still has not fully recovered from.  In May, 2009, the government declared victory in the thirty-year long civil war that had devastated much of the country.  I am excited to do some good work in the aftermath of these events, and gain a full understanding of the challenges that Sri Lanka faces in the post-war era.

339. Goodbye and thank you all

     September 2, 2010 3:13 am 2 Comments

     That’s it. My time with AEPD in Dong Hoi has come to an end. Time flew in the last weeks. Yesterday I left this beautiful city and its even more beautiful people with a heavy heart. Looking back, it was an extremely rich experience for me, both culturally and professionally. I have met and closely worked with many out-standing and dedicated individuals and by getting to know them better every day I learned about their impressive stories. And friendships were knotted.

     I would like to thank Dung, Hong and Nga, the three women who are running our office, for having me introduced into their new (old) organization and provided me with all the support I needed, at the same time letting me enough free space to work independently. My deepest gratitude goes also to the 7 AEPD outreach workers, the lifeblood of the organization, and especially to Luu and Hoai who took the time to share their personal story with me. They accompanied me on our field trips to their beneficiaries and were a constant source of great knowledge and in-sight. We had many good laughs and discussions together. What they do for the disabled people in the region is simply amazing. They love their job and, themselves “disabled”, they are among the most cap-able people I have met in a long time.

     Finally, I wish AEPD good luck for their future as a local NGO. They are doing a great job to support persons with disabilities living in poor conditions, and provide solutions tailored to the needs of every individual. We can see the results. In numbers it is more than 2500 persons with disabilities assisted in the past 7 years. But at the end of the day this is not what counts. It is the look in the eyes of people like Hue or Son when they talk passionately and enthusiastically about the support AEPD provides them, and how it changed their lives. Towards a better, brighter future.

     With some pictures from AEPD’s first congress, which was held 12th of August in Dong Hoi, and a short video (unfortunately only in Vietnamese), I would like to say goodbye to you, too. Thanks for having followed my blog, and for all your supporting comments and feedbacks. I heard it many times in Dong Hoi – the polite standard English sentence when you leave somewhere,  – now I finally have to say it myself: “Goodbye, and see you again”.

     

     

     

     

     Please watch also the Video on AEPD’s first congress, only in Vietnamese version. It is produced by Quang Binh Provincial TV. And finally, have a look at AEPD’s new homepage (still work in progress though):

     http://aepd.org.vn

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXuYNEI1mUk

340. Mr. Luu – outreach worker with all his heart

     August 27, 2010 3:52 am 1 Comment

     Hoang van Luu was born in 1964 during the “American war” in a farming village in Van Trach commune. When he was three years old, his parents died in a B- 52 bomb attack. Most of the villagers lost their lives under the hail of bombs this day, 18th of April 1967. It is remembered ever since as “the day of the village’s funeral”.  As if by a miracle, Luu, his older sister and two older brothers all survived the attack , hiding in one of the many underground tunnels and caves, which the villagers had dug for protection against the air raids. The four orphans were brought up by their grandparents.

     In summer 1972, Luu’s eldest brother found a fist-sized bomblet and brought it home. It was one of hundreds of thousands unexploded cluster bomb sub-munitions, that had been scattered throughout the Vietnamese countryside during the nearly ten years of war. He didn’t know this by then. Neither did 7-year-old Luu who picked the bomblet up thinking it was a toy.

     “I thought it was some kind of ball out of metal. So me and four other children from the neighborhood started playing with it. As I hit it several times on the stone floor of the hairdresser’s shop where we were playing, I heard a ‘clic’ and the bomb exploded in my hands”.

     Startled by the explosion in the town center, neighbors and Luu’s uncle came running and found the five injured children and brought them to a near-by hospital. The bomb ripped off Luu’s hands. The doctor could only save two fingers of his left hand, his right arm had to be amputated at the height of the elbow.

     

     After he had recovered physically from his injury, Luu went back to school. He had to convince his teacher, who was first reluctant to take back this boy without hands, thinking that he was not able to follow the class and learn writing with only two fingers. But he did well. The teacher’s hesitation made Luu understand that from now on he had to be better, and more intelligent than the others – the “normal people” – to compensate his physical disability and make something out of his life. To prove wrong all people who had doubt in his aptitude to do things, and to earn their recognition.

     His brothers and sisters stopped attending school and worked to earn money and support Luu to go as far as possible with his education. They knew as well as he did, that this is the only way he could keep all possibilities open and to live an independent life in the future. “I owe them my deepest respect and love, for what they did for me and how they supported me. Instead of going to school or university, they worked hard. For me. They sacrificed themselves for me.”

     Luu was a brilliant student. He finished high school without the slightest difficulties and passed his university exams to study Biology in Hue. But then everything changed. Because of love. He was in love with a girl from his hometown, while studying far away. They send each other letters nearly every week. It was difficult for them to keep in touch. The girl’s parents did not allow her to be with him and worse – to marry him. Because of his disability. The couple was very sad and discouraged. He had been in Hue for nearly two years when she saw no other solution than to take her life. She threw herself in front of a train. Luu left the university and went back to his hometown, devastated.

     
     For the next 20 years, Luu went on with his life taking many different jobs. He raised ducks in the rice fields of his hometown, he was a cow trader, and then he went into construction work as day laborer.  He grew on each of these jobs, collected experiences, and he always came up for his own living. He lived his life independently.

     He had never forgotten what he resolved himself as a young boy, to be like anybody else or better, despite his disability. He did all his tasks with diligence and put great effort in doing them as perfect as only possible.  “The other construction workers and employers respected me for what I was, even if I was different, and for what I did on the construction site. I was confident, I knew how to work.”

     In 2001 he got married, and became father of a daughter and a son.  He had bought a piece of land and built his house where he wanted to live with his future family years before, without knowing who “the one” would be. But he was convinced that he would meet her, sooner or later.

     

     Then, in May 2003 he got a letter from the local authorities, inviting him for a job interview with the newly established international non-governmental organization LSN-V. They were looking for landmine and bomb survivors, who had made their lives and could share their experience with other survivors to help them to overcome their physical and mental trauma and make their lives meaningful again – the model of peer support. The job was made for him. He became the first LSN-V outreach worker and he has been working for LSN-V, now AEPD, for the last seven years.

     “I met hundreds of people having the same situation as mine. I learned from them and I advise them, sharing with them my experience in life, which I’ve gone through. We have helped each other to overcome difficulties of disabled people and the feeling of complex and inferiority, and to do business to earn income for their families and join social activities. Many of the individuals I have assisted in the past, participated in social events with eagerness and enthusiasm. The work with AEPD has made me happy, confident and energetic. My colleagues trust me, ‘my survivors’ trust me. We overcome all our difficulties together and live as normal persons.”

     
     

     Please watch the interview with Mr. Luu. He talks about his job as an AEPD outreach worker, and the impact AEPD has on the disabled people they intend to help.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xme6NrJfrM

341. The story of my friend Hoai

     August 24, 2010 4:11 pm 3 Comments

     Luong Thanh Hoai has been an outreach worker for AEPD (formerly LSN-V) since 2006. Himself physically disabled, he has helped many other disabled people by peer support. During this summer we have become close friends, even if we don’t speak the same language. We have been working together and spent many evenings playing Co Tuong (Chinese Chess), joking and drinking coffee. His 16-year-old daughter Ha My accompanied us every time and helped us to translate.

     One evening, when we were sitting as usual in a coffee shop and heavy drops announcing the coming rainy season were pattering on the bamboo roof, he told me his life story.

     Hoai grew up in a wealthy family in Va Hoa in the North of Quang Binh Province with his three brothers and two sisters. He was very smart and did well at school. And handsome how he was, the girls of his age admired him and fell in love – he told me with an impish, heartily smile. At the age of 18, he aimed to go to university and study law, to follow the example of his father, a judge at a criminal court.

     Hoai received an invitation letter to present himself to the university entry exams in Da Nang. Upon arrival, he was not allowed to take the exam. He was told, that he had to write the exam in Ho Chi Minh City. But it was to late to get there in time and he missed it. The university administration had sent him a wrong notification.

     

     This mistake, which was not his, changed his life irrevocably. Instead of a career as a lawyer, his strict father decided that Hoai should join the army, to learn the values of discipline and obedience. In 1988, after two years in the Vietnamese Navy, at the age of 20, he was badly injured in a missile attack during the Truong Sa Sea battle. Hoai lost his left hand, and his right eye. It was replaced by a glass eye. The explosion also left him with scars on his face and chest.

     He spent 3 months in military hospitals in Na Trang and Hanoi, before he recovered from his injuries and could go back to his hometown. “First my neighbors and friends didn’t recognize me. When they realized that it was me, they cried and felt deep sympathy for my hard destiny. In the first years, I was very sad and felt pity for myself. The horrible moments I had experienced during the attack haunted me. But it was thanks to my good friends and family that I recovered mentally and grew strong again. I knew I could live with the disability and start a new life”.

     

     

     In 1993 he got married to a teacher of literature, and became father of a son and a daugther. After many years living out of a military penison, Hoai started an administration job at the Quang Binh University where he worked between 1999 and 2003. Then, three years later, he joined LSN-V, as a strong, highly intelligent and confident man, who knew where he stood.

     His life would have been so different if he had gone to university, instead of joining the army, Hoai told me. But sometimes a tiny little detail can change our lives forever… Proud father of two healthy and beautiful children, winner of two silver medals in discus and javelin at the 2007 Vietnamese ParaGames, brilliant chess player and patient teacher. And a dedicated outreach worker who loves his job.

     

     “I realized the change in my life when working with AEPD. As an outreach worker, I have the chance to know and learn more from many persons with disabilities who share my fate. In fact, our peer support method has proved itself very helpful for disabled people in overcoming their complex of inferiority and to reintegrate into social life. AEPD brought me the opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the community in helping other people with disabilities to get over their daily difficulties and finding their place in society.”

     In his opinion, to make the assistance and consultancy meaningful and effective, the outreach workers have to understand the real needs of the beneficiaries and propose specific ways to help them.For Hoai, an outreach worker should be like a mirror, a good example for others to follow. He try to give his best every day.

     I am very happy for having met Hoai and I would like to thank him very much for everything he has shared with me. His will and strength, but also his cheering smile are simply inspiring.

     

342. A bomb in Dong Hoi City

     August 22, 2010 6:48 pm 1 Comment

     Two weeks ago, an unexploded aerial 250-kilo-bomb was uncovered on a construction site to extend the Nhat Le River promenade in Dong Hoi. This place is only 200 meters away from my Hotel. All works were suspended, until the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technicians from the international NGO Mine Advisory Group (MAG) inspected the bomb and decided that it cannot be removed without rendering it safe first as it was still fuzed and still contained a quantity of high explosives.

     The event was announced in the local News, so I wanted to go and watch. I have been working with cluster munitions and bomb victims during the summer, and have learned how they have to live with their injuries – cut legs, hands and fingers, facial scars – an how it changed their lives. But I realized that I haven’t seen a real bomb or explosion so far.

     I stepped out of Nam Long Hotel and saw that the Police and the military had evacuated a huge perimeter around the clearing site. As I observed the MAG specialists from far doing their work, I understood that the scenery couldn’t be more telling. The bomb was found meters away from the Tam Toa memorial church. Built in 1887, this church suffered 48 bombing attacks but the facade and the bell tower are still standing. The ruins of what was one of the most beautiful churches in Vietnam were declared a war memorial site by the provincial authorities. “This is one of the last buildings in Dong Hoi that survived the bombing. The whole city was destroyed. It was terrible, there were explosions every day, we had to leave the city and hide in the countryside during the attacks”, an old man standing next to me told me.

     I knew that Quang Binh Province with its capital Dong Hoi was one of the most bombarded areas during the “American War”, because of its proximity to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and the Ho Chi Minh Trail. But hearing it from a man who had to live through this was very impressive.

     

     

     

     American Airplanes dropped approximately 7 million tons of bombs over Vietnam during ten years, and only a third of it actually exploded. These Unexploded Ordnances (UXO) in all their forms can explode if disturbed. The Ministry of Labour, Invalids and Social Affairs reported in 2007 that since the end of the war there have been at least 104,701 civilian casualties caused by explosive remnants of war. Today, most of the UXO are not on the surface anymore. Covered by the growing forest, picked up by children who wanted to play with these unknown – cruel – objects (sometimes the size of a tennis ball), and removed and buried by farmers to clear their farming land on their own. They prevent people from carrying out everyday activities such as farming fields, building houses, digging fish ponds or collecting food in the forest. This is the long-term impact of UXO. And this just happened in front of where I am living in Dong Hoi.

     Everything went well. Within one hour, the big bomb was rendered safe for transportation. I wanted to meet the specialists from MAG, who were working there in the hot sun in their long-sleeved brown uniforms with the scull logo. That’s how I was introduced to Tony Fernandes, the Technical Operations Manager of MAG Vietnam. He is South-African, and has been working in humanitarian Mine Action for the last 6 years in Vietnam, DRC and Sudan preceeded by a year in commercial Mine Action in Iran . Prior to this, he was a Bomb Disposal Technician  in the South African Police for 14 years. He was very satisfied with the operation’s outcome, because if something had gone wrong, if the bomb had exploded, the church and the surrounding buildings would have been seriously damaged.

     As he saw my interest in his work, he invited me to show me the work MAG does in the rural areas around Dong Hoi. He told me that MAG has been working in Vietnam since 1999, destroying more than 150,000 items of UXO in order to give thousands of people the opportunity to leave their lives in safety and without fear.

     MAG teams go systematically from village to village, asking local people if they know about UXOs buried in their neighborhood. If there are any, MAG send clearance teams to take care of the bombs, cluster munitions and unexploded ordnances. They decide then if the UXO has to be destroyed on site, or if it is possible to transport it to a safe dedicated storage area where it will be destroyed in a controlled demolition along with other items of unexploded ordnance that MAG has found during their operations – like the bomb from Dong Hoi.

     Last Friday I went with Tony and the MAG team to the demolition site, a military controlled area outside Dong Hoi. This day, MAG destroyed 59 cluster munitions in a bulk demolition, a missile rocket motor, the bomb from Dong Hoi and a 350 kg bomb. I learned that this bomb was found by a farmer in 1972 and buried under a tree in his backyard. He had to live with the knowledge and constant fear of having a bomb buried close to his house, where his children were playing. But he couldn’t bring it anywhere else. Not until MAG came to his home a few weeks ago.

     

     When a bomb explodes, you first see it, then you hear it and then the shock wave makes you feel it. My body trembled as I watched the demolitions from more than a 1 km distance. My ears rang because of the terrible dump sound of the explosion. The demolition area was beautifully set in the deep green mountains. A big burst of dust and soil, and then black and white smoke that rise high up in the air. In this moment, I tried to imagine, how it was for the people 35 years ago during the war, when B-52s dropped day and night thousands of bombs on the jungle, rice fields and villages. Even if I had just seen a bomb explosion with my own eyes, I couldn’t.

     

     During this summer I was involved in the victim assistance part of humanitarian mine action. I would like to thank MAG, and especially Tony for sharing with me the other important part: Mine clearance.

     

343. Children First: BASE’s Approach to Combating Child Labor

     August 16, 2010 6:29 pm 3 Comments

     The message of her song was clear:  if we end child labor, all children will have the opportunity to become educated, and Nepal as a nation will prosper.  Or so went the beautiful, self-written song performed by Reka Paudel, 14, at a recent Child Club meeting in Kothari Village.

     Though Nepal has recognized child labor as a key human rights issue, the problem still persists.  Local NGOs, international organizations and the government have employed varied tactics to combat the problem.  Some approaches aim to improve the economic livelihood of poor families vulnerable to sending their children to work, while others focus on education.  Many rural villages, though, are combining these approaches through the creation of child friendly spaces. 

     Child friendly spaces embody a commitment to protect children, end discrimination against them and support their basic the human rights.  With the welfare of children as the highest priority, these kinds of approaches place an emphasis on child participation, community mobilization and the promotion of education.

     Making Villages Child Friendly

     The Child Friendly Village is a unique concept, currently being implemented in the western Terai, which aims to create and sustain child friendly spaces at the village level.   The primary goal is that a village becomes child labor-free (no children are employed in the village and no village children are sent away to work) and that all school-age children are attending school. 

     Paudel’s village is just one of more than 300 that have been designated as Child Friendly Villages in Nepal.

     Bachpan Bachpao Andolan (Save the Childhood Movement), a children’s rights NGO in northern India, pioneered the Child Friendly Village model in 2001.  BASE (Backward Society Education) then adapted the model and began implementing it in 2007 in some of the most marginalized communities in Nepal.  Approximately 10,000 people in Kanchanpur, Kailali, Bardiya, Dang and Banke, Districts are now living in BASE-designated Child Friendly Villages. 

     BASE believes it is possible to eliminate child labor through Child Friendly Villages.  “This is one good way to eliminate the worst forms of child labor,” said Churna Chaudhary, Executive Director of BASE, “BASE’s role is to enhance the capacity of children by generating awareness of children’s rights.  Once they understand their basic rights, the children themselves will mobilize to work against child labor and other forms of discrimination towards children.” 

     The Child Friendly Village model is critical in targeting rural areas and small villages which are the primary sources of children who move to urban areas to work as child laborers.  Hence, effective anti-child labor campaigns must focus on keeping children in their own villages, preventing them from going to work as child laborers and making the communities aware of the importance of education

     Freedom for the Children

     “Before, many children did not want to go to school and some were child laborers.  Now, because of the Child Friendly Village, children are going to school, and there is no child labor,” a Child Friendly Village Committee member from Surmi Katan Village in Kailali district reported.

     Through structures such as the Child Friendly Village Committee and Child Club, villagers persuade parents to withdraw their children from work enroll them in school.  By making parents aware of the illegality of child labor, possible punishments, international regulations and human rights standards, many have a change of heart that results in freedom for their children.

     One woman from Dakshin Amarai Village in Dang District sent her daughter away but was convinced by the Child Friend Village Committee to bring her back.  “We (the family) originally did this because we didn’t have land and needed money to survive,” she said, “my daughter worked from when she was 10 to 12 years-old.  Now our life is more challenging, but I compared that hardship with my child’s future and was convinced to bring her back.  I was also convinced when I learned about the laws and that I could be punished.”

     BASE’s Child Friendly Villages and child labor rescue initiatives have freed approximately 1,000 child laborers since 2008.

     A Holistic Approach

     While other NGOs working in Nepal such as World Education and MS Action Aid, as well as various District Development Committees, have also embraced child friendly education approaches, BASE’s holistic village model uniquely addresses the multidimensional child labor problem.  Child labor is not only a cause but also a consequence of poverty, illiteracy and lack of human security.

     Through a rights-based approach, the Child Friendly Villages aim to achieve both social and economic community development. 

     The right to education underpins efforts to provide quality education to all children.  According to BASE Child Labor Program Coordinator, Pinky Dangi, “If we teach children about their rights and ensure they receive an education, then it will impact their future and be more sustainable.”

     Many villages have also united under the structures of the Child Friendly Village to implement infrastructure projects such as road maintenance and sanitation improvement.  These projects impact the development of children, enabling them to have happier, healthier lives.  

     The ultimate goal of the Child Friendly Village program is the complete eradication of child labor and the achievement of the United Nation’s “Education for All” Millennium Development Goal.

     The Future of Nepal’s Children

     The Kothari Village Child Club, of which Paudel is an active member, is working to increase local people’s awareness of children’s rights and fight against child labor.  They currently perform very successful street dramas and hope to incorporate other kinds of cultural performances, like song and dance, to their anti-child labor repertoire.

     “I am not a child laborer, but I work too much in my home because my family is poor.  Also, I have seen others involved in child labor so I want to end it,” Paudel said, “Every opportunity should be available to all including good quality education.”

     Though the fight against child labor must happen on many levels—local, district, national and international—the collaborative efforts of BASE’s Child Friendly Villages is likely to have a significant, positive impact on the futures of the children of Nepal.

344. Ms. Hue, her dream is a fridge

     August 9, 2010 12:05 pm 4 Comments

     Nguyen Thi My Hue was born disabled. She has a serious congenital malformation, is humpbacked and has experienced an abnormal growth of her body. Today, at the age of thirty, she is only tall like a ten-year-old child. Hue is a victim of Agent Orange. Between 1962 and 1971, US Military airplanes sprayed around 50 million liters of this dioxin-contaminated herbicide on the jungle and rice fields of Vietnam, Laos and parts of Cambodia. Agent Orange was used to defoliate the forest and rural lands to deprive the Viet Cong food supply and cover. Hue’s father was directly exposed to the dioxin during the war. The Vietnamese Red Cross estimates that, like Hue, 3 million Vietnamese have been affected by Agent Orange, among them at least 150’000 children with birth defects.

     Hue begins her story with: “I was born unlucky”. But her eyes are bright and she smiles.

     Hue grew up with her parents and her seven younger sisters in very poor conditions in a farmer village in the Phúc Trạch commune, Bố Trạch District. “I was really weak at that time and could not do anything. I could not walk or stand straight because of my disability. I only crawled. When I was ten, I could start helping my parents with housework: cooking, washing an even cutting grass on the paddy field.”

     Because of her general weakness and unstable health condition, her parents did not allow her to go to school. But Hue insisted on going. Thanks to her strong will and enthusiasm she managed to convince her parents and the teacher. And once in school, she could easily catch up with the others.

     “I was so unhappy that I could not go to school. I had to stay at home. I tried to teach myself one letter a day. My mother taught me to write. Once I could read and write my name, I wanted to attend the class. But my friends at the same age were already in 3rd grade and the teacher did not allow me to join. My father insisted. The teacher asked me to read my name and a newspaper. I did well, even 10 simple calculations. In the end, the teacher agreed. I went only two years to school.”

     Unfortunately, Hue could not continue her education because her family was too poor to afford the tuition fees for all seven sisters. As the eldest, Hue demonstrated responsibility and maturity, which is special for a 12-year old: “I thought I should stay at home and help my mother. I wanted to give my younger sisters the opportunity to go to school too. I knew how to read, write and calculate. This was enough.”

     In the following years, Hue helped her parents to earn money for the family. They lived mainly on rice cultivation. Her physical constitution didn’t allow working on the rice field. So Hue sold small products on the local market. Despite her efforts, the money she made was not enough, around 18 dollars a month. She felt discouraged and struggled in her daily life.

     In 2004 her father suddenly died from a serious disease. This was too much for Hue. She felt such pain over the death of her bloved father that she had a heart attack. Even now, when Hue recalls these days, she has tears in her eyes: “I fainted, fell down and my body trembled epileptically. I only survived because neighbours came running and reanimated me.” Her mother brought her to the Pham Ngoc Thach hospital in Ho Chi Minh City, which is 1200 km from here home. She stayed there for three years. But even after returning home, she had to stay in bed for another two years, until 2009.

     As Hue recovered from her heart attack, her first thought was to support her mother in providing for the family: “Our economic situation was very difficult. Only my mother was working on the rice field, but we didn’t have enough to feed all family members. I wanted to have a new job. I came up with the idea of selling groceries for the neighbours in a small store integrated in our house.”

     Despite of her undeniable talent for sales, which she has developed since her childhood, she had to face serious start-difficulties: “I asked people to lend us some money. I borrowed 5 million dong (250 Dollars) to buy a small cupboard and an old fridge, which cost 1,3 million Dong. But the old fridge broke down. I lost the money. To run the store without a fridge was very difficult. The days here are very hot and people like drinking cold beer and water with da (Ice). Without the fridge, they did not come to me anymore. I was so disappointed and wished nothing more than to have a fridge again.”

     In February 2010, Mr. Thuan, an AEPD outreach worker, visited Hue at her home. She should become one of the first beneficiaries of AEPD’s new project “Promoting development of small enterprises by persons with disabilities”, funded by Irish Aid.

     “Mr. Thuan asked me if I wanted to have a job and join a vocational training. I told him about my dream to keep and expand my store at home. The vocational trainings he proposed, incense and candle making, were not suitable for my health. So Mr. Thuan invited me to participate in a business planning and management workshop held in Hoan Lao village” – about 40 kilometers from Hue’s home.

     Since Hue has never left her village during her whole life to join any public event, she was very nervous and hesitated to participate. “I was very happy and worried at the same time because of my low education and because I have never travelled far to meet other people. But he convinced and encouraged me that I should believe in myself, overcome my feeling of inferiority and complex. ‘Everyone loves you and supports you. Try your best he told me. Thanks to his encouragement, I got over my fear and decided to go. During the 4 days of training in April, I met many people who are also disabled like me. This was the first time in my life I was outside talking with other people. It was a great experience”.

     After the training, Hue was more than ever determined to keep her store and to make it successful. With the help of the Mr. Thuan, she developed a business plan. All she needed was a working fridge…

     In May 2010, AEPD provided Hue with a new fridge and paid  part of the building cost of a new store in front of her house. Today, Hue’s small store business provides her with a sustainable income. “Since having the fridge and store, I have been attracting more and more clients and my mood and spirit changed a lot. I am happy and feeling healthier than ever before.”

     Hue discovered a new talent as well. She has a beautiful voice. And one of her passions is singing. In different social and cultural events organized by self-clubs of disabled persons, Hue went on stage and presented her songs, including a poem she wrote herself about her life. It was a big step for her and needed a lot of courage, but Hue did it.

     “While singing on the stage, I felt very lucky and honored to present my voice to the audience.” And the audience applauded and cheered strongly. This made Hue proud of herself. Proud of what she achieved despite her disability.

     

345. Mr. Son, a succesful carpenter

     August 5, 2010 11:22 am 3 Comments

     Vietnam has an immense number of disabled people. Around 5 millions or 6.3 per cent of its whole population have to live with a disability. In Quang Binh province alone there are around 40’000. Among them many survivors of landmines and cluster munitions, as well as victims of Agent Orange – the legacy of twenty-five years of war.

     Most of them live in rural areas and below the poverty line, especially in Quang Binh, one of Vietnam’s poorest provinces. Here the average per capita income is around 15 Dollars a month. Only few people with disabilities have stable jobs and regular income. Environmental, economic and social barriers prevent most handicapped from fully participating in society.

     AEPD’s current project, funded by Irish Aid, aims to reduce poverty among disabled people by assisting them with developing small enterprises. Through business and vocational trainings, which are tailored to the specific needs of every individual and in-kind support, AEPD works to improve their livelihood conditions in a sustainable way.

     Currently around a hundred people with disabilities and their families are assisted by AEPD. In the past few weeks, I had the chance to visit several beneficiaries of the project at their homes in the rural areas around Dong Hoi. I was deeply impressed by their stories and the way AEPD has been working with them. Every story is unique and remarkable. I would like to start sharing them with you.

     This is the story of Mr. Tran Van Son (46), who had his two legs and three fingers amputated due to an artery blockage. Thanks to his own strong character and AEPD’s support, he has built a successful carpenter business in Ray village in the Bo Trach District. He received frequent peer support visits by AEPD outreach workers, pain medication and two machines, a power saw and a lathe. He proudly showed me his workshop, attached at his home, where he lives with his wife and his 12-year-old son. He insisted in telling his story on his own. Here it is:

     

     “I was born in a poor farmer family. My parents needed my help on the rice field and could not afford the school money, so I had to stop attending school. I joined the army in 1984 when I was 20 years old. After 3 years in the army, I came back to my village to work and I got married.

     At the age of thirty-five, the artery blockage started. I was constantly in great pain. I travelled to many hospitals in the nearby provinces, then to Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh. But nobody could treat my disease.  In 1999, I had my left leg amputated. In 2000, my right leg was amputated as well. But I did not recover. Then the doctor cut my fingers as the last way to prevent me from death. I thought my life would end. I did not want to live anymore. But my wife encouraged me. I should live and hear my children calling me “papa”.

     Two years of spending all our money on medicine and many hospital stays made our economic situation worse and worse. I had to borrow a lot of money. We could not afford a normal life anymore. Despite my severe disability, I decided to learn a new job in order to be able to pay back my debt and support my family. I wanted to become a carpenter. During this time, I learned about LSNV. The organization provided me a power saw. Since then I have become more confident and energetic. In 2010, I received a second machine, a lathe. My carpenter workshop is the only one in the surrounding communities and it is very successful. My clients bring me the raw material and I produce what they wish: Doors, windows and furniture of all kind. Everybody really likes my products.

     I realize that many other persons with disabilities and amputees are less lucky than me. They have no wives, no children and no relatives and are fully dependant on outside help. I am so happy to have my supporting family and a job that is suitable to my health condition. Today I am independent. I earn my own living and am able to provide for my family. I have the opportunity to participate and contribute to the society thanks to the encouragement and consultancy of AEPD.”

     

     

     

     

     

346. Sabita and Sima

     August 4, 2010 5:05 am Leave a Comment

     Sabita and Sima sometimes seem like Siamese twins, living parallel lives, acting out the same story.  Both sport the same boy haircuts typical for young Nepali girls, and both invariably giggle between every sentence.  Sima, 11, likes to eat oranges and study social studies, while Sabita, 10, likes mangoes and English. They both like to play volleyball.  Even if you didn’t know their backgrounds, or perhaps even if you did, you might think they were sisters.

     Sima lived out the classic child labor narrative.  Following her father’s death, her mother, unable to support four children, sent Sima, then 9 years old, to the city with expectations that she could earn some money and attend school.  These were false expectations, indeed, for Sima never visited a classroom.  Instead, at the mercy of a house owner, Sima spent twelve to thirteen hours a day performing domestic labor.  She cleaned the house, washed dishes, did laundry, cooked meals, tended to the kitchen garden and collected cow dung for use as fertilizer.  Exhausted at night, attending school was an elusive dream.

     At the same time, less than 25 kilometers away, a rich lawyer, who later claimed he did not purchase Sabita, was purchasing then 8 year-old Sabita.  A law student tenant with a different story may or may not have played a role in the transaction.  As a pawn in a web of shady transactions and incongruous stories, Sabita was also living out a classic child labor narrative.  However, regardless of how she came to be in the lawyer’s home, Sabita’s story of what happened after arriving was clear. Go through the site https://www.hughesandcoleman.com/ for detail information.

     “I used to clean the TV room, sitting room and kitchen and corridor and my room too.  I used to wash uncle and auntie’s clothes.  Sometimes there weren’t many dishes so I would do them alone.  When there were guests, there were too many dishes so the aunt would wash with me.  They used to scold me when I made a mistake.  If I didn’t clean the dishes properly they’d say, ‘Look how dirty these dishes are, if you don’t clean properly we’ll get diseases!’  I stayed there for many days.  One day, Uncle and Aunt went somewhere for a few days.  Then I was just staying alone and I was so hungry.”

     Enter BASE.  In the spring of 2009, BASE conducted a series of child labor raid and rescue missions that, in conjunction with other anti-child labor initiatives, rescued more than 1,000 children in a two-year period.  Sabita and Sima’s parallel lives converged as they were rescued and taken to a BASE rehabilitation center where they received initial care and support.  Sabita was later taken back to her home, but with her father dead, mother run away with another man, and brother burdened with financial problems, she decided to return to BASE’s care.  Both girls ultimately embraced their newfound freedom by demanding the rights of children as participants in the BASE-organized Nepal March for Education, part of the Global March Against Child Labor.

     Sabita and Sima now live at the Children’s Peace Home, a charitable initiative providing care to underprivileged children, and ride a school bus everyday to the Hindu Vidyapeeth School, a prestigious boarding school.  With their lives interwoven, they share many things—a penchant for studying, compassion for their friends and the joy of youth.   Above all though, they share the same strength and resilience—and hopefully, because of BASE’s intervention, the same bright future.

     The story above was compiled from two interviews with Sabita and Sima, one at the Hindu Vidyapeeth School and the other at the Children’s Peace Home, as well as the documentary, The Price of Childhood, by Kan Yan, 2009 Advocacy Project Peace Fellow with BASE.  Please see Kan’s blog for a more detailed account of Sabita’s story.

347. What is Child Labor?

     July 28, 2010 4:41 am Leave a Comment

     What is child labor?  Is it the village children sold out of desperation by their poor families to be domestic workers in Nepal’s urban centers?  Sure.  Is it the thousands of children who are trafficked to India to work in various sectors including prostitution?  Absolutely.  The kids bonded to landlords?  Laboring in quarries, brick factories, mines, factories and construction sites.  You bet.

     How about…

     

     or

     

     What about the swarms of children ubiquitous on any Nepali highway, hawking bottled water, snacks and other treats to travelers?  Children like:

     

     and

     

     Probably, maybe, perhaps, and possibly.

     And then there’s the Tapa children who, alongside their parents, are busy bees serving customers at the family-run Sithal restaraunt.

     

     It depends.

     Why all the ambiguity, you ask? 

     According to the International Labor Organization (ILO), the term “child labor” is often defined as work that deprives children of their childhood, their potential and their dignity, and that is harmful to physical and mental development.  It refers to work that is:

     – mentally, physically, socially or morally dangerous and harmful to children; and

     – interferes with their schooling by depriving them of the opportunity to attend school, obliging them to leave school prematurely, or requiring them to attempt to combine school attendance with excessively long and heavy work.

     However, the definition of “child”, while guided by international norms, is largely left to national interpretation.  The Children’s Act of Nepal, 1992, established that a child is any person below the age of 16 years.  According to the policy, though, anyone under 16 engaged in economic activity is a not child laborer.  There are two primary reasons for this incongruity.

     First, labor is only legally restricted to those below 14 years.  For those in the 14 to 16 age bracket, labor is fair game as long as it abides by certain restrictions.  Following Nepal’s ratification of the ILO’s Minimum Age Convention (No. 138), the Child Labor Act, 1999, which amended the Labor Acts of 1992 and 1993, enlisted specific occupations as hazardous work and prohibited the use of children below 16 from such activities.  In addition, the Act stipulated working hour restrictions, stating that children from 14 to 16 may not work between the hours of 6 p.m. and 6 a.m.

     And second, there is a distinction between labor and work that permits child workers. While many recognize child labor as wrong, societal norms underpin a culture of indifference to child workers.  Most Nepalis just don’t think anything of it when they see a child working, especially if it is a poor child. 

     The distinction holds that children, regardless of their age, working by their own free will and under non-exploitative conditions that protect their rights, are legally permitted to work.  BASE, for example, defines children who go to school and also work (e.g. help with family business or work temporarily during summer vacation) as child workers.  While these children should not be required to work more than is appropriate for their physical and mental capacity, they aren’t child laborers. 

     BASE also incorporates an interesting assumption into their operational definition of child labor:  any child not receiving an education is a child laborer.  Because a child not attending school is at high risk of becoming a child laborer, BASE conceptualizes these children as child laborers and similarly targets them with their anti-child labor initiatives.  This critical assumption is underpinned by BASE’s emphasis on education.

     So given all these international and national regulations, variable definitions and assumptions, the child labor question remains.  What exactly constitutes child labor?  Every night as I eat dahl bhat at my favorite dinner spot, Sithal restaraunt, I am reminded of the ambiguity.  Sarita, 16, always eager to read my Nepali-English phrasebook, serves food to customers; Sithal, 13, the namesake of the restaurant, washes dishes; and Bobina, 8, recent karate brown belt-recipient, chops vegetables.  Sujendra, 14, the only boy and unofficial comedian of the establishment, has the daily responsibility of making the roti, that delicious South Asian flatbread staple. 

     

     

     The role of these children in the economic profitability of the restaurant is undeniable.  But they are attending school, and even extra-curricular activities.  They laugh, play and seem generally happy.  I still wonder, though, if they are missing out on their childhood and how a childhood with more work than play will affect their development.  Every handful of dahl bhat that I shovel into my mouth is accompanied by the aftertaste of this big, moral dilemma.  Is this child labor?  Am I supporting it by patronizing Sithal restaurant?  And even further, am I now part of the larger-scale social problem that perpetuates the system of child labor in Nepal?  Swallow.

     I don’t have all the answers to the child labor question.  But I do know that instead of asking, what is child labor?, perhaps we should be asking, who is in school?

348. The Children of Nepal in Numbers

     July 19, 2010 6:42 am Leave a Comment

     Before delving into the crux of child labor: the what, the how, and the why, let’s establish the hard facts of who.  That is, who are the children of Nepal?  And how many ways can we count them?

     41 percent of the total population is below 16 years old.

     2.6 million children are engaged in child labor.

     50 percent of child laborers work without pay as family members or bonded laborers.

     20 percent of the total workforce is comprised of children (one of the highest proportions in the world).

     2 times as much work is performed by 10-14 year old girls compared to boys in the same age group.

     42 percent of 10 to 14 year olds are working rather than attending school.

     63 percent of the male population and only 35 percent of the female population over 15 are able to read and write.

     And just in case you were wondering…

     34 percent of marriages involve children below 15 years of age.

     12,000 women and children are trafficked to India annually.

     5,000 children are working and living on the streets.

     And…

     8,000 children have been orphaned and more than 40,000 have been displaced due to the ongoing-armed conflict between the government and Maoists (CPN).

     The numbers say it all, don’t you think?

     (Sources: CWIN-RAIC/CBS/UNICEF/Ministry of Education/ILO/UNFPA/Nepal Media Council and Jim Flood’s “Child Labor in Nepal:  A Brief Overview”)

349. Looking back on LSN-V

     July 10, 2010 11:19 am Leave a Comment

     Now we are officially the Association for Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD). I would like to show you what the NGO does and how they work. In 2008, the organization, which at the time was still the Landmine Survivor Network – Vietnam, produced a short promotional movie about the work they do. It will provide you with a good insight into my daily  surroundings and the people I work with (even if some have left the organization since then). Also, it shows how LSN-V has helped many people with disabilities in the three sectors of health, economic opportunities and social empowerment. LSN-V has achieved many remarkable things, especially thanks to its unique model of peer support, which will remain at the core of AEPD. Enjoy!

350. From global to local: Survivor Corps Vietnam becomes the Association of Empowerment for Persons with Disabilities (AEPD)

     July 6, 2010 11:16 am Leave a Comment

     This summer is a very important time for Survivor Corps Vietnam, as the organization is leaving the structure of the SC global network and transforming itself into a local independent Vietnamese NGO, called “Association for Empowerment of Persons with disabilities” (AEPD). Next saturday, July 10, Survivor Corps Headquarters in Washington closes its doors as a consequence of the lack of funding triggered by the global economic crisis. This day will also mark the beginning of AEPD.

     Survivor Corps has helped over 2500 landmine and cluster munitions survivors  and their families in Quang Binh province since 2003. Now AEPD is committed to continue this mission and to go beyond this by expanding its support projects to all people with disabilities.

     After some initial uncertainties over the changes within the organization where I am volunteering this summer, I have realized the opportunity offering itself to me. Many things have to be done in the final stages of this localization process. During the past two weeks I have developed the logo of AEPD with the support of a great graphic designer and friend (thank you Mänu!). Also,  I have currently been preparing the content and structure of the AEPD’s new website. And maybe most importantly, a new fundraising and outreach strategy has to be set up, as from now on AEPD has to stand financially on its own feet.

     

     The work atmosphere in the office is good. As everyone from the small team is very busy, I can work very independently and come up with my own ideas – It is a mixture of creativity, spontaneity and learning-by-doing that is asked by my superiors Ms. Hong and Ms. Dung. However, if I find myself in difficulties with certain questions, I receive all the necessary support.

     There is another reason why working with a small local development NGO is highly beneficial for me. I can learn a lot about the dynamics of community-based grassroots organizations, as well as about their challenges and difficulties. They are mainly linked to the financial dependence of national and international donors. So far I have had only theoretically knowledge about fundraising, but to see its importance in daily work life is impressive: NGOs’ activities and staff salaries depend entirely on it. This is especially visible in harsh economic times, when less donor money is available.

     Luckily, AEPD has recently assured a two-year contract with the Irish development agency Irish Aid.  This grant guarantees that AEPD can keep its head above water during the difficult transition time and continue to support persons with disabilities. So the first step towards localization is done and this is a base AEPD can build upon for a successful future.

351. A Ten-year-old Makes Your Frappuccino: Child Labor in an American Context

     6:44 am 4 Comments

     Child labor.  Over the past few weeks, this issue has been the focus of my work with BASE.  But what does child labor really mean?  Is this something that we, as residents of affluent America, can really comprehend?  Humor me for a moment and step outside your present reality…

     Can you imagine a ten-year-old working at Starbucks, blending your Frappuccino? 

     Or at McDonalds, flipping your quarter-pounder, wiping dirty tables, and carrying bags of trash bigger than she is to the dumpster out back.  It seems unreal and even bizarre.  But try hard and imagine.

     Your car needs fixing and you take it to the mechanic.  Can you imagine that the oil-covered face underneath the hood of your Honda Accord belongs to an eight-year-old boy?  Seriously.

     The high-rise going up down the street?  A troupe of 12- and 13-year-olds are the muscles behind that enterprise, mixing cement, welding beams and, from dawn to dusk every day, sending it higher and higher towards the sky.  Can you really imagine this?

     That t-shirt you’re wearing looks good on you, even though it was made in a factory full of nine-year-olds, sweating to keep pace with the production line.

     In your home, imagine you have a servant.  Sounds nice, doesn’t it?  Someone to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for you, do all your dirty dishes, wash your laundry, and clean your house, including that  grime under the toilet seat that you’d rather not think about.   It’s a lot of work for a seven-year-old and often takes her no less than 18 hours a day.

     These children, they’re probably not getting paid, and if they are, it’s not much.

     They’re not going to school.  How could they find the time or energy with their workload?

     And they’re certainly not laughing, playing and enjoying their childhood the way other children are.

     Imagine that it’s not just one child, or even a couple.  This is 1 out of every 5 children in America.  That’s 13 million.  Wow.  Imagine that.

     Good thing you only have to imagine, though, because if you lived in Nepal, this would be real.

     

352. Sumitra Tharu: On Being a Girl and Realizing the Value of Education

     June 27, 2010 7:42 am 1 Comment

     I recently attended a gender equity training lead by BASE.  While the stories of the men and women participants, but especially the women, were not surprising to me, they were nevertheless sobering.  Tharu women work hard.  I mean, really hard.  As the women listed out their daily tasks, from domestic chores to back-breaking labor, it was clear to everyone in that concrete classroom that women share a disproportionate burden of the workload.  In addition, they are severely under-valued and lack basic rights and decision-making powers.  Despite the significant strides towards achieving gender equity that were made at the training, there is still a long way to go.  (Check out photos of the training on Flickr.)

     Within the context of this bleak reality, I present the story of Sumitra, a young BASE staff member and shining star, who has overcome many of the challenges of being…a girl.

     Sumitra’s Story

     My parents know the value of education.  My father always encouraged me to go to school.  In my village, my family was the first to send a daughter to school.  Despite being very interested in studying, my cousin only made it through the third grade before being married at age 21.  Next my elder sister was enrolled.  She made it through the tenth grade before being married at age 19.  That’s what girls did.  They got married and took care of their new families.

     Finally, it was my turn.  While most girls didn’t want to go to school because the classes were full of boys and parents didn’t see the value of investing in education for girls, I was able to complete through the tenth grade.  I wanted to continue studying, but my family wasn’t ready to invest.  They didn’t want to spend money on me for higher education, because I was a girl.  I cried a lot to my father and uncles.  I begged them over and over to let me go to college.  Finally, my father agreed, though he couldn’t convince my uncles.

     First, I got an intermediate degree at a local college.  Then I went to a university in the city of Nepalganj for my bachelor’s degree.  During my second year, I was hired to participate in on-the-job training with BASE.  Due to the hours and location of the office, I was no longer able to attend class.  However, with my earnings, I could afford to purchase the books and course materials and study independently.  For three years I did this, only going to the university campus to complete the exams.  My friends said that I was doing really hard work.  It was challenging, since I couldn’t attend the lectures, but I always preferred to study so I didn’t mind.  At work I encouraged my colleagues to attend college though they felt it was impossible to manage their time between work and school.  From 9:30 AM to 6:30 PM I worked at the office, and in the evenings I studied.

     Once I got my bachelor’s degree I felt I had to leave BASE and go for a higher degree in Kathmandu.  At that time Dilli Chaudhary, the President of BASE, encouraged me to apply for a scholarship though the Nepal Embassy, offered by the Rai Foundation.  With BASE’s recommendation, I was awarded the scholarship and went to Delhi, India for my MBA.  Now I am working for BASE as a Program Coordinator of the Youth Action Fund and simultaneously completing a second master’s degree in Public Administration. 

     Being Tharu

     In my Village Development Committee (collection of about ten villages), I am the only Tharu girl who has earned a Master’s degree.  In total there are only six people from my village who have received a Master’s.  Of the other five boys, only two are Tharu.

     Everyone says that the Tharu community is backward.  I think we are not backward but that we are made backward by other castes.  Many years ago, the Tharu used to produce crops, but they didn’t get proper wages or benefits for their labor.  As a result, they didn’t have sufficient funds to send their children to school.  Money is important for education.  The Tharu had land, but they didn’t have the knowledge that they were required to legally register their land with the government.  Other castes took advantage of their ignorance and seized ownership of the land.  You see, Tharus lost their land due to their lack of education.

     Tharu are very hard working people.  You will never see a Tharu sitting idle.  They just don’t earn enough, and they don’t know how to modernize their agricultural practices so they are stuck in poverty.   As a result, the Tharu don’t have access to the government and lack political representation.  I think we have to get to the top.  Education is the way to get to there. 

     The Value of Education

     My father suffered a lot of problems due to lack of education.  When he was in the third grade, his father died.  After that he had to manage all the family affairs:  provide the income and do everything necessary for the survival of his mother and siblings.  He was only 12 years old.  His education ended at that point so that’s why he has always felt that he should encourage his own children to go to school.

     Most Tharu girls get married at age 16, but I am still studying.  Because of my achievements, many people use me as an example.  They say, “Look at Sumitra, she is studying, maybe we can be like her.”  I feel so proud.

     Education is important for everybody but especially for Tharus.  If we are educated, we can get good jobs in the government or NGO sector.  Then we can make real change.  But if we are not educated, how can we expect change?

     I am not sure what I will do next.  I would like to get a Master of Philosophy (doctorate) degree and work in finance.  Whatever I do, I know that the power of education will help me to succeed.  Hopefully, others will follow in my path.  Even now my uncles realize the value of education!

353. My arrival in Dong Hoi

     June 22, 2010 4:35 pm 3 Comments

     It has now been one week since I have arrived in Dong Hoi. Time has passed very quickly and intensively as I have been absorbing openly and eagerly many new impressions and encounters with interesting people. Everything is new and exciting. I adore immersing myself in new foreign settings and way of life as well as adapting quickly to local cultural habits. I like walking through the local market and appreciate the intense and fresh colors and flavors of the (for us) exotic cooking ingredients like ginger, lemongrass, green lemon, chili or coriander.

     I arrived last Tuesday morning after a one-hour flight from Hanoi. Shortly after I moved into my room in the nice little family-run Nam Long Hotel, I went full of anticipation to the SC/LSN-V office, which is only a two minute walk. There I was introduced to Ms. Dung (director) and Ms. Hong (operation manager), as well as Nga (monitoring and evaluation officer) and Jasmine, a Canadian girl, who is also volunteering with SC/LSN-V. I was warmly received and now, only a couple of days later, I already feel part of the team. The enthusiasm and commitment of the LSN-V staff to improve the livelihoods of persons with disabilities was immediately evident to me. Within the first week, I had the chance to visit two beneficiaries of SC/LSN-V’s small business development project, which aims to reduce poverty among persons with disabilities by providing employment opportunities and building capacity to start their own small enterprises. Read more here.

     

     Dong Hoi has 100’000 inhabitants and is the capital city of the Quảng Bình province, located 500 km south of Hanoi. (see map). Compared to chaotic motorbike-crammed Hanoi, this marvelous little coastal city is rather quiet and relaxed. Between two sips of ice coffee, a businessman from Ho Chi Minh City explains me why he loves coming here. Dong Hoi is famous for its excellent fresh seafood, its beaches and for the hot climate – and most importantly for its nice and friendly people. I can only agree with him.

     All the crab, fish, squid, and shrimp I have had during this first week in various seaside restaurants were amazing – and very cheap. And the weather is hot. Really hot.  In the afternoon, the thermometer climbs up to 35 – 40 C degrees, and that does not include the humidity. Luckily, one can generally rely on fans and air conditioning. But every other day, the state-owned electricity company cuts the power for a couple of hours in certain areas of the city to save money. Imagine!

     At first sight, Dong Hoi has little to offer tourists, and is not on Lonely Planets’ hot spot list for Vietnam backpackers. But the fact that it is not touristic at all is, in my opinion, one of its great advantages, especially if you plan to stay here for a long time. As a result, people are not very used to seeing many foreigners, except for some development workers and a couple of passing tourists. This explains the curious looks and smiles I get here, whether entering a busy restaurant at lunch, or simply walking down the street. It is not uncommon for motorbikes to slow down, as the driver and the up to 4 others passengers (including kids without helmets) turn their head to stare at me. But I don’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed, because people have only been kind and friendly towards me.

     

     I am impressed by the hospitality of the people from Dong Hoi. I feel welcome here. However, even basic communication is often difficult, as I only speak a couple of clumsy words in Vietnamese, and most of the people in Dong Hoi don’t speak English at all. So exchanges with people on the street, in a restaurant or a store are basically limited to some standard sentences like “Hello, how are you?”, “What’s your name?” and “Where are you from?”  If you want to enter into a deeper discussion, you have to be creative and use alternative ways to communicate, including hands, legs, pens and paper. It feels as though you were playing Charades or Taboo with a complete stranger, and it can be very entertaining. But luckily, I am able to speak English with my Vietnamese co-workers from SC/LSN-V and with my Canadian friend.

     After one week in Dong Hoi, I am quite sure that this is a place where I will feel fine during the summer.

354. A day in the life of a Peace Fellow in rural Nepal

     7:06 am 4 Comments

     Because every blog needs a little personalization, I thought I’d share a typical day in my life here in Tulsipur.

     7:00 AM  Good morning!  Although others have been up since sunrise, cooking, tending to animals, walking to their jobs, I finally wake up, thinking:  the air is so cool.  The reality of later being drenched in sweat is distant, unthinkable.

     7:10 AM I throw a towel and bottle of mineral water (for brushing teeth) in a plastic bag and trudge out of my apartment, down to the next landing and into my bathroom, a concrete room with one hole, two buckets and a lot of mosquitoes.  Brr, the water is so cold at first, but I like the feeling of clean.

     8:00 AM  Tea time!  I head to the local tea shop for some sweet milk tea and cholasamosa, a delicious mix of mashed up samosa, curried chickpeas and a sprinkling of red onion.  I am not surprised to run into a few BASE staff, also enjoying a cup of chiya.

     8:30 AM  Before starting work, BASE staff often sit in a courtyard under a giant rubber tree, reading the daily newspaper, talking about politics and exchanging personal stories.

     9:30 AM Blogging, social networking, reading the 13 new emails from my mother asking, “Sweetie, where are you?  Are you eating enough?  Is everything OK?”

     10:30 AM Around this time I expect some unexpected plan for the day to be announced.  I head out with the Child Labor team to visit a school/orphanage/village.

     12:00 PM  The heat and humidity creeps in.  The unreliable Nepali electricity goes out.  No fan, ugh.

     1:30 PM  Nepalis typically only eat two meals a day, in the morning and at night.  Sometimes they eat a small mid-day snack.  I feel like gluttonous American for requesting lunch, but my body is protesting the cultural assimilation.

     2:00 PM The power comes on, and I rush to charge my computer and mobile phone.  Nepali electricity is a mysterious force that I understand even less than Nepali politics.  I certainly do not not take it for granted.

     2:30 PM  The power goes out.

     2:35 PM  The power comes on.

     4:00 PM  I learn that an insurgent group has announced a nationwide strike for the following day.  While strikes are not uncommon in Nepal, it means that all shops will be closed, no motor vehicles will be allowed to move and my plans of visiting the Children’s Peace Home in a neighboring town will be cancelled.  Sigh.  Personal goals aside, it also means that schools will be closed, and children will once again be denied their right to education.

     5 PM The workday ends.  If it’s Friday then I’ll be back in the office on Sunday, because it’s a six-day work week. 

     6:30 PM You know, I thought I would get tired of dhal bhat, the staple Nepali meal consisting of rice, curried vegetables and lentils, often with some raw cucumbers and pickles on the side.  So far, though, it tastes like mom’s home cooking to me!  Maybe that’s because Kamala cooks it for me every day at her family-owned restaurant where I invariably take my dinner.  And maybe, also, it’s because I eat it in the excellent company of Sorita, Bobina, Sithel and Suhendra, my three new sisters and brother.

     7:30 PM I rush home so that I can wash away the day’s sweat and dirt with a bucket of water before it becomes dark.  Three-inch cockroach who guards my bathroom:  because of you, I am afraid to use the toilet after dark.  One day, perhaps, we will be at peace with each other.

     8:00 PM  The sun sets, and the power goes out, this time for the scheduled daily load-shedding.  The darkness of the Nepali countryside is coal black, amplifying the evening chatter of neighboring familes.  Should I read a book by flashlight or give in to my impatience and go to sleep?

     10:00 PM  Expecting the unexpected has become my routine.  And even that thought is comforting.  I sleep.

     (Note:  The above account grossly underrepresents the actual number of daily power outages.)

     —–

     For an much more detailed and even more entertaining account of life in rural Nepal, check out this excellent blog.  Melinda is a volunteer at the Children’s Peace Home where several former child laborers, rescued by BASE, are now living.

355. Education under the rubber tree

     June 20, 2010 8:58 am 2 Comments

     Every day before beginning work, BASE staff members usually take time to socialize in the office courtyard.  Sitting in red and blue plastic chairs in the shade of a rubber tree, they read the daily newspaper, talk about politics and exchange personal stories.  One morning the friendly Diplal, BASE’s Administrative Head, decided to forgo the usual lighthearted banter and school me on the breadth of BASE’s work. 

     

     Bonded Labor.  Child Labor.  Education.  Human rights.  Health.  Family Planning.  Women’s socio-economic development.  Gender equity.  Microfinance.   My head was spinning as he spouted off the issues BASE’s work addressed and their acronymed program names (e.g. CBCDC for Child-based Development Center, CDDD for Child Development Discussant Program, and C2C for Child to Child Education…).  BASE’s work seems to touch on every issue.  They are everywhere, doing everything.  I couldn’t help but wonder, what is the common thread?

     I have realized that it all comes back to education.  Bonded labor was abolished in 2000; however, two over-arching problems have remained.  For one, the government did nothing to rehabilitate the freed kamaiyas (bonded laborers).  The law granted them freedom, but with no land, skills or education, they were prisoners of poverty.  And for the other, persistent poverty has given rise to and perpetuated the rampant system of child labor that exists today.  Families, unable to provide for all of their children, have been hoodwinked by false promises of schooling and big city futures.  Ultimately, their children end up being sent away to distant, unknown places and enslaved as domestic workers. 

     BASE’s core approach rests on the tenet that through education, Tharus can rise above their marginalization and claim their basic human rights.  This is a classic rights-based approach to development.  And I love it!

     For a great synopsis of the history of the Tharus narrated by BASE President Dilli Chaudhary, check out this video by 2009 Peace Fellow, Kan Yan.

356. On my way to Vietnam

     June 13, 2010 5:44 pm 1 Comment

     Tomorrow the day finally arrives when I will get on the plane towards Vietnam, where I am going to spend my summer working as an AP Peace Fellow with Survivor Corps Vietnam (formerly the Landmine Survivors Network) in Dong Hoi, Quang Binh province. This region close to the former demilitarized zone, which separated North and South Vietnam, is still heavily affected by unexploded ordnances (UXO) like cluster munitions as well as landmines.

     During the past weeks I have been very busy finishing my studies in Paris, spending a couple of days with my family in Switzerland and preparing my departure to Vietnam. Right now, I am already in Bangkok for the weekend to visit some friends who I met two years ago during my internship at the Swiss Embassy. I was very happy to leave again for South-East Asia. I have never been to Vietnam before, however, so in this sense I am entering complete unknown territory.

     I am very much looking forward to having the opportunity to work with Survivor Corps over the next few months. Even though I don’t know yet what exactly my tasks are going to be and how I will fit into the NGO’s daily work, I have already had first email exchanges with Survivor Corps staff over the tentative work plan, which looks highly promising and interesting – and also very challenging. As an AP Fellow, one of my main tasks will be profiling the NGO’s beneficiaries, i.e. victims of landmines and cluster munitions explosions, which then can be used for their fundraising and outreach strategy. Also, Survivor Corps is currently preparing various advocacy activities to urge the Vietnamese government to ratify the international Convention on Cluster Munitions (CCM), which will celebrate its entry into force on 1st of August. This includes the production of a documentary film on cluster munitions issues in Vietnam, and I am impatient to contribute to this project. In addition to advocacy linked to the CMM, I will be asked to help supporting the promotion of two other priority campaigns, the implementation of the Mine Ban Treaty and of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities.

     In any event, it is going to be a very rich and lasting experience for me, and I hope that I will be able to contribute to Survivor Corps efforts in the most positive way during this summer. I like the feeling of anticipation, which one has just before a departure to the unknown. There are many challenges and adventures waiting for me in Dong Hoi. I’ll arrive there Tuesday morning. Can’t wait any longer.

357. A Surprising Perspective: Introduction to Bonded Labor

     June 12, 2010 10:19 am 2 Comments

     Despite some difficulties in getting here (immense gratitude goes out to my amazing supporters), I present this latest entry to you with love from Kathmandu.  With just one day in the city before beelining to my final destination in rural southwest Nepal, I stopped in at the US Embassy to meet with Peter Zirnite, Economic/Commercial Chief of the Political and Economic Section and expert on labor-related issues. 

     Mr. Zirnite briefed me on the issues of bonded labor, child labor (including the practice of kamalari or daughter selling) and marginalization of the Tharus.  While I was not surprised to learn of the insufficient and unreliable documentation of these issues, another idea that Mr. Zirnite shared with me almost knocked me out of my chair.

     Until the 1950’s, the primarily Tharu-inhabited Terai region of Nepal was a malaria hot-bed.  However, as scientific studies have documented, the Tharu possess a genetic resistance to the disease.  With the influx of international aid in the post-World War II era, malaria was nearly eradicated, priming the region for habitation by other Nepalis. 

     Though the practice of bonded labor can be traced to ancient times, the influx of land-seeking Nepalis during the 1950’s and 1960’s resulted in the birth of the modern kamaiya, or bonded labor, system.  The migrant Nepalis brought with them cultural norms of private property distinct from the Tharu belief in common land ownership.  These contested norms, combined with the Tharus position at the bottom of the caste system, produced conditions ripe for the perpetuation of inequality and marginalization of the Tharu.  Enter bonded labor.  Tharus were forced from their homes, forced to work for landowners to survive and burdened with debt that was passed on to their children.     

     This is the part where I nearly fall out of my chair.  Some Tharus attribute the modern practice of bonded labor to the international development initiatives that eradicated malaria from the Terai.  While this view is only held by a minority and is not necessarily supported by BASE, it nevertheless represents a very interesting take on the multiple faces of international development.  Is this a case of good intentions gone wrong?  A failure to adequately weigh the importance of local culture?  Please share your thoughts below and stay tuned for my next entry from the Terai.

     

358. Changing Nepal, Changing the World: Education for All

     May 29, 2010 1:13 pm 1 Comment

     This blog is about education.  Many people have access to it.  However, many don’t.  This virtual space is dedicated to the latter.  We sometimes take education for granted—I know I did for most of my life.  But the reality is that many individuals around the world are denied access to education simply for being a member of a particular group, for being a certain gender, or for being poor.  According to a U.N. report, approximately 70 million children around the world are not enrolled in school, with 18 million of them in South Asia.  An additional 776 million adults, or 16% of the world’s population, lack basic literacy skills.  

     For example, take the Tharu, one of Nepal’s more than 100 ethnic groups.  Until the early 1980’s, most Tharu children were working for landlords, instead of going to school.  Because of their lower caste, they were discriminated against and exploited socially, economically and politically.  Today, both bonded labor and child labor have been outlawed in Nepal, but former bonded laborers and their children continue to be marginalized and denied basic rights, including the right to education.  This is where my summer adventure and the incredible work of a Tharu-led social movement and NGO called Backward Society Education (BASE) comes in.  

     As a Peace Fellow with The Advocacy Project, I will spend this summer working with BASE in southwest Nepal.  At the moment, as I prepare to fly off to Kathmandu, I admittedly know very little about BASE, the Tharu and education in Nepal.  In fact, I have never been to Nepal and do not speak Nepali (yet!).  But as this summer is about education, I too, will be learning so much from the wonderful BASE team, who until now I have only exchanged emails with.  

     I have so many questions and am eager to seek out answers.  BASE’s website announces “Compulsory and Quality Education as a Fundamental right for New Nepal.”  Who does have access to education in Nepal?  What factors exclude some segments of the population?  Further, what was the old Nepal?  And what processes of social change produced the new Nepal?  What roles have children, minorities (such as the Tharu) and other marginalized communities played?  And finally, how is BASE working to producing lasting social change?  I know this summer will be filled with difficult challenges, amazing experiences, and, of course, a lot of learning.  But I’m ready.  

     Let my education in Nepal and education for all begin now!  

     

359. Signing off

     September 25, 2009 4:04 am 6 Comments

     The three months that I have spent in Bangladesh have been exhilarating and frustrating, remarkable and mundane – and everything in between; a reflection of the kinds of extreme emotions that Bangladesh and its people can trigger in you.

     The good news, however, is that it was more of the former and less of the latter. For every security guard at the National Assembly who left no stone unturned to make me realise how ‘notorious’ and ‘big-brotherly’ Indians were in their dealings with Bangladeshis, there were ten people who made me privy to their dreams of visiting the Taj Mahal one day. For every irate officer at the visa office, there were a score who invited me to their homes for lunch or offered me a cup of tea or a cigarette – poor people, people with disabilities and on one very special occasion, a mother of a two year old with a hole in his heart.

     As Dhaka slowly limbers back to life from its Eid-induced slumber and as the madding crowds troop back to make the city the sensory overload that it is, I leave for India tomorrow, having completed my fellowship at BERDO. There are a lot of things about Dhaka that I will always remember – the colourful rickshaws, the busy streets, doing iftar with a bunch of Maulavis at the Sat Gumbad Mosque, going head-to-head with multi-tonne ferries in a tiny dinghy on the Buriganga (and winning), and of course, the people at BERDO and their efforts to ensure equal rights for the disabled. On a lighter note, I will also miss the katchi biryani, gola kebabs and haleem that had become my staple for the last one month. They deserved more having.

     So long, and shine on. 

     

360. But what about them?

     September 23, 2009 12:14 am 1 Comment

     Throughout the summer, I have blogged about people who have been associated with BERDO, talked about how this association has managed to alter their lives for the better, sometimes marginally and in most cases substantially. In a few of my early blogs, I have also harped on the fact that effective as NGOs like BERDO may be, they can never (and they do not aspire to) replace the State. They are merely facilitators and State support in all matters is crucial. This blog buttresses that argument further by focusing on the life-stories of two people who have not been fortunate enough to benefit from any GO or NGO programme.

     Bashar’s story

     In 1994, Bashar Talukdar travelled to Dhaka from Bhola, with his wife and two daughters, in search of a living. The couple had two sons in Dhaka. The daughters were married off and the older son Saddam used to go to a neighbourhood school.

     In January 2004, Bashar started to feel a strange rush in his right eye. He slowly started to lose his vision. Routine tasks like pouring tea into glasses became difficult to perform. He would sell the wrong cigarette packet at times. Treatment in Dhaka proved to be expensive. Doctors would charge Tk 200 a visit. The money he had to spend on medicines everyday (sometimes to the tune of Tk 300) meant that his daily expenditure shot up. Bashar could not muster the Tk 5000 that he required for an operation and travelled back to Bhola. At least there the doctor’s fees would be less steep, he imagined. That was the case undoubtedly, but medicines that would cost Tk 25 in Dhaka were sold to him at Tk 200 in Bhola. In short the chemist had chosen to fleece him. Bashar returned to Dhaka. Soon, Saddam who was then studying in Class V was taken off school. He now attends to customers at the stall while Bashar spends most of his time at home. He has registered at Sandhani, an establishment that organises eye-donations. The last time he contacted Sandhani, they told him that there were 2237 people before him on the waiting list.

     

     The fact that Bashar’s stall lies right outside the gates of BERDO’s head office at Mirpur, matters little. BERDO does not have medical facilities in Mirpur. Nor does BERDO run its Community-Based Rehabilitation or micro-credit programmes there. Sceptics can argue that BERDO should probably make an exception to help Bashar. But where does an organisation draw a line? And if it indeed does decide to help Bashar, what about the blind shopkeeper who has a shop at the street-crossing 200 yards from BERDO? And what about the thousands like him who live remote lives away from the eyes of the State, or those of any NGO for that matter?

     Shamima’s story

     The intersection (or golchakkar) at Mirpur – 10 is as busy as busy can be. Cycles and rickshaws fight for space with buses and trucks. Pedestrians manoeuvre their way through fruit stalls that have spilled onto the footpaths. The sounds of cars honking horn, vendors selling their wares and beggars making a plea for money rent the air.

     

     Shamima, a fifteen year old girl, spends most of her time at the busy golchakkar, in front of a restaurant. Like all of the beggars there, she too is disabled. Unlike most of them, she is completely immobile. At 8 am in the morning, a man dumps her on the footpath where she begs for money all day. At lunch time, the man collects her ‘earnings’ and goes away. At 9 pm the man carries her with him to his house in Kajipara.

     On Eid day, the streets were filled with young girls decked up from head to toe in colourful dresses and sparkling jewellery. Makeshift food stalls that had sprung up for a day were doing brisk business. In the middle of it all, Shamima lay on all fours, waiting for someone to drop a coin or a note into her red begging bowl – aware of the fact that Eid or no Eid, her fortunes would probably remain the same. If Bashar’s was a tough existence, is there any hope at all for Shamima?

361. Bangladesh, CRPD Implementation and BERDO: V

     September 22, 2009 4:42 am 1 Comment

     The following vlog is the last in a series of five on the new initiative undertaken by BERDO to address the implementation of CRPD articles in Bangladesh through advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3OLbyGA8Cs

362. Bangladesh, CRPD Implementation and BERDO: IV

     September 21, 2009 3:12 am Leave a Comment

     The following vlog is the fourth in a series of five on the new initiative undertaken by BERDO to address the implementation of CRPD articles in Bangladesh through advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-atlQ8_NEU

363. Bangladesh, CRPD Implementation and BERDO: III

     September 20, 2009 9:15 pm Leave a Comment

     The following vlog is the third in a series of five on the new initiative undertaken by BERDO to address the implementation of CRPD articles in Bangladesh through advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbM-TLTUIXE

364. Bangladesh, CRPD Implementation and BERDO: II

     9:05 pm 1 Comment

     The following vlog is the second in a series of five on the new initiative undertaken by BERDO to address the implementation of CRPD articles in Bangladesh through advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IBQPeEGu_s

365. Bangladesh, CRPD Implementation and BERDO: I

     September 14, 2009 11:11 pm Leave a Comment

     The following vlog is the first in a series of five on the new initiative undertaken by BERDO to address the implementation of CRPD articles in Bangladesh through advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oE588sMIjIA

366. A little bit of certainty, a fair amount of hope

     September 13, 2009 11:49 pm Leave a Comment

     About a third of the visually impaired people that I have talked with during my time at BERDO have reported typhoid as the reason for their blindness. Santosh Kumar Das of Sirajganj falls within this sizeable number. He lost his eyesight at the age of eight. He passed his class 10^th examinations from a village school in 1992 and subsequently enrolled into a college. Santosh failed to complete class 12^th.

     

     In 1996, Santosh tried to get himself treated at the Rangpur civil hospital. The operation amounted to nothing. He took this failure in his stride and shifted base to Dhaka. Work, however, was not easy to find and he found himself shift from establishment to establishment like a rudderless ship. For a year he worked at a chalk manufacturing and packaging unit and earned Tk 600 a month. In the evenings, he would sell newspapers at a street intersection. Disenchanted by work at the chalk unit, Santosh left his job. He took a loan from a local money lender and started a betel-nut shop of his own. He now earned Tk 900 a month. Most of it was exhausted in the repayment of the loan. The shop that Santosh was so optimistic about was failing to generate enough profits. He sold it off and worked as a biscuit and chocolate vendor at the Tongi bus station, earning about Tk 30 a day in the process.

     The year 2008 represented a turnaround of sorts for Santosh. In June, he met Saidul Huq from BERDO at a disability rights seminar. That same month, he attended training at the Bangladesh Telegraph and Telephone Board (BTTB) to be a telephone operator. Soon after, the placement wing at BERDO got Santosh a job in a bulb manufacturing unit at Gazipur. Santosh finds work at the factory exciting. “I fix circuits and coils and also do the final packaging”, he said. More importantly for him and his family, the job pays him Tk 2700 per month – reasonably well, considering the lowly wages prevalent in Bangladesh. I asked Santosh about the most significant change that his association with BERDO and the placement at the Energy Packing Company had brought into his life. “Certainty”, he promptly replied.

     

     At the end of our conversation, I asked Santosh if I could take his picture. He rummaged into his bag, fished out an old passport-sized photograph and said, “You can use this one. I have it on my disabled card”. “Do you consider yourself lucky to have one?” I said. “Yes I do. Not every disabled person has one”, he said – with a hint of pride and a tinge of sadness.

367. Art on-the-move

     September 12, 2009 2:24 am 4 Comments

     The following blog, though not related to BERDO, is about an entity that is central to life in Bangladesh (mine included).

     They are gaudier than the gaudiest jamdanis, kitschier than the kitschiest Vladimir Tretchikoff and if the fact that they are mass produced nowadays is anything to go by, then they are indeed more Warholesque than Warhol himself. The obvious point of reference here are the rickshaws of Bangladesh. Often the quickest (and greenest) form of transport through the clogged, maze-like streets of Dhaka, these rickshaws also double-up as moving objects of art.

     

     A typical Bangladeshi rickshaw is decorated with myriad embellishments – bright plastic flowers, metal tumblers, tacky streamers and multi-coloured pinwheels are the commonest accessories. Floral motifs and the latest Dhaliwood (when every region of the world has its own ‘wood’, can the Dhaka film-industry be far behind) movie posters are splashed across their vinyl upholstery. Tin-sheets at the rears of the rickshaws are adorned with paintings of movie posters, village scenes, flowers or political personalities.

     At one level, rickshaw-art mirrors the undercurrents prevalent in Bangladeshi society. In the more religious south, floral designs are more popular and paintings do not generally contain human forms. The distance that separates the region from Dhaka and its film-industry can be another explanation for this phenomenon. In certain parts, portraits of Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden and symbols associated with Wahhabist sectarianism have proven to be popular at different times.

     

     The more adorable part of this whole exercise, however, is how most of these paintings are an expression of things that cannot be, or rather are not possible given the present circumstances, in Bangladesh. Village huts often have Ferraris parked outside them. Expensive yachts ply on waterways. The Taj Mahal sits on lotuses. Actors in movie posters are always fair (in fact, a sizeable majority is pink). Exaggerated cleavages are flashed liberally. And vengeful bikini-clad females tote guns in scenes that look like they draw more inspiration from James Hadley Chase novels than from everyday life in Bangladesh.

368. Gilesh interview, Part 2

     September 10, 2009 2:38 am Leave a Comment

     The worse problems for single women Gilesh believes are getting adequate food, children’s education and the perceptions of single women by society.  Now with the new widow law paying men,  she now worries about single women losing their dignity by being bought, only bringing more harm onto the woman. Gilesh has become so angered by the law that she and other women are thinking about staging a protest with the government offices in Gaighat.

     Gilesh, as with many other women in the country are pleading for the government to change the subsidy restriction for single women over sixty years to all single women.  Women over sixty years old generally have property and other assets accumulated over time, making the monthly 500 rupees not as valuable as it could to other younger women.

     When asked about having hope with the slowly emerging “New Nepal,” Gilesh responded unfortunately with little optimism.  She has traveled around to many different districts and visited government offices with no support.  There is some encouragement however, the Nepali Congress has given their support in the single woman issue, and so far they have helped mediate conflicts between family members. The political party can push this issue ahead onto a larger and more immediate level.

     Gilesh is not alone in her battle, Shila, her sister is also a single woman who lost her husband seven years ago from high blood pressure.  She also had a baby when he passed away.  Shila was able to endure through the help of her sister and today both sell rice together and live close by. They both agree they never want to remarry again.

     I admire their strength to speak out, even though Gilesh admitted how difficult it is to retell her story she understands the importance of changing people’s perceptions.  She requests her story be told so people can learn about the great injustice single women face in her country.

     The government subsidies will not only help the well-being of women like Gilesh and Shila but also for the future of their children’s lives.  Even though their children go to the government funded schools, they are still burdened by the cost of exam fees.  The discrimination that is placed upon single women is affecting their entire families.

     It is time for Nepali society to change it’s perceptions of single women and I believe the only way to break the injustice is for women like Gilesh and Shila to speak out.  Education, at an early age should emphasize the importance of strong, independent woman thinkers so that girls grow up with a new image, a woman who can strive to excel even without a man.

369. democracy in Nepal?

     2:00 am Leave a Comment

     Sadly, my powerbook plug has decided to die in Nepal.  It’s currently being worked on in the market of Gaighat.  A good thing because I might have started a fire at the NESPEC office if I had kept on using it.  If only there was a mac store near by…

     Most of my pictures and video are on my computer including pictures for this blog.  Please excuse the lack of visuals while I wait for my plug and hope I don’t need to buy a new computer. 

     Yesterday morning while getting ready to step out the door to take my short walk to NESPEC my host family, Sova and Ram Basnet invited me to the local National Congress Party Office in Gaighat.  Throughout the summer I have attended the democratic political party meetings where people discuss current issues locally and nationally as well as mediate conflicts that may come arise with one another. 

      I have enjoyed the meetings to witness how active people are in Gaighat, especially seeing Ram and Sova take part in the democracy they strive for.  It’s a gathering place where all different castes are represented, can come together and relate to one another through their shared admiration of the Democratic Party.    

     It was BP Koirala’s 95^th birthday anniversary, a revolutionary leader who helped create the National Congress Party. He was tragically imprisoned many times for the sake of freedom for Nepalis. In 1959, in Nepal’s first try at ‘democrcacy’ was when he was elected to prime minister only to be jailed two years later for angering the King, Mahendra Bir Bikram Shah and the traditional elite.  He was known to have socialist ways by the royalty; took away elite tax exempt land, opened schools, built drinking water, started phone lines, introduced international flights and radio communication.

     Since there are not enough hours in the day to understand the political history of this country I am reading the book, “Forget Kathmandu” by Manjushree Thapa to help me understand how the current situation got to be where it is today.  I recommend it highly for a personal account of the quest for true 21^st century democracy.

     That struggle for democracy was in the forefront in my mind after attending the Nepali Congress and many questions come to mind almost on a daily basis about the political situation while talking to Nepalis.  The citizens want equality and freedom yet the political parties see it much different and only for themselves.  What exactly does democracy mean in a country like Nepal?    

     “Democracy does not exist here and I don’t know if it will ever,” words spoken by Gilash Bati Chaudhary. While at the crowded meeting trying to understand the few words I could, I met the chairperson of the single women group in Gaighat.  The group is called Single Women Struggle Committee and represents single women in the Udayapur district. 

     Gilash Bati Chaudhary, a young woman whom I felt at ease with right away is speaking out against the inequalities single women face through her own story.  She no longer is scared to talk about her own story, realizing that she must overcome her own tragedies to fight the injustice single women face in Nepal.  16 years ago her husband was killed while working at a mill, with only her baby daughter a few days old she was left with very little.  Property rights to her house and land were disputed for many years with her father in law, worried that she would start a new life somewhere else without her two children.  The fighting ended communication with her husband’s family.  Soon after her husband’s death she started cooking in homes until she earned enough money to sell rice herself. 

     For the past 16 years Gilash has had to face immense discrimination with being a widow.  She has decided to wear a red sari while I was speaking with her in defense of how she cannot wear one without being ridiculed. (Red saris are only for married women Nepali culture dictates, along with tikas). Neighbors tease her relentlessly about not having a husband and one man has even propositioned her to marry and promise to split the government dowry, the appalling 50,000 rupees that will be given to men who marry single women.

370. Where are you going to spend Eid?

     September 9, 2009 10:04 pm Leave a Comment

     Tehran, 2000

     A young blind boy Mohammed waits for his father to take him home from boarding school. The father who is a widower wishes to remarry and is too embarrassed to say that he has a blind son. He wants his son to stay at school over the holidays. While he waits, the boy flings a stone at a predator – a cat, to save a fledgling that had fallen from its nest to the ground. He cups his hands together and picks it up. He puts it in his shirt pocket and carefully climbs up the tree to deposit it in its nest.

     

     Cut to Dhaka, 2009

     Mohammed Sajib is the only boy left at the School of Happy World at BERDO. The others have gone home for their Ramadan holidays. He roams the empty corridors of BERDO and keeps himself occupied with dominoes and a tattered ball. At other times, he fools around with a kitten. Sajib’s father is dead. His mother works in a plastic manufacturing unit at Tongi and barely earns enough to feed herself. Will Sajib’s mother come to take him home for Id, is the question on everyone’s mind at BERDO.

     The similarities between the opening scene of Majid Majidi’s ‘The Color of Paradise’ and the scenes currently being played out at the BERDO office in Mirpur, Dhaka are difficult to miss.

     Sajib was discovered outside the train station at Tongi by a BERDO scout. He had sores all over his body and was begging for food. His mother was contacted and Sajib was brought to the School of Happy World, where he has already spent a year. Tk 2700 was spent on his treatment. Sajib still has marks all over his limbs, but has no other ailment. He is bright and good with schoolwork.

     “Where are you going to spend Eid?” I asked Sajib. “Tangail, at my grandmother’s house” – quick came the reply. “My mother is going to take me there”, he added. Little does he know that there is a distinct possibility that his mother might not turn up to take him home for Id. The people at BERDO do not seem to be complaining, however. They fear that once home his mother would send him out to beg. “When he returns, he will be as weak as a reed”, the cook tells me.

     

     In the movie, Mohammed’s father, overpowered by his love for his child, makes a mad dash into a raging river to rescue the drowning boy in the end. I realise that Sajib may not get to eat two square meals a day at home during Ramadan; that he, only eight years of age, might have to fast too – not out of the urge to attend to his religious duties, but forcibly, by compulsion. I also realise that there will be no dates in Sajib’s kitchen for him to steal (something that he does at BERDO, while the cook watches secretly with glee). But I still hope that this Mohammed spends Id in Tangail with his mother. For better or for worse.

371. NGOs get together to advocate for disability rights

     September 8, 2009 9:35 am 1 Comment

     On the eve of International Literacy Day, Dhaka-based NGOs that work on disability rights addressed a joint press conference at Dhaka Reporters Unity (DRU), under the aegis of Bangladesh Visually Impaired Peoples Society (BVIPS). They called for greater partnership between GOs and NGOs, a friendlier and more flexible curriculum for visually impaired students and most importantly, for children with disabilities to be covered under the education ministry instead of the ministry of social welfare. Md. Saidul Huq, Executive Director of BERDO and Vice-President of BVIPS was present at the meeting.

     Popular English daily ‘The Daily Star’ reported:

     Call to introduce Braille system in all educational institutions

     Speakers at a press conference yesterday urged the government to introduce Braille system in all institutions to ensure education for visually impaired people. As most educational institutions, especially those in rural areas, have no such system the visually impaired children are deprived of education, they added. The press conference was organised by Bangladesh Visually Impaired Peoples Society (VIPS) in cooperation with Sightsavers International Bangladesh at Dhaka Reporters Unity ahead of the International Literacy Day today to draw the attention of the government to Braille system of education for visually impaired students.

     The speakers said only four percent of visually impaired children get chance for education when the government is committed to ensure education for all by 2015 as per Dakar summit of 2000. Lamenting on the government’s attitude towards the people with disabilities, VIPS President Golam Mostafa suggested that like all other children, the children with disabilities should be brought under the education ministry instead of the social welfare ministry. In fact, the government itself believes like other people in the society that the people with disability especially the visually impaired are not capable of being established in the society, he said, adding that the government believes that mercy and kindness are enough for them. Executive Director of the Centre for Disability in Development (CDD) AHM Noman Khan said educational materials for the visually impaired children are produced in the country but there is no proper distribution system on behalf of the government. If the education ministry takes a comprehensive plan to provide education to children with disability including the visually impaired children then the problem will be solved to a large extent, he added.

     Country Director of Sightsavers International Bangladesh Dr Wahidul Islam said the non-government organisations can make a model for providing education to visually impaired children but it should be the responsibility of the government to implement the model across the country. “Education for visually impaired children is a must if the government wants to ensure education for all,” he said stressing coordination between the ministries of education and social welfare. In a keynote paper, VIPS General Secretary Mosharraff Hossain Majumder put forward some proposals including training for the teachers at primary, secondary and higher secondary level to handle the students with disabilities.

     (Source: The Daily Star, Tuesday, 08/09/2009)

     

     Another daily ‘The News Today’ reported:

     Ensuring access of vision impaired to education stressed

     Leaders of Bangladesh Visually Impaired Peoples Society (BVIPS) today underscored the need for ensuring greater access of vision impaired people to education for attaining the goal of education for all by 2015, reports BSS. At a press conference at Dhaka Reporters Unity (DRU), Advocate Mosharraf Hossain Majumder, General Secretary of BVIPS, said the country has now a total 1.40 crore disabled people. Out of them, 33 percent are vision impaired having only four percent access to education, he added.

     The BVIPS organized the press conference supported by Sightsavers International, a royal commonwealth society for the blind. The press conference was organized marking the International Literacy Day to be observed in Bangladesh today (Tuesday) as elsewhere in the world. Country Director of Sightsavers International Dr Wahidul Islam, Vice-President of BVIPS Saidul Huq, General Secretary of National Forum of Organizations Working with the Disabled (NFOWD) Jowaharul Islam Momen, Executive Director of Centre for Disability and Development (CDD) AHM Noman Khan and Vice- President of BVIPS Nasreen Jahan were also present.

     Advocate Mosharraf said there is a double standard in education system as general students have 97 percent access to education while only four percent for vision impaired students.Other speakers said the living standard of vision impaired children, youths and adults is poor as they are deprived of the rights of literacy and basic education. The only way of mainstreaming the disabled people is to ensure their greater access to education by providing them with trained teachers, education materials and Braille books, they said. They expressed their apprehension that the government’s target of ensuring education for all might not be fulfilled by keeping a large segment of the disabled out of quality education. The rate of literacy will be raised to a satisfactory level if the disabled are provided with necessary education support, the speakers hoped.

     (Source: The News Today, Tuesday, 08/09/2009)

372. “It is just about enough to keep my head above water”

     September 6, 2009 5:31 am 2 Comments

     Wajed Ali Mallick lived a contented life in quaint little Gowachitta in Southern Bangladesh. During the day he used to ferry electrical goods from shop-to-shop and in the evening he used to go back home to his wife and four children. All of that changed on one fateful evening in January 2007 when an errant iron-rod from a rickshaw pierced his right eye in a freak accident, while he was chatting with friends outside a tea-stall. Doctors in Barisal and Dhaka failed to treat his eye. His other eye could not bear the stresses of the heavy dosage of the medicines recommended. He now has 2/6 vision in his left eye. An iron filing still remains lodged in his right eye, and gives him painful, sleepless nights every now and then.

     

     For two and a half years, Wajed Ali lived on the goodness of his friends and relatives. His disability and exorbitant seed and fertilizer prices meant that his 4 cottahs (1 cottah = 2880 sq. ft.) of land could not be cultivated. Those months of veritable mendicancy still rankle in his mind. He had to marry off his daughter, all of sixteen years, to make sure that the others in the family had enough to eat. The eldest son, who was fourteen years old then and studying in Class VIII in a local school, had to abandon studies to join a tailoring shop as an apprentice. Wajed Ali fathered another child after the mishap. “It was an accident”, said Wajed Ali, half-dejected and half-embarrassed, in response to my question about why he and his wife decided to have a fifth child in the midst of absolute penury.

     Four months ago, Wajed Ali took a loan of Tk 5000 from BERDO and opened a tea stall of his own in the market square at Gowachitta. Every day, he opens shop at 6 am and stays put there till 11 pm. Mondays (the day of the weekly market, when traders come from nearby villages) are particularly good for business. Wajed Ali now earns about a tenth of what he used to earn from his business of electrical goods. “It is just about enough to keep my head above water”, he said when asked if the money was enough to sustain a family of six.

     

     Wajed Ali does not get a disability stipend, something that all persons with disabilities are entitled to get in Bangladesh by government decree. He has not been able to save enough for the bribe that the clerk at the district office asks for in exchange of including his name in the list of disabled people. Surprisingly, he does not have a health insurance either. “Most insurance accounts in Bangladesh are fiddled with by middlemen”, said Wajed Ali. I had little clue about how insurance companies in Bangladesh operate but nodded in agreement. I realised that when a man’s life is a continuous struggle to gather enough means to live, the very thought of investing in one’s future appears faintly ridiculous, even revolting.

373. Nespec’s family comes together

     4:44 am Leave a Comment

     NESPEC’s monthly meeting recently took place, a quite eventful gathering, discussing the issues in the village district committees and upcoming activities.  I have come to realize that in Nepal everything involves a community and NESPEC’s family is very close-knit. There was singing, dancing, feedback and arguments that all ended in a willingness to progress ahead.

     In the village of Hardiya, about a 45 minute motorbike ride (I measure everything in bike rides), there are over 7,000 people affected by health problems, about 150 have become seriously ill and have had to seek treatment.  Luckily the goverment has intervened and helped with the medical costs.  During this time of year, the monsoon season is when people become the most sick with gastric problems and other ailments.

     The heavy rains affect the cultivation season and most apparent to my eyes is the garbage strewn about.  After a lot of rain the streets look like rivers with plastic bags and candy wrappers and everything in between swimming around.  It is part of Nepal’s culture to dispose of anything out the window and one of the largest cultural differences to adjust to. Kathmandu is being labeled as one of the dirtiest cities in the world, some even saying it is the worst. Something needs to be done as even the family I am living with mentions how they are disgusted about how little land they can use for planting because trash is eroding their land.  Perhaps residents of Gaighat can bring their weekly trash to the trash pickup in town I suggested.

     One of the major accomplishments in the past month at NESPEC reported by Basanti Rai, an activist in the Siddhipur village district is the increase in farmer’s pay.  Women’s farming salaries have increased to 125 rupees per day ($1.62) from 70 rupees.  Likewise, male famers’s salaries have increased from 100 to 150 rupees daily.  The weekly reflect meetings in the village worked on improving economic stability after the villagers spoke up about how much is needed for their families. The Reflect facilitator met with the labor group and threatened that famers would stop working if the pay was not improved.  They listened since cultivation is essential during the monsoon season and farmers in Siddhipur now have a better living wage thanks to the Reflect group.

374. From supplicant to contributor

     September 4, 2009 7:48 am Leave a Comment

     A common feature of all my meetings with females who had taken loans from BERDO was their inability to see themselves as atomised individuals but as families. In most cases, loans taken by females had been invested by their husbands/sons into productive pursuits and sometimes in unproductive ones. While females were responsible for paying the weekly instalments, males took all the business decisions – a situation that degenerated into domestic violence at times. Skewed power-relations within the household are as much a result of social hierarchies, as the sexual division of labour that prevail in Bangladeshi society. And every loan used by a male member of the family further harnesses conditions for the reproduction of such gender inequalities.

     

     Roshanara Begum, a widow from Barisal, is an exception to this rule. She is fifty-five years old and has three sons. The first of her sons works as a tailor, the second at a shop and the third pulls a rickshaw (the one with whom she stays). But Roshanara refuses to sit idle and has taken a loan of Tk 5000 from BERDO and used it to rear chickens. She buys chicks at Tk 45 a pair and sells them for Tk 100/kg to a vendor who sells them at the market – a transaction that earns her between Tk 2000 and Tk 3000 every month.

     Roshanara now has 100 chickens in her poultry farm. She buys their medicines and vaccines, sawdust to keep them warm and ensures that the local vet pays them a visit every week. She also wishes to take another loan of Tk 10000 (upon repayment of her first) to expand her poultry farm. In short, she attends to all aspects of work at her poultry farm and takes all decisions. Her business, she says, has increased her worth, both in her own view and within the family and means that she is no longer a passive beneficiary.

     

     Roshanara’s example adds further strength to the argument that micro-credit can be seen neither as an agent that institutionalises the subordination of women in the family nor as an instrument to undo dominant gender ideologies overnight. Rather, it straddles the divide between the two and when accompanied by regulations and proper integration into markets, offers hope for inter-generational changes. In its most simplified form, micro-credit that targets females represents an expansion in their potential choices. Roshanara Begum, for one, would certainly vouch for this idea.

375. Corporate Privatization Leads to Hundreds of Wastepickers Losing their Jobs: The Struggle for a Dignified Livelihood Continues

     September 3, 2009 11:13 am Leave a Comment

     Wastepickers contracted to work for the municipal corporation of Ahmedabad were shocked to arrive to work in Vejalpur on August 15 and find someone else doing their jobs. Overnight, and on a national holiday, the municipality created a new waste collection contract with a private company called Jigar Transport Company based in Surat city of South Gujarat.

     After gathering supportive letter from residents, conducting sit-ins at the offices of Ahmedabad officials, and launching court battles, the wastepickers of Velajpur were given their jobs back but only until September 30^th, at which point their contract runs out. Following this date, it appears that the municipality will work with the Jigar Transport Company.

     The contract with Ahmedabad represented a hard-won battle for this particular wastepicker collective, consisting of 366 workers and supported by the Self-Employed Womens Association (SEWA). In a letter drafted to garner support for their plight the wastepickers of Ahmedabad had this to say:

     “Our cooperative organises waste paper pickers for alternative employment.  We collect waste door-to-door from people’s homes, thereby making a living with dignity. We are now able to feed our children and send them to school. Our lives have changed. We have moved towards self-reliance.”

     The loss of this contract is a huge blow to these very vulnerable members of Indian society and represents a much larger trend towards corporate privatization in India. Unfortunately, this leaves the poor with a no opportunity for self-reliance, even while waste-pickers continue to provide recycling services in the area. Private corporations take all waste to the landfill without segregating it while wastepickers simply move their segregation and recycling operations into less and less safe environments. This undignified livelihood is even further exacerbated when the waste mafia shows up and demands bribes from waste-pickers to “allow” recycling to happen in certain areas.

     For now, the wastepickers of Velajpur continue to fight for their lives.

     “We the waste-pickers of the Karyasiddh cooperative request your support and solidarity in our struggle for work with dignity.”

     Bhavanaben, Muktaben, Shardaben,  Madhuben

     &

     other members of the Executive Committee

     of

     Shri Karyasiddh Kagad Kam

     Mahila SEWA Sahkari Mandali Ltd.

376. time to reflect

     4:31 am Leave a Comment

     Reflect meetings are small weekly gatherings in the surrounding villages that NESPEC has started with their social moblizers facilitating. The purpose is to discuss any issues that are affecting them so that they can take power in making social change. I attended the reflect meeting in the village of Jogidaha with Bijuli Sada, the local social activist and Ram Chaurdray, project coordinator.

     It was a small group huddled closely, some not present due to work and some even afraid to attend because of a bad situation with an activist several years ago. Ram Chaurdray and I were not even sure if we could attend because of a strike occurring the same day.

     Six different ethnic groups were protesting their rights and representation, shutting down all schools and businesses in Gaighat. The Tharu caste is demanding representation and more rights. The day after the strike, the president, an ex-Maoist leader called a conference in Gaighat. He is threatening an armed political movement with other ethnic groups and possibly forming a parallel government since the current political parties will not work with him. I am sure much more news will come. These demands all seem outragely complex in a country where the government does not take into account it’s ethnic differences.

     The agenda for the Reflect meeting was about socio economic support among the community. The members in the community meeting are of the Dalit caste, living in 18 houses of the Jogidaha district, Ward 6. The issue of single women government subsidies was brought up with many to discuss the issue on widows. There are eight women over sixty years old whom are widows; seven receive the monthly subsidy because one does not have citizenship. Migration papers were lost when settling in the present area.

     Claiming birthrights and obtaining paperwork for citizenship is a major challenge in Nepal. Many remote villages do not understand the importance of establishing citizenship at birth or over the years people lose track of their documents, missing out on much needed money from the government. I began to wonder exactly how many are not accounted for because of lost papers the government will not replace. It is unknown exactly how many people in Jogidaha do not have citizenship. To replace migration papers and issue a new citizenship card is simply way too complicated in the local government offices. I believe its another way the government can save money is by not claiming citizenship or not educating people on its importance, an issue I want to explore much farther.

     The central issue at the Reflect meeting involved corruption at the local school, Shree Janta Higher Secondary. The government gives scholarships to all Dalit children, a new law that was approved this past year for children in class 1-10. Children in classes 1-5 are not receiving the scholarships (350 rupees per year) and are often not giving the correct amount for families that have more than one child.

     Also, this system does not allow children to excel into class 10 or beyond because of the high exam fees that the Dalit caste cannot afford. “Why should I send my children to school when we are so poor?” one woman asked desperately. The school issue only adds to the great discrimination that the untouchable Dalit caste face. Bijuli-ji, the social activist will help in gathering students’ names that have not received scholarships and will attend along with the parents to the management school board committee.
     

377. Meet Shoeha

     12:49 am Leave a Comment

     Meet Shoeha Dahal, a young single woman living in Gaighat struggling to get by since her husband’s death six years ago who died in the conflict innocently.  She has two children that can only go to school with the help of local NGO’s since the cost of school fees are such a burden.  Shoeha cannot wear bright colorful saris like married women, only white dress which tells society that she does not have a husband or a fulfilled life. When her husband died, Shoeha was left with very little and no support.  With a family to provide for, she did not know what to do. Luckily, local organizations are beginning to see the crisis with how single women are treated in Nepal. 

     A new organization in Gaighat, Agency for Community Development and Change (ACDC) is pioneering a single women’s project in the Udayapur district.  Unfortunately, this district is known as one of the worst areas in the country regarding inequalities of women.

     The major objective is to empower single women to speak out for themselves and their families.  Shoeha has used her own life positively by becoming an activist with ACDC.  They have formed 23 women’s groups throughout the area to help single women in skill building, (learning how to sew to building chairs) education and aid in school fees by creating a loan system.

     Shoeha’s plea is to change society’s overall perception of single women.  The biggest problem is economic due to the lack of job training and skills.  Interest free loans and free education for children and parents of single women are greatly needed Shoeha proclaims.  Also, the knowledge of law in Gaighat is limited and assistance is needed with land rights, economic stability and conflict among families is common.  

     The government only gives monthly subsidies to single women over 60 years old.  Shoeha, ACDC and NESPEC hope to change this law for all single women and also establish other government incentives.  In addition, Shoeha hopes to create a similar discount system to that of India’s government, where single women receive a discount card for food and transportation.  Such a subsidy system in Nepal would benefit women’s daily lives as well as their futures economically.

378. New Video On E-waste Sheds Light on the Work of Wastepickers

     September 2, 2009 8:35 am 244 Comments

     My worlds are converging in India. It was just brought to my attention that some University of British Columbia journalism students, with support from Frontline, have put together a short documentary on E-waste which features wastepickers in Delhi!

     The video is fantastic and very informative.

     See the following link to watch: http://www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/ghana804/

379. Micro-credit – a few myths dispelled

     September 1, 2009 6:40 am Leave a Comment

     The success of micro-credit programmes all over the world has given rise to a new train of thought – one that on the basis of experiences I have had here in Bangladesh; seem overly optimistic about the nature and extent of positive changes they can bring about. My last blog highlighted the features of BERDO’s micro-credit programme. This entry points out a few general caveats of micro-credit and is meant to be a quick reality-check. 

     First, the high interest rates charged by micro-credit programmes drive down demand for loans. Poor households are extremely sensitive to these rates of interest and are automatically excluded from such programmes.

     Second, extension of insurance and mobilisation of savings are crucial for upward mobility and act as social safety nets at times of crisis. The holy trinity of savings, credit and insurance performs considerably better together than credit alone can ever hope to.

     Third, access to credit does not automatically translate into successful micro-enterprises. Business and technological inputs, training and education and establishing links with the market are critical for the success of any business initiative.

     Fourth, micro-credit programmes assume that self-employment alone can pull people out of poverty. Such an assumption sometimes threatens to create a new breed of reluctant entrepreneurs.

     Fifth, micro-credit fits with the idea of ‘targeting’ – a means to identify specific kinds of households and persons as opposed to a Universalist approach. 

     

     These drawbacks, however, are no reason for despair. They provoke us to view micro-credit objectively and with guarded optimism. They also tell us that micro-credit, though empowering to an extent, cannot be a substitute for state investment in health, education and infrastructure (which is where advocacy comes in), and should complement state engagement in issues of unfree labour and class exploitation.

     The use of micro-credit to draw on local knowledge and resources and to create and improve access of disenfranchised sections of the population to vibrant, new markets is a novel idea. Without a strong legal and institutional framework and more liberal screening criteria, it threatens to remain just that.

380. Social mobility, BERDO-style

     August 31, 2009 1:10 am Leave a Comment

     BERDO’s micro-credit programme loans out sums starting from Tk 5000 upto Tk 20000 to disabled individuals and females, at an annual interest rate of 12.5%. BERDO itself takes this money on loan at an interest rate of 4.5% per annum. The remaining amount goes towards transaction costs. Repayment starts from the week after and the loan has to be repaid in 45 instalments. Allowances have been made taking into account personal emergencies and BERDO expects its debtors to return the sum in 52 instalments (a years’ time). A first time debtor is eligible for a loan of Tk 5000.

     

     People put these amounts to a variety of uses: they start small scale retails shops, tea-joints; sell vegetables from door-to-door; rear chickens and ducks; and buy rickshaws and nachiman gaadis (hand-started, motor-driven carts). For some, these loans present an opportunity to earn more, save and to accumulate assets – a step towards upward mobility. For others, the whole micro-credit cycle is a defensive strategy to cope with penury, a mechanism to ensure that they meet their day-to-day expenses.

     

     Sidr, the cyclone that devastated Southern Bangladesh has pushed repayment rates down from a perfect 100% to 99.7% for disabled individuals and 98.4% for females. A debtor mentioned that a few NGOs had had to shelf their micro-finance initiatives – such was the impact Sidr had on repayment rates. BERDO and its loanees have managed to keep their heads above water. She also revealed that she had paid no instalment for a period of four months, a proposition that BERDO was alright with. Most importantly perhaps, she mentioned that the loan in itself (and the weekly instalments) did not feel like an additional burden in the aftermath of Sidr. And that at no point of time did she rue the fact that she had taken a loan.

381. Single Women in Nepal Pushing Ahead

     1:07 am Leave a Comment

     I recently wrote about the new law that was put into place regarding payments (50,000 rupees) to men who marry widows. I was able to sit down with the president of NESPEC’s women’s campaign, Mamta Thakuri to discuss how she is motivating women’s groups to demand change with this demoralizing law.  There are about 11,000 single women in the Udayapur district, making this issue essential in tackling.  The passion that Mamta had while speaking (a video will be up shortly of the interview) was very evident as soon as she started speaking about the current campaign.  She is driven to make social change with the women in the area and she is encouraged that she has seen many improvements over the years.  It seemed like such an incredibly simple statement, “We want the government officials to treat women the same as men. “Isn’t that the truth the world over I thought?  Such a reasonable plea for society 

     NESPEC is trying to change people’s views, both men and women on gender equality.  You cannot only advocate for the woman, yet must also encourage men to understand how he is bringing harm onto his wife and family.

     Single women in the district have written a letter to the chief officer of the Udayapur district on the new widow law and have been told it’s looking very promising for change. In addition, Mamta and NESPEC are supporting another group of women in the forum that want to change a law that only gives payments to single women who are over sixty years old.  Currently, single women over sixty years old receive 500 rupees per month ($6.50 American) from the government.  Mamta and the single women she is working with are demanding that all single women, no matter their age to receive payments from the government.  This way they can use the money towards job training, education and healthcare, which could take them out of the hopeless despair they often find themselves in.

     I have spoken to many women in Gaighat and I presume its even worse in more remote areas.  Women are completely dependent on their husbands for income and general wellbeing.  Often, men are working in other countries for years without seeing their families because of the lack of industry here, leaving the wife at home taking care of the household. Women are slowly taking ownership of their own lives by realizing they can speak out and make a difference. 

     Over the past three years Mamta has witnessed a great number of women sharing their experiences, recognizing they have a voice and a story to be told and eventually demanding for change.  Mamta and NESPEC do not have the support they desire in their campaign.  There is a disconnection between the police, (often making bribes to keep abuse hidden) courts and society overall with campaigning for women’s rights.  There is a long road ahead to change people’s attitudes about women in Nepal, with people like Mamta Thakuri encouraging change I have hope perceptions can be transformed.

382. Nepal’s Human Rights Abuse with Government Dowries

     August 28, 2009 12:46 am Leave a Comment

     In a previous blog I mentioned how there is a new law that was established in July by the Parliament providing a dowry to any men who would marry women.  The men would receive 50,000 rupees ($650) by marrying women who have lost their husbands, many killed by the Maoist conflict.  In recent weeks women’s rights groups have become outraged and are demanding the center-left coalition that announced the law to revoke it immediately.  Hundreds of women marched through the streets of Kathmandu last week to the prime minister’s office chanting, “We don’t want your government dowries.”  Police stopped the courageous women unfortunately and luckily there was no violence. 

     I am infuriated by this law, not only does it cross many human rights abuses, yet also raises questions about how the government is spending it’s money.  Shouldn’t this money be going towards women for the poor health care system (reproductive healthcare in Nepal is very poor) job training and education?  Also, wouldn’t the men marry only for the money and then take off and run with it?  Unraveling the patriarchal worldview that women have held for lifetimes will take years and lifetimes to break. Not only do women need to understand their rights but also the government needs to change its gender based discrimination, which sadly will probably take much longer for change. It’s a human right for single women to live the way she chooses, a problem across the globe even in the most developed countries.  

     A nation wide movement needs to be formed and I hope in the next few weeks I have left I can motivate women in NESPEC’s women’s forums groups to take action. Many rural women do not know of the changing policies and certainly the more that are informed, the increasing chances they will want to become more involved.

383. Tractors on Strike

     12:34 am 1 Comment

     This afternoon I experienced my first up close encounter of a strike in Gaighat.  It’s astonishing looking back before arriving in Nepal what I pictured a strike to be. My mind automatically pictured a violent scene with fires and massive, angry crowds.  Indeed, those types of strikes have occurred and very well might continue into the future (I certainly hope not). I think my brain has been shaped too heavily by the media and easily made assumptions before taking a few steps in this country.  I am very happy to report that the strikes (bandhas in Nepali) have diminished so much that my experience last year would be very different. 

     At its most simplified form, strikes are a group of people who disagree on something and desire change.  Citizens in Nepal are so comfortable with protesting that its a completely familiar and a feasible action to take.  Don’t agree; let’s stop what we are doing in our jobs until those in charge take notice.  There is even a website that reports all bandhas across the country.  I couldn’t imagine checking a website to see if buses are running in order to get to my home. 

     As I took pictures from a distance I couldn’t help but think how many peoples lives are affected this very moment, by these tractor workers.  The strike only existed for a few hours, not the days or weeks that some last for and most often absolutely everything is closed down, putting life at a standstill.  The bandhas work in Nepal for the citizens voice to be heard. It’s a double- edged sword because society has to suffer.  I don’t see bandhas ending anytime soon as every strike that is successful only entices another one to start, creating a vicious cycle. A cycle that needs to find another means for change I believe.

      Standing up for what you believe in and demanding change is very admirable still to me. The little man winning over the big corporation is implanted in my thoughts as I begin to relate strikes to those I know of in the U.S.  Why can’t people take more action at home?  We do have strikes where unions defy wages and other job benefits, however they seem to be limited. Perhaps there aren’t many protests because of fear and our capitalistic system keeping us “locked” down to keep us diligently working.   

     Today the strike involved tractor workers whom were protesting a tax that they must pay twice, going in and out of the market of Gaighat as reported by Fastline.com.  If collecting stones near the river for building, a tax is required when dropping off and then when leaving.  The workers are demanding one tax payment.  Buses, motorcycles and cars were stuck behind the tractors, stopped to a halt because of unhappy tractor workers.  Luckily, it only lasted for a short period. The stunt worked successfully, (after two previous strikes in weeks before though) local political parties have agreed to meet to discuss the tax.  Let’s hope the meeting will go well so a fourth strike will not occur.

384. URGENT MESSAGE TO CANADIANS

     August 27, 2009 5:48 am Leave a Comment

     As a Canadian working in India, I have gained a new awareness of the mind-blowing vulnerability of millions of people living in the developing world. As a result of climate change, people here are going to straight up die. All of us who emit an unsustainable amount of greenhouse gases are responsible for this.

     Before I further delineate this bleak situation and provide potential solutions to greenhouse gas emissions in Canada please note the following: I am not writing this blog from the position of an eco-saint. I take personal responsibility for my contribution to this devastating situation. I flew to India just to be able to send this message and my current carbon footprint is far from sustainable. We are in this fight together.

     Indeed, this past summer I have lived mostly in air-conditioned rooms to survive New Delhi’s sweltering 35-45 degree weather. All the while, the poor who cannot afford artificially cooled dwellings are working and living in the heat. Even if it gets a little bit hotter, millions of people living in poverty, who cannot afford to escape the climate, will die. Sea level rise will lead to climate refugees. Any sort of drought or changes in weather patterns impacting agriculture in India will lead to starvation. Water scarcity will lead to people dying of thirst. The people most severely impacted by climate change have contributed the least to our emerging climate crisis.

     Canadian’s on the other hand, are some of the world’s worst emitters. More specifically, we are the world’s 8th largest greenhouse gas contributor. We are also ranked last among G8 nations in our climate change mitigation efforts.

     

     Canada is Changing the Climate

     Fortunately, there are many ways that all Canadians can mitigate their impact on this global catastrophe in both public and private realms.

     Personal Lifestyle Changes:

     All the decisions that we make in a day about what to eat, where to go, how to get there, what kind of housing to live in, what products to consume, how to vote, how to invest, have a more greenhouse gas intensive option and a less greenhouse gas intensive option. We should all be choosing the less greenhouse gas intensive option.

     While this might seem incredibly overwhelming, take heart, David Suzuki is here for us.

     

     David Suzuki

     The David Suzuki Foundation has very clearly laid out simple things that every household can do to curb climate change. Please see this link for this simple green lifestyle guide.

     Public Policy Changes:

     Canadian governments have an impact on climate policy at the international, national, provincial and municipal level. It is up to all Canadians to elect and support leadership, at every level of government, committed to taking real action on climate change. We need to be an informed and engaged citizenry. If you are unhappy with your representative’s commitment to the environment, talk to them, write letters, get involved with a party, live and breathe green democracy.

     This is especially important leading up to the 15th Conference of Parties in Copenhagen, taking place this coming December.  In the past, the Conservative Party of Canada has sent representatives specifically to block hard, legally binding emissions reduction targets, and has worked to dilute any concrete action agreed upon by the international community. The Canadian federal government has failed the world at international climate negotiations.

     

     Stephen Harper: not committed to real action on climate change.

     For action items needed by Canada at COP 15 see the Pembina Institute Fact Sheet.

     As a further direction around public policy, note that choosing green solutions can often be more expensive and therefore not all Canadians have an equal opportunity to live sustainably. It is therefore imperative that government account for the disproportionately negative impact that green prices have on low income people when developing climate change policy.

     As a person of relative privilege, I am geared up to come home in September and do everything I can to green my already semi-green lifestyle (while not endangering my mental and physical health). I know it will be difficult, I am a really busy person just like everyone else. I have a job, I volunteer, I’m a student, I don’t have a lot of extra finances and my family is spread out across 3 provinces.

     

     Me at the Taj Mahal

     However, now I have new perspective with which to discipline my choices and actions and I am happy to share it with my fellow Canadians. When altering the way we live and the way we vote starts to seem really inconvenient and burdensome remember to ask yourself the following: “Is this going to kill me?” If the answer is no, please follow that question up by remembering this: if we don’t reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, it will kill someone else.

385. Profile: Denesh Harijan, Radio Jagaran

     August 26, 2009 11:22 pm 1 Comment

     

     A second-year bachelor’s degree student, Denesh Harijan works as a reporter in the news and human rights departments at Radio Jagaran. After having grown up in circumstances of extreme poverty, he is the only person in his entire village to pursue a college education. An affable polyglot, Denesh is fluent in Nepali, English, Hindi, and two local Terai languages.

     Denesh developed an interest in human rights advocacy after witnessing firsthand, as a child, the range of problems facing Dalits in the Terai area: child marriages, little to no access to education, abject poverty, and severe abuses against the lower castes. As a Dalit, he was treated differently by teachers while in primary school. His teachers, traditional observers of “untouchability” practices, often would not let him touch desks or books, would instruct other students not to touch him, and would punish him severely if he intentionally or inadvertently disobeyed such draconian commands. Reflecting on the humiliation and pain caused by his experiences growing up, Denesh focuses much of his reporting on abuses against Dalit schoolchildren.

     Denesh endeavors to reach out to communities whom are generally excluded from mainstream media due to language barriers. He conducts several of his programs in local (non-Nepali) Terai languages to ensure that all stakeholders are afforded the opportunity to be informed, and to participate in, discussions regarding urgent community issues. As a result of his noteworthy contributions to inclusiveness in media, Denesh’s radio programs tend to generate the highest numbers of listener responses at Radio Jagaran.

386. The Hindu Spirit found everywhere

     August 25, 2009 3:45 am 1 Comment

     Religion is part of one’s daily existence here in Nepal.  I have realized how important it is to have an open mind about religious practices while working at an NGO.  The 103 caste and ethnic groups and 92 languages are extremely complicated and are impossible to learn the complexities of each.  However, religion seems to bind people here, whether Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim or even Christian.  

     The majority of people in the Udayapur district are Hindu, a religion that I was not very familiar about before coming here and still have much to learn.  Not understanding what is going on around me due to the language barrier while attending many of the religious festivals here hinders my experience for sure.  Although I still feel an undeniable spiritual presence in Nepal where I haven’t felt anywhere else.  I can’t put it into words and maybe it’s because it’s so woven into people’s lives here where it has been entangled into my own as well.  I often wonder if I would understand more if my own religious faith were deeper before coming here and if I was devoted to one growing up. 

     I have always wanted to question what religion means to me and think my own beliefs should evolve along with my experiences in life.  I have always wanted to explore new faiths and understand different paths to God.  Nepal has certainly awakened my spiritual quest which I hope never dies. 

     While in Kathmandu I wanted to learn what was happening in the rest of the world so I picked up the mainstream American magazine, Newsweek. ” 21 surprising things you need to know right now” caught my attention while I was in a daze at the bookstore.  Inside, there is an article, “We are all Hindus Now” that is very relevant to the world I am living in relating back to America’s changing religious values.  76 percent of Americans identify themselves as Christians, which is the lowest figure in history.  There are over a million Hindus in the U.S, more than a billion in the world.  The article points out that the rest of Americans are beginning to think like Hindus.    

     “The Truth is One, but the sages speak of it by many names,” from the Rig Veda, the ancient Hindu scripture.  There are many ways to reach God Hindus believe, completely opposite in how the majority of Christian Americans are taught, that the only way is through Jesus.  The number of Americans who call themselves spiritual, not religious has increased to thirty percent also according to the Newsweek piece.

     My host family took me to a ceremony this morning celebrating the life of their friend’s grandfather.  The issue of how Hindus consider death arose and surprised me a little by the large celebration.  I figured once a person dies they are reincarnated and that’s the end.   Hindu’s believe that at the time of death the body burns while the spirit escapes  and returns back to earth many times through different bodies.    I am happy to read that American’s religious views are evolving from a literal translation to what can happen in the afterlife to an attitude which values other paths to God as well.  There is great danger I believe in trapping yourself in a bubble in believing there is only one path.

     Politically, religion is of course in the forefront of issues.  It will be at turning point in the next few years with how the “New Nepal” will have religion in it’s democracy.  The recent UN Human development report insists that a strong nation state is essential in building peace.  The country is rebuilding based upon secularism, an ideology that took over a nation that was ruled by religion.  Hinduism surely is the ruling religion in Nepal, often causing great discrimination.  Those in power must acknowledge the major differences between social groups here;  religions, ethnicities and castes.  It  is essential in the future for peace.  The laws being written in the new constitution should be in every respect through inclusion and participation of all groups. 

     This is where NGO’s like NESPEC step in to pressure local governments, ideally by empowering people  from marginalized groups.  It is very encouraging that civil society is strong here and that young people  are very involved in helping those less fortunate.  Rural women who have never been educated in the hill side now know that their rights will be changed.  The future can only tell what will happen and I will be watching no matter where I am.

387. dancing in the streets of Gaighat

     August 23, 2009 3:54 am 1 Comment

     I just arrived back into the comfort of my home in Gaighat after spending a few days in Kathmandu visiting with friends and enjoying a little bit of the western way of life in the fast paced city. The first taste of my host mother’s Dahl Baht with a vegetable I have never had before, Capsicum was a bit of a homecoming.  The food tasted so much heartier than the restaurant versions of spaghetti or eastern style pizza.  It is time to settle in quickly back to life in Gaighat as I only have a short period left here at NESPEC and much work to be done.

     My return was well planned and much anticipated because of the festival of women this past weekend called Teej.  This morning I got a knock on my door saying to look outside where there were a crowd of women dressed in red saris, gold jewelry looking absolutely stunning.  They were signing and dancing down the street lighting up the road in bright red and gold.  My first glimpse of women celebrating left me speechless.  I suddenly wanted to jump in and be part of the fun but then realized I did not have the appropriate dress and also it was a festival for married women.  Come to find out all women celebrate once they hit puberty. 

     Teej is a three-day festival involving rigid fasting as well as huge feasts.  It is a celebration of women going back to the tradition of the wife of Lord Shiva.  Before she was married, Goddness Parbati fasted and prayed for Lord Shiva to become her husband.  Lord Shiva married her, resulting in Goddness Parbati announcing all women should follow the strict rituals she followed.  All married women take part in this ritual to pray for Lord Shiva and a long healthy life of their husband along with unmarried women whom pray for a good husband.

     After spending most of the morning in the office making plans for the next month Ajaya-ji decided it was time to go to experience Teej.  And what an afternoon it was.  There were women everywhere in the streets of Gaighat holding hands, laughing and enjoying the unity.  The energy was filled with such excitement and was the pure definition of sisterhood.

     

     Women generally do not do any work inside or outside of the house while celebrating Teej. Tradition holds that when breaking the fast the husbands give the first bite of food and even women drink the foot water that is used by the man. I didn’t see any of this and don’t think the women that I was with would partake in these rituals.

     I was asked if we have anything like Teej  in the United States and all I could think of was Mother’s Day.  If only mother’s day could be turned into a dancing, signing celebration that interrupted street traffic which let women let loose in their most honored clothes.  I stood thinking about the close sisterhood in Nepal and how we desperately need more of it in the western world.    

     I was pulled into the crowds to start dancing by fellow NESPEC workers.  It was a whirlwind of trying to follow all the movements.  Once I got one sequence down another woman would pull me aside to start another.  I don’t think they have seen someone so confused and overjoyed at the same time dancing.  A large circle formed around me and suddenly I had to show them my moves.  No doubt Gaighat was talking about the foreigner in town that night who was trying so hard to dance like a Nepali. 

      

388. Public International B’law’g: Climate Justice in India

     August 19, 2009 11:14 pm Leave a Comment

     From Decision-Makers to Wastepickers COP 15 will define many futures

     December 7th, 2009 begins the 15th Conference of the Parties (COP) to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) in Copenhagen, Denmark. This conference represents the last opportunity for the international community to agree on binding and measurable greenhouse gas emissions reduction targets after 2012, when the Kyoto Protocol expires. If the international community does not agree to such targets, emissions will continue to flow into the atmosphere unabated, with disastrous consequences.

     

     Given the historic moment that is taking place in Copenhagen in December, a monumental opportunity for the world’s nations to come together and address our global environmental crisis, I thought it appropriate to spend time reflecting on the history of climate change negotiations leading up to this point. In addition, given my current position as an intern at Chintan it also seems appropriate to situate New Delhi’s waste-pickers within this public international legal debate.

     The Road to Copenhagen

     19 years ago, in June of 1990, the United Nation’s Climate Panel issued a report warning that the Earth’s future was in danger as a result of emissions from the combustion of coal, oil, and gas. In 1992, the international community met in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil at the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, or the “Earth Summit” to address this warning. The United Nations Framework Agreement on Climate Change (UNFCCC) was the result.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Sb6RmRMbBY&feature=related

     Approximately 200 nations signed on to the UNFCCC, the first ever agreement to address global greenhouse gas emissions. In 1994, these nations ratified the UNFCCC, making it legally binding. Since 1994, parties to this convention have met annually to further negotiate greenhouse gas emissions reductions and climate change adaptation strategies. COP 15 in Copenhagen is the fifteenth of such meetings.

     Soon after the UNFCCC was ratified, parties began to realize that this framework convention did not contain any real emissions reductions targets and therefore needed bolstering to become effective in the fight against climate change. Thus, at the Convention of the Parties in 1997, located in Kyoto, Japan, the Kyoto Protocol was adopted. The Kyoto Protocol gave concrete emissions reduction targets to industrialized nations. While different Annex I countries were bound to different emissions reduction targets, all agreements led to an overall average of a 5% reduction in greenhouse gas emissions below 1990 levels. These reductions are supposed to take place between 2008 and 2012, when the Kyoto Protocol expires.

     For fairness purposes, the Kyoto Protocol treats industrialized or “Annex I” countries differently from developing countries. In essence, developing nations, who have had relatively little impact on total emissions throughout the years, were not given legally binding emissions reduction targets. Yet, non Annex I countries, such as India,  remain engaged with the protocol through international project financing channels, such as the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM). The CDM allows industrialized countries to finance emissions mitigation projects in developing countries and count the emissions reductions towards their own targets.

     In 2005, the Kyoto Protocol was ratified by approximately 184 countries. Not all of the parties to the UNFCCC consented to be bound by the Kyoto Protocol. Most notable among these defecting parties was the United States of America, the world’s second largest greenhouse gas emitter (behind China) and second largest economy (behind the European Union).

     In 2007, at COP 13 in Bali, Indonesia, Parties to the UNFCCC agreed on a climate action road map called the Bali Action Plan. This plan provided a two-year time frame in which nations could draft and negotiate a new binding agreement complete with emissions reductions targets beyond 2012. This plan culminates in Copenhagen, which has been set as the deadline for a new agreement. Since the adoption of the Bali Action Plan, numerous initial rounds of negotiation have taken place. Further hashing out of details will take place in Bangkok in September and Barcelona in November prior to the major gathering in Copenhagen in December of 2009.

     Leading up to COP 15, all eyes are on US President Barack Obama to see if the US is finally willing make legally binding international commitments to addressing climate change beyond 2012. Emerging economies such as India and China are also facing international pressure to commit to binding targets even while retaining non-industrialized (or non-Annex I) country status.

     India’s position leading up to Copenhagen

     

     India's Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh

     “Our people have a right to economic and social development and to discard the ignominy of widespread poverty. For this we need rapid economic growth. But I also believe that ecologically sustainable development need not be in contradiction to achieving our growth objectives. In fact, we must have a broader perspective on development. It must include the quality of life, not merely the quantitative accretion of goods and services. Our people want higher standards of living, but they also want clean water to drink, fresh air to breathe and a green earth to walk on.”

     Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh.

     While India is currently the world’s 4th largest economy and the 3rd largest greenhouse gas emitter it is also home to the world’s largest number of poor people. Thus, India does not want binding targets to confine its room to grow socially and economically. Yet, India maintains its commitment to a clean environment and has promised never to exceed the per capita greenhouse gas emissions of industrialized nations. Therefore, if industrialized nations drastically cut their emissions, then India will be limited by these new emissions standards and will adapt (with financial assistance from the industrialized community). However, if industrialized countries do not cut their emissions, India will continue to grow its emissions with no limits, following the trajectory that many industrialized nations are currently on. Ideally, there will be a convergence of emissions over time as India’s economy grows and industrialized nations curb their contribution to climate change.

     Waste-pickers and Climate Change

     

     Dharmraj: Waste-picker who works with Chintan's Door to Door Waste Collection Servic

     As India’s recycling service, waste-pickers have a huge role to play in emissions reductions. Indeed, waste-pickers are responsible for a substantial amount of greenhouse gas emissions mitigation work and are the backbone of recycling services in many developing countries. While it might seem intuitive that these impoverished climate entrepreneurs are ideal candidates for international support through the Clean Development Mechanism of the Kyoto Protocol, currently official funding channels remain closed to such informal economies.

     Yet, in India’s National Action Plan on Climate Change, waste-pickers are identified as highly efficient recyclers with much room to grow as recycling service providers. Waste-picker’s also have representation at the climate negotiations leading up to Copenhagen to advocate for international support for their much needed work.

     Of course, only time will tell what kind of agreement will emerge from COP 15 and whether or not this agreement will allow international funding for waste-recyclers. For now, Chintan continues its grassroots climate justice advocacy and the climate continues to change.

389. Heading Home

     August 14, 2009 10:02 pm 2 Comments

     Sadly yesterday was my last day at LSN-V.  I really can’t believe it since it feels like I just got here.  Over the past ten weeks I have been privileged to work with the dedicated and creative staff here in Dong Hoi.  Special thanks to everyone for making me feel so welcome and at home: to my trusty translators and partners in crime Kim Hoa and Giang, to Chi Hong and Chi Dung for their guidance, to all the Outreach Workers who made time in their busy schedules to tour around Quang Binh and introduce me to survivors, and to Anh Luong for keeping us all safe on the chaotic highways of Vietnam.  LSN-V is a well-oiled machine and I hope that I was able to contribute to their mission during my short stint here.  I am also thankful for everyone who made this experience possible with their support, encouragement and feedback–it would not have been possible without you all.

     For those of you who have enjoyed my posts I hope that you’ll check out LSN-V’s brand spankin’ new Tumblr blog: (http://lsnv.tumblr.com/).  They will be posting more survivor stories and videos on there, so please continue to keep abreast of all the amazing work these folks are doing day in and day out.

     To leave off I’d like to introduce you to another survivor.  All the survivors I have met over the past few months have left an imprint on me that I won’t try to sum up.  I have been humbled many times over by their generosity and optimism.  To them I am indebted.

     **************************************************************************

     

     Mr. Quang

     Despite the intense midday heat and our very late arrival, Mr. Vo Minh Quang was a fountain of energy when we finally showed up at his home in Nam Trac commune.  Luckily for me, his is a contagious energy.  I had been doing interviews since the early hours of the morning and didn’t know if I was up for another one but Quang’s enthusiasm and good mood quickly transformed mine.  I soon realized that this trait explains a lot about his character.

     Mr. Quang has been active in his community for over twenty years.  After the war ended and Quang finished secondary school he got a job with the local authority as a guard.  At that time he was also appointed Secretary of the Commune Cooperative (later becoming the Secretary of the Commune Youth Union).  Mass organizations like the Cooperative and the Youth Union operate in every commune.  They make up Vietnam’s civil society and are run on a voluntary basis.  Quang has been involved with them at one level or another since the war and believes community service has been essential to his spiritual recovery.

     Quang’s father died when he was a young boy and even though he was just a child, Quang was left with the responsibility of helping his family.  Near the end of the war, as Quang was on his way to collect wood from the forest a bomb exploded in his path.  He recalls that the sky was dark and filled with clouds that day, a detail he remembers because he never saw the plane that dropped the bomb and by the time he heard its engines above, it was too late.  He lost his left leg and spent 6 months in the hospital.  He was 10 years old at the time.

     But Quang is quick to emphasize the support he received from his family and the community.  They gave him notebooks so he could continue with school and offered spiritual advice.  He says that because he was very young when he was injured that he labored at improving himself and recovering.  As a result, Quang has become a sort of super-survivor: one that has much to teach but simply leads by example.

     

     Quang tends to his garden.

     Twelve years ago Quang was elected Village Head–no small accomplishment given the stature of the position and the all too common stigma against persons with disabilities in Vietnam.  Quang remained in that position for 10 years, plugging away at improving his community without ever getting compensated for his work.**  This kind of commitment to service is not only admirable, it’s rare.

     Given Quang’s obvious belief in the importance of civil society, he was disappointed that there was no mass organization for persons with disabilities in Vietnam.  Needless to say when LSN-V opened up in 2003, Quang was elated and got involved immediately.  Since then he has seen the positive effects on survivors be they spiritual, physical or financial.  Quang himself has benefited, receiving a cow through LSN-V’s Direct Assistance program.  Financially, things have been hard for Quang’s family and the cow has been a great help in increasing his income.

     But despite any challenges he has faced, Quang’s character is defined by service to others, by the perspective that: Not everyone has been as lucky as me, I need to give something back.

     And that pretty much says it all.

     

     So Long

     **On a side note, it was not Quang who mentioned that he was not paid for his work.  I naively asked Giang (my coworker and translator) if that job paid well and she explained to me that these positions are strictly voluntary.

390. Reaching Out to At-Risk Youth

     August 13, 2009 4:05 am 4 Comments

     Earlier last week, JMC held its first-ever youth workshop on human rights, caste discrimination, and the use of media as a tool of advocacy–and after its fruitful results, we hope that it will not be the last.

     Wanting to know what I do all day while they’re at home or in school, the children at the orphanage at which I live have been energetically bombarding me with questions about my work with JMC on an almost-daily basis. The more I’d explain to them about JMC’s overall goals and actions, the more enthralled the kids would become with Dalit issues and the concept of advocacy through media. Every day that I spend with the kids, I am astonished and inspired by their eagerness to learn, their sense of empathy and compassion toward each other, and their vivacity. I was wholly astounded, though, when I realized their genuine interest in learning about human rights issues. As the children are currently on holiday from school for a short time, I was searching for ways to ensure that this highly fortuitous opportunity to make something happen did not slip away. When ten-year-old Biru said to me, “Jessica, I want to come to work with you!”, I considered the idea for a moment and thought…why not?

     When I approached Prakash and Rem about exploring possibilities of holding a youth workshop at the JMC office, they were kindly amenable to the idea. The JMC-ers who run various different programs within the organization–such as our radio show, our television series, our human rights monitoring department, etc.–additionally offered their generous support in educating orphaned and at-risk youth about human rights issues. Just a few days later, we found ourselves sitting in JMC’s downstairs conference room, surrounded by cookies and milky chiya, various JMC staff members, paper and pencils for a planned activity, a film projector, and eight curious children (ages ten to fourteen) plus two volunteers from the orphanage.

     I’d been harboring a giddy nervousness about the workshop for a number of reasons: this was my first time planning/facilitating a workshop with youth (let alone a human rights-themed one), the first time JMC had ever had a group of kids in the office, AND the workshop was somehow going to be conducted in both English and Nepali. Needless to say, Murphy’s Law could have had a field day. We were all pleasantly surprised (and relieved!), however, by how smoothly the workshop panned out–not to mention amazed by the exhilarating levels of enthusiasm and intellect displayed by the children.

     

     A brief breakdown of our itinerary (not including, of course, intermittent snack and bathroom breaks):

     I began the workshop by introducing the topics of human rights, advocacy, and civil society, speaking in English to the children which Prakash then translated. (The kids are all fluent in English, but I thought it would be best to address substantive, sensitive issues–such as caste discrimination–in our native languages in order to cultivate a more natural understanding of the concepts. Additionally, since these concepts are so new to the kids, I didn’t think it would hurt for them to hear an explanation of the ideas twice.) After going over what many of the rights outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights are (as well as the significance and origin of the document itself), I emphasized the fact that these rights are granted to one regardless of age, race, gender, religion, country of birth, or caste–most importantly, because one is simply a human being.

     We then discussed how, realistically speaking, such rights are NOT adequately upheld for all populations in most societies–worldwide discrimination in myriad forms is distinct and irrefutable. As such, civil society organizations such as JMC are needed to advocate, monitor, and protect these rights. The children were then informed that they would be learning about how JMC specifically uses various media campaigns to advocate for Dalit human rights.

     Purna (one of JMC’s managers, and head of Dalan series) and Dilip (JMC’s Secretary-General) spoke to the children about the founding of JMC, explaining the extent of caste discrimination and related abuses that had been witnessed and experienced throughout Nepal by its very first staff members. They also explained the deficiency of reliable, serious coverage of Dalit issues in Nepal’s mainstream media, and the need for an independent organization to produce such research and information.

     The children were then introduced to JMC’s various media campaigns by staffers from each respective department:

     – Katwal Radio Patrika: Katwal is a nationwide, thirty minute-long feature program that focuses on contemporary political and social issues facing Dalits. Through discussion sessions between Dalits and non-Dalits, Katwal advocates for proportional representation, political participation, inclusiveness, and restructuring of the state to best address Dalit issues.

     – Dalan Series: One particularly innovative advocacy method devised by JMC is its production of a 25-episode soap opera series called Dalan, which chronicles three successive generations of a Dalit family in Nepal. Touching on virtually all forms of discrimination that afflict Dalits, Dalan has amassed laudatory ratings throughout the country–and notably, throughout Nepal’s different castes.

     – Radio Jagaran: Radio Jagaran’s headquarters is located in Nepal’s western region, an area notorious for having the highest and most severe incidences of caste-based discrimination. While Nepal has more than 100 community radio stations, Radio Jagaran is one of the only that is exclusively dedicated to raising issues concerning Dalits and other marginalized communities. On broadcast for eighteen hours per day, Radio Jagaran runs more than 100 different news and discussion programs that reach the inhabitants of western Nepal. (Unlike Katwal, Radio Jagaran is more focused on local issues, and targets a specific stakeholder population in the western region.)

     – Dalit Human Rights Monitoring: JMC’s field reporters, based in various districts throughout Nepal, collect data on a wide range of human rights abuses including beatings, rapes, murders, incidents of torture, forced expulsions from residences, and persecution of inter-caste couples. The data is then compiled into an annual human rights report, which is used for legal, advocacy, and educational purposes.

     – Journalist Training: Though there are more than 5,000 journalists working throughout Nepal, less than 100 hail from the Dalit community. JMC aims to address this gaping disparity by training Dalits on the dynamics of Nepalese mass media, as well as writing techniques, photography, and interviewing. As a result of this program, several past Dalit participants are now active journalists in the mainstream media. JMC also provides training to non-Dalit journalists in order to enhance their familiarity with and sensitivity to issues facing Dalits.

     We then watched an episode of Dalan which depicted an inter-caste marriage in a rural village, and the subsequent violent, humiliating expulsion from the community of a Brahmin (highest caste) man and Dalit woman. The kids all agreed that the couple were treated in a manifestly cruel and wanton manner, as the man and woman had clearly not hurt anybody; yet they understood that such events in Nepal are prevalent and habitually tolerated.

     By this point, the kids were feeling quite engaged, and were beginning to candidly converse about how antiquated, destructive, and downright nefarious the system of caste discrimination is. It was prime time for our planned interactive activity at the end, whereby the kids broke up into small groups and brainstormed answers to a specific caste-related question. Their answers blew all of the adults in the room away with how well thought-out and earnest they were. It was truly edifying to see such a compassionate and intellectual side of the kids come out full-force, especially in a team environment. (The activity I’d planned was translated into Nepali on paper, and the kids initially answered in Nepali. After they stood up and explained their answers in Nepali, Prakash summed up their main points in English. Sounds awkward, but it actually worked out rather nicely!)

     In the meantime, I am awaiting precise translation of their written answers in response to the interactive activity, which I plan to excerpt later in this blog. I can’t wait to share the children’s evocative insights. Stay tuned!

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391. Survivor, Outreach Worker, Role Model

     August 12, 2009 1:34 am 45 Comments

     LSN-V’s Outreach Workers are the lifeblood of the organization.  Without them the unique model of social empowerment and peer support would not be possible.  I have been impressed by everyone I have worked with here, but I have been most inspired by the Outreach Workers’ commitment to survivorship.  Though they come by it naturally–they are all survivors themselves–their dedication and energy is invaluable to creating sustainable social change.  Deciding who to profile was tough, but I decided to interview Mr. Thuan.  I made this decision in part because I have spent most of my time in the field with him, but mostly because when he tells jokes he waits with eager anticipation while they are translated and then laughs again once I’ve heard the punch line in English.  It’s pretty great.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlNsV7F2-mA

392. Healthy Mind, Healthy Body

     August 10, 2009 4:20 am 1 Comment

     I have written quite a bit about how inclusive and sustainable employment is an important element of recovery.  It is undoubtedly the most discussed topic amongst the survivors I have met, but Economic Opportunity is only one portion of LSN-V’s work.  LSN-V’s two other programs focus on Health Services and Social Empowerment.  Health care and rehabilitation services are imperative part of recovery, and it is often an ongoing process that requires attention repeatedly over a lifetime.  A few weeks ago I met with Mr. Ho Nooc, a survivor and self-help group leader who discussed some of the health needs, both physical and psychological that his patients needed. In order to help them reduce anxiety, a natural solution called CBD Flower was being implemented. It has so far proven highly effective, and good for general health as well. If you ever need medical assistance, then make your appointment at innovativefamilyhealth.com

      

     

     Mr. Ho Nooc

     Shortly after we arrived at his home just outside of Dong Hoi proper, Mr. Nooc pulled out his x-rays to show us where the pins had been inserted into his leg after he broke it almost two years ago.  It was immediately apparent that the screws were not put in properly, they were angled and unevenly spaced.  The failure of the first operation left Ho Nooc unable to work and with little mobility.  He has since had another surgery to remove the pins and set the leg properly–a procedure made possible in part by a Direct Assistance Grant from LSN-V.  He shows us the “after” x-ray and it bears little resemblance to the first, the leg has almost no  signs of the injury.  Hopefully, if Ho Nooc continues to heal he will be able to return to work soon.  Though this recent bout of health troubles are telling of the recurrent issues survivors face, Ho Nooc’s story of recovery began much earlier.

     During the Tet Holiday in 1973, when Ho Nooc was 17, a bomb exploded on the street in front of him.  The physical injuries were substantial: he lost his right hand and sustained other wounds, but in the aftermath of the accident it was the psychological trauma that proved to be a greater challenge for him to overcome.  For years, Ho Nooc felt severely depressed; he thought he had lost everything, that the future held nothing for him.  It took him many years to reverse this downward spiral; but by his account, about seven years after the accident he resolved to “live like a human, not to have a meaningless life.”  Though he does not really know what prompted his transformation, with this new-found resolve Ho Nooc traveled up shore to work at a fishery.  Once gainfully employed, his confidence grew; he met his (now) wife and began to think about marriage, something he previously thought was not in the cards for him.  Ho Nooc finally saw his potential.  And with a healthy mind and positive outlook Ho Nooc began to live as a survivor.

     Recovery, however, is not always a perfectly upward trajectory.  When Ho Nooc broke his leg he was discouraged, especially because he was not able to work and lost his independence, circumstances that were reminiscent of 35 years earlier when he was first injured.  But Ho Nooc’s relationship with the other survivors he works with and mentors as the head of the Self-help Group motivated him to stay positive.

     When asked about his position as the Self-help Group leader, Ho Nooc’s enthusiasm is palpable.  He talks energetically about feeling truly challenged and rewarded by his work, about how he has expanded his knowledge through trainings and improved his business skills as a result of the networking he has had to do.  When asked what advice he gives to survivors who are struggling, Ho Nooc looks a little dumbfounded that I don’t already know the answer.  He says he simply encourages them to continue to attend group meetings and to participate in the big events, especially on April 18 (Vietnamese National Day for Persons with Disabilities) and December 3 (International Day for Persons with Disabilities) because once they are a part of the community, survivors do not face their challenges alone.  So even if a survivor has financial difficulties or physical problems, say they break a leg, the group helps that individual to find a solution.  Peer support really is that simple…or genius, depending on how you look at it.

     

     Ho Nooc talks about the road to recovery.

      

393. Anyone have any magic connections?

     August 9, 2009 6:01 am Leave a Comment

     Thinking that I would catch up on writing, drink plenty of tea and relax Nepali style being that today, Saturday is the only day off of the week, I was quickly brought to my senses that once again things never happen how you think they might.I never know what the day will bring in Nepal and I really do appreciate the spontaneity that is forced upon me.Flexibility is as important as drinking water while living abroad I have discovered.I have grown to love the incessant visitors arriving at my door and the impromptu motorbike rides.I also never know who I will meet and what questions I will have to field representing the American way of life.

     After the few minutes of getting ready I was out the door to meet Ajaya-ji’s friends for morning tea across the street from my house.Today, one of the only Nepali magicians was in town.Yes, in Gaighat of all places.His name is Deepak Koirala.Not knowing if magic was popular here or if it was a skill that people had, I had many questions.Deepok has been practicing for years and has even performed in Korea, Thailand and Hong Kong, not to mention many hotels and casinos here. Well playing casino online at https://qq39bet.me is easy. I told him that I really enjoy David Blaine, the American magician who performs magic on the streets and Deepak replied, “Oh I am the David Blaine of Nepal” He hopes to become a professional so that he can travel with a work visa overseas and make a living as an entertainer. If you want to play casino online then visit to https://clubvip777.com/web/empire777/.

     Later in the day he performed some tricks, mostly with cards that I was in complete amazement by.My mouth was wide open as I questioned how he made my card appear out of nowhere.Maybe it was my sheer gullible self that allowed me to be in astonishment because others in the audience thought it was too simple and have seen the tricks before.I think the Nepali crowd is a little too critical because it seemed to me they were enjoying every minute of it during the show.I am still convinced that he has significant talent, along with remarkable charisma and I sincerely hope he is successful with his entertainment.He is planning another show in the area to win over journalists and radio stations so his act can spread further.If only there was a Vegas closer then Deepak could do so well.More to come on the upcoming star shortly after his much larger Gaighat performance.

394. A Roving Motivator

     August 8, 2009 7:52 am Leave a Comment

     Mir Salim was eighteen months when he fell ill with typhoid and lost his eyesight. He passed his class 12^th examination in 1992 and undertook training in nutrition at the Helen Keller International at Dhanmondi, Dhaka. For three years, he taught English grammar to high school students in private classes in Banaripara. He has always been good at it, he admits with a touch of pride. He also communicates regularly with Braille magazines in USA. Salim now works as a community organiser with BERDO in Banaripara.

     His work is challenging and problems are plenty. The devastation caused by Cyclone Sidr means that people mistake micro-credit for flood relief. Induction of new members is a slow process that requires a great deal of confidence-building and motivation. He says that motivation, in fact, is a double-edged sword. The indolent are difficult to motivate and the industrious fail to see the merits of enrolling in BERDO’s Community-Based Rehabilitation programme. Once enrolled, people look for quick benefits – a grant, a sewing machine, scholarships for students etc. Awareness levels about disabilities are low and superstitions are rampant in Banaripara, like in most other parts of Bangladesh. Disability among children is often seen as a result of gunaah (sins) committed by other members of the family.  His greatest challenge, he says, is to explain to prospective and current members of BERDO that disability is not a curse.

     The nature of these problems means that Salim has to wear multiple hats – that of a community worker, an education adviser, a negotiator and a disability rights advocate, at different times of the day. He plays scout and travels to neighbouring villages to identify disabled children who do not attend school and negotiates with teachers who are often reluctant to allow disabled children to enrol into local schools. He shares his knowledge in matters of nutrition and hygiene and also accompanies disabled individuals to the District office to help them register their complaints.

     Watch the video below to know why the teacher at the local school thought Nantu (a physically challenged child) could not, and what it took Salim to convince him that Nantu could:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUMwXLlZcSY

     P.S.: Salim has an interest in people, places and the animal kingdom. When not sorting out problems of the villagefolk, Salim reads old Braille editions of National Geographic.

395. lets mediate!

     August 7, 2009 5:44 am Leave a Comment

     Mediate: to try to end a disagreement between two or more people or groups by talking to them and trying to find things that everyone can agree on; to succeed in finding a solution to a disagreement between two people or groups.

     Mediation, an extremely useful skill can be used anywhere in the world. Conflict is pervasive; in the home about what a child’s punishment should be to two political parties fighting over an army chief, as is the current news in Nepal with the Maoists and the government. It is essential to learn mediation skills in any context and think it’s very beneficial here in Nepal.

     I am very interested in intercultural mediation practices so I was excited when Ram-ji Chaudray asked me to join him in a mediation orientation in Hadiya, a nearby village. NESPEC has realized that this is needed with their committees. Many members are in an environment where they are surrounded by constant conflict and do not know their resources or their capability in resolving problems. The purpose was to educate on a very basic level what exactly conflict is, what power sources there are and peoples rights.

     After the long motorbike ride I was very curious on what the meeting was going to entail. I wondered how many committee members would attend considering maybe the subject did not interest them or how many could leave their work to attend. A good number arrived slowly to the field office, forcing us to move to the village district hall. There were almost twenty Hadiya committee members in attendance. Unfortunately only two were males. Since there was a lot of rain the days before there is a lot of cultivation work to be done.

     Ram-ji, the project coordinator presented in a very clear manner with colorful cards that made for easy understanding. He asked, “What are the local problems here?” Many replied with answers ranging from; alcohol consumption, women not leaving the house, domestic violence and differences in ethnic groups. The participants were very active throughout the day, revealing that maybe this was not only awareness-building, yet also a way of venting what was stressing them out. Nepali tradition during meetings is to have a closure where participants share what they learned. Many stood up proudly explaining they were very grateful for the orientation and learned many new things such as the political structure, along with conflict management. I was able to interview two women at the end of the meeting with translation help. I hope to post when I am hooked up to a better internet signal.

     

396. Bonding over Banking in Banaripara

     August 6, 2009 2:54 am Leave a Comment

     Once every week at 9 am in the morning in Banaripara in Barisal division of Southern Bangladesh, twenty women and a few children make a beeline for Khairunissa’s house. BERDO’s community worker Fatema waits there with textbooks and public awareness leaflets. For one hour, they talk on different issues – health, education, prenatal care, pregnancy-related complications, hygiene, latest legislations for disabled individuals and their budding business initiatives, started with micro-credit received from BERDO. In between, they also pay their weekly instalments. Fatema takes the lead in most of the discussions, relays information contained in the leaflets and shows them slides. At other times she acts as a facilitator. The women chip in – raise their problems and ask questions. They are all part of a Self Help Group, one that they have christened ‘Shiuli’. At 10 am, the women troop out of Khairunissa’s house and head back home to attend to their daily chores, while Fatema heads to Jahanara’s house for the next meeting – this time with a group that calls itself ‘Beli’.

     

     There are thirty such SHGs in Banaripara consisting of BERDO members. A group usually consists of eighteen to twenty-five members – both able-d and differently able-d. Disabled minors, who cannot be full-time members, are often accompanied by their mothers. Each group has a President, a Secretary and a Treasurer, each of whom is chosen by consensus from among the members of the group for a period of one year. The one-hour meeting comes as a welcome relief to women who find little time away from the grind of household duties. It serves as a platform where they learn life skills. It not only allows them access to a little credit to start an income-generating initiative of their own but also gauges their progress and helps them out with business knowhow from time to time.

     

     The response of the womenfolk at the meeting I attended was very encouraging indeed. ‘Shiuli’ is only nine months old but all members send their children to school. Newly-weds have begun to understand the merits of contraception and pregnant women that of skilled midwifery. Four women from ‘Shiuli’ have taken loans from BERDO and repayment rates of the group are a 100%. One of them, the widowed mother of a paraplegic child, has started a betel-nut shop. She does not earn enough just yet to support her family but is hopeful that her shop will eventually help her tide over financial difficulties. The SHG model has been used the world over and while BERDO’s Community-Based Rehabilitation (CBR) programme is not a panacea to all the troubles that plague women and the disabled in rural Bangladesh, it has allowed them to get a foot in the door, afforded them a straw and if its success is anything to go by, it is definitely not the last one.

397. Part 2 of Hadiya: Women Unite!

     12:38 am 1 Comment

     Along the dusty roads and through the small rivers on motorbike, the NESPEC group made our way to a field office in Hadiya where I was able to talk with the secretary of the women’s rights forum, Ganga Rai.  She helps facilitate the monthly meetings for women in the village and keeps a record of women’s problems in the area.  In the picture below you can see a written out statement of a women addressing a domestic violence concern with her husband.  Women come to the NESPEC office to file their problems and then are brought to local officials if needed.  Usually all members involved in the conflict come together in the office and NESPEC mediates the problem.  Restorative justice at its best, I thought to myself, how happy I was to hear that this practice was being used here.  I hope to see one of these sessions in action.  Ganga explained to me that most often the conflict is talked through when they all gather together and understand each other much more after explaining their side of the story.  

                 Just as in other developing countries, fighting patriarchy is an uphill battle culturally and politically.  There have been major improvements in the past few years; women now have rights to land at birth, decriminalized abortion and also the government removed a law that allowed men to divorce their wife if she was infertile.  To my surprise, women comprise 33 percent of the Constituent Assembly and have women on each of the eleven constitutions committees. 

                 However, there have been some setbacks.  For instance, a law was recently approved to pay men who marry widows.  50,000 rupees would be given to men who marry widows.  The government believes this is a way to help women who lost their husbands in the civil war.  More than 12,800 people were killed in the ten-year war.  Why wouldn’t the government provide basic employment trainings, education, health care or social security?  Women are still considered second-class citizens to some in power it seems.  NESEPEC is addressing the new law in their women’s forum meetings to spread awareness and hope to pressure local officials to revoke the law. 

                 Yet, I must be positive, for the first time in history, women will have a voice in the parliament and at last will have their rights represented. There are many powerful women’s groups that are relentless in lobbying and listening to the marginalized. Yah for the women’s movement in Nepal!  

     In only a few weeks time I will experience the strong unity women share in the festival for women called Teej.  A Hindu festival, where women fast and pray Lord Shiva for a long life. My friends here have described it as one big party where red saris, lots of jewelry and dancing are required.  It will be an unforgettable time to celebrate with my new friends here.

398. Eating on leaves in the Udayapur District

     12:26 am 1 Comment

      

     

      

     

     

     How the villagers sustain themselves

                 This week has been hitting me hard physically from getting sick to my stomach to a nonstop runny nose. For some reason before leaving to come here I thought I would be invincible and did not think to bring much medicine.  I was able to buy some meds at the pharmacy so I’ll give it a little while for them to kick in and see how Nepali drugs work.  Nepal has awakened every one of my senses in ways that I could not imagine.  Breathing in the thick, hot oven air, (garmee, hot in Nepali is a frequently spoken word) smelling the various, sometimes not so pleasant smells and watching the women in their colorful saris carrying large baskets of vegetables on their heads all consists of my daily walk to NESEPC. The way of life has been a respite from the often hectic, overwhelming western lifestyle.  How will I ever go back to having a quick cup of coffee in the morning, running to work when I could have a leisurely Nepali tea and biscuits?  Morning, my favorite time here when the pigeons, roosters and goats outside my window awake me and the sun creeps over the brightly colored radio station building near by.  I look out my window every morning and am in awe that I have made a home and found life long friends around the world.   

                  I was able to take part in a committee meeting out in the Sundarpur village about an hour motorbike ride away from NESPEC. The Dhamchap village, located within Sundarpur consists of 34 houses made of mud, bamboo and wood.  The people are all of the Tharu caste, speaking their own ethnic language. The villagers came together and decided that they needed a community center that will serve many functions.  The most general need would be for gatherings, such as women’s meetings for sharing their issues. In addition, guests will stay when visiting in the center. The community center will be available if needed and donations will be accepted from guests to go towards the village.  They have asked NESPEC for help with building the roof.  It was fascinating to see how well the people worked together for one common goal.  Extra wood from each house was shared to build the house and have agreed to work together in the future about important decisions regarding the center.

                  I witnessed NESPEC’s model at work; helping a committee, always allowing for the members to be the ones building so they take ownership of the community center.  If NESPEC built the center then the members would not take as much pride in it.  A simple empowerment approach that I believe more organizations need to follow.  Let the people be the change in the community.

                 Collective communities can teach me a thing or two about how to work in a group.  I had to take a class on teamwork at school while these villagers have it in their culture.  The sense of togetherness is instilled in them when they enter the world. The distance in our cultures on occasion astonishes me.  

                 The Dhamchap village sits on disputed land that is government owned. They left their prior land in 1996 due to flooding and still are fighting for the land.  They have a temporary certificate by the Village Development Committee because of the unwritten constitution.  After the laws are written is when they will have permission to live there they believe.  Even remote villages are waiting patiently for the government to finish writing laws.  The projected deadline is May 10, 2010, although it is looking like it may not be enough time to finish.  The tolerance of the Nepali people surrounding the slow government process is certainly very commendable.  I’m glad that civil society in Nepal is so strong, that people are passionate here about their rights and open political conversations can occur.  I sincerely hope that villages like these will improve after the constitution is written and the “New Nepal” can emerge.  

                 Cultivation is the major outsource for the village as well as selling the Bhorla leaf (see picture) to make plates for eating.  When a few of the women were explaining they sell leaves in the market I had to see for myself.  They quickly found some to give to me and said only to eat once off of them, called  “one time plates.”  One of the women, Devki Devi Chaudray (in picture) made a plate in about thirty seconds with string made of bamboo.  They can sell one hundred leaves for about thirty rupees in the market (less than one dollar), sustainably helping out their livelihoods. 

                 When I asked what other problems they are facing, the president of the committee responded with how they need more food.  They can only produce enough food for six months and depend heavily on rainfall.  The village members asked the program coordinator of NESEPEC, Ram Chaudray if NESPEC could setup an irrigation system to water their gardens for an extended time to help during drought seasons.  NESPEC does not have the capability for such a system but they will make the effort to ask local officials what can be done. I couldn’t help think to myself why can’t more be done to help their food production?  A whole village would be fed, not a single person, many lives would be benefited.  Feed a village should be the catchphrase, not just one child or even one hungry family.

399. Operation Bamboo

     August 4, 2009 6:45 am 3 Comments

     Delhi is throwing a party. In autumn 2010 the city will play host to the Commonwealth Games, a sort of mini-Olympics for the United Kingdom, its overseas territories, and all of the postcolonial states that share the dubious distinction of having once been under the Queen’s proper fist. From badminton to boxing, pistol shooting to ping pong, in exactly 425 days Delhi will be abuzz with athletes, coaches, camera crews and fans.

     

     John Steffensen kicks it at the 2006 Commonwealth Games in Australia

     In order to make sure that everyone has a grand time at this fête, the city has elected to enact violence, both physical and aesthetic, on some of its poorest citizens. First, the ironically-named “Social Welfare Department” has created a dozen anti-beggar squads that fly around the city in vans and drag beggars out of intersections and streets where they eke out a livelihood. Second, the government has begun looking into the possibility of planting huge walls of bamboo trees along major thoroughfares in order to “screen the slums and garbage along the roads that will be frequented by visitors and athletes taking part in the games.”

     

     Bamboo(zled)

     Developments such as these are not new, of course. Gearing up for the Beijing Olympics last year, the Chinese government kicked legions of migrant workers, beggars, masseuses and fortune-tellers out of the capital and instituted a $7.00 fine on public spitting. But Delhi’s recent pronouncements got me thinking about parties in general, about our “social faces,” and, of course, about the wastepickers.

     I’ll admit that when I throw a party I generally go overboard, fretting like Mrs. Dalloway for hours before guests arrive. My tendencies are common: procure some freshly cut flowers; shove aside the beloved-but-worn footstool to facilitate freedom of movement; stow the breakables; remove any photographs or items that seem too personal; clean maniacally; and so on.  From the host’s perspective, parties almost universally include the transformation of space. On a metaphorical plane, this transformation demands a denial of the human body, a denial that the party venue is actually a lived-in place.

     It’s no different for cities.  But the problem is that the civic body is unlike the body of a single human party host. The civic body is a multiplicity; it is coherent because of, not in spite of, its diversity.  Denying an integral part of the civic body by hiding it behind bamboo is like me walking around my party with my head in a burlap bag.

     

     Wastepickers at an area meeting in Seemapuri. What's to hide?

     I am particularly incensed that the brains behind Operation Bamboo is Shashi Tharoor.  Mr. Tharoor is the Indian Minister of State for External Affairs and a member of the Indian Parliament from Kerala. He’s also the proverbial “distinguished alumnus” from my graduate school.  He had a long career in the UN, rising to the rank of Under-Secretary General and narrowly losing the race for Secretary General when Kofi Annan retired. According to everybody’s favorite open source encyclopedia, he’s a “prolific author, columnist, journalist, human-rights advocate, and humanitarian.” It’s deeply embarrassing to me and my Fletcher School colleagues that this humanitarian and human-rights advocate from Fletcher is so ashamed of his own civic family that he proposes to lock them in the closet when his party guests arrive.

     On the face of it, bamboo is a good idea. Delhi already ranks high in tree cover, and additional greenery would provide shade and suck carbon out of the atmosphere. But deployed as a purely cosmetic measure, the bamboo screens entirely miss the point of “going green.” In fact, some of the very communities who will be hidden are Delhi’s greenest citizens. My climate change research this summer has revealed that wastepickers’ annual greenhouse gas reductions from recycling are equivalent to taking 31,000 passenger vehicles off the roads each year. What’s more, they undertake door-to-door waste collection, composting, and form the backbone of Delhi’s waste management and recycling systems. They are greener than the bamboo that will shield them from public gaze.

     

     Wastepickers organizing in Seemapuri

     The Commonwealth Games have spurred the development of tons of new infrastructure: a slick new subway system, dozens of overpasses and bridges, and widened roads. These are capital intensive, long-term investments. To truly address the “unsightly” slums and garbage, a similar investment is needed in the city’s social infrastructure. This investment is partly about money, but it’s mostly about dignity; hiding poverty from the guests further stigmatizes and penalizes the poor. Without an investment in social infrastructure, Mr. Tharoor & Company may wake up after the Games looking around the living room at some new sprigs of bamboo, but they’ll be nursing the same old raging hangover.

400. Mr. Truong Cong Dung – A Video Profile

     August 3, 2009 10:14 pm Leave a Comment

     Last Friday I went to visit Mr. Dung’s vocational training center for persons with disabilities in Dong Son commune.  With the support of LSN-V, Dung began offering training in incense making, silk-screening and candle making for his fellow survivors this past April.  His is a great story of leadership and initiative–I put together the video below in an effort to help him share it.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCGf0_eYq_8

     To see pictures of the Training Center click on the link to Flickr.

     And a special thanks to my coworker Meg for letting me steal her computer for hours at a time to edit my videos 🙂

401. In Your Eyes

     2:08 am Leave a Comment

      

     How the Chintan Staff Became a Film Crew and Changed the World

      

     Okay, perhaps the world hasn’t changed …yet, but the Chintan office is currently buzzing with excitement over the organization’s latest activist film project!

     

     Ashina Filming in Seema Puri

     To create the film, Chintan partnered with Witness, a human rights organization that empowers grassroots NGOs to use documentary film as an advocacy tool. By producing films, such NGOs can publicize human rights violations and the struggles of oppressed communities worldwide. For months Ryan Shlief, a dedicated human rights activist and Witness’s Program Coordinator for Asia, has been training Chintan staff to work as producers, directors, camera crew, and film editors within the documentary filmmaking process.

     

     Dinesh filming Matlib

     Thus, documentary film now represents another medium through which Chintan can disseminate information about environmentally and socially just recycling in Delhi. The current film project focuses on wastepickers’ rights in the face of corporate privatization of waste management in India. 

     Witness was founded in 1992 by musician and activist Peter Gabriel. 

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zrzr4R3LpsQ

     Witness’s slogan: “See It. Film It. Change It.” reflects the transformative potential of storytelling through film. By allowing people to tell their own stories, documentary  film has to capacity to uncover injustices and create counter-narratives to dominant societal norms. Documentary is thus an accessible artistic medium that can act as a catalyst for social change. Documentary also represents a unique opportunity for advocacy as it allows communities to tell their own stories and can enhance the directness through which oppressed peoples communicate with decision makers and the general public.

     

     The Wastepicker Community of Seema Puri Tells Their Story

     For further information on the project, including a video interview with Bharati, Chintan’s founder and director, see Ryan Shlief’s blog at http://hub.witness.org/en/blog/chintan-production.

402. Uma’s Courage: One Woman’s Story

     August 2, 2009 5:06 am 1 Comment

     Uma K.C., 26, has seen the worst of Nepal’s patriarchal system. Originally from a small village, she fled during the Maoist insurgency when she was only 16 years old. At the height of the civil war, women were frequently tortured and raped. Afraid that she might fall victim to the same fate, she sought a better life in Kathmandu.

     

     Uma K.C., 26, is survivor of severe domestic abuse.

     It wasn’t long before she found herself on the street, hungry. She didn’t have the skill set to obtain a proper job, so she found work in a dance bar. Dance bars, frequented mostly by local men, would be classified in the U.S. as strip clubs. Unlike the U.S., however, sex can often be found on the menu.

     Within a year, she met a 52-year-old widower named Lakshmi. He was kind and frequented the dance bar. He told her that he was lonely. He had been married before, but his wife had died, leaving him without any children to care for. He didn’t have anyone to live with and he needed a wife to give him hot water. He wanted to marry her; he could provide for her, and she would be able to quit the dance bar. Believing that she had met a good man, Uma married Lakshmi in 2001.

     Soon after, the torture began. He often abused her, using a kukri or grinding stone typically used for grain. He told her that he was not getting the sexual satisfaction he needed and forced her to perform oral sex, something that she was not comfortable doing. He told her he needed to share his bed with other women and continued to visit dance bars. He refused to wear protection and forbid Uma from using contraception. During their marriage, she was pregnant four times. Each time, he made her get an abortion.

     She later learned that he was still married; in fact, he had never been widowed at all. His first wife, and grandchildren of theirs, lived with him in the city. His wife was unaware that he had married Uma. Later investigations would uncover that he used his job as an excuse to get away. A driver who was sometimes required him to spend nights away from home, he often told his wife that he was working late and would stay with Uma.

     A friend told Uma about Raksha Nepal, an NGO that helps victims of prostitution, human trafficking, and domestic abuse. They advised her to speak up and seek justice, but first she would need to prove they were married. The law at the time did not provide protection to women who were victims of unmarried domestic abuse. She would need to produce a marriage certificate in order to file charges.

     Uma knew what she had to do. One night in December 2007, she decided that she would request a copy of their marriage certificate from Lakshmi. To soften the mood, she prepared a meal made up of meats and large dishes. At the end of the night, she requested a copy of their marriage certificate and her citizenship, something husbands are required to sign in Nepal.

     Lakshmi was skeptical. Realizing Uma was up to something, he grew angry. In the midst of an argument, he doused her body with gasoline and set her on fire. A neighbor overhead her screams and saved her.

     

     Uma still has full use of her hands, badly scarred from a tragic night nearly two years ago. She is using them to develop new skills, such as driving.

     

     Her hands and body, badly scarred, are daily reminders of the abuse she endured. Raksha Nepal is helping her to file a case, but it is difficult since there is no marriage certificate and Lakshmi burned all of their wedding photos. In a creative attempt to get around the law, they have produced copies of her abortion certificates as evidence. In order to get an abortion, a husband is required give permission. All four times, Lakshmi came to the hospital and signed his name.

     Since the investigation began, the police have told Raksha Nepal and Uma that Lakshmi is missing. Witnesses, however, have seen him riding his motorbike in the city with other women. They suspect that he paid off the police. The neighbor who helped Uma is also nowhere to be found. In their own investigation, sources have told Raksha Nepal that he was paid 10,000 rupees to disappear, approximately $133 U.S. dollars.

     Uma’s story highlights the difficulty in fighting domestic violence in Nepal, but it also provides one example of courage. Although she has not been awarded justice in the legal system, she is bright eyed, laughed during much of our interview, and is learning new skills. She now lives with other survivors, who are also being helped by Raksha Nepal.

403. Pondering out the windows in Eastern Nepal

     12:52 am 4 Comments

     I just arrived back in Gaighat after two days away in the city of Biratnagar. I attended a conference for NGO workers, “New Nepal Federalism Country Structure, Eastern Region. It was hosted by the member organization, Collective Campaign for Peace (COCAP) in which NESPEC is a member. The objective of the conference was to get participants talking about the benefits and disadvantages of a Federalist state, a state in which ethnic groups are represented on both the national and regional levels and to further take it to the constitution assembly after bringing the issues to their organization. The new government is currently writing the new constitution that has taken more than a year so far and is still far from complete. Federalism is a major demand by small ethnic groups to gain representation politically and culturally as well as inclusion by the state.

     It was another crowded roller coaster bus ride to the second largest city in Nepal, about four hours southeast, along the Indian border. Green, rolling hills with endless rice fields, cows and goats grazing and many young boys bathing in the local watering holes. One of those water sources is the largest river in Nepal, the Sapti Koshi that has over ten dams. Last year, one of the dams broke suddenly, tragically wiping 5,000 homes in Nepal and 500,000 in India, (in the Bihar state). Still causing much concern because of the fear of the old dam structures, also resulting in strife between the two countries.

     As the bus turned to escape from a massive pothole, was when I thought, I am going overboard with everyone on this crowded bus. Luckily, the driver turned the wheel abruptly as if it were a knee jerk response to an everyday problem. Driving around children, cows, goats, motorcycles, and cars is extraordinary and certainly no small task.

     While looking out to the beautiful landscape, I began thinking about the same lingering questions that I have for sometime, what exactly are the problems and benefits of foreign aid? The roads are another sign of the under-development in Nepal and how infrastructure improvements are required for the future. The Nepali news on TV reports almost nightly about incidents of landslides, bus accidents and the diarrhea outbreak in the western Terai. 200 people have died in the outbreak and the government has been greatly criticized for acting so slowly with medicine.

     I used to always think that you have to serve the people, however I’m beginning to think that foreign aid needs to be directed to the industry base instead. (One of the many issues that I need to dedicate time researching which will be difficult due to the stubborn internet connection). Many NESPEC workers are unable to reach needed villages due to flooded roads during the monsoon season, producing for worsening conditions for people and also, the organization is unable to carry out its mission. If foreign aid is given more effectively to roads, then marginalized people, such as the indigenous groups in the hill valleys can be reached because the roads will be drivable.  A book I am reading that I found in Kathmandu, “Fatalism and Development” by Dor Bahadur Bista says that

     “The purpose of foreign aid is to develop a strong infrastructure that can generate  its own process of growth, to address the economic needs of the people and raise the standard of living. Once the infrastructure is in place, and the initial capital investment has been made, the ideal expectation is to wean itself from its aid dependency. Nepal’s success will then depend on the economic skills of it’s own people.

      If donors give aid to help develop Nepal it cannot be enough. The Nepali people need to take action and more importantly, the government and the peace process need be sustained. The wealth coming into the country is not turning out as hoped, not to mention the aid has covered up the economic corruption occurring.

      “If we had more money and industry, then better roads could be built and remote villages can be reached but we live in one of the poorest countries in the world”, a common statement from many Nepalese here whom I have spoken to about the future of their country.

     I’m beginning to hear the words, “we live in a poor country” all too frequently. Maybe I don’t want to hear this as it reminds me of my privilege of being American. Yes, Nepal is a poor country, although I believe there is a psychological dependency there that can be threatening to the country as a whole. Below is a Nepali proverb that describes this attachment:

     “Do not feel too sorry for the death of one son but watch out that death might return again frequently.”

      The same danger lies in Americans believing they are citizens of the best country in the world. Being poor or wealthy becomes a fact of life for people, a self fulfilled prophecy that deepens the divide between the underclass and the upper class.

      

404. B‘law’g 2: Landmark Victory for the LGTBQ Community in Delhi

     July 29, 2009 11:25 am Leave a Comment

     Wastepickers aren’t the only community uniting to fight for their rights in India. Indeed, while living in New Delhi for the summer, I am discovering that this is a city rich with activists trying to make India a more equitable and just society. One such group of activists is the LGTBQ community, who recently celebrated a victory for gay rights an India.

     

     Delhi's 2nd Annual Pride Parade

     An 8-year public interest challenge to India’s anti-sodomy law was resolved on July 2, 2009 when the Delhi High Court declared the discriminatory aspects of s. 377 of the Indian Penal Code unconstitutional.

     

     Protesting s. 377 of the Indian Penal Code

     S. 377 of the Indian Penal Code, first drafted by the British, prohibits intercourse “against the order of nature”. Over the years the Indian judiciary has interpreted this provision as outlawing gay sex in India.  In Naz Foundation (India) Trust v. Government of NCT, Delhi and Others, Writ Petition (Civil) No. 7455 of 2001, the Delhi High Court held that this discriminatory interpretation of s. 377 violates the equality rights set out in India’s Constitution. Therefore s. 377 was read down to apply only to “non-consensual penile non-vaginal sex and penile non-vaginal sex involving minors” and no longer to consenting adults.

     

     Remembering victims of discrimination and anti-queer violence

     I along with two other Chintan interns had the great joy of attending Delhi’s second annual pride parade days before this landmark decision took place. While the Delhi High Court decision is a real victory for the LGTBQ community, many difficulties along the road to equity remain. Regardless of what the law on the books says, discrimination is still experienced in India and challenges to the Delhi High Court decision are already emerging. LGTBQ activists and allies will continue to support one another through their many enduring struggles for equal rights and citizenship in India. 

     

     Sign at Delhi Pride

     For further information on this legal victory see: http://www.lawyerscollective.org/node/1004

405. An Honest Day’s Work

     3:31 am 3 Comments

     All of the survivors I have met with since being in Vietnam have touched on the need for sustainable and inclusive employment.  One of the primary programmatic elements of LSN-V and Survivor Corps’ work is Economic Opportunity for survivors.  Over the past few weeks I met with some of the business groups operating in Quang Binh province.  The video below explains more about the awesome work these groups are doing and the substantial impact they are having on the lives of survivors and their communities as a whole.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vD58K2hQCns

     *Note to Viewers: When I uploaded the video to YouTube the quality and readability diminished.  I am working on solving this problem and will either repost or provide a link to a higher-quality version as soon as possible.  Thanks for your patience.

406. But What About the Youth? [Part 2]

     July 28, 2009 9:31 am 4 Comments

     [continued from Part 1]

     Contrasting the luminous, lively eyes of the orphanage kids with the sunken, lifeless counterparts of Nepal’s less fortunate children, I shudder to think of what could have happened to the former, had the orphanage not interceded in their cases. The orphan problem in Nepal is dire, due to a variety of factors–the recent civil war, dangerous livelihoods, rampant disease, crippling poverty. While I certainly have no intention of asking the children with whom I live what castes they come from, all sociological indicators–which point to a disproportionate pattern of disease, hunger, and mortality among Nepal’s lowest caste–lead me to logically infer that a disproportionate pattern of orphanhood exists among Dalits.

     Between eighty-five and ninety percent of Dalits live below the poverty line, and the majority lack access to clean drinking water–making such individuals more prone to waterborne diseases, gastrointestinal infections, and diarrhea-related deaths. Gynecological diseases–such as uterine prolapse–are especially common among Dalit women, and mothers often die due to childbirth-related causes. Dalit fathers are most likely to work hazardous jobs in unhygienic conditions, leaving them more vulnerable to deadly disease and injury. These factors, coupled with deeply-embedded marginalization in the areas of educational attainment and receipt of government services, beget a lethal combination–a prime breeding ground for high incidences of unexpected parental deaths in Dalit families, and correspondingly high numbers of Dalit orphans and street children.

     Orphaned girls and young women, particularly Dalits, face an especially horrific threat: the danger of being whisked away by human traffickers. Due to their marginalization and lack of legal protection, Dalit women and girls are the most likely to be trafficked–primarily bought and sold into brothels in India’s major cities (such as Mumbai, which has the largest number of brothels in the world according to WomenNewsNetwork). Every year about 10,000 Nepalese girls–some as young as six years old, but most between the ages of nine and sixteen–are taken and sold to brothels in India, where hundreds of thousands of other young girls are already believed to be involved in coerced sex work (U.S. State Department Trafficking in Persons Report, 2009). I urge you to visit this link to familiarize yourself with the truly heartbreaking and harrowing story of Seema, a Nepali woman who became a trafficking victim at the age of twelve.

     Some of the children in the orphanage at which I volunteer have already had firsthand experience with being bought and sold as a commodity. One girl, who is now nine, was found by a government social worker in a busy area of Kathmandu–covered in bruises and with her hands tightly bound by a rusty wire–forced to work as a domestic servant. She’s understandably had a difficult time opening up to the other children at the orphanage, and has not yet spoken in detail about what happened to her while she was held in servitude. However, she has expressed her love of attending school and passion for learning, which suggests that her agonizing past may not prevent her from pursuing a positive, productive life of her own after all. In fact, given the struggles and tumultuous experiences to which all the children in the orphanage have been subjected, I am astounded by how helpful, friendly, and loving they all are toward both the staff members and each other–like a large, but very content, family.

     Since arriving in Nepal, I’ve been intrigued with the idea of staying with a local host family–rather than hopping from hostel to hostel as I’d been doing–in order to experience and immerse myself in “real” Nepali life. Relocating to this orphanage has allowed me to fulfill that desire in a delightfully unconventional way. We may not have running water or reliable electricity, but cohesion, compassion and fortitude run deep here. As spoken by the director of the orphanage to the kids: “You are no different from the other children at school. You work hard in your classes, eat dhaal-bhaat every day, and love to sing songs just as they do. The only difference is that your family is a little bit bigger than the other kids’ families.”

     

407. But What About the Youth? [Part 1]

     9:31 am 1 Comment

     All at once, the contradictory onslaught of fresh shock and numbing familiarity envelops me again. This familiar scene of emotions tugging in different directions has evolved into a programmed and predictable pattern: the idealist in me wants me to go up to them and hug them, take them out for a decent meal, spend time with them and get to know the human beings–the children–who they are. My common sense reminds me that they’re quite aggressive–and sometimes dangerous–as it replays scenes in which they’ve spit on me, cursed me out, and once even hung with their full weight from me as I walked nearly an entire block, clawing my forearm until blood was drawn (having no small bills on me at the time, I had refused their requests for money). I feel callous and cruel playing the role of another seemingly disaffected passerby as I struggle to hurry past the corner where they congregate and accost foreigners in Thamel. Ambiguity has never felt so conflicted or so pronounced, as I simultaneously grow increasingly disturbed and increasingly desensitized to the heartbreaking sight before me.

     I rush past the notorious corner, trying not to make eye contact. It doesn’t matter this time, though; the familiar smell of Dendrite and the resounding crinkle of small, white plastic bags reveal why my walk down the block was a strangely uninterrupted one. Out of the corner of my eye I see tattered, soiled clothing covering gaunt, lifeless figures sprawled on their backs on the pavement. A deep, lengthy gasp escapes from one behind me; I turn around and make brief eye contact with a pair of abnormally wide, glazed-over spheres of vacant vision that are clearly on a different plane of consciousness than mine. The child lets out a feeble groan while he places the bag of glue he just inhaled on his belly, his trembling hand still clutching the source of his relief. He slowly descends backward, his head resting on a garbage heap on the filthy pavement. He is no older than eight years old.

     “They”, of course, are the street children of Nepal–and in the tourist district of Thamel, are as unavoidable and conspicuous a sight as the wily rickshaw driver offering you an overpriced ride and the ubiquitous trekkers’ shop. Their painfully blatant presence begs the terribly simplistic yet timeless question: how could this happen? …To so many children? I’m paralyzed in a stupor of despondency as I witness the sight, unable to form a more developed sense of questioning and reasoning in my mind other than the most basic. I am unable to formulate specific policy-related inquiries or construct mock calculations of demographic indicators in attempt to consider the phenomenon from a scientific or academic perspective. No. Confronted by this very raw scene, I can only ask the most rudimentary questions of how and why. But it’s the simplest questions that are sometimes the hardest to address.

     The unwelcome muddlement that has hit me as a consequence of not knowing what to do in this situation–short of resigning myself to futile rumination and lament of their plight–was part of why I decided to drastically change my living situation. I came across a small flier in a cafe one day, announcing a chance to live as a tenant in a family-run Kathmandu orphanage, whereby 100% of the rental fees would go toward the children’s meals and school fees. Thinking it sounded too good to be true, Morgan and I checked out the place the same day–and were greeted with ebullient warmth, lots of hugs, ceaseless smiles, and genuine hospitality from [all thirty-five of] the children and staff members at the orphanage. The large, converted house was a clean, well-kept haven filled with books, colorful posters, artwork made by the kids, photo collages, featured “awards” and stories about each child adorning the walls. It was evident that the children were healthy, energetic and well-taken care of, and the other orphanage volunteers (one of whom had returned for a second volunteering stint after a year) we met raved eagerly about their experiences. The questions in my mind–whether my living expenses should benefit these vibrant children or a tourist hostel in Thamel, whether I was to spend my evenings in a depressingly dim guesthouse room or surrounded by these infectious smiles, whether I was to keep handing small rupee denominations to street children or invest my money in a sustained effort to keep kids from ending up on the streets in the first place–were all no-brainers. Lucid certainty about this spontaneous and fortuitous opportunity led me to move into the orphanage that same week.

     

     [continue to Part 2]

408. no more mangos!

     3:28 am Leave a Comment

     It’s a glorious day because for one, it is very cool out, below the sweltering 95 degrees. I am not sweating for the first time in weeks.  The monsoon season brought much needed rain and also, I think I had the most juicy, ripe mango ever.  Sadly, my daily mango, or sometimes three will be coming to an end.  The family I am staying with only has five left!  The mango (apt in Nepali) season is coming to an end, Sova, my new mother pointed out today.  The fruit that I don’t think I ever have had in the U.S other than in a smoothie will be surely be missed.  I will have to find another delicacy soon. 

      

     NESPEC has been quite hectic the past few days with the monthly review and planning meetings.  My desire to learn Nepali has heightened even more after sitting in the discussions with only some translation.  All staff members and some board members were present to check in with the activities for the past month as well as plan for next month.  Each social mobilizer presented their activities in July and then feedback was provided.  The issues that NESPEC have are the same that many other NGOs face.  Field offices not open long enough, committees not following saving model, resources lacking, donors adapting grants and the most common problem, staff are not getting paid enough. Even on the other side of the world the same issues are struggles with organizations.  

      

     The organization is a broadly based human rights NGO, working on four campaigns; land rights and food security, education, women’s rights and health. Since the start of NESPEC in 1997, the organization has always focused on what marginalized people need in Gaighat and the surrounding areas.  A human rights based approach was implemented, educating people on their rights with an overall awareness of various issues.  The awareness eventually led to people who would never speak out demand the government for important issues, such as water pumps and land rights.  Just recently, one committee asked for a foot water pump, which will help grow their vegetables. These simple requests are how villages will sustain their food supply, especially with an organization like NESPEC supporting them.    

      

     The largest campaign that NESEPC is working on currently is the food and land rights campaign with Action Aid Nepal.  NESPEC, along with seven other organizations are forming ways to help marginalized people live better lives with sustained income.  One way NESEPC is taking action is through farming groups, in which 45 have formed in different districts.  The farmers talk about their problems with the land, and as a result formed a micro finance system.  Loans can now be given with very small interest to those in the community that are in need.  There are also REFLECT classes in which NESPEC oversees, a town hall like forum that marginalized groups can tell their stories and can feel empowered through local government advocacy.  NESPEC is a powerful force in Gaighat and will continue to be with its determined activists and campaigns.  Local government policy has been influenced by the campaigns.  Now the district members are committed to changing the micro credit system so that it is assessable to all.

      

     An issue in Nepal that I witness on a daily basis is the inequality of women.  Many have approached me asking what America is like, how I have been able to come here and most important, how do I like Nepal.  Those are the simple questions that are entertaining to answer.  However, it’s when the conversation gets deeper is when it becomes very complicated.  Every woman has had extreme hardship to endure in this society. Childbirth for example, can be very dangerous to the mother and they are forced to take care of the household the day after giving birth, resulting in serious medical problems years later.  Domestic abuse, unequal pay and low literacy rates are other issues to name a few, all in which NESPEC is fighting against. 

      

     A monthly women’s forum has been established by NESPEC where oppressed women gather to speak about their experiences ranging from land rights, to how to get out of domestic abuse situations. The women have felt very empowered through this story telling and a survey was conducted by NESPEC with women in various communities about domestic abuse that was then passed onto the local governments.  The ministry has recently passed a new law in which women who have been abused by their husbands are given compensation.  In the end, women in the forum felt very empowered by making a significant social change.

      

     It is truly astounding to see such a small organization make such a large impact in the community policy level.  NGO’s such as these are needed in a country where the government is seen as corrupt to most citizens and very slow to actually listen to its people.  

      

     The next blog hopefully will be about the children’s campaigns in the field if the rain ever stops. 

      

      

      

      

409. The Political Tug-of-War, NGOs and the menace of trafficking

     July 25, 2009 11:06 pm Leave a Comment

     In an earlier post, I had touched upon how development in Bangladesh has been suspended between the government and NGOs. Read this newspaper story that scratches the surface, uncovers the nexus and reports on how NGOs have become embroiled (and understandably so) in the power struggle between the two leading political coalitions of Bangladesh:

     http://www.thedailystar.net/story.php?nid=96385

     In that same post, I had also referred to an incident of a lost girl. In the past week, I have heard of four more incidents of a similar nature. Human trafficking is a serious issue in Bangladesh and claims 10000 to 20000 victims (women, children and even adult males) every year. The connection between disability and the disgusting business of human trafficking is all too obvious. More on that soon.

410. “I feel complete”

     10:57 pm 1 Comment

     Laxity at the workplace is both a bane and a boon in Bangladesh. While it may mean that a day at the office is intermittently punctuated by prolonged cigarette breaks and that employees frequently get together in a huddle for fresh gossip, the flexibility that is axiomatic also means that working hours can be long and that things that workers in more legally conscious societies would take you to court for making them do are consummated as routine jobs.

     Firoza Khatun is a worker bee who lies closer to the second extremity than anyone else at BERDO. She comes to office at 9am in the morning, acts as the Executive Director’s human interface to the computer, reads out mails, takes notes, drafts letters, churns out photocopies, scans the internet for funding opportunities, and occasionally fills in as the makeshift cook. And this she says she does because of her love for her work and not because other people take her for granted all the time.

     Firoza is from Shahidnagar, a village in Dhaka division. One day, at the age of three when she was playing with her siblings, she fainted. The nearest doctor was three villages away and her parents wished her illness away as common cold. Three days later, it turned out that the fever was not that common after all. She had contracted polio and has been walking with the aid a stick ever since.  Attending primary school was not much of an ordeal, she says. High School was more difficult, especially in the monsoons. She had to walk 6 km everyday over rickety bamboo bridges and wade through knee-deep waters to accomplish the simple task of attending classes. In the school, where girls were supposed to follow the teacher and mill around him/her, her atrophied leg slowed her down, meaning that she was often left behind. University was when her difficulties began to take insurmountable proportions. Balancing her studies in the face of a memory problem and having to walk 8 km everyday proved to be too much for her to handle and she failed to complete her graduation. 

     Firoza found work instead, at a pre-primary school run by BRAC in Shahidnagar. She worked at the school for eighteen months. In September, 2005 she joined BERDO. The eldest of six children and the only girl in the family, Firoza says that she has never been discriminated against by her parents. She does not blame her parents for her illness, but rues the fact that she could not complete her graduation. She believes that things would have been different without polio. Firoza has not married. She has not thought about life after BERDO. She says that living her life alone in Dhaka is a fulfilling experience and that she feels complete. That having to prove that she can do things on her own everyday, unaided fills her with joy unrestrained.

     Twenty-five minutes into the conversation I could sense that the coyness had been penetrated, that words were now beginning to flow from her mouth. Just then, an employee called out to her. The students at The School of Happy World below had woken up from their afternoon slumber. There were mangoes to be had but no one to cut and serve them. Firoza excused herself. There was an unfinished task at hand, yet another opportunity to prove her worth to the world.

     Watch the video below where she tells us about her unfulfilled dreams and her unresolved anguish:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uAjGoPgFa8

411. The role of civil society in dealing with child labor

     July 24, 2009 11:48 pm 1 Comment

     BASE believes it is necessary to coordinate and cooperate with stakeholders, other NGOs, INGOs and government officials. This coordination helps share the practices, experiences and knowledge of each, and it allows for an efficient distribution of best practices. Coordination and networking adds collective voice and power to campaigns. BASE has forged a strong network among NGOs, INGOs, GOs and other stakeholders by invites them to meet, develop common understandings, and undertake joint planning to pressure government bodies to implement policies for child rights and education. This network then regularly monitors program activities, government enforcement, and stakeholders commitments. BASE organizes coordination and networking meetings regularly in order to eliminate child labor as well as to raise the common voice for this mission. BASE employs radio media to broadcast programs that raise awareness about child labor.

412. Social Justice Challenges of Child Labor

     11:48 pm 2 Comments

     From “Child Labor in Nepal: A Brief Overview” by Jim Flood

     Quick Facts
     •    There are 2 million children working in Nepal
     •    50% work without pay as family members or bonded labourers
     •    42% of 10 to 14 year olds are working rather than attending school
     •    62.7% of the male population and only 34.9% of the female population over 15 are able to read and write
     •    60% of the child labourers are girls
     •    Girls work longer hours than boys
     •    Children comprise 20% of the total workforce (one of the highest proportions in the world)
     •    80% of the workforce is employed in agriculture

     The main areas of work are:
     •    Agriculture – planting and harvesting tobacco, maize, tea and rice
     •    Quarries – carrying and sifting stones
     •    Brick making – making and carrying bricks
     •    Mining – both coal and magnetite
     •    Domestic service – often some distance from their homes
     •    Construction work – often on dangerous building sites
     •    Factories – mainly making carpets
     •    Prostitution – many female sex workers are under the age of 14

     Harms

     Child labor is a huge barrier to education, and it is understandable how basic subsistence takes priority over school attendance. However, lack of education perpetuates the cycle of poverty and therefore is a high hidden long-term cost to the child laborers and their families. There is also a cost to the country, because an educated workforce is essential to support economic growth. Education provides a form of social capital that raises aspirations by making people aware of their situation and by giving them the means to take action to improve it. Economic growth is a key factor in eliminating poverty. If the Nepali economy is to grow, then the government must invest more in education. There is evidence to suggest the quality of education provided is critical to school attendance. Improve the quality of the learning experience, and attendance will improve concomitantly.

     Causes

     Child labor is a systemic problem, resulting from a number of factors that combine to produce an amplified effect. The main factor is poverty. With 45% of the population living on less than $1 per day (and probably much less in rural areas) and unemployment at 42%7, children are the cheapest form of labor and readily available because of a poor education system. Another main factor is a culture amongst the poor that tolerates child labor, and places little value on the benefits of education.

     The Government must also carry some blame for failing to implement the laws and protocols it has signed up to. However, the aid given to Nepal ($320 million in 2004) is tied into agreements to implement liberal economic policies that tend to encourage free trade and discourage regulation. This means that Nepal is unable to regulate imports or exports. It is part of a global market that includes large, fast-developing countries like China and India, who still have access to cheap labor. To survive in a world market, the Nepalese government might have little choice but to ignore child labor, in order to maintain a competitive economy.

413. When an Inky Darkness Enveloped the Morning

     9:38 pm 1 Comment

     I am back from a trip to Panchagarh, a sleepy town 42 km from the India border in Northwest Bangladesh. The 470 km bus-ride from Dhaka to Panchagarh was backbreaking and my ears are still jarring from the effect of the loud music and the incessant honking of the horn. But I am not complaining. First, I have seen worse in India. Second, the scenes of village life unfolding on either side of the highway were more than adequate compensation. Third, how often do you get to see a total solar eclipse in your life?

     

     Cloudy skies marred a clear view of the celestial spectacle, but the sun eventually shone (or should I say peeped) through the haze in all its regalia. The moon covered more and more of the sun, reducing it to a sliver. With only minutes to go for totality, darkness and with it a strange hush descended on the place. The whole experience culminated in the magnificent Baily’s beads and the thousands of sky-gazers who had gathered at the stadium at Panchagarh on the morning of 22^nd July to witness the once-in-a-lifetime event erupted in a mad, synchronised cheer.

     

414. Sustainable Ingenuity

     4:36 am Leave a Comment

     Yesterday I had the privilege of spending the afternoon at the home of Mr. Le Tu Phong in Xuan Trach Commune.  Xuan Trach (pronounced Sun Trac) is a remote commune less than 20 miles from the Lao border and is distinctly more rural than the other communes I have visited with LSN-V.  The last 25 minutes of our drive were through red-mud roads that took us up into the foothills on Vietnam’s western edge–quite a striking landscape.

     

     Mr. Phong is a LSN-V survivor and the leader of the commune’s self-help group.  Self-help groups and peer support are an integral part of LSN-V and Survivor Corps’ mission.  They provide a sustainable model for survivor self-empowerment and can even provide economic opportunity when the group works together.  They are distinctly grassroots and are run, from day one, by survivors themselves.

     When we arrive at the Phong compound it is filled with grandkids, puppies, chickens and fruit trees.  It is a peaceful place and as we sit down to talk to Mr. Phong, his wife and grandkids gather around us to listen.

     For his robust stature, Mr. Phong is surprisingly soft-spoken, but his message is strong.  Although the interview is about his survivor story, he hones in on the self-help group and the improvements to the lives of other survivors since its formation.  As the conversation progresses, it is easy to see why he is a natural leader.

     Le Tu Phong spent fourteen years in the army before retiring in 1988 to return to his wife and children in Xuan Trach.  Back in the lush countryside he began farming and raising animals like most other families in the area.  Just a year after returning, Le Tu hit a bomb with his hoe while working in the rice paddy.  He lost his right arm below the elbow.  But Le Tu doesn’t speak about his injury much–he says it took him a while to recover, but that with the support from his family and the community, he eventually healed.  What he is more interested in talking about is the economic and spiritual improvements that are generated by the self-help club and LSN-V’s arrival in Xuan Trach.

     These improvements are tangible, both for his family and the larger community.  Since his involvement with LSN-V, Le Tu has participated in a number of trainings–on animal husbandry, horticulture and on how to manage and fund a self-help club.  He has also benefited from LSN-V’s direct assistance program receiving a pig and a grinding machine that he uses to make animal feed.  The training and assistance have already had an impact.  Le Tu used to lose 1-2 cows every year to disease.  Since the training he has not lost any, and he knows how to treat them if they get sick.  This is a big improvement since livestock provides a good portion of his income.  Moreover, he now grows a number of fruit trees.  This improvement we got to reap the benefits of when Mr. Phong sent his grandson to retrieve some pomelos for us to try.

     

     As for the improvements at the commune level, Mr. Phong is happy about the changes he has seen.  The first and perhaps most significant, is the spiritual improvement for survivors.  From Le Tu’s perspective, one of the biggest challenges survivors face is overcoming their feelings of inferiority.  As a result of working together, building relationships between survivors and between the survivors and the community, those feelings begin to fade.  This increases their integration into the community and enables survivors to empower themselves.  Now there are survivors who work as policemen and staff for the village administration.  Tangible improvements.

     No less important are the economic benefits of survivors coming together.  Recently, the self-help group has been brainstorming a way to fund its operation.  Xuan Trach is a poor commune and many families there face difficulties getting out of poverty.  Misperceptions about the capabilities of survivors have occasionally made their situations even more dire.  Thus the self-help group decided to kill two birds with one stone.

     Four survivors from the self-help group are pooling their money to get the capital they need to receive a small bank loan to buy a large grinding machine-similar to Mr. Phong’s only about 10 times bigger.  Another five to six survivors plan to open animal husbandry farms; others still will grow the rice, corn and the cassava for the animal feed.  Animals need to eat, grain needs to be processed, and someone has to produce that grain.  And there you have it, a sustainable and inclusive business model from production chain to consumption, supply and demand.  By building this interlacing web of jobs, the group will not only increase the income of the individual members but they will also use some of the profits to keep the self-help club up and running.

     This is ingenuity.  And possibly the best afternoon I’ve had in Vietnam thus far.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

415. Two Video Blog Pieces on BASE Advocacy for Child Laborers

     4:35 am Leave a Comment

     Hey there readers,

     Here are a couple short video pieces about work that BASE does. Sorry they’re low quality! Slow internet, etc.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNE8b12HcuY

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrQJUzXWc40

     Made some great contacts this week with local musicians who okayed the use of their recorded pieces for the eventual film. Exciting!

     Warmth and Compassion,
     Kan

416. BASE’s Approach to Advocacy

     4:14 am 262 Comments

     Because child labor is a burning issue in Nepal, BASE implemented the “Freedom for Child Labor” and “Child Labor Rehabilitation through Child Friendly Village Programs” in order to eliminate Child Labor system in Nepal.

     The program aims to reach to children working in private homes, shops, hotels/restaurants, and industrial settings, as well as the children who are at risk, not enrolled in school, and school drop-outs. During the conflict in Nepal, large numbers of children were displaced to cities from their villages for work. Poor economic conditions, lack of awareness among families, misbehavior of stepparents, and irresponsibility of parents towards their children are all contributing causes of child labors.

     BASE programming aims to (1) eliminate this hazardous system, (2) make children free from slavery, (3) create friendly environments in their home villages, (4) send each and every children to school, (5) make communities and parents aware and responsible toward their children, and (6) pressure the government to apply existing laws and policies and formulate new laws for the welfare of the children.

     BASE programming accomplishes these goals by combining policy influence among other NGOs, INGOs, and the government. They also have a mass-mobilized grass roots volunteer base with which to create social change at the village level. Mobilizers start local level groups to address issues like child labor and convince families to change their views.

417. Defining the disempowerment of Tharus

     2:54 am Leave a Comment

     Well, I just learned there are a series of required blog posts that I didn’t know about. So here goes!

     BASE, the organization I am partnered with, works to empower all marginalized groups within their districts; however, they focus on issues affecting Tharu people. Tharus are one of the indigenous people of Nepal. In 1854 Jung Bahadur, the first Rana prime minister of Nepal, developed the Mulki Ain, a codification of Nepal’s indigenous legal system which divided society into a system of castes. The Tharus were placed at next to the bottom( lowest touchable, above untouchables) of the social hierarchy. Their custody of their customarily held land was taken away, disrupting their community and displacing the people. In the 1950s, World Health Organisation helped the Nepalese government eradicate malaria in the Terai region. This resulted in immigration of people from other areas to claim the fertile land, making many Tharus virtual slaves of the new landowners and developing the kamaiya system of bonding generations of Tharus families to labour. The Kamaiya system was only formally outlawed by the government of Nepal on July 17 of 2000. The implementation of this policy by the government was slow, and BASE played a lead role in freeing ex-Kamaiyas from their owners. While prior to 1983, most Tharu children worked for landlords instead of going to school in order to repay their parents’ loans, today, most of the child labor in the regions I’ve been working in have been Tharu due to the poor economic conditions that the ex-Kamaiyas have experienced coming out of bondage without sufficient livelihood support.

418. U.S. Policy Allows Domestic Violence as a Basis for Asylum

     July 23, 2009 10:16 pm 1 Comment

     Survivors of severe domestic violence and sexual abuse abroad now have a greater chance of receiving asylum in the United States, according to a recent article published in the New York Times.

     A brief issued by the Obama administration allows immigration courts to consider victims of domestic abuse as a persecuted group under the law. In addition to standard requirements, victims must prove extreme abuse, that there is a widespread belief in their culture that domestic violence is acceptable, and that the government does not adequately provide protection to victims.

     This is a landmark decision that highlights the intersection between gender, culture, violence, and gun control. The case that helped initiate this policy involves a Mexican woman who was raped at gunpoint, held captive, and set on fire by her common-law husband.

     Her story is not confined to Latin America. Women in Nepal face similar abuse in their homes, due to widespread tolerance of violence against women, easy access to conventional weapons, and an increasing market for illegal guns.

     And although the government recently passed a domestic violence law providing justice to victims of abuse, women may still be reluctant to come forward. According to a 2008 study by Saferworld, only 53 percent of women in Nepal would feel comfortable reporting family violence to the police. This makes determining the scope of a problem, like the use of arms in domestic violence, difficult.

     The campaign to disarm domestic violence is aimed at strengthening institutions within home countries, rather than compelling victims to seek foreign assistance or asylum elsewhere. The U.S.’s commitment to help survivors of domestic violence is certainly laudable, but it emphasizes the need for international governments to address this issue on their own soil. Victims should not be forced to leave their own country in order to find protection from abuse.

419. Paani (Water): A Necessity, Privilege, and Threat [Part 2]

     5:36 am 1 Comment

     [continued from Part 1]

     For Dalits in many areas, the liquid necessity has also been refashioned into a highly exclusive commodity to which they do not enjoy privileges. Think about how much water you use in the course of a single day for various perfunctory activities, such as bathing, cooking, drinking, and washing household items. Imagine how toilsome it must be to have to spend hours every day lugging extremely heavy jugs of water from a community pump back to your home – which is sometimes miles away and at the top of ominously steep and rugged terrain – in smoldering heat and stifling humidity, just so that you can struggle to make do with your limited supply for the day until repeating the arduous process the morning after.

     Sound rough? Now imagine having to live in a similar situation of impeded water access and poverty…but to also face the threat of torture and possible death if another villager catches you using the local tap (a likely scenario, given that such taps often provide hydration for the inhabitants of entire communities), because your touching the pump will purportedly “contaminate” the full water supply. This truly outrageous manifestation of injustice is endured throughout Nepal on a daily basis, by Dalits merely seeking to fulfill the most basic human need of obtaining water. In fact, Dalits are violently persecuted for water-related events even if they don’t touch the pump at all. JMC’s 2008 human rights monitoring report cited several cases in which Dalits were beaten on the charge that their pigs had touched public water taps used by the higher castes, and so contaminated the water supply.

     

     A community water pump in Kathmandu. Credit: Morten Svenningsen

     So, what can be done? Much ink has been spilled and bandwidth consumed with myriad suggestions for improving Nepal’s water situation. Millions of dollars have been spent attempting to purify the once-famed Bagmati River that used to be Kathmandu City’s centerpiece. The “too many cooks in the kitchen” argument comes up from time to time, suggesting that a superfluity of unsolicited assistance coming from outside parties has ultimately fragmented sanitation efforts and further complicated matters. The importance of indigenous self-determination in the extremely controversial and contentious realm of “development” is palpable throughout Nepal, and rightly so. As aptly articulated by Tibetan Buddhist teacher Gehlek Rinpoche: “If aid comes with strings attached, the recipient becomes a puppet who has to dance according to the pull of the puppeteers.”

     At the center of the self-determination issue, however, is the importance of Dalit participation in all aspects of Nepali affairs. It’s possible that one of the primary reasons why nationwide water-related issues persist is that the populations most adversely affected – i.e., Dalits and other oppressed groups – have not been given an adequate say in addressing said issues. How will it be possible for Nepal to resolve its festering social and political dilemmas without the full participation of all affected individuals? The JMC has established itself as a force to be reckoned with in this crucial debate, pushing for the increased involvement of Dalits in all aspects of the political transition and peace process – particularly the drafting of the New Nepal’s constitution.

     The pressing issues of health, water, sanitation and the like highlight the importance of the democratic participation of ALL societal groups, especially at such a pivotal time in the country’s history. The recent pro-Dalit budget initiatives announced by the Finance Minister (including free education for Dalit children up to the secondary level, benefits for inter-caste married couples, and more) are an excellent start to improving Dalits’ social, economic, and political inclusion. However, strong implementation measures must be enacted to ensure that Dalits are enjoying the fundamental human rights to which they are entitled, as well as their full involvement in the administration of vital social services and public goods.

     Now that these concerns are finally being debated on a public scale, new windows of opportunity are opening – and it is becoming ever more irrefutable that a cleaner, safer, better Nepal for Dalits will translate into a better Nepal for all.

420. Paani (Water): A Necessity, Privilege, and Threat [Part 1]

     5:36 am 2 Comments

     “Paani paryo, paani paryo (the rain, the rain)!” the pint-sized, light blue uniform-clad schoolboy beside me on the sidewalk giggled. The busy morning streets, predictably filled with people rushing off to school and work, were also filled with evidence that the monsoon season had arrived in full force: a river of opaque mahogany water – teeming with various floating adornments including food remnants, a kaleidoscopic dung rainbow comprising browns of assorted tints (from greenish to goldish to orangey), pieces of household trash and other debris – had flooded the alleyways and formed an encircling blanket that nearly came up to our knees.

     

     Flooded Kathmandu streets.

     Women lifted their saris up to their thighs and comfortably waded through, schoolchildren jumped and played in the water, and elderly Nepalis with canes bravely trekked along. All of a sudden, widespread laughter erupted among all of us – and not the superficially-friendly chuckles that sometimes arise between strangers due to an unusual random sight – but REAL, side-splitting, wholehearted belly laughter. The contagious fit of hysteria and sheer silliness that engulfed everyone on the streets that morning was, in retrospect, an incredibly surreal memory; it was one of those moments in which the improbable quality of a large number of complete strangers connecting in a single moment leaves the participant spellbound. It was also arguably the most fun I’ve ever had while walking to work.

     When I finally arrived at the JMC office – completely soaked and absolutely filthy! – my cheeks still ached from all the laughing. The Western inculcation of antiseptic, germ-phobic paranoia that characterizes an American upbringing had not managed to seep into my consciousness in the midst of the morning commute-turned-swim. However, it was an eerie coincidence to then receive a Google Alert article detailing how the source of all that laughter had also proven to become a source of devastation among many in Nepal, manifesting in disturbingly high incidences of waterborne diseases (including fatal outbreaks of cholera and diarrhea), destruction of homes due to flooding, and widespread displacement that the monsoon season brings.

     I’m generally not a fan of listing more than a handful of statistics at a time to illustrate a point, but I felt compelled to share the following in order to exemplify just how dire Nepal’s water/sanitation situation is:

     * More than 2/3 of all people in Nepal don’t have access to a toilet (source: UNDP).

     * 80% of diseases among Nepalis are contracted due to poor sanitation and unsafe water sources (News from Nepal).

     * One third of all people in Nepal live in slum dwellings, and an additional 18,000+ people live in informal, illegal squatter settlements without any land rights (sdinet.org).

     * While 40% of children in Nepal suffer from malnutrition and its related diseases, waterborne diseases alone kill one out of 10 children under five every year (sdinet.org).

     * Despite the rampant water-related health problems, only about 15% of Nepalis have access to adequate healthcare services (UNDP).

     

     Riverside slum area, Kathmandu. Credit: Travelblog.org

     

     Kathmandu riverbank area.

     As alarming as these figures are, however, it is important to note that Dalits face a far crueler version of the water and sanitation predicament. Out of all socially stratified groups in Nepal, Dalits are by far the most marginalized due to the age-old practice of untouchability; as such, they are condemned to suffer disproportionately in terms of mortality rates, landlessness, displacement, extreme poverty, and diseases. Due to discrimination in the community and a lack of land rights, Dalits are often forced to build their homes in the most squalid and hazardous areas, and tend to be the primary inhabitants of riverside slums. According to sdinet.org, the polluted riverside areas where Nepal’s poorest residents take shelter are typically the sites of profuse dumping of solid waste by the municipalities. Additionally, when severe rainstorms strike Nepal, riverside slum areas are most adversely affected in the event of flooding, consequent displacement, and heightened exposure to toxins.

     [continue to Part 2]

421. Pure Food in Gaighat

     1:20 am 3 Comments

     

     Nepal-tar home

     I have arrived in Gaighat at last in the district of Udayapur after a long yet peaceful journey. I am happy to report there were no bandhas (strikes) to interrupt the ride. It has been more than a week here in the center of the district and I have spent my time becoming acquainted with NESPEC and settling in with my new family.  Gaighat is much more bustling than I expected with crowded streets in the market area with people buying goods ranging from color televisions to mangos.  My Nepali is limited to a few words that include many gestures so there is much to learn since English speakers are limited.

      

     The western luxuries found in Kathmandu are no longer found here as my daily meals consist of dahl bhat, Nepal’s national dish of lentils, rice and vegetable curry two times a day. I truly appreciate how almost all of my food is coming directly from the land with the fresh vegetables from my family’s garden.

      

     Over the weekend I was able to enjoy the local food even more when Sova, the mother of the family I am staying with took me to her family’s house in Nepal-Tai west of Gaighat in the hillside.  Much more remote than any areas I have seen so far I was able to see how rural farmers live and understand the cultivation process.  This way of living was all very new to me since I did not grow up on a farm and never started a garden, all in which I feel very ignorant about.  Planting and cultivating food is the means on how to live yet tragically I feel so far away from living off the land because of my American luxurious life.  No bright, freezing cold super markets here.  Since NESPEC works with farming committees and landless people this was an important experience for my future field visits to the many farming committees that NESPEC supports.  

      

     Just about every family has a rice field and some, if they are lucky like Sova’s family have mango, banana, corn, guava and many animals to keep their stomachs full.  I am very proud of my organic local eating that I would not be able to keep up in America and have even introduced the term “organic” to others here.  It was fascinating to see rice being planted; the cultivation season certainly brings the entire community together.  The traditional dress in the hillside area is the Guneyocholai that consists of a sari and a long sleeved blouse.  In the excruciating heat women plow the rice and cultivate in the hot sun. 

      

     This Saturday NESPEC will hold it’s monthly meeting in which plans for next month will be made.  I will then coordinate which areas I will be visiting in order to profile for NESPEC’s food security campaign with Action Aid.

      

      

422. Law and Order: Domestic Violence, Part II

     July 22, 2009 10:46 pm 22 Comments

     My last blog talks a little about the domestic violence law that recently passed in Nepal. Since writing that post, I have obtained a copy of the law in English. Here are the main points:

     1. – The term domestic violence encompasses more than physical abuse. The law defines it as physical, mental, sexual, emotional, and economic abuse in any familial relationship.

     1. – The law does not only apply to violence against women. Abusive acts directed towards any person who does, or at some point has, lived under the same roof as the perpetrator and is related in some way can be punished under the law. In my last post, I mentioned that a woman must prove her marriage in order to file a claim. I will look further into whether this was prior to the new law or if this is a loophole that still exists.

     1. – The court has the power to offer protection, if needed, to a victim during the investigation of a complaint. It can also mandate that compensation is provided, or basic needs are met, during the trial.

     1. – Attempting to commit an act of domestic violence or inciting someone else to commit one can also be punished under the law.

     1. – Repeat offenders are subject to double the punishment the second time they commit an offense.

     1. – Public officials are subject to ten percent longer punishments.

     1. – The statute of limitation is 90 days after the crime.

     On one hand, I find the law to be very strict and for good reason. A 2008 study by Saathi found that 93 percent of women in Nepal are exposed to mental and emotional torture, 82 percent are beaten, 30 percent are raped, and 28 percent are forced into prostitution**. These numbers clearly show a strong domestic violence law-one that takes into account more than just physical abuse-is needed.

     Domestic abuse takes many forms. Depriving a woman of economic opportunities, for example, can lead to situations that foster domestic violence. Countless women in Nepal were displaced during the conflict; many of them, lacking sufficient job skills, have turned to sex work. It is important that the law takes into consideration contributing factors.

     On the other hand, I find the law too wide-ranging to be effective. Any family relationship and almost any form of mistreatment can be prosecuted. Just attempting to commit an act defined as domestic violence or provoking someone else to do so is punishable. The law also does not reference specific types of physical violence or establish appropriate penalties. For example, there is no mention of weapons. Theoretically, a perpetrator could receive the same sentence for verbally abusing his wife as he could for shooting her.

     I am curious to see how claims filed under this law will play out in court.

     What are your thoughts on the first domestic violence law in Nepal? How do you feel about some of the more interesting provisions, such as mandating a ten percent longer punishment for public servants? Please share your comments below.

     **Gender Action for Peace and Security (2009). Global monitoring checklist of women, peace, and security. Available at http://www.peacewomen.org/resources/1325/GAPS_MonitoringChecklist.pdf

423. Workshops and Working Groups

     July 21, 2009 2:57 am Leave a Comment

     Last week I was asked to represent LSN-V and present a summary of the Workshop on Victim Assistance at a Disability Working Group (DWG) meeting in Hanoi.  Although somewhat reluctant to get back on the train to Hanoi only four days after returning from my previous trip, I agreed.  Thus, on Thursday I spent another grueling night on the train, arriving in Hanoi before dawn the following morning.

     Later that afternoon I informed the members of the DWG–mostly representatives from INGOs and community organizations–on LSN-V’s objectives at the Workshop, the outcome of the event and the steps forward.  The DWG is an important advocacy tool for LSN-V, as well as for the promotion of disability rights in general.  The group provides a forum for establishing best practices, increasing efficiency and raising a unified voice.  And there was substantial interest in the workshop from the other members.  LSN-V acts as a link between disability rights, disarmament issues and sustainable development and the organization is often in a unique place in the advocacy community, helping to build bridges between issues and link a number of stakeholders.

     Luckily, despite of my high level of exhaustion, the presentation went well.  In lieu of posting my exciting PowerPoint here I have put together the video below.  Please take a look!

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swnKZBtviGA

424. Law and Order: Domestic Violence in Nepal, Part I

     July 20, 2009 10:52 pm 1 Comment

     Creating and enforcing laws in a newly formed democracy is a seemingly impossible task. A new government, not yet trusted, is expected to create a framework for enforcing order in a country still in a state of disarray. In Nepal, the result is laws that provide protection to marginalized groups in theory, but that are often times not implemented.

     This is most evident in laws that affect women, including those regarding cases of domestic violence. Three weeks ago, the first law specific to domestic violence was passed in parliament. It is not yet published in English so I haven’t been able to look over it myself, but I have heard it is a huge success for women’s rights groups. Until then, there were laws that provided protection to victims of domestic violence. However, these provisions existed under separate laws regarding criminal activity. They are now consolidated into one domestic violence law.

     The new law, however, does not include protection for women who have been victims of marital rape. This law, enacted after a Supreme Court decision, falls under a separate law. The Forum for Women’s Law and Development, an organization I met with this past week, represented the plaintiff in the deciding case that made marital rape illegal. Bimala Khadka, an advocate at the organization, estimates that 70 percent of all criminal cases in Nepal have to do with domestic violence. She said that violence against women in Nepal is “easily taken,” but that the government is trying to set up resources that will help victims. The new budget, which passed recently, includes funding to create women’s shelters for victims of domestic violence in every single district in Nepal. Currently, a few shelters run by NGOs exist.

     

     Bimala Khadka, an advocate for FWLD in Kathmandu, Nepal

     There is one loophole in the law: women can only file a case against their husbands. In other words, a boyfriend, lover, or any other man in her life is protected from prosecution. It also means that in order to file charges against her husband, she must prove the marriage by means of a legal document. This is a challenge that Uma K.C., a woman I interviewed on Friday, is currently facing. Her story is extremely sad and I will be posting my interview with her in a few days. But her story, like many others in Nepal, show that the law and order system can be corrupt, making bribes to drop charges or to suggest a defendant has “disappeared” commonplace.

     The new domestic violence law has penalties of at least six months, with a maximum sentence of ten years, for men who beat their wives. Marital rape carries a sentence of two to three years in jail.

     Bimala said most cases of abuse do not involve guns, but domestic weapons including a traditional Nepali knife, kukri. She said obtaining a licensed gun in Nepal is extremely difficult. I have yet to learn if the domestic violence law mentions specific weapons, including small arms.

     Please see some highlights from my interview with her below.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2mLMOydEQk

425. Chintan Recycling Center Vlog

     July 17, 2009 12:14 am 2 Comments

     As my research on climate and wastepickers progresses, I’ve been working with Chintan to identify several areas in Delhi that might serve as case studies of local recycling efforts and their relationship to emissions reductions. The volume and composition of waste recycled by wastepickers in a specific geographical area is probably the most crucial bit of information in any attempt to account for their climate change mitigation work, so we’ve decided to begin in the areas with the best waste data. Last week, AP Peace Fellow Jacqui Kotyk and I visited one such area, Chintan’s micro-recycling center on the outskirts of the city. Check out the video below:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNhEk2j9aT8

426. A Mosaic of Stimuli

     July 16, 2009 3:39 am 5 Comments

     It is not humanly possible to describe Kathmandu succinctly if one strives for accuracy. It is a city bursting with frenetic energy, vibrant colors, rich cultural history, devoted spirituality, and people of striking beauty. It is also a place of abject poverty, political tumult, and great uncertainty. I created this vlog with the intention of providing a video collage of many of the sights I encounter on a daily basis; it is meant to show only bits and pieces of a complex mosaic of fascinating characteristics (i.e., it is NOT an exhaustive description by any means!).

     Notice the elegance and grace with which the Nepalese carry themselves. Smile at the unusual sight of a baby monkey nonchalantly riding on its mother’s back in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. Absorb the plight of a malnourished child living on the streets. Feel the beeping horn of a maniacal taxi driver reverberate through your ears.

     Tapailai Kathmandu Ma Swagat Chha (welcome to Kathmandu)!

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WU284JhqAQM

     I also made the following video of a rickshaw ride, just for fun:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YObagmaFvUc

427. B”law”g 1: Legal Literacy at Chintan

     12:29 am 4 Comments

      

     Untangling the Knots that Bind Wastepickers

     The legal framework that informs interactions between citizens and the state and individuals within a state can be like a knotted ball of string; difficult to find where it ends and where it begins, difficult to figure out who actually pulls the strings.

     Given my position as a law student, the staff at Chintan have requested that I dedicate space on my blog to explore the interaction between wastepickers, Chintan and the law. This post therefore represents the first in my new series of bLAWgs: Legal Literacy at Chintan. This series will begin with an overview of the legal issues that Chintan tackles. More in depth case studies will follow in the weeks to come.

     In New Delhi, Chintan advocates for wastepickers. The dispossessed. People who do not enjoy the same type of citizenship, the same rights to life and livelihood that middle class Indians do. As a result, Chintan often finds itself acting as an intermediary between wastepickers and the state, or, wastepickers and the police.

     

     Santoo was brutally beaten by police when he was accused of stealing while actually collecting waste for recycling. No charges were laid. Today, Santoo fights back as a leader within the wastepicker community.

     For example, Santoo, one of Chintan’s most charismatic leaders, is dedicated to uniting wastepickers to prevent the arbitrary use of police force where wastepickers are simply doing their jobs. United, wastepickers represent a more formalized and publicly recognized work force. Divided, wastepickers become invisible and are vulnerable to police brutality and further infringements on their civil liberties. Chintan is in the process of setting up a distress line to assist wastepickers.

     Beyond managing one-off interactions between wastepickers and the police, Chintan also aids in the domestic implementation of international law. For example, Chintan’s “No Child in Bins” program directly contemplates international legal norms abolishing child labour as well as India’s policy on eliminating child labour. The “No Child in Bins” program provides educational support through learning centres to the children of wastepickers and children surviving through wastepicking.

     

     The “No Child in Bins” campaign aids in implementing international and domestic laws banning child labour.

     Chintan is also active on the international scene, advocating for India’s urban poor throughout the development of international agreements. For example, Chintan is part of the international climate justice movement, seeking to have the work that wastepickers do in curbing climate change recognized within the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change.

     

     Bhopura Recycling Centre

     Wasterecyclers are vital to climate change mitigation in India. For example, manufacturing goods from recycled materials uses less energy than using new inputs. In addition, wastepickers prevent many paper products from entering landfills, concomitantly preventing the release of methane from the decomposition of such materials. Finally, wastepickers reintroduce used paper into production thus relieving some of the pressure on trees to provide all of India’s paper needs. Yet, funding through the Clean Development Mechanism of the Kyoto Protocol to aid in this vital service has evaded wastepickers thus far, focussing instead on end of pipe solutions. 

     For a factsheet on wastepickers and climate change see: http://www.no-burn.org/article.php?id=729  

     Also see “Ragpickers lose jobs as world tackles climate change”  http://www.thaindian.com/newsportal/enviornment/ragpickers-lose-jobs-as-world-tackles-climate-change_100203268.html

     Coming soon: Focus on Police Brutality – know your legal rights. 

     
     

428. The Next-Generation Advocate

     July 14, 2009 10:11 pm 1 Comment

     

     Phan Van Tu at work making fishhooks

     When the bombs stopped falling on Vietnam some thirty plus years ago, Phan Van Tu wasn’t even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes.  In 1986, when Vietnam initiated its historic Doi Moi transition, Tu still had not been born.  Phan Van Tu was born in what Vietnamese people call “the peace time”–post-war, post-extreme poverty, post-conflict–in October 1989.  Perhaps only coincidental, it is hard not to find the timing significant.  The fall of 1989 was a time of transition throughout the world, no less in Vietnam than elsewhere; a time when there was hope for increased cooperation and peace.

     Tu was born to poor farmers in the Bo Trach district of Quang Binh Province.  Living conditions were difficult for his family so as he got older, Tu helped his parents out by collecting shellfish after school.  Then one afternoon when he was thirteen, Tu picked up a bombie* while catching shrimp.  By his account, one minute he was in the water and the next he woke up in a hospital, having lost his left arm below the elbow and the lower half of his left leg.  Tu also had severe injuries to his intestine that required extensive surgery and a two month stay in the hospital.  As his body healed, Tu was able to return home, yet his recollection of that time is not entirely celebratory: “I did not go out of my house because I was so anxious about what people thought about my limb loss. I was scared of their stares and glances, their words and even their sympathy.”  All this in 2003; in peacetime?

     

     Tu

     Now, at 20, Tu seems both exactly his age and much older. He’s a kid with a punkish haircut who wears a jean jacket and an easy smirk, but he’s also a wizened adult, having chosen survivorship over victimhood.  Despite the obstacles, Tu finished secondary school after his accident.  And in 2005 he was connected with a survivors’ business group that produces fishhooks through LSN-V.  He has been working there ever since, happy to have a useful job and help out his family.  But his ambitions do not stop there.  In the future Tu hopes to open up a small grocery store so he can earn more money and gain greater independence.

     Tu has high hopes for the rest of us as well: “Everyday, the explosion of bombies can be heard somewhere, followed by painful cries. [They] rob people of all ages of their lives and leave survivors with serious injuries and disabilities.  It is especially painful for the youth today.  I hope that in the future countries will support each other instead of making war in order to rid the world of bombies and create peace.”

     Tu’s hopes echo the promises of the era in which he was born–and with young people like him around they seem all the more attainable.

     *Vietnamese term for bomblets from cluster munitions

     

     Making Fishhooks

     

     Tu with LSN-V's Outreach Worker Nghia

429. Development in limbo

     July 13, 2009 11:22 pm 1 Comment

     Power outages are a common occurrence in Dhaka. While two power cuts (known as load shedding in local parlance) of one hour each during the day are the norm, there can be as many as five (all of one hour duration). They throw a spanner in the work but also allow the time to hold random conversations over a cup of tea.

     I had the opportunity to talk about a few interesting things – right from the Liberation movement of 1971 to disability rights activism in present-day Bangladesh, with the Chairperson of BERDO during one such power outage. He was extremely gung-ho about ways in which parts of Asia (and especially China) have been/and continue to be successful in pulling large sections of their populations out of poverty. Growth, he believed, was about good economics. Technology was to be the main driver of this movement towards a higher standard of living. Politics, as he saw it, threatened to consume everything in its fold and needed to be cast aside if Bangladesh were to harbour serious ambitions about making giant strides towards upward mobility. In light of Bangladesh’s chequered political past, it was not very difficult to see where he was coming from. The constant upheavals and churning at the political turnstiles, the sort that Bangladesh has witnessed in its thirty-odd years of existence, would disillusion the most-seasoned optimists.

     Does this mean that politics should be abandoned in its entirety? Opinions on this matter are strongly divided among the people that I have come into contact with during the 14-days that I have spent in Dhaka. At the risk of generalising, it would not be unwise to say that it is probably one of the reasons why development in Bangladesh has become suspended between the technicalisation of politics and the politicisation of technology. While NGOs, a significant presence in Bangladeshi civil society, more often than not resort to the former; government strategies are firmly grounded in the latter. Throw in a bunch of eager donors who are not very sure about which intermediary to take to channel their aid to the “hungry and poor masses of Bangladesh” and we have a very complicated mix indeed.

     Four incidents have left me even more confused on this issue than when I started my fellowship.

     A man in his late-forties sells tea, rusk biscuits and cigarettes at a tea cart outside the BERDO office. His grandson is five years old and has a dislocated knee from a freak accident in which a sibling (and a particularly strong one at that) stepped on him. The doctors at the local infirmary failed to fix his knee and the boy now walks and runs with a pronounced limp. The grandfather who mans the tea stall had incidentally seen me shoot a video for BERDO outside the office gates. He asked me if I was a journalist. I said no. He would not take “no” for an answer and wanted me to take a picture of his grandson and print it in a newspaper. That, he believed, was the only way to get noticed in a country where a vast majority of the people are so confined in their remote lives that they are invisible to the government. I maintained that I was no journalist, but ultimately had to yield to his persistence. If a false promise could buy him peace of mind, so be it, I thought. But other questions puzzled me – What has the media done to deserve such a reputation? Why are they then considered to be beacons of light in an otherwise flawed society? We are, after all, aware of the dangerous humanitarian situations that the media has precipitated, drummed up support for and chosen to ignore. And then I realised that the support for the media was probably negative. Negative in the sense that it was not support exclusively for the media but for an entity that was not the state.

     

     The BERDO office stands next to the Manipuri School. Yesterday, a girl of Class III had gone missing from the school. The school and the parents of the girl got together and hired a rickshaw and a loudspeaker. In the afternoon, the whole area was abuzz with the sound of the loudspeaker. Announcements were made about where and when the girl was last seen. A prize of 1000 Taka, it was announced, would be awarded to anyone who manages to find and return the girl to her parents. The people at BERDO were naturally worried about the girl. As they shuttled in and out of the office gates to know more about what exactly had happened, I asked them about why the police was not getting involved. “They hardly do in such matters”, an employee said. This morning when I entered the office, not much had changed. The area was still abuzz with announcements. The prize money had doubled and was now 2000 Taka. And the police was still no where to be seen. Here was another example of how the people, used to a Hobbesian state, had taken matters into their own hands. There was more to this issue however – Had this taking-of-things-into-their-own-hands syndrome resulted in the gradual unravelling of the state and its organs? Or had the inability of the state to address such matters with any degree of efficiency resulted in this trend? These questions are entangled in severe endogeneity issues and like all issues endogenous, the end is nearly impossible to find.

     

     In a discussion over lunch, an employee talked about how three “so-called” NGOs had been found out by their donors. They had claimed to have given computer training to the same 10 people (falsely of course) and were now in danger of losing a donor. He further said that had the money that had been poured into Bangladesh since 1971, been distributed among the people, they would all have been well off and the gross inequalities in society would never have been there. The claim that distribution of aid as cash would have pulled an entire nation out of poverty was difficult to stomach. The claim that the dispensation of aid through a few NGOs (the key is to be judicious as not all NGOs are “unscrupulous” and “uncharitable” at the same time) had resulted in a more skewed Gini coefficient, less so.

     I stay in a complex which keeps getting visitors from around the world – most of them in connection with different NGOs operating in various parts of Bangladesh. Last night as I was going out to get dinner, the security guard at the gate called out to me. “A couple of people from Japan have come today”, he said. I nodded. “They are very street-smart, have become so rather”, he said. I nodded again. Street-smart is usually a term that you would associate with people from the Indian sub-continent – something that they have to be in order to get their way through huge populations and intense competition for resources. “Our NGOs have sucked them dry of their money. They have to be”, he said. I nodded, again.

     The jigsaw that I was trying to get my head around had been complicated. Questions of all sizes, shapes, colours and political persuasions had left me woolly-headed. In such circumstances, trying to achieve the perfect balance between technology, economics and politics and trying to integrate everything into a consummate whole would be like hitching one’s wagon to the stars. In the middle of all this confusion, the four incidents and the conversation with the Chairperson at BERDO had taught me something. What, I am still trying to decipher.

430. out to the Terai.

     July 12, 2009 12:18 am 3 Comments

     Tomorrow I leave for Gaighat out in the Eastern Terai with Ajaya who is a member of NESPEC. I have finally met Ajaya who I have been in contact with for months now and am now looking forward to understanding NESPEC’s various campaigns. I will be focusing on farmer’s land rights, an issue that I will certainly be learning a lot about. Over 90 percent of Nepal’s population is involved in agriculture, thus rights and advocacy of farmers is extremely important. It is their livehood yet many have no land which means no food for their families.

     I arrived almost two weeks ago in Kathmandu with much excitement to learn and work in Nepal. My days have been filled with wandering around the city aimlessly, shopping in Thamel, the backpacking tourist district, visiting beautiful Polkhara and researching the development work here as well. The senses are on constant over load with the chaotic sounds and smells of the street. Kathmandu is a city filled with immense poverty everywhere. The begging child on the street who is hysterically crying asking for water or money, the stray dogs desperate and the families passing time with their hands out are all the faces of great despair that I now have on my mind. The poverty is not only an individual level but also throughout the city. There are power outages daily and I am lucky if I can get a call out on my mobile. The common phrase, “everything is taking for granted back home” is entirely understated.

     I am continuously filled with guilt with being a foreigner on my first step outside the guesthouse every morning. I get frustrated and want to help, yet then the controversial questions arise with giving out money. My privilege has never been so apparent with the color of my skin and by the clothes I am wearing. The same question that persists in the back of my mind and has initiated my career in development is, “Why was I born in such a wealthy country, why me?” I hope through this fellowship I will be able to tell stories of those who could never get their voice heard and realize that through understanding and empathy I can be of some sort of help.

     I could have been born anywhere, that age-old statement I believe for me is the catalyst alone to propel me to work here. I owe it to oppressed people or anywhere when asked for help. My power and privilege that being an American holds is staggering to think about and I hope that everyone reading this will get a chance to see themselves differently in a developing country.

     My trip here has been very tumultuous at times and other moments have been filled with pure joy, especially with meeting people here and getting to know a vastly different culture. Yesterday, Jessica, another AP Peace fellow and I went to Patan, a small town right outside of the city to see the famous Dubar Square there. It was a beautiful site to see with the ancient temples and it was after a Hindu festival that morning. There was an open-air market with all kinds of fruit, shoes, colorful saris and endless bracelets. Friends and families were walking around slowly. The slowness in their walk surprises me since their driving is much faster and very aggressive, one of the countless contradictions in this culture. Saturday is their only day off, as Nepalese work six days a week so it’s a great day to explore the city.

     I have decided to go out to the Terai, to Gaighat after some hesitation for many reasons. My life will drastically change from my now comfortable Kathmandu life to an area that rarely sees foreigners. The future ahead is unknown of what my work will entail and filled with many emotions. My new family awaits me with much less pollution in a green land. I will celebrate my 26^th birthday on a bumpy roller coaster ride out to my new home for the next few months. Good karma I hope will come tomorrow morning with no bandhas, what they call strikes here. More to come shortly with pictures when a better internet connection hopefully.

431. Bad Liars, Fake Buyers, and American Love

     July 11, 2009 6:42 am 249 Comments

     The Work

     Well they don’t teach lawyers to lie here as well as in the states. I asked to talk to the auntie/law student/client who the lawyer said picked up Sabita, and the law student randomly showed up this afternoon. I started up the ‘ol camera and was surprised to find my first Nepalese person who did not consent to be shown in the film. Well she said that she would be willing to explain the story to us off camera. She said if it would be shown in Nepal, she did not want to appear on video since she’s a law student and will depend upon her reputation in her career. This reason didn’t do much for my faith in the veracity of her statement.

     She went to the village twice. The second time, the lawyer came because he was helping her with some legal matters concerning her land. He said he didn’t. Sabita said he did. The law student also said that the lawyer actually owned two different buildings—one for his family and another for tenants such as herself. She goes on to claim that the lawyer only saw Sabita when he came to access the storage room where he kept books. Both the lawyer and Sabita contradict this. The law student also claimed she spent every night with Sabita. Sabita mentions that the law student auntie stayed at another house whenever the lawyer’s wife and child came to visit… The law student then blamed the hand and foot problem on Sabita buying bad soap which caused an allergic reaction. She named the hospital and doctor they saw—all of which Sabita has no recollection of.

     I could hardly keep myself from smiling at the introduction of a third story that did not match the other two. If this lawyer and a law student were to come up with a plausible story to redeem the lawyer’s good name, they probably should have sat down and figured out one story to tell—this seems like something a professional litigator would know something about.

     After she left, I finally interviewed Purna-ji, who raided the lawyer’s house to rescue Sabita. I misunderstood yesterday about Sabita’s mother being there apparently and she didn’t show up until a few days later at the BASE office, which both Sabita and the law student confirmed. However, the rest of his interview really made up for loss of contradiction. Apparently, Purna shows up at the door after receiving a tip on the phone from a neighbor who sees this girl kept in one room working all the time. She wasn’t even on the BASE survey of children in Nepalganj. They show up, knock on the door, and Sabita doesn’t open it because she’s scared.

     The rescue team finds the lawyer’s number and calls him down there. They ask who she is and the lawyer claims she’s his adopted daughter. When they explain what they’re doing, he’s furious. He says they have no right, that he’ll sue them since she’s his servant and he has a right to her. If you’ll remember, the lawyer told me that he was delighted to see the team and delighted to deliver Sabita to them since they could provide for her better. He offered his legal services to us in case we might need his help in prosecuting child labor offenders.

     Purna then revealed that they really used this guy as a warning to other professionals in town and broadcast his name on a radio program about child labor. Since then, he’s been very interested in clearing his name since he depends on clients, which explains why he was willing to talk to me and to send his client/tenant/servant/who-knows-what-else to see me.

     This job is pretty sweet.

     I’ve also been toying with the idea of setting up a “buy.” That is, pose one of my coworkers as a Nepalganj businessman looking for a young child to work. He’d explain that I’m following him all the time to film his life for a tv show. And then we could see what the process would be for buying a child. Then after the transaction, we’d reveal what we are actually doing, explain that they shouldn’t be selling their kid, and give the kid some school supplies.

     Is this ethical? Comments, please.

     Musings

     While taking a break from translating footage, I began making a bit of small talk with my new translator Sangita. (I somehow lost the translations done that day—nothing like losing a day’s worth of work to exercise that rage restraint muscle.) She asked me about the wedding I’d gone to in America and then followed up by asking when I would marry. I laughed. I always laugh when people ask this question—so presumptive! I told her I didn’t know, that I’d only really romantically loved one person and that we’d already parted ways. She looked confused and asked, “Why?” before saying never mind and mumbling something about it being too personal of a question.

     I told her we just had different trajectories, were going to be in different places. Satisfied that I had continued despite her withdrawal, she said, “That’s not a good reason in Nepal. If you’re in love.” Tons and tons of the people I meet out here have significant others somewhere far off getting an education or making more money—a journalist once told me nearly a fifth of the income here is from remittances. Couples can remain apart for long stretches of time. My translator hasn’t seen her boyfriend of three years in almost two. He works in India and is coming back in two weeks. She’s pretty sure they’re getting married. They’ll stay apart while she finishes her degree and then they’ll get married. She’ll either split her time between her family and him, or she’ll move to India.

     In a culture still balancing arranged and love marriages, the concept of love has a weight I don’t fully grasp. You meet someone, you fall in love, you spend the rest of your life together. Wait a minute, that’s pretty easy to grasp. It is in fact what all love stories are about. So what happened in America? Why did we lose our patience for love?

     I explained that in America it’s different, that among my friends the majority of long-distance relationships don’t work out. As I casually passed these words, I did not expect to struggle so hard for a reason to justify them. The reasons that popped into mind were either vulgar, selfish, small, or some combination. Identities are really strongly tied to profession among the well educated and people get lonely and the… sexual norms are different. We date so many people, and we have more free time that needs… filling. And uhm… yeah…

     … You’re probably right, Sangita. Shall we get back to the translations?

432. “Women In Nepal Face Discrimination From the Womb”

     July 10, 2009 12:08 am 4 Comments

     Last Monday, I had the opportunity to meet with Uma Bhandari, the president of Ruwon Nepal. Ruwon, also known as the Rural Women’s Network Nepal, is an organization based out of Chabahil that focuses on gender equality and women empowerment through education.

     Unfortunately, Uma was not feeling well so I was unable to take video footage of my interview with her. She is resting at the doctor’s recommendation, so I met with her in her home. During our discussion, she shared with me her thoughts on gender discrimination in Nepal and Ruwon’s approach to fighting it.

     “Women in Nepal face discrimination from the womb,” Uma told me. Since Nepal is a patriarchal society, the birth of a son is valued at more than that of a daughter. This is due, in part, to religious beliefs that only a son can help give salvation to his ancestors. In Hinduism, it is traditionally believed that only sons or elder grandsons can perform shraddha, or funeral rites that pay homage to the dead. Even though some villages closer to the city now allow women to perform funeral rites, Uma said that traditional beliefs lead some families to abort a pregnancy for this reason if they discover that it is a girl.

     In more rural areas, which make up the majority of Nepal’s population, this type of discrimination may persist throughout a woman’s lifetime. Traditionally, a woman belongs in the home, taking care of the children and household chores. Her property is her husband’s. In fact, until recently inheritance laws only allowed sons in the family to inherit property. In the event there are no sons, property is inherited to the men in the husband’s family.

     Husbands have traditionally been given multiple provisions in the law to divorce their wives or remarry additional women. The primary reasons include if his wife did not give birth to any children in the first eight years of a marriage, if she did not bear him any sons, or if she displayed “misdemeanor characteristics.” Divorce for women was allowed under only one provision: after her husband’s death.

     Uma told me that these laws have since been changed. Legally, men are not allowed to have multiple wives or divorce for these reasons. However, as seems to be common in Nepal, there is little enforcement and many rural areas continue to practice traditional norms without regard to the law.

     It is very difficult to change gender roles, particularly those that are grounded in traditions and beliefs. Ruwon Nepal focuses on educating women and promoting awareness of these issues as a way to what Uma calls “culture refinement.” She believes that Nepali culture thinks of a woman’s social self, a term she uses to describe a woman’s role in the community, and does not focus enough on her as an individual person.

     This is part of the problem in raising awareness of domestic violence. According to Ruwon, one in three women in Nepal are victims of domestic violence. Many women, Uma said, are aware that they are being mistreated and try to get help, often from her own or her husband’s family. Instead of being told to think about herself and her own needs, she is often told to think about how leaving a marriage or exposing her husband’s behavior will affect her family and her community. In this way, she is urged to put her social self and the sustainability of her family before her individual self, and tolerate violence because of a social stigma attached to divorce.

     “Human rights are individual issues,” Uma said, adding that through education, “a girl child can become an individual.” Originally from a rural village outside of Kathmandu that still has no electricity or water, Uma is the only woman in her village not currently doing traditional housework. She completed her master’s degree in education and is currently pursuing a doctorate at Tribhuvan University. Her research on gender, identity, and education has been published widely and her master’s thesis, titled Beyond Patriarchy, is set to be published in the next year.

     “When we read, we become clearly aware,” she said, “and intolerant of these issues.” Her husband, who was present during our discussion, told me not a day goes by that she doesn’t talk about how something is gender biased in Nepal.

     A professor in the journalism department at Tribhuvan University, her husband said that he was unaware of women’s issues until he married Uma. Interestingly enough, their marriage was arranged by one of her brothers. Since their marriage, he has learned more about women’s rights in Nepal, currently serves on Ruwon’s advisory board, and tries to include some of his wife’s experiences in the field in his classroom discussions. Sometimes, he finds himself pointing out gender bias to others.

     Uma joined Ruwon Nepal three years ago, after meeting Dhruba Prasad Ghimire through a mutual professor. Dhruba, who I met at the bicycle rally launching the “Disarm Domestic Violence” campaign, founded the organization in Sinhuli, a rural area in Nepal. He was the one kind enough to set up a meeting between Uma and me.

     The organization is optimistic about change for women in Nepal, citing the increase in women in parliament. However, Uma says NGOs are still facing a lot of work given the current political situation.

     Now that everything has “sprouted up so fast, everyone wants something,” she said.

433. Follow the Cornflakes

     July 9, 2009 6:19 am Leave a Comment

     In the last week I discovered how wastepickers in Delhi are unwittingly converting my breakfast into lucrative carbon credits without receiving a cent of the profits.

     Every morning before heading off to the Chintan office I eat a bowl of cornflakes with a banana. It’s both the minor indulgence of a Midwestern American guy living abroad and a method of giving my stomach one break per day from the spicy and voluminous curries, dals, and masala dishes that otherwise constitute my meals.

     

     “The Usual”

     Several days ago I looked up from the little archipelago of flakes floating in my milk to the cereal box and banana peel, curious about their fate.  Like most kitchen waste in Delhi, they’ll be tossed in the trashcan together. I try to separate the recyclables from the organics, but I suspect that once they leave the kitchen they are all mixed up anyway.

     Since this is a common “service apartment,” there is a gentleman named Radu who lives with the landlord downstairs and swings by occasionally to clean and empty the trash. I’m always curious where the heck it goes. There is no curbside pickup; I see no large dustbins anywhere on the block; and unlike my first apartment in Delhi, here there is no independent door-to-door wastepicker who rings the bell each day to collect the waste. Visit https://homebusinessmag.com/businesses/how-to-guides-businesses/how-to-reduce-commercial-waste-disposal-costs/ to reduce your commercial waste disposal cost.

     In situations like this, the family helpers often take the garbage directly to the neighborhood “dhalao,” or disposal unit. So today I marched over to the dhalao nearby, where I met a group of wastepickers meticulously segregating the incoming trash into organics, which they can’t use, and recyclables, which they can. It is here where my banana peel and cereal box part ways.

     

     The dhalao in my neighborhood. The dump bin in the foreground is full of waste that the wastepickers can’t recycle. Behind the bin inside the structure I met a half dozen men segregating waste.

     The brunt of waste in dhalaos comes directly from private residences, and the rest arrives on the rickshaws and backs of the wastepickers themselves. Dhalaos provide small but crucial space for segregation in an otherwise incomprehensibly dense city. City trucks then collect what remains after the wastepickers have finished sorting at the dhalaos and transport it to the city dumps.

     

     These wastepickers work out of the dhalao in my neighborhood in the southern part of New Delhi.

     Here’s where it gets crazy. Such thoroughly sorted waste is perfect for composting.  And as I wrote last week, composting is one method of keeping wet waste out of landfills where it would otherwise decompose under anaerobic conditions, releasing methane (a potent greenhouse gas) into the atmosphere. So the two government entities in the area, the New Delhi Municipal Council (NDMC) and the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD) have teamed up with a private firm to create a composting unit to earn greenhouse gas emissions reduction credits.

     I visited this composting unit, in Okhla, and spoke with the manager.  The 200 tons of pre-segregated organic waste that arrives each day is delivered for free by the NDMC and MCD. It comes mostly from dhalaos, and because the waste has been pre-sorted by the wastepickers, there are huge savings for the composting unit and city. In fact, the manager was surprisingly deferential and spoke of the necessity of the wastepickers in his business model. After seven weeks of windrow composting, my banana peel becomes organic fertilizer, which is then sold to a wholesale fertilizer company for profit.  The wastepickers, at present, see none of the proceeds.

     

     Bags of organic fertilizer, the final product of the Okhla composting plant, ready to be trucked off and sold to a fertilizer wholesaler.

     This project also has been approved for greenhouse gas emissions reduction credits through the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM). The CDM is an offset scheme developed through the Kyoto Protocol whereby industrialized countries with emission-reduction commitments can finance and implement emission-reducing projects in developing countries in order to help meet their own Kyoto targets.

     The Okhla composting plant is slated to receive emissions reduction credits amounting to 234,231 metric tones of CO2 equivalent over a seven-year period. At current carbon prices this amounts to roughly 3.5 million dollars. Who knows what the firm’s initial investment in the composting unit was, but it’s clear that the land was free, the waste is delivered for free, and the hard work of the wastepickers effectively subsidizes the composting unit. Composting is a great thing for the climate, but if those who are responsible for its benefits are shut out of the process, social justice is jettisoned for green profit.

     In pursuit of even more CDM credits and some electricity, the city now has plans to site a waste-to-energy plant next door. Since waste-to-energy plants often burn dry, combustible waste to heat their boilers and turn their turbines, they are in direct competition with the wastepickers for the city’s recyclable waste content. They also have poor track records in developing countries and many times have worse energy and emissions balances than traditional recycling of the sort that wastepickers undertake. It’s a shame that in pursuit of ostensibly “clean” energy, the livelihoods of some India’s hardest working urban poor are jeopardized.

     

     Thus far, this sign is all that exists of the proposed waste-to-energy plant.

     The good news is that wastepickers and NGOs who support them are beginning to organize around these issues.  At the recent climate talks in Bonn, a coalition of wastepickers from around the world held a roundtable discussion and press conference to a packed audience in order to address unsustainable CDM projects that affect their work. Chintan is among this dynamic global network of activists who are pressing hard for more inclusive, rational, and sustainable policies on waste and climate.

434. Sleuthing Out Liars, Steinbeck, Motorcycle Reality, and The Tarai

     6:01 am Leave a Comment

     The Work

     Today I interviewed Sabita’s owner, an attorney in town. I had yet to fully interview the children for their stories because they’ve always been too shy to speak so this was my first chance to hear about what happened to her first hand. Connecticut Bail bonds near Bridgeport Group wants to help you. Our Bridgeport jail bondsman will spend time working with each specific case in an effort to ensure that you fully understand the bail bond process. The procedure is broken into steps to help clients better understand what is going on: the general situation, defendant’s obligations, law, and procedure of arrest. Our local bondsman will walk you through the Bridgeport bail bond. Fielding Law is a law firm that you can trust and rely on. Michael and Mitch always have your best interest in mind, they are informative, respectful and are always available to answer your call. You can visit Salt Lake City, UT 84138, USA for the appointment with the  Fielding law firm.

     “It’s all a big misunderstanding.” Apparently, a client of his who also rents a room with him has land in Sabita’s family’s village. One time, she encountered Sabita’s mother, felt sorry for her, and offered to take Sabita to give her a better life. She took him back to the house where Sabita helped her out—not the attorney. The attorney had no idea until she showed up in the house. Sabita was enrolled in an education program for child laborers because it was too late to enroll her for school. And when her hands developed the red spots and were bleeding, they took her to a clinic where the doctor said she had an allergic reaction to soap. Later the mother wanted to come and live with them too. The attorney agreed but before she could show up, BASE staff showed up and wanted to talk to him. When they arrived, he said of course they should take her if they can give her a better life. “I fully support the work of BASE, and I’ve been telling everyone in my community they should not bring child laborers into the neighborhood because it is bad.”

     Wow, what a huge misunderstanding. After Kushal bought some Fanta for us and we began to chit chat, this guy even then offered to help us with any legal advocacy work we needed.

     Well, if law school has taught me anything it’s to always be suspicious of a lawyer. I brought in Sabita and this time she was more forthcoming.

     This guy came to the village with the woman. They made an arrangement with her aunt who pretended to be her mother. She was taken to his house where she cleaned his clothes, cooked his food, did his dishes, cleaned his floor, and ran the thermostat, he had just upgraded thanks to the knowledge he got about the Thermostat Wiring Color Codes. No clinic for her hands. She got yelled at by both of them for any mistakes she made—like not cleaning the dishes well enough (again, Sabita is eight years old). She did this for three months before the mother showed up with BASE.

     So how do I know who’s lying? Well Sabita told a pretty detailed story with lots of unnecessary detail—like forgetting the key to this door and having to wait here on a couch, etc. Also, the aunt’s story corroborates Sabita’s about the contracting. And tomorrow I have a feeling the staff will confirm that Sabita’s mother was there. If the attorney lied about two parts of the story, I’m going to go ahead and presume that he made it all up so that he wouldn’t have to look bad in this small town.

     If the staff confirm that mom was there, the viewers will get to exercise their compassion for the guy. As for me, it’s not like he interpreted events differently. He knew he would look bad so he lied to me. That means he felt shame, knew it was wrong, and did it anyway.

     Musings

     The books I read enrich my understanding of life here to a great degree. Having finished almost all of Steinbeck’s East of Eden before losing it at the Kathmandu Airport, I felt addicted and, when I could find it in the local bookstores, I picked up a copy of Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck’s writing about the American West in the early twentieth century describes the Tarai to a remarkable degree.

     When I landed in Nepalganj for the second time, I hailed a rickshaw and began the 30-minute journey to the transit house. As this vehicular human being pedaled without rush or laziness across fields tended by the hand of man, I realized there’s a richness in Steinbeck’s descriptions of turn-of-the-century California that most people I know can no longer access. The intimacy and importance of the well, the annual obsession with rain that hammers out the human calendar of activity, the singular importance of land, the thinness of livestock, the saturating transition from agrarian life to city life. These issues seep into one’s skin here; they’re everywhere, in everything. As a result, there’s a richness of human characters here. Something homogenizing has reached a critical mass back home (at least where I live) hiding characters in unseen corners, but here the stories are abundant and sharply in focus without need of embellishment.

     The Oklahoman Dust Bowl resembles the monsoon season afflicted with drought we’re undergoing. Last year farmers had already harvested their crop by now. This year, no one has even planted. Even with my helmet visor down, riding the motorcycle necessitates constantly wiping big mounds of dust from my eyes. Everywhere people ride a bike or a motorbike or a truck, plumes of dust rise in accordance to the size of the object in motion.

     When calling to a friend in The Grapes of Wrath, Tom yells, “Casy. Oh, Casy.” Having not seen this “oh” phrase in any films, I can’t even imagine how it would sound. But, surprisingly, this is how folks call each other down here when they’re yellin’ at somebody across the way. The “Oh” is elongated and rises in pitch. Imagine someone calling me and yelling, “Kan-ji, ooooooooooh, Kan-ji!” It’s kind of awesome. I plan to re-introduce this phrase into American parlance.

     The preacher in Grapes of Wrath, discussing his decision to quit his profession and wander the earth to learn about religion experientially, mumbles Taoist realizations about the oneness of existence in a trance-like state. Steinbeck published the book in 1939, years before Eastern religion and spirituality would begin to take root in American culture. The man must have been a mystic as well as a genius of a writer.

     Riding the motorbike out into the field a few days ago, I got to thinking about what I loved so much about riding the bike. There’s a kind of immediate reality on the motorcycle that doesn’t exist in the jeep. Somehow I knew I was moving in a way that wasn’t quite as real while inside the “cage” last time. (My friend Ben Amel, who I motorcycled from Guatemala to Texas with, told me motorcyclists refer to cars as “cages.”)

     In Shop Class as Soulcraft, the other book that’s inside my mosquito net (the equivalent of bed stand), Matthew Crawford, the motorcycle mechanic / philosopher / author, points out that our physical reality is retreating farther and farther away from our immediate perception. After watching a TED movie on a social scientist’s perspective on happiness, I’m happy to hypothesize that this retreating of physical reality to farther distances correlates with the continuing increase of anxiety, depression, and suicide around the world. So what does that mean? It means that in Steinbeck’s novels, the physical world around people—what it looks like, smells like, sounds like, feels like, tastes like—is a direct result of what you or close-by individuals do. You see it done. You understand from whence physical reality cropped up.

     In our world, especially in the wealthier countries, there’s a trend to hide this immediacy. Sherman points out that car engines—especially German ones—try to cover the engine with a smooth metal outer shell to hide what’s going on. Decisions nowadays about what things exist, how they’ll look, taste, sound, and feel are decided by invisible conglomerations of decision-making—Frankensteined together from disparate and disconnected pieces of human consciousness. I think that answers partly why I sometimes find myself laughing to myself walking down the dirt road from the office to the internet café. I pass by buffalos and hogs, slip on a cow paddy if I’m not mindful, and I laugh as the sun falls and the clouds turn golden. I feel happy and I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe it has something to do with how much more like Steinbeck’s world this one is than the one I’ve spent most of my time in. The well, the dust, the transparency of devices intended to assist in our endeavors, the honesty.

     Inspired by Steinbeck and Crawford, I’ve put aside my vegetarianism for my time in the Tarai (you’re welcome, mom). Going to the butcher is an amazing experience. The smells, the carcasses hung up, the butcher who holds a knife between his toes and pulls the meet across the blade toward him, the flies, the children of butchers who speak English well. The taste in my mouth at the end of the evening is a result of Kalika or Komala combining seasoning in oil and water in a pot with this meat that was sliced by this man’s foot and came from in front of his stall where the rest of its body still hangs. The goat was likely one of the many goats that passes me each day eating the same grass I walk on. How can this possibly compare with going to a grocery store and looking in a glass case at some polygon of flesh?

     The taste of food is an epiphany here. For several weeks I’ve eaten the national dish, Dahl Bhat, for every meal. It consists of rice, lentils, and a curried vegetable. I hear from expats living here that they quickly tire of it. A while back I went to the fanciest hotel in town a couple times to eat some Indian food. It tasted good but it didn’t taste nourishing. This is a little hard to explain. I can say only that I realized I love Dal Bhat. Not necessarily the dish, but my experience of it. I love it because I sit down on mats in the kitchen with the children and aunties and, even if I don’t particularly care for the vegetable of the day, it’s a spiritual experience. Eating next to these people I’ve come to care about, smelling the smells, hearing the banter, seeing the smiles, I always feel grounded to life, to being human. The food that my hand brings to my mouth sustains my body but it also travels down deeper and, there, it nourishes the soul.

435. Imran goes to School

     July 8, 2009 11:16 pm 1 Comment

     Imran Bapari is from Rajarhat, a village in Rajshahi division in the north-western corner of Bangladesh. His father, a tailor, works in Rajarhat and his mother works in a garment manufacturing unit in Mirpur, Dhaka. Imran studies in Class III of The School of Happy World, a school run by BERDO for visually impaired children.

     Imran had never been to school when a scout from BERDO noticed him in a Mirpur market with his mother. A little persuasion and the promise that Imran’s basic necessities would be taken care of did the trick. Imran was sent to BERDO – a place where he has now spent three years. His subjects at school are Bengali, English, Mathematics, Social Studies, Science and Religion. He likes Bengali and English the most. Braille books in Bangladesh are in short supply, meaning that Imran struggles to find books outside his curriculum. He has to read his school textbooks over and over again. He has however read a few books from the Braille library at BERDO – a book about Rabindranath Tagore’s childhood years and sonnets by Michael Madhusudan Dutt, among others. A Braille newspaper in Bangladesh still remains a distant dream and Imran and his schoolmates have to rely on others to get their daily fill of news. In two more years’ time, Imran will have to move out of The School of Happy World, as BERDO only has facilities to teach students till Class V. He will then attend a school for normal children in some other location in Dhaka. I asked him if he was prepared for life outside BERDO. “I shall be when the time comes. I have not yet thought about it”, said Imran. I asked him what he intends to study when he grows up. Showing maturity beyond his years, he said, “I don’t know if I’ll get the opportunity to study in a University. But I’ll try – as long as circumstances allow me”.

     

     Students at the school lead a Spartan existence. Imran is no exception. He attends school from 9am to 1pm every day (except on Friday, which is a holiday), has lunch, takes a quick afternoon nap, studies for a bit in the evening, has dinner and then goes to bed again. And yes, in between, he plays a little bit of cricket in the late afternoon, with Sajib, a student of class I. Imran and Sajib are the two students at the School who can see partially. The eight other students are completely blind. In fact, Imran is fanatical about cricket. “Dhoni”, said Imran without batting an eyelid, when I asked him who his favourite cricketer was. His teacher Younusur Rehman did not agree. “I have seen better players”, he said. “Have you seen the way he bats? What power! He just about clobbers everything to the boundary”, said Imran, jumping to the defence of his hero. He has also been to the Sher-e-Bangla Cricket Stadium at Mirpur to watch a Test match between Bangladesh and New Zealand. He emanated joy as he described how the Bangladeshi team, riding on a match-saving knock by Mashrafe Mortaza, his other cricketing hero, managed to draw the match. As I sat there listening to his cricket stories, I wondered how he embodied the kind of religious fervour that a game of cricket generates in the Indian sub-continent.

     Imran goes home thrice a year – for the summer, Id-ul-Fitr and Bakri-id. In his last holidays, he had been to Rajarhat, where he spent some time with his father. In the next, he will live with his mother in Dhaka. His mother drops in twice a month to see him. His father does not. Imran appears to be at peace with himself though. He appears to have reconciled to the limited number of choices and the overwhelming number of constraints that life has in store for him.

     I asked Imran to pose with his cricket bat for a picture. “My bat is no good. It is broken and taped all over”, he said. He said he would only do it if I played a game of cricket with him. “Sure”, I said. He bowled me six deliveries that I tapped back in his direction. I bowled him six deliveries next. He missed the first two, edged the third, bunted the fourth in my direction and missed the fifth. The sixth delivery he clobbered to the on-side, with a pronounced bottom hand and a helicopter-like follow through. Shades of Dhoni, you reckon? Definitely!

     

     P.S.: Imran is also a fan of football and likes to have a kickabout sometimes. He doesn’t know names of many footballers but knows that Manchester United play at Old Trafford. Ronaldinho and Lionel Messi are his favourites.

436. Follow-Up on the Returned Kids

     July 7, 2009 7:07 am Leave a Comment

     Howdy Readers,

     I’m getting back into the swing of work down here and have decided to split blogs into two sections—the work and musings. The work will let you know what’s been going on with the film and Musings will give you some insight into the little oddities of living in Nepal.

     The Work

     Today Kushal, Purna, Songeeta, and I set out at 6:30 AM to conduct a follow-up on the three kids we returned—Binti, Rogina, and Sabita. (If you didn’t get a chance, read the prior post about the return mission and Sabita.) After a recent meeting with Dilli, the President of BASE, the staff decided to move forward with post-rescue operations such that children who do not have feasible homes to return to will be kept at the rescue center, enrolled in a local government school, and transferred to the school’s adjoining hostel.

     As a result, part of this evaluation trip was to determine whether the kids should stay with the families or return with us. Binti and Rogina are happy with their families and decided to stay. The kids are enjoying their monsoon season holiday for planting (yes, the long summer break still makes sense here) and all the kids were off playing somewhere—Binti caught quite a few fish with bamboo rods. We showed up, checked on their school work, and asked them if they wanted to stay. I was somewhat surprised to find that they both did. I guess I didn’t know what to expect.

     As you’ll remember, Sabita’s aunt wanted us to take her back when we returned her. When we arrived back this time, Sabita looked drastically different in a way I can’t quite put my finger on—something was raw about her. Her hair was in disarray and she was far dirtier than Binti or Rogina. We discovered that she had been living with and caring for her elderly grandmother. The aunt did not enroll her in school so Sabita just went to the school and asked the headmaster to be admitted. She was, and she went to school and did her homework. Pretty amazing, right? All this aside, she looks and sounds different. Her interaction with me is cold where before she was one of the warmest.

     We ask her if she wants to stay or go. She asks who else is still there and, upon hearing that Sima and Ram Kumar are still around, decides in that moment that she will stay in Nepalganj until she finishes school. I ask her if she understands she probably won’t be able to come home for a long, long time. She says she does. The grandmother begins to cry. She is afraid of being alone. She misses her daughter and now thinks no one will take care of her. Every time I come here, human tragedy is unfolding. I have no idea what to think so I’m glad I have a task. I continue to film and am again numbed with the bizarre experience of watching someone fall apart from behind a camera. We finish interviewing everyone and I film the grandmother holding Sabita’s hand as we walk toward the motorbikes.

     When we return to the transit house, the aunties comb over her body and point out problems that I can’t see. After her first shower in a while, she keeps scratching at her head. Ram Kumar and Sima help her scratch. The Auntie’s are asking her about what happened. Everyone is laughing. She is coming back to herself. Sabita is home. More home than anywhere else. I am instantly thankful for this place because, out of all the massive suffering in the world, it saved this one little person’s life from a continuance of tragedy. And that matters.

     The film is coming to focus more and more on Sabita’s story as one of my co-workers went to college with her former owner. Expect to see lots of her in a couple months.

     Musings

     Having come back and feeling more at home, I’ve decided to start making some requests. One, I no longer carry the heavy camera bag on the back of a motorcycle where the full weight sits on one shoulder for several hours. Instead, I ride a motorcycle. Upon leaving the city into the rice paddies at dawn, I realize this is what I should have been doing all along, maybe for my whole life. Doing good work and getting to ride a motorcycle in awe-inspiring openness. Then we rode into a monsoon storm and spent about 6 hours riding over golfball-sized loose rocks. This was probably my least fun motorcycling experience. But it was still okay—especially when I got to push my motorcycle up and down a 2×6 beam onto a longboat ferrying passengers and bikes across a river. I walked on one 2×6 and pushed my motorcycle on the other—bear in mind that my tire is about 3” wide and the motorcycle weighs something like 300 pounds. The boat was a good 3 feet higher than the shore, meaning that the motorcycle could have easily fallen over into a river, probably with me. It’s amazing how quickly one acclimatizes to increased risk. If you had asked me if this was possible before I came to Nepal, I would have laughed. On the boat, I just got in line behind my coworkers and walked the plank with my bike. And then rode up what seemed to be a 40 degree incline of sand. So yeah I went to work today and at no additional cost received what could be billed as an adventure motorcycle journey—except more dangerous. I learned that it is relatively safe to ride a motorcycle about 35 miles an hour on loose stones. Kushal and my new translator Songeeta did fall off and one point after breaking hard ahead of a huge snake. (Sorry mom. Don’t worry thought it was dead.) I also had the sweet, sweet experience of riding between trees in a forest on a bike that was made for paved urban streets.

437. When Insult and Injury are Intertwined

     4:09 am 2 Comments

     When I signed onto this fellowship in early April, I made a commitment to put my best effort forth to help tell a little-known story of severe disempowerment. I knew I was entering an environment encompassing an acute degree of complexity of which I had virtually no practical, concrete understanding. Even more so, I anticipated frequent instances of feeling at a loss for words after hearing firsthand accounts of great struggle, compassion, resilience, and vitality in the people with whom I’d interact. All of the above have been richly solidified.

     However, the real loss for words hits me when I attempt to wrap my brain around the word “disempowerment” and relate it to the caste system in Nepal. At first I thought “dehumanization” to be a better descriptor of the repressive edifice I am only beginning to comprehend, but even now I harbor doubts that finding an adequately substantive label is even possible. How does one go about defining the blatant, systematic denial of an entire demographic group’s very humanity?

     Sure, the legacy of human-against-human atrocity is nothing new to the world. As I mentioned in my initial blog entry, discrimination appears to be a timeless and universal human value. As an American, I am all too familiar with the remnants and consequences of my country’s own sordid past with racism and sexism that continue to hover. Even as my country celebrated its independence this weekend and the societal progress it has made thus far, most (I hope) of us remain disgruntled at the rampant divisiveness and institutional oppression that persist, deeply embedded in our social fabric. We may boast forward-looking steps in the likes of statistics, legislation, and fiscal policy; but what catalyzes true progress is a change in mindset, which we’ve had more trouble with. As long as we harbor harmful, demeaning prejudices (of which we are all undeniably guilty on some level, conscious or not) and add insult to injury, we indirectly contribute to the gravest forms of global disempowerment. If you need experienced attorney for injury case then checkout Miami personal injury attorney.

     In Nepal, such disempowerment manifests itself in an unprecedented level of shame and insult inherent in the nature of abuses against Dalits. Atrocities against this vibrant community are not only committed to injure, weaken, or threaten; they are committed to humiliate and dehumanize. A young Dalit schoolboy was recently forced by his teacher to eat his own excrement as “punishment” for some unidentified classroom misdeed he allegedly committed. In many rural villages in Nepal (which cover around 80% of the country’s terrain), Dalit women are blamed for various random mishaps – such as a bad rainstorm or the death of a goat – and are then accused of witchcraft. In most instances of such accusation, a woman is brutally beaten, tortured to a deadly degree, and again forced to eat excrement until she admits to being a “witch”. Dalits in villages face violent consequences if they dare touch a water pump used by other castes. Countless stories such as these abound among Dalits – countless instances of being branded a witch, a contaminator, a slave…anything but a human being.

     Coming to Nepal as a Westerner, I must take extra care in my words, actions, and mannerisms to distance myself as much as possible from inextricable links to imperialism and conquest. I tread lightly in a place where so much arrogance, negativity, and disgust is rightly associated even with Western volunteers. Cognizant of these links and the politics of identity, I feel especially grateful to be embraced and welcomed in this Dalit-run organization by such warm people who have suffered so under the hands of privilege and its many injustices. My gratitude is already at an astronomical level for the chance to live in Nepal this summer – but has increased tenfold as a result of the delicate congeniality and kindness I’ve received here.

     Socially-constructed divisions may be universal, but perhaps they are not an eternal curse on the world. I like to believe that deep down, human beings are resilient, open-minded, inclined to evolve, and capable of reaching profound social and behavioral progress in our relations with one another. Perhaps the Dalits of Nepal are the best example of said resilience and propensity for achieving real social change.

438. A Chat with Rem

     4:08 am Leave a Comment

     Video Description: The Jagaran Media Center, based in Kathmandu, Nepal, works to eliminate caste discrimination through the use of media as a social advocacy tool. The JMC was established by journalists from the Dalit community, or those considered to be “untouchables” within the caste system. In this brief interview, JMC president Rem Biswokarma talks about the organization’s activities and goals, as well as what drew him personally to work on Dalit issues.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UebAmDVUZjI

439. My [Slightly Late] Introductory Video

     4:07 am 1 Comment

     A new requirement of this year’s Peace Fellowship is the production of several vlogs, or video blogs. For our first vlog, we were asked to provide a short personal statement-type video of ourselves introducing the work that we’ll be doing, as well as our hopes for the summer.

     Due to a plethora of technical difficulties, I’m now posting my “introductory” video five blogs later. My apologies! The incongruity of my timing is rivaled only by the painful awkwardness of having to watch myself on video. (You know the wince-inducing discomfort that commonly results from listening to a recording of your own voice? Video has the notable ability to take such clumsiness to the tenth power.)

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HXJTWU8

440. An Interview with Saidul Huq of BERDO

     3:32 am 3 Comments

     BERDO was started on the 17th of July, 1991. I had the opportunity to follow its growth over the years in an interview with Saidul Huq, the Executive Director of the organisation. Huq lost his eyesight at the age of six. Numerous visits to doctors all over Bangladesh proved to be useless, as did all other attempts to restore his eyesight. A doctor from Switzerland, who was visiting Bangladesh on an assignment, told him that he would never be able to see again and that he should concentrate on his studies and use this as an opportunity to serve his community. Huq has been steadfast in his pursuit of equal rights for the disabled in Bangladesh. He started advocacy during his student days and his organisation prides itself on creating local networks of disability rights advocates.

     In the interview, Huq talked about the activities that BERDO is involved in, the trials and tribulations that it has had to tide over, problems of scale and sustainability that it encounters and the like. I have always been fascinated by the sheer number of NGOs in Bangladesh. I have always wondered why a country like Bangladesh has so many NGOs and how the people perceive the role of the government in providing services that should ideally be theirs as citizens of the country.

     Watch the video below for Saidul Huq’s allusion to Bangladeshi geography, and specifically to its many rivers and deltaic belt, in answering the question about the role of NGOs in the decentralisation of essential services in Bangladesh.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-duBnoHhc8M

441. 4th of July

     July 5, 2009 6:39 am Leave a Comment

     Independence Day. Another year of America. But this year Barak Obama’s America. This past year of America I read for the first time both Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of The United States and Barak Obama’s Stories from my Father. One made me feel ashamed of my nationalism. The other validated it. It still seems bizarre that meritocracy could work after eight years of W. A President with a broad range of human experiences and a mind sharp enough to process it all with scrutiny and an eye for beauty.

     And how to fit rural Nepal into the picture? Sometimes I’m waiting to hear someone ask me what the hell I’m doing here since I don’t speak the language and thus my work requires double labor—myself and the translator.

     Volunteer adventurism? Prodigal son attempting to validate extreme vacationing?

     In Stories from my Father one of the women Obama works with community organizing in Chicago asks him why he does it since he doesn’t have to and he could be making more money. She says she does it out of religion. Not religious at the time, Obama responds that he doesn’t think their motivations are all that different. One gets the feeling there are two answers. One is just an intuitive sense that he needs to be there, something about the notion of community draws him. Not entirely overlapping is a moral impulse, which his answer hints at.

     A moral impulse. The humanitarian endeavor. The international development endeavor. Somewhere between geopolitics and morality, individuals from around the world meet and work together on relieving suffering, improving livelihoods—sometimes with less than impressive outcomes.

     So part of me is seeking meaning out here by anchoring to the moral weight of the issues: bonded labor, child abuse on a mass scale—it’s easy to find the moral high ground and look down. Solutions are more complex.

     Children suffering. The auntie here tells of all the children arriving in physical and psychological shells. They can’t be close to people, express themselves. They have internalized a submissive self out of necessity. Laxmi, my interpreter, tells me that she used to have a child domestic laborer. She let her go after the child kept making simple requests like whether she could go across the street to the store. She realized the child thought she was in a cage. And the beatings and the neglect of obvious physical harm.

     Should I be anything less than morally indignant that people with college degrees would behave in these ways? Is there some moral relativism I should be aware of? There’s certainly a degree of cognitive dissonance in meeting the employers since, to me, they are always cordial and inviting. The former owners of bonded laborers have degrees from American universities (following in the footsteps of our slave-owning forefathers) and they can converse with me in English about the issues of the day, offer me tea and cookies. It’s all very strange, the lack of clarity. They have dehumanized swathes of people to mistreat them, yet to fully attack the perpetrators requires a similar dehumanization—a need to paint their rationalization, their normalcy, with a kind of malice that may exist outside their perception. If I can refrain from giving beggar children food on the streets of Kathmandu, maybe they can see their child laborer’s bloody hands and feet and refrain from intervening. Maybe they don’t feel responsible.

     I suppose if I can forgive Thomas Jefferson, I might as well take a more compassionate approach toward the offenders here. I wonder if one day soon this place will have an Obaman equivalent—a person who acts as a lens to look back and say, “Really? How far we’ve come. How proud I am of the present incarnation of a history so ugly.”

     Happy Birthday America. Thanks for this past year.

     P.S. On a non-Independence Day note, I kept on being waken by mosquito bites last night despite ensuring the mosquito net was tightly pressed under my bed pad. Realizing there must be a perforation and that I would not get a good night’s sleep henceforth without a resolving the problem, I borrowed some insight from the HBO documentary, Hookers at the Point. (If you’ll recall, I’m spending my leisure time watching docs to get ideas for shots.) So I’m going to “double bag” with two mosquito nets. I’ll let you know how it goes.

442. A Day in the Life of BERDO

     July 4, 2009 11:30 pm 1 Comment

     My first few days at BERDO have been full of stops and starts. Work progresses but slowly. Power outage and slow (and no) internet connectivity are the usual suspects. The employees at BERDO are undaunted however. Improvisation and innovation keep them afloat. They shake off the inertia that sets in as a result of these uncalled-for breaks and get back to work with the same enthusiasm.

     There is a lot that goes on at the BERDO office at Mirpur, Dhaka – a school for the visually impaired, a job placement cell that works to map disabled individuals to potential employers, an IT training facility that helps visually impaired people develop basic computer skills, recording of audio tapes for a talking library and printing of material for the Braille library.  And then there is the small matter of co-ordinating activities in the two field offices at Tongi and Barisal. While the field office at Tongi provides medical and pathological services for the prevention of disability, drives a campaign to advocate disability rights and provides micro-credit to the disabled, the office at Barisal concentrates on providing micro-credit and community-based rehabilitation.

     This video is an introduction to the activities carried out at BERDO in a day. In the weeks to follow, I shall try to tease out the intricacies of each of the tasks carried out at BERDO, the ways in which they have been able to enhance people’s capabilities and do away with the social stigma of being disabled, the challenges that they face and the way forward.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANqVq2pSYas

443. Setting the Stage

     July 3, 2009 8:02 am 3 Comments

      

     “Who speaks for the people on the land from Asia to Africa to the Americas?”

              – Vandana Shiva – Physicist, Environmental Activist and Ecofeminist based in New Delhi, India

     I arrived in New Delhi and have spent the past 10 days adjusting to the climate, culture and communities in India’s capital. I have been overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of an Indian family that took me in for my first few days of travel, have been moved by Indian art, eaten delicious food, developed a fascination with Bollywood and am also coping with record-breaking heat, language barriers, thick smog, congested, horn-honking traffic, astounding poverty and a whole array of digestive problems.

     

     First Day in New Delhi, June 21, 2009

     Yet, even while the ground in New Delhi seems to be ever shifting, I finally feel like I have found some footing. Thus, I am now sitting down to write the story of my host organization, Chintan, and the community of wastepickers that Chintan services. I will continually update this story as it unfurls, and as I further embed myself in Chintan’s grassroots work focused on environmental justice in one of the world’s fastest growing economies and most populated cities.

     While I am at Chintan I will be playing multiple roles. In a ten week period, I will be developing a composting kit for residents of New Delhi, conducting primary research on compensation for methane capture conducted by New Delhi’s wastepickers and building technical capacity among Chintan staff around information dissemination through video, photography and blogging. Finally, I will be blogging myself, to bring the stories of wastepickers and urban poverty in India to a North American audience.

     

     Door to Door Segregation

     This blog represents a major challenge for me. As a privileged outsider from the west I feel ill equipped to relay the story of a community so far removed from my own. Indeed, a community enduring environmental injustice brought on by my own.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjbVlZUsm34

     However, I care deeply about holding myself accountable to the wastepickers of New Delhi and Chintan in representing their story accurately and in a culturally appropriate manner. Thus, I welcome and indeed appreciate any critique of the representations that I portray in this blog. Please read my words, watch the videos that I post and analyze my photographs. I cannot help but bias these representations with my own cultural baggage. I want that bias to be laid bare in the comments and critiques that permeate the commentary on my posts. I also welcome an ongoing dialogue about the appropriate role, if any, of westerners in “developing” countries, particularly with respect to western representations of “the Other” through multi-media.

     Having delineated my own ethical dilemmas, I will now begin the story of Chintan and wastepickers as I see it…

     Chintan’s mission is to address multiple problems simultaneously: waste management, urban poverty, and climate change among others. As such, this organization works with and for India’s waste experts, the urban poor, who are responsible for the majority of waste management and recycling that happens in the country. For wastepickers, recyclables are a commodity that if segregated from waste, provides a meager livelihood. Yet, as a result of their recycling efforts, wastepickers provide a vital environmental service to a nation undergoing unprecedented urbanization and rapid industrialization. Wastepickers ensure recycling and reuse of many materials that would otherwise end up in Delhi’s bursting landfills.

     

     Segregation in the Gazipur Community

     Thus, Chintan works with wastepickers to increase capacity for their recycling. Furthermore, in recognition of this vital service, Chintan works to improve the working conditions, health and status of wastepickers and their families in New Delhi. Chintan has a number of campaigns and programs working to accomplish these tasks. For example, Chintan advocates for wastepickers at all levels of government, and conducts campaigns demanding that residents of New Delhi segregate their waste at its source to reduce wastepicker’s exposure to hazardous materials. Chintan also helps organize wastepickers into a variety of workers collectives. Finally, Chintan provides educational support for the children of wastepickers who often do not attend or complete state-run school programs.

     

     Chintan Learning Centre in Nizamuddin

     Over the next two months I will fill in the details of these programs and gain insight into how Chintan’s advocacy work and programs play out on the ground. I look forward to the challenging weeks ahead. 

     ---

      http://www.ecoworld.com/features/2004/03/06/vandana-shiva-in-her-own-words/ Vandana Shiva – In Her Own Words by Paolo Scopacasa, March 6th, 2004

444. Wastepickers and Climate Change in 20 Steps

     12:11 am 2 Comments

     I’ve been asked by several readers about the connection between wastepickers and climate change, since that’s the focus of the policy research I’m undertaking for Chintan this summer. In an effort to respond to these questions with pith and punch, below is a quick primer on municipal solid waste, greenhouse gases, and informal recycling in 20 steps. This is by no means comprehensive; I’ve resisted plunging into the hard science or hairy dynamics of carbon market mechanisms, but would be glad to go down that road in the comments section or email for those who are interested.  Here goes:

     1.    For most of last week it topped out at over 110 degrees Fahrenheit in New Delhi.

     2.    Consequently, I felt like this poor fool:

     

     Chillin'

     3.    Yet this has nothing to do with climate and everything to do weather.

     4.    Weather is the daily meteorological and environmental conditions in an area, such as heat or cold, wetness or dryness, calm or storm, clearness or cloudiness.

     5.    Climate, on the other hand, is the moving average of weather patterns and events over a period of time (the standard length of time for our purposes is 30 years).

     6.    Unfortunately, the climate is changing – our averages are climbing.

     7.    This is a bummer for many Americans, because we tend to like Florida, intact glaciers, and charismatic mega-fauna like polar bears. But we hate heat waves, wildfires, and suffocating fish.

     8.    It’s even more devastating for many Indians, because changing rainfall and monsoon patterns will affect scarce water resources, threaten biodiversity, and hit the rural poor in the agricultural sector particularly hard.

     9.    Global climate change is partly driven by anthropogenic (human-induced) emissions of several greenhouse gases, such as carbon dioxide (CO2) and methane (CH4).

     10.    According to the World Resources Institute, the waste sector accounts for about 3.8% of total global greenhouse gas emissions. In India this figure is nearly double – 6.7%.

     11.    Emissions from the waste sector take two primary forms: 1) carbon dioxide is released from the production, distribution, and use of consumer goods that are ultimately thrown away; and 2) methane, which is roughly 72 times more potent than CO2 over a 20 year time horizon, is emitted from landfills into the atmosphere during the anaerobic decomposition of a city’s garbage.

     

     Informal recyclers working at the peak of the Okhla dump

     12.    Think of it like this – every item in the heap of trash at your landfill represents the end point of a very long process that includes extraction and processing of raw materials; manufacture of products; transportation of materials and products to markets; use by consumers; and eventually waste management.

     13.    Virtually every step along this “life cycle” impacts greenhouse gas emissions. In the early and middle stages, CO2 is released from power plants burning coal to supply electricity to factories, from trucks and ships running on petroleum, and so on. If a product is incinerated at the end of its life, CO2 is released along with other toxic emissions called dioxins and furans.  Alternatively, if it is landfilled, methane seeps out for several decades. Either way the atmosphere loses.

     14.    Thus, reducing, re-using, recycling, and composting the various streams of municipal solid waste can mitigate both carbon dioxide and methane emissions. It takes much less energy to use recycled inputs in manufacturing than it takes to extract, process, and transport virgin materials. And if we “close the loop” of production with recycling, composting, and waste prevention, these products never need to be burned or buried.

     

     In this diagram, MTCE stands for Metric Tons of Carbon Equivalent. In scenario 1 up top, disposing of 100 tons of office paper in the standard fashion results in emissions of 62 MTCE. In scenario 2, recycling some of this paper results in a REDUCTION of 65 MTCE. Source: US Environmental Protection Agency

     15.    For example, a groundbreaking new study by the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, Eco-Cycle, and G.A.I.A. found that if Americans could simply reduce waste generation 1% each year and divert 90% of our discards from landfills and incinerators by the year 2030, the greenhouse gas savings would amount to closing 1/5 of all coal-fired power plants in the country.

     16.    Delhi’s waste problem is gargantuan. This is partly due to the booming population in India and the rapid rate of urbanization.

     17.    But it’s also due to mismanagement. For a megalopolis of 15 million people, Delhi has just three open dumps, all of which are unsanitary and overflowing. The city generates over 6,000 metric tons of waste per day. Yet only half of the city’s tipper trucks run at any one time, there is a dearth of garbage bins in public places, and residents very rarely segregate their waste.  Much of it, frankly, is just thrown on the street.

     18.    The city has come up with all kinds of quick-fix solutions, from burning the waste to making it into pellets to fuel power plants, to compressing it into bales, wrapping it in plastic, and stacking it a half mile in the air. But the best climate and waste models out there suggest that good old recycling and composting, while not as sexy as these technologies, offer greater reductions in greenhouse gas emissions than landfillng and incineration, and often have superior net energy balances as well.

     19.    Here’s where the wastepickers come in.  They are India’s most efficient recyclers. In Delhi, informal wastepickers, junk dealers, and small recyclers number around 100,000 people.  The average wastepicker recycles 60 kilograms per day.  This saves the municipality a ton of money and reduces emissions.

     

     Okhla wastepicker families taking a break

     20.    In the final analysis, it is clear that wastepickers are owed a climate debt.  The thrust of my research this summer is to calculate this climate debt and help Chintan craft a campaign to connect these climate entrepreneurs to resources that will facilitate their environmentally friendly livelihoods.

     

     Recycling plastic bottles at Ghazipur

445. Introducing the Campaign to Disarm Domestic Violence

     July 2, 2009 5:13 am 2 Comments

     It has been a while since my last update and I’ll be filling in the blanks soon. In the meantime, please take a look at this video showcasing the bicycle rally and SAP-Nepal’s campaign launch to “Disarm Domestic Violence.”

     This is my first experience shooting and editing video. I plan to do a lot more for this issue in the near future, including profiles, so I would appreciate any feedback that you might have. How can I use video to highlight the connection between domestic violence and gun control in Nepal? What would be useful to you in learning about this issue? What do you think would be helpful to policy makers?

     I would love to hear your thoughts on using new media in advocacy.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUQm_6TRNWA

446. Heading to Hanoi!

     2:46 am 5 Comments

     My first month at LSN-V has been primarily focused on assisting with the preparations for the National Workshop on Victim Assistance and International Cooperation taking place this coming Tuesday in Hanoi.  LSN-V is one of the hosts of the event and I am excited to be able to participate–though I’m a little nervous that I’ve been selected to help facilitate the discussion group made up of Vietnamese government officials.  I will have to be on my best (and most diplomatic) behavior.

     This Workshop is the first of its kind in Vietnam and there will be a large contingent of survivors participating, mostly through LSN-V’s involvement.  As the name of the Workshop implies, there are a number of issues to be addressed; I will attempt to unpack them in the most coherent–and least boring–way possible.  Here we go.

     Victim assistance essentially bundles up a variety of issues including disability rights, development rights, non-discrimination, public health and more.  The task of the Workshop is to shed some light on how three international conventions-the Mine Ban Treaty (MBT), The Convention on Cluster Munitions (CCM), and the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD)-provide a framework for a rights-based approach to victim assistance, and why this would be good model for Vietnam.

     Well, you might ask, how is a rights-based approach different and/or better from the current approach?  The difference of a rights-based approach is that it shifts victim assistance away from a charity-based model to one of social empowerment and inclusion.  Why is that better?  There are a number of opinions on this matter, but from my perspective, the biggest difference is that a charity-based model is unsustainable.  Charity, despite the best of intentions, often creates dependence.  And dependence, in turn, often exacerbates marginalization and poverty.  Although there are certainly some situations in which a charity-model is most appropriate, such as when the goal is immediate relief, for long-term development it can actually be counterproductive.

     A rights-based approach is one that survivors themselves help build.  And from the limited time I’ve been able to spend with the survivors here in Vietnam it is clear that they are already doing just that.  However, without a corresponding shift in policy their efforts will continue to be the exception as opposed to the rule.  So that is the goal of the workshop: push for a change in policy to better reflect the changes already happening on the ground.  Very bottom-up indeed!

     By far the biggest concern I have heard from survivors is a lack of employment opportunities.  As Vietnam’s economy continues to grow the gap between survivors and the rest of society is getting wider.  I look forward to watching the survivors raise their voices at the workshop and hopefully get a step closer to closing the gap.

     

     The banner we created for the Workshop that includes survivors hopes and challenges

447. Of new perspectives and tentative first steps

     July 1, 2009 8:15 am Leave a Comment

      

     “My friend came to me, with sadness in his eyes

     He told me that he wanted help

     Before his country dies…

     Where so many people are dying fast

     And it sure looks like a mess

     I’ve never seen such distress” (Bangladesh by George Harrison, 1971)

      

     George Harrison’s plea for help for the ailing masses of Bangladesh was arguably the first celebrity-led initiative of its kind for a humanitarian cause. The extent to which the concert was able to help an infant nation stutter to its feet is debatable. What is not debatable however is that, as the years have rolled by, Bangladesh has responded with intent, albeit a bit slowly, to all problems – existential and otherwise, that afflict countries in their journeys from being imagined conceptions to fully forged nation-states.

      

     Bangladesh is the youngest country of South Asia, the seventh most populous country of the world and 49.6% of its population lives below the dollar-and-a-quarter-a-day poverty threshold (UNDP, 2008). Bangladesh has also registered a 6% growth in its GDP for the last three years. Statistics however paint only half the picture. Cyclones, people living in intractable poverty, cheap labour fuelled-sweatshops stuck at the bottom rung of global garment chains are as important as bustling market places, leafy neighbourhoods, beautiful national parks and the micro-credit revolution in completing the motif that is Bangladesh.

      

     

     The micro-credit movement has played an important part in the creation of micro-entrepreneurs and has managed to pull a large number of people out of poverty by granting them access to means of production. BERDO, the organisation that I am going to intern with, occupies its own special position in this melange of micro-finance institutions in Bangladesh. It provides loans of $50 to $200 to disabled people, arguably the most disadvantaged section of the population in an already burdened economy. BERDO also runs its own school for visually challenged children and uses ICT to empower disabled people and to help them find employment. I am really looking forward to the fellowship at BERDO and hope that it would be my window into problems encountered in the management of micro-credit projects and also into tertiary programmes initiated to aid visually impaired people.

      

     

      

     A stuttering 65-seater Fokker F-28 flew me into Dhaka yesterday. The traffic jams I encountered on my way from the airport to the BERDO office, the crowds – huge enough to make real Malthus’ worst fears and the nebulous clouds of smoke emitted from bone-clatteringly rundown buses were all experiences that were quintessentially Dhaka and introduced me to life in this teeming metropolis. As I walked into the BERDO office in Mirpur, Dhaka I realised that my greatest challenge would be not to exoticise poverty and to steer clear of the conception of Bangladesh as a land devastated by climatic excesses and dependent on foreign aid for its very existence, and to see the country for what it really is.

448. The Young Corridor

     June 26, 2009 9:22 pm 1 Comment

     In India, education is a fundamental right enshrined in the Constitution. This strikes me as a worthy inclusion, one that shouldn’t be taken for granted. Declarations and constitutions are often bloated with concepts like “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” whose scope and interpretation remain nebulous. Happiness, it turns out, was synonymous with “property,” and terms like “liberty” are too often strategically invoked in the political sphere until they’ve been gutted of intent, transformed to clichés, or used to galvanize people into nationalism. Raise your hand if you remember “Freedom Fries.”

     In comparison, the Indian right to education seems clear and tangible at first glance. And yet, as I visited a series of elementary school classes for wastepicker children in recent weeks, the complexity of a right to education became apparent.

     

     A young wastepicker girl peers over the portable chalk board during Hindi class.

     Here’s the description of a young Indian schoolboy waiting for the bus in Bombay in the early 1950s from the Salmon Rushdie novel I’m now reading: “…washed and brushed every morning, I stood at the foot of our two-story hillock, white-shorted, wearing a blue striped elastic belt with a snake buckle, satchel over my shoulder…” Here we have the prototypical schoolboy, gearing up for education with a capital E.

     Many wastepicker children, on the other hand, are born into a situation in which the demands of helping their families earn a livelihood are in conflict with going to school in the traditional sense. Chintan’s education program, “No Child in Trash,” bridges this divide by holding classes for wastepicker children directly in their communities. I visited two classes in the Nizamuddin neighborhood. One took place on a patch of dust under a tree, amid the roil of wandering goats and middle-aged men eating thalis; and the other under a small tarp strung over a concrete nook at the end of a labyrinthine network of alleys and crowded residences.

     

     A Chintan teacher (center) passes out handmade puppets to her students so they can enact a story they've read. This particular teacher also runs a small community library for wastepicker kids.

     When it comes down to it, the right to education is the right to learn and grow, whether or not that learning takes place in school. To conflate the two creates an unfortunate social division between those who can afford (and who are permitted) to wear their bright white shorts and suspenders, and those who cannot. Chintan’s model of organizing is finely tuned to the quotidian realities of the wastepicker communities; instead of lambasting parents for not sending their kids to school, they train teachers to work directly in the wastepicker enclaves and villages spread around Delhi.

     The attention and initiative of these kids was impressive. The commotion surrounding them was enough to keep me distracted, but somehow through the din they quietly and methodically took Hindi dictation, paired off in groups to read, and participated in puppetry and name games. Sure, there was a random four-year-old with a runny nose goofing around here and there, but in general their fierce concentration and reverence for their teachers blew my mind.  One has the impression that they know the stakes are high.

     

     A Chintan teacher helps a young wastepicker boy with pronunciation.

     There are two age levels of children taking part in the program. Those aged three to five are in a group whose Hindi name means “Young Corridor.” Chintan’s goal is to act as a corridor, leading them to the public school system in Delhi.  They focus on two subjects, Hindi and Mathematics. Nearly half of the 200 children in Chintan’s programs have indeed made the successful transition into city schools.

     The older children, aged six to fourteen, have mixed educational histories.  Some are in public school, others have dropped out or never went, and most have been employed as wastepickers for years. Crucially, Chintan’s goals with them are fluid. Despite high profile child labor laws in India that demand children stop working and go to school, the situation on the ground is that many wastepicker kids are not going to end up making the cut to get into the municipal education system.  For them, the Chintan teachers focus on reading stories and storytelling. If one of the major obstacles to social inclusion is that policies are formulated only by those who have a “voice,” there seems to me no better educational pursuit than helping children read the stories of others and find the means to tell their own.

     

     Children in the Young Corridor cadre read along with their older classmate.

     I asked Rajneesh, Chintan’s education programs director, what he thought was the biggest accomplishment of “No Child in Trash.” Surprisingly, after some facts and figures about kids who have made it into public school, he said that one of the greatest successes was a one-day health clinic that they arranged for the wastepicker children in this very neighborhood. Though this happened before I arrived, it has been documented in video by others:

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8esLSxRdC_0

     If children are not healthy enough to make it to class each day, if they are overlooked by the formal education system, if they lack the time to study or the means to travel, then the right to education will remain perpetually trapped in the ink of the Constitution. Chintan and these kids are transforming what that right means, giving it a living, breathing, complex reality.

     

     Class in the shade of a tree.

449. Expectation Video

     7:44 am Leave a Comment

     The Advocacy Project requires a series of short videos to be produced during the fellowship. The first is to document our expectations for the trip.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmxVIdRyvMo

450. A Survivor’s Sea

     June 24, 2009 7:14 am 3 Comments

     Ngoc Chau Nguyen is a fisherman in Dong Hoi City.  He is also a cluster munitions survivor.  At 61, Ngoc Chau has watched his country go through several transformations–he was a soldier during the war and surviving uninjured he went on to marry and have six children.  He established his fishing business, selling his catch at the local market to support his family.  Then in 2000, while burning the clippings he had cleared from his yard, a long buried bomb exploded, claiming his right hand.

     

     Ngoc Chau

     Understandably, Ngoc Chau was angry and frustrated by his loss-especially as a former soldier who was well aware of the danger of UXO.  But perhaps even more than the pain of the injury was the pain of the financial strain his accident put his family.  With no health insurance they had to pay for his treatment on their own, and as a result, the upkeep on his fishing business became more difficult.

     Over time and with the aid of his family, neighbors and the peer-support group LSN-V connected him with, Ngoc Chau was able to heal physically and spiritually.  With a renewed outlook on life, he sought to remedy his family’s financial needs.  Through the Economic Opportunities program at LSN-V, Ngoc Chau received a new fishing net-an integral part of his business.  With the new net, his income increased and improved the family’s situation.

     

     Ngoc Chau paddles back from his fishing net

     As he speaks about his experience, Ngoc Chau shares some of the wisdom he has gained over the years: although persons with disabilities face a distinct set of challenges they also posses a unique strength to overcome.  It is society that truly suffers when it fails to recognize a survivor’s capabilities.

     

     Ngoc Chau shares his survivor story

     
     

451. Gun Laws and Domestic Violence: What’s the Connection?

     2:17 am 8 Comments

     It should come as no surprise that women are disproportionately affected by domestic violence. Even less surprising, they are often the victims when domestic abuse escalates to death.

     In fact, women are three times more likely to die violently due to one factor alone: if a gun is present in the house. In many cases, the crime is committed by a spouse or partner-someone with a prior history of domestic abuse. Gun control laws and domestic violence laws are rarely harmonized, creating a loophole that allows people with a history of domestic abuse to purchase firearms or maintain licenses for those that they already own.

     Preventing situations like this, and increasing awareness of this issue, are the main goals of IANSA’s “Disarming Domestic Violence” campaign, which I will be working on for the remainder of the summer.

     

     In the first international campaign of its kind, IANSA and 85 partner organizations around the world, including SAP-Nepal, are making the connection between gun control and domestic violence. Out of nearly 900 million small arms in the world today, more than 75 percent are in the hands of private individuals-most of them men-putting women in these households at a significant risk.

     Last Friday was the launch date for the campaign here in Nepal. SAP-Nepal, collaborating with SASA Net Nepal and Yatra, organized a bicycle rally to launch the campaign. More than 61 people (including myself!) participated in the rally, biking between four major political party offices and delivering a memorandum of policy suggestions to top party officials.

     

     The party representatives who took the memorandum with appreciation and signed a commitment to “disarm domestic violence” included: Mr. Narayan Prasad Daha, Central Committee Member and CA Member of the UCPN-Maoist party; Mr. Nanda Kishore Yadav, Office Secretary of the Madhesee Youth Forum – Nepal (MJF); Mr. Ram Krishna Tamrakar, former minister and Center Committee Member of the Unified Marxist Leninist (UML) party; and Mr. Ishwore Pokhrel, former minister and General Secretary of Nepali Congress (NC).

     They agreed to bring up the issue, and the policy suggestions, at a future legislative meeting.

     

     Supporters present policy recommendations to a Maoist party official

     

     Mr. Ram Krishna Tamrakar, former minister and Center Committee Member of the Unified Marxist Leninist party signs the commitment to "disarm domestic violence"

     More photos from the event can be viewed here. Also, look forward some of my video footage in the coming week!

     

     

     

452. How To Get Rid of a 40 Year Old Bomb

     June 21, 2009 8:53 am 1 Comment

     Last week MAG (Mines Advisory Group) hosted the mid-year INGO meeting for Quang Binh Province.  I was able to attend as a representative of LSN-V.  As the meeting host, MAG invited the other attendees to view a UXO detonation at their demolition site outside of Dong Hoi City.  Although LSN-V focuses on aiding UXO/landmine survivors and does not do clearance, MAG’s work is closely tied to LSN-V’s objectives.  I shot the following video at the demolition.  Please check it out!

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MlXEQjItyGk

453. Working Title Logo

     June 19, 2009 5:17 pm Leave a Comment

     

454. The Nepali Bandh: A Nationwide Shutdown

     3:17 pm 6 Comments

     On a normal day, Kathmandu is a bustling, slightly berserk city that appears to be in a constant state of mania. Every stimulus that touches the senses seems to be magnified to the tenth power – the incessant and at times deafening blaring of horns (particularly when the vehicles are about five inches from your ear), the vibrant rainbow of gracefully draped kurta salwar on the equally graceful women, the pungent odor wafting from sun-warmed heaps of trash, the heart-wrenching sight of dirt-covered orphans and beggars contrasted with the historic beauty of majestic Hindu temples and shrines. It brings new meaning to the hopelessly inadequate term “sensory overload”; but somehow, the chaos has a rhythm and the ear-shattering sounds have a quasi-musical quality. Somehow, it works.

     …That is, until another almost daily facet of Nepali life rears its head: the all-too-common bandh. (“Bandh” means “closed” in Nepali; it consists of a disruption of daily functioning, usually in the form of a roadblock or an order for businesses to close. Bandhs are sometimes accompanied by protest activity such as marching, burning objects in the street, vandalizing vehicles and property, punishing/attacking those who “violate” the strike, etc.) A bandh is not your typical demonstration; in its most extreme forms, such an event can entail a total shutdown of all local activity. However, the majority of bandhs originate due to rather petty reasons (such as a disagreement between neighbors), are not politically orchestrated, and only last a few hours. Moreover, destruction and violence are not always part of the equation.

     Monday’s bandh – the first that I’ve experienced since arriving in Nepal – was atypical in how far-reaching and heated it became (there were five such events throughout the country, and said bandh in Kathmandu City effectively crippled all of the Kathmandu Valley area). The evening before, a violent clash had erupted between the police and the Young Communist League (YCL) over the alleged assassination of a high-profile Maoist leader. The next day, the Maoists got rather miffed and staged an all-day bandh, beginning at 5 a.m. and continuing through the night. All of a sudden, boisterous Kathmandu had morphed into a ghost town; roads were desolate save for individuals wielding the red hammer-and-sickle flag. All shopkeepers and business owners were required to shut down and keep their metal shutters drawn; violators of the strike willingly opened themselves up to brutal punishment as seen fit by the demonstrators.

     Some action shots provided by news outlets:

     

     Photo by Associated Press.

     

     Photo by Associated Press.

     

     Photo by Associated Press.

     And some of my own photos attempting to capture the aftermath:

     

     

     

     It was both eerie and bizarre to see two completely different shades of Kathmandu in such a short time span, and amid all of the discord. Of course, as an outsider, I know the context is far more complex than meets the eye. The Maoists still boast a significant number of loyal supporters, but events such as the case at hand indicate that fear of further bloodshed remains palpable and prevalent. Many Nepalis’ faith in the government is so far gone that they believe meaningful reform, in terms of democracy and representation, is simply not feasible without resorting to extreme measures. A local businessman told me he feels that the system here seems so irreparably corrupted that the only reasonable solution may be total implosion, and starting anew thereafter.

     As stated by a well-known Maoist commander two days ago: “We don’t want to go back to war, but we might have to.”

455. Seven Social Sins

     June 18, 2009 11:07 am 3 Comments

     The new one rupee coin is arguably the hippest coin ever minted. The front is smooth and spare, depicting the number one; the word RUPEE in English and Hindi; and a hand entering the frame from the right, giving the thumbs-up sign. The two rupee coin is equally stylish, but here the hand flashes us the peace sign.

     On Sunday I was sipping scalding chai in an alleyway café, wondering what vanguard graphic designer at the Reserve Bank of India had come up with the slick new concept, when it occurred to me that the hand gestures were functional. A thumb in the air doesn’t indicate hitchhiking or a general state of mirth, but the number “one.” Likewise, the peace sign means “two.” These coins were likely designed for the 40% of India’s population that is illiterate. I then proceeded to comb through the bills in my pocket, finding the bespectacled and slightly smiling Gandhi on each and every denomination.  So there it is, I thought, the paradox of populist cash.

     

     I had planned to travel to Ghazipur Landfill at sundown to meet the wastepicker community that lives next to the dump. Instead of sitting at the café staring at Gandhi on my rupees for the intervening hours, I decided to hop in a rickshaw and spend the afternoon at Raj Ghat, the memorial to Gandhi at the site where he was cremated after his assassination in 1948.

     

     The memorial consists of a black granite platform open to the sun, strewn with vibrant marigolds. An eternal flame burns atop the platform, and a grassy park rolls away in all directions. It is appropriately understated for a man who lived his life committed to simple and uncompromising principles. My guidebook informed me, in that overly pat guidebook sort of way, “India’s heart lies here.”

     Gandhi himself found the country’s strength and identity not in titanic personalities, but at the margins of society. India’s heart for him resided in the villages, in the overworked and underpaid indentured laborers, the mill workers, the farmers, the poor. We in the West remember him as a radical pacifist, but he was equally a radical democrat. The wastepickers were much on my mind at Raj Ghat; I believe Chintan moves in this very spirit, advocating for a dignified existence and reasonable working conditions for Delhi’s urban poor.

     The day then twisted itself into a metaphorical knot as I came upon Gandhi’s “Seven Social Sins” inscribed on an outer wall of the memorial:

     

     As I wandered around the landfill and wastepicker village in Ghazipur later that evening, speaking with residents and visiting homes, these social sins were clanging about in my head.

     

     India is now experiencing both rapid urbanization and increasing volumes of waste, and a high GDP growth rate is sacrosanct in policy circles. In this context, overcoming “Politics Without Principles” and “Commerce Without Morality” will require far more than outsourcing waste management to private corporations or producing populist coins and bills.

     

     Many of the rights and freedoms that wastepickers seek – freedom from harassment, adequate space for their work, clear legal recognition, access to waste, access to education, access to health care – have been taken up at one time or another by local governmental bodies. Yet piecemeal legislation and technological remedies are no solution for what remain structural problems.

     In the end, pervasive “social sins” demand a powerful social response – and this is exactly what Chintan and the wastepickers are mounting.

     

456. Return

     9:27 am 75 Comments

     Tuesday we returned three of the kids at the transit home, Sabita, Ragina, and Binti Ram. I had been curious what the return would be like my entire time at the home. I captured some great footage and was sometimes unable to capture footage because it was too painful.

     Sabita, the girl I have become closest to, is 8 years old. She is outgoing and bold. She squeals at me and shouts and makes a range of noises to suffice for my lack of Nepali. We growl at each other and she constantly scolds me for not eating enough (we sit next to each other during meals). She demands the most of me—and everyone else (she’s the bossy one). And she’s the one I like to tickle the most.

     Sabita has been working since she was 4. Her father died due to his family’s inability to afford medicine when he became ill. Her mother sent her to work shortly thereafter. She started off in a relative’s house and eventually ended up in a lawyer’s house in Nepalganj. She did all of the cooking and cleaning in his large, three-story home. She did not attend school. When he went to work, he would lock her in. When BASE rescued her, her hands and feet were bloodied by constant wet labor.

     I interviewed the kids the night before our departure by candlelight during a load sharing period. Everyone was excited to go home to see their families. Sabita was most excited to see her grandmother.

     We are returning these children to their parents who are former bonded laborers. Compared to anything you’d see in the US, they all live in squalor. However the degrees of destitution range greatly between settlements. These liberated laborers don’t have any land and often exist as squatters in “camps” rather than “villages.” Arriving in Sabita’s family’s settlement in Bardiya district, it was hard to imagine monsoon in a place so desperately dry and deforested. Cracks appeared in the ground, and I couldn’t wipe my lens enough to keep the constant dust storm from dotting shots.

     As we approached her mother’s home, a woman appeared from a hoard of children and accompanied us. Later I was to learn this was Sabita’s aunt. We sat down in the two room home, and Sabita’s grandmother greeted us. She began to cry. Sabita told her not to cry because she would cry. Sabita kept asking where her mother and little brother were. Her grandmother then said that Sabita’s mother was dead. Kushal, the caseworker, told her not to say that in front of Sabita and led Sabita out. During this, Sabita’s aunt decided she could not follow suit in the lie.

     We had surprised them with the return evidently. The case study of Sabita’s family situation must have been conducted with her mother, who had left town. Her aunt revealed that Sabita’s mother had taken up with another man and left town with him and Sabita’s little brother. Sabita has an adult brother who went to work in India to support the family. He was present as well but wasn’t speaking. Apparently, he returned to the settlement to find his mother gone and went to find her to bring her back. When he found her, she refused to return. He told her that he would help pay to bring Sabita back and that she was coming with him. When he returned the next day to pick her up, she had left town again.

     Sabita’s aunt relayed this story to us and my brain shut off. I kept zooming in and out more out of habit. My mind was numb. What would happen to this girl I had grown to love? I had heard these stories and worse so often and they seemed so normal. When it happened to Sabita, it felt like something altogether different. When something horrible happens to someone you love, the experiential reality of the event is devastating. It made the policy debates I’d been filming seem totally disconnected from reality.

     The aunt explained that she had eight children and couldn’t care for Sabita and asked us to take her back. I looked at Sabita and couldn’t quite understand why she wasn’t totally crushed by these developments. It was tough leaving the house as Kushal signaled to me that we had to move, we were hours late. After explaining the support we would provide, Sabita’s aunt reluctantly agreed to take her. But I couldn’t imagine Sabita having a positive future there. Her family had evaporated while she was out working.

     I told her to study hard, that I would be back in a few weeks to see her.

     

457. Broken Windows and Burning Tires: Just Another Bandh

     June 17, 2009 10:03 am 6 Comments

     In Nepal, a typical work week is six days to make up for time that may be lost due to an unexpected bandh. A common form of political protest in South Asia, bandhs are becoming somewhat ordinary in Nepal, often causing major cities like Kathmandu to reach a complete standstill.

     

     A street in Kathmandu during the bandh

     

     Credit: Xinhua/Reuters Photo

     During a bandh, no one is expected to open shop, including schools, or drive on main roads. Attempt to break the bandh, and you risk having rocks thrown at your windows, tires burned, and your car set on fire. As a result, streets are nearly deserted except for demonstrations and a small number of people on foot. Main roads, normally filled with the sounds of beeping motorbikes, are almost silent.

     

     Credit: Xinhua/Reuters Photo

     I know this, of course, because the Maoists declared one Monday.

     Members of the Young Communist League (YCL) and other Maoist organizations ordered an all-day bandh after learning a local Maoist leader had been killed. Rumors circulating Kathmandu suggest that Youth Force, the younger wing of the Unified Marxist Leninist (UML) party may be responsible. The police, people are saying, may have helped cover up details.

     This came after an uprising Sunday night between Maoist supporters and Nepalese police. While searching for a taxi that night, the AP fellows and I caught a glimpse of police in the street with large shields protecting them. Peering to get a better look, a man on the street told us there was a fight. We later learned it was a riot.

     I didn’t hear about the bandh until the next morning, just 15 minutes before I was supposed to have my first day at the South Asia Partnership. Shobha, my contact there, wouldn’t be able to pick me up, so I would be starting on Tuesday.

     I wanted to see what was going on. The caretaker of our guesthouse said it was safe to walk, especially for tourists. For some reason, the bandha doesn’t apply to tourists. It only applies to Nepali people, including those on bikes. Yesterday, demonstrators burned the bicycle of a doctor attempting to get to the hospital.

     Meera, Jess and I went into the city on foot. There was an eerie quiet on the streets. More people were out than I expected but it wasn’t as lively as I remembered from the day before. I barely recognized Thamel, a popular tourist neighborhood, because it was so deserted. Most of the shops, including hotels, had metal shutters pulled down to protect their windows. It reminded me of parts of DC.

     On the way to Thamel, we saw Maoist supporters carrying red hammer and sickle flags. One man carried a large one that he put on display in the center of a major intersection. A woman being transported in a rickshaw was carrying five. In both instances, I wish I had taken a photo, but was nervous since we seemed to be the only tourists out. I wasn’t sure how demonstrators would react, but I later learned that photography is fine. Next time, I’ll have some of my own photos to show you. And since I’ll be here more than two months, there will be a next time.

     

     Credit: The Himalayan Times

     The current political situation in Nepal is very complicated. I must admit, the more I learn about it, the more confused I am. People that I have spoken with in Kathmandu are frustrated. Every party has promised change but the government is so corrupt that when a new party takes power, nothing happens. Money that could be going towards development programs, they say, is often spent providing a “life of luxury” for its leaders. Children are frequently kidnapped from schools as a political tactic. Strong leadership is lacking and a political career is equated with being a criminal, so few people are willing to step up.

     Earlier this year, Maoists threatened a ten-day bandh. This would have been incredibly destructive to Nepal’s economy, particularly for those individuals who rely on a day to day income. Fortunately, it only lasted a day. In times like this, it is hard to see what the future holds for the people of Nepal.

     

     A cute monkey I saw while exploring Kathmandu during the bandh.

458. A new day dawns. At dawn.

     June 14, 2009 12:08 pm Leave a Comment

     3:00 a.m., and I was finally drifting toward sleep. I was psyched at the thought of being able to sleep in, considering that I’d gotten around two hours of sleep per night over the past three or four days. What a risible idea that turned out to be. I’d heard before that the Nepali people as a whole begin the day essentially when the roosters crow, but I was certainly not expecting what would follow.

     5:00 a.m. rolls around and I hear what sounds like some combination of a huge marching band and a lynch mob making its way down the street. Men and women are fervidly belting out verses with the cheery enthusiasm of holiday church carolers, and as the crowd inches closer to our guesthouse, I hear various “instruments” that sound like large metal culinary tools clanging against even larger pots and pans. The crowd stops moving and the clanging grows louder and faster, as the rhythmic chants ripen into spirited shrieks. At this point I’m getting rather excited myself – I’m dying to go outside and see what all the commotion is about. Equal parts curious and confused, I climb out of bed and fumble for my glasses – and realize that the ear-shattering racket is…fading!

     Nooooooooo, don’t leave yet! I silently plead with the singers (chanters?). By the time I find my shoes, it’s already too late – the music, shrieking, and banging are out of earshot. I very reluctantly restrain myself from running down the street in my pajamas like a madwoman to chase this band-of-sorts (though the thought continues to creep up).

     I sigh, defeated, and ease back into bed. Though I’m mad at myself for being too slow to find out whether the ceremonious marching/racket was as much fun to see as it was to hear, I welcome the opportunity to fall back asleep for a little while longer. Just as I’m getting comfortable again, the noise vacuum is filled by dogs – lots and LOTS of dogs – howling, barking, and yelping excitedly, all the while rivaling the marching band (I’m using the term loosely at this point) in loudness and pitch. My heart sinks; I know they’re all strays, and probably all starving. I feel yet another urge to run out of the guesthouse in my pajamas to tend to these guys. It’s a good thing there were no doggie biscuits anywhere, because I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop myself otherwise.

     

     Twenty minutes pass, and the vendors come out. The dogs have been bellowing their turgid, redundant song this entire time, and are loathe to give up the spotlight for the a.m. merchants. The street has now morphed into a stage for a yelling competition between the humans and the canines – and it’s a damn close match. The dogs eventually admit defeat, though, as more and more human voices fill the air. I wonder what they are shouting about so intently and trying to sell at six in the morning; the metal gate separating the guesthouse from the street has rendered all of these sounds a mystery (and as such, all the more interesting).

     It’s a lively and musical morning in Kathmandu, and it’s far too sunny and intriguing outside to stay in bed any longer. My first day in Nepal awaits me, and I can’t wait to take it all in. Delirious from a week of sleep deprivation, I rise with a big smile on my face.

459. First Encounters

     7:03 am 7 Comments

     Namaste.

     This word, derived from Sanskrit and used to express the greatest form of respect, is the most common greeting in Nepal. It translates to something similar to, “I bow to the divine in you.”

     It is the only Nepali phrase that, as of now, I know by heart.

     Armed with my Nepali pocket dictionary, I expected to be more than confused when I got off the plane. Surprisingly, it seemed everyone in the airport spoke English. Taxi drivers called to me from the sidewalk, “Hotel? Where are you going?”

     Two young men, close to my age, approached me.

     “Do you need a ride?”

     No, I politely informed them, my friends would be picking me up. Truthfully, I wasn’t all that clear on the plans. Through email in Doha, another Advocacy Project fellow had offered to meet me at the airport so that we could take a taxi together. Meera, who is working with the Center for Eco-Agriculture Development in Nepal this summer, has been in Kathmandu for the past two weeks. Her first experience with a taxi cab driver was interesting. So instead of me trying to negotiate a price alone, she and another AP fellow were to meet me when my flight landed.

     I didn’t have a contact number for either of them and I wasn’t really sure where we were planning to stay. But I had an idea. At any rate, I knew I would be able to recognize them. I had never met Meera before, but Jess and I met at the AP training in May. Jess had arrived last night and will be working this summer with the Jagaran Media Center.

     So, when my flight landed in Kathmandu, I was expecting to easily recognize, at the very least, her long, blonde hair.

     I didn’t. I peered through the swarms of people hanging out at the arrival gate. Some of these people were greeting passengers. Most of them were not. Young and old Nepali men were everywhere. It was loud, it was chaotic, and everyone wanted to offer me a ride to a much better priced hotel. After waiting ten minutes, I sat down on a bench outside.

     “Are your friends Nepali or foreigner?” asked one of the young men, who told me his name was Romeo (“You know, like Romeo and Juliet?” he said. I didn’t believe him.)

     “Foreigner.” This led to a long discussion between him, his friend, and me. They asked me about where I was from, what I was studying, if I was married already, and told me how much they liked our president, Barack Obama.

     Romeo offered to buy me a cup of coffee. I said no.

     “I’ll pay.”

     “Now why would you do that?”

     “Because,” he told me. “We’re friends now.”

     I still said no. He asked again. And again. And after a few times, I said, “It’s okay, really.” Apparently, he only heard the okay. He sprung up and ran into the airport, emerging a few minutes later with a coffee. By this time, it was 6pm. I had been waiting for an hour.

     “I don’t think your friends are coming. You should just go to a different hotel.”

     They’re coming. At least, I think so. I was determined to wait a little longer. Around 6:35pm, I saw Jess and Meera walking through the parking lot. Romeo’s friend ran to greet them.

     “Are you waiting on Isha?”

     We all walked to the car like one big group of friends. Jess and Meera were in the front guiding the pack, me in the middle, and Romeo and his friend in the back. When we got in the cab, Romeo asked for money.

     “But I bought you a coffee.” I groaned. I should have seen this coming. I didn’t have any Nepali rupees on me, so Jess and Meera covered it. They gave him twenty rupees. A little less than fifty cents.

     Just like that, I remembered what it was like to be in a foreign country. Fortunately, I was able to share the cab ride with others. On the way to our guesthouse, they told me stories about why they were late, attempting to meet each other at the local “MC Donell’s” (of no relation to McDonald’s), and of the apparently popular “milk scam” Jess fell victim to. I am sure it will make it on her blog in the future. On the drive, I suspected that we would have many more interesting stories by the end of summer.

460. Time Flies

     6:31 am 2 Comments

     Last Saturday, after twenty two hours on the Reunification Express, I finally arrived in Dong Hoi.  I can’t believe it was over a week ago–the days since then have flown by, filled with getting to know everyone at LSN-V, getting to know the city and refining the goals of the work I will be doing here.  Everyone at LSN-V is extremely welcoming and I already feel like I’m a part of their team.

     Dong Hoi feels like a small beach town compared to HCMC, though the motorbike is ubiquitous here as well.  Today I toured around the city with my new office mates, Kim Hoa and Giang and came to realize that riding on the back of a motorbike really is the best way to see the city!  I also got to try some traditional Vietnamese dishes: the first, a sweet bean soup served chilled in a coconut milk base is a common snack in Dong Hoi.   Later we stopped for another local specialty–rice pancakes, also served cold, topped with shrimp powder and spicy sauce.  Both were delicious and I am happy to find more vegetarian food since many of the traditional dishes are made with meat.

     I am looking forward to another busy week at work.  On Tuesday I will be attending workshops for two of the new communes (villages) in Quang Binh province.  LSN-V is expanding into new communities and I look forward to getting out of the city and meeting with the people who are most affected by LSN-V’s work.

     I have also been trying my hand at some video editing since video profiling is a part of my work here.  I shot the video below on the **VERY BUMPY** train from HCMC to Dong Hoi.  Despite its many flaws, I have decided to include it here since it offers a glimpse of Vietnam’s beautiful countryside.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C05wM0oK9fI

461. Photos of the Kids

     June 13, 2009 10:53 pm Leave a Comment

     As promised:
     http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2687822&id=7902240&l=8c6c64f5a9

462. Time Travel Through the Middle East

     8:15 am 1 Comment

     In the last 31 hours, I have managed to step foot in three very different countries and time travel through the past three days: I left Washington, D.C. on June 11th. Sitting in a guesthouse in Kathmandu, it is now June 13th.

     I spent last night in Doha, Qatar. Flying with Qatar Airways proved to be not only the least expensive choice, but also the most luxurious. Since my layover was so long between flights-15 hours overnight-they generously provided me with, for no additional cost, a room at The Grand Regency in Doha, dinner and breakfast, and transportation to and from the airport. I welcomed the long layover prior to departure, hoping that I would get to see a bit of Doha. Before leaving I read about beautiful white sandy beaches, the easiness for English speakers, and a city that had virtually no crime at all. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at the hotel it was already dark. Though I had hoped to get a glimpse of more of the city than a 15 minute bus ride would afford me, I knew it was unwise to venture out at night in a foreign city, even if it was supposed to be safe. The final destination was not Qatar, but Nepal, and it would be wise to arrive in one piece.

     

     My first view of Qatar from the plane.

     The little bit of Doha that I did see was beautiful. It was much easier this morning, while it was light, to see the ornate Islamic architecture, the broad palm trees soaking up the desert heat, the fluidity of Arabic script juxtaposed with the English translation. Since yesterday, I decided to spend what time I did have in Qatar practicing my Arabic. It has been nearly a year since my last class and although I didn’t know the meaning of any of the words, I was thankful that I could still silently pronounce each word in my head.

     The airport was vastly multicultural. I expected mostly Arabs, but was pleasantly surprised to see many South and East Asians, Europeans, and Africans. I watched the Arab men walk-glide, almost-in their thobe, a long white robe that drapes down to their ankles. On their head, they wore a ghutra,  a folded piece of cloth in either white or red and white checkered print. From the back, long black ropes with tassels at the end dangled near their waist. Most women wore headscarves, but others had their long dark hair uncovered or tied loosely in a bun. A few women wore even more conservative clothing, including an abaya and a burqa.

     I wish I had more time in Qatar. I have never been to the Middle East before, but I have always been intrigued by the beautiful, rich culture that exists in Arabic countries. I promised myself to stay a few days, the next time I ended up on this side of the world. Apparently this is enough time to see Doha, a city that is still fairly new.

     Before I left, I caught a glimpse of a street sign that made me laugh. It was a pedestrian sign to signal that people walking had the right of way, similar to in the U.S. Only instead of the black silhouette of a stick figure that I am used to, this silhouette was a man’s shape, draped in a traditional thobe. Since I had been told not to take pictures near or at the airport, I decided it was in my best interest to capture this image by memory. Hopefully, on the trip back I will be able to steal a photo so you can see how interesting this was.  For now, the small picture that I found online should do.

     

     A Qatari street sign, signaling pedestrians.

463. World Day Against Child Labor

     4:50 am Leave a Comment

     Yesterday was World Day Against Child Labor. We celebrated in Nepalganj by having a big meeting of local government, NGO, and INGO officials. I have yet to translate the footage but I’m told that we just heard the same calls to action to end child labor and the same critique of not knowing how to address the poverty that keeps the children from going to school after they are removed from child labor.

     This is one of the major issues to address in the film. One strange or perhaps telling aspect of my experience in the field is that tons and tons of parents of rescued children decide to put them in school when they return. When I ask them how they pay for it, the answer is always a combination of remittances if they have adult children and local labor jobs like construction. Of the advocates I meet, most seem to believe that education and awareness (social/cultural change) about the importance of school is as or perhaps even more important than raising incomes. Interestingly, based upon the anecdotal evidence I’m collecting, it seems that feeding a child is about ten times as expensive as putting the kid through school. So if your income raises ten percent, all the kids you feed with that income could also go to school. The plan is to discuss this anecdotal experience with some labor economists to get some more ideas about what is going on.

     Also, I get the feeling that some people deride the raid and rescue program with the income critique since even rescuing and providing education scholarships to a few kids doesn’t really address the cause of the problem. I’m not sure I understand this line of argument as it seems similar to critiquing the underground railroad as not really addressing the economic basis of slavery in the American South. There’s a moral dimension to this problem–especially since some of the problem lies in social/cultural attitudes, and symbolic gestures can be powerful in telling the story of a people. Yet I can see why some would not see this. Cultural norms aside, when I hear about the issues in these big meetings, the moral component appears relatively soft. When I wake up in the morning to see the kids I live with, the moral issue is sharp and urgent.

     Also of note, while I was filming b-roll outside the conference hall of the hotel I saw a kid cleaning dishes in the window of the kitchen. I caught a few seconds of footage of him before someone told him to run and he disappeared. As I tried to go into the kitchen, the hotel owner stopped me and asked for 5-10 minutes for the staff to put on their uniforms. When I went back in the kid was gone and when I tried to go farther back into the kitchen, I was told it was staff only. I mentioned it on the way out and the district women’s welfare minister told the owner that they wouldn’t be doing any more business there if he employed child laborers. He looked pretty scared. And then he asked me to make sure he got a copy of the dvd since he helped me out by letting me film the kitchen. I think that means he was trying to be my friend so I wouldn’t show the footage… not sure. I feel on pretty shaky moral ground myself since the cultural norms here haven’t actually made people feel bad about this thing they’re doing. And since some owners do provide a better livelihood than the parents could provide. Paternalism is a hard thing to internalize for me.

464. Namaste, KTM.

     3:26 am Leave a Comment

     No, we’re not concluding a yoga class.

     I’ve just arrived in Kathmandu, and the sky is quite generous with late-night rainfall. In the car with Prakash from the JMC and Asbin – a former JMC worker and current caretaker of Casa Dei Guesthouse – we are en route to said guesthouse in Lalitpur. “Namaste”, the Nepali word for hello, is the only word I’ve managed to NOT completely mangle during the enjoyable impromptu language lesson that’s begun during the ride.

     The ice has broken quickly, and we’re all sharing a great deal of laughter. There are two main sources of our giggling: the spine-shattering bumps in the narrow urban streets, and my pitiful attempts at pronouncing various Nepali phrases (the more I repeat them, the more ridiculous I sound). Our lungs fill with syrupy, dank smog with each guffaw, but the awkward cough-laugh that results only makes things more humorous. It’s not all fun and games, though.

     It’s nearly midnight, but the streets are far from empty; zoo-like gangs of mangy dogs wander freely, and baton-wielding policemen stand watchfully. Prakash explains that after the recent resignation and replacement (via political appointment rather than popular election) of the Nepali prime minister, the already pervasive demonstrations in the country have become even more frequent. In fact, it will be quite odd if I don’t see lots of protesters out tomorrow. But wait, he explains, they prefer not to be referred to as “protesters”.

     The demonstrators self-identify as the people’s true representatives, because Nepal’s politicians are generally accepted to be out to serve themselves. “Democracy” here is a far cry from what we know it to be in the U.S. (though such a statement can’t be fairly made without acknowledging the issues, obstacles, gross missteps and mishaps that occur in our own system as well); the options of meeting with representatives and/or contacting them via phone calls/emails/letters are simply nonexistent. As it stands, there is essentially one way in which the people feel they can communicate with their government: upend public order and stage mass demonstrations/strikes, causing destruction and violence if necessary.

     We reach the guesthouse and continue our conversation over a dinner of pizza-flavored Pringles and Mountain Dew. Asbin points to the unlit candles on the table and notes his surprise that we’ve made it this far without having to reach for a match, as only four hours of electricity per day is the norm in Kathmandu. The new citywide power schedule, posted on the refrigerator, promises that daily power outages will now be limited to 90 minutes total each day. Perhaps owing to the new prime minister, the promise has held true thus far – but there is little faith in the longevity and sustainability of such a change in a simple public good like electricity. In fact, most people believe that the abrupt shift in leadership won’t change anything at all in the long run. Elected officials rarely do.

     I try to thank my hosts for their generosity and hospitality in Nepali, but like the democratic reforms in this country, my efforts fall short.

465. And Kites Flew Over the Trash

     June 11, 2009 1:15 pm 2 Comments

     Recently I hopped on the back of a motorcycle and rode through the arcade video game that is Delhi’s highway system, across the Yamuna River to the outskirts of the city. Each week Chintan hosts community meetings with wastepickers in various locales, and this week’s meeting took place in the gritty borough of Bhopura. Most of Delhi’s wastepickers live on the periphery, both figuratively and literally – structural violence has pushed them to the margins of society and the hijacking of public space by urban elites has brushed them to the physical margins of the city.

     

     Frankly, I expected squalor. Perhaps like most Americans I’ve been spoon-fed “poverty porn” for too long, because despite earnest attempts to the contrary, during the ride I was anticipating something pretty crude: an encounter with abjection. I was surprised, then, to arrive at small enclave of “chuggis,” or huts, in the absence of any stench. This was no landfill, but an area to live and work provided to the wastepickers by the local “godam mallik,” a patron of sorts.

     Neither was there a prevailing sense of pathos. I was met by a resilient and accommodating group of families who were overly concerned with whether or not my backpack might get dusty, if I needed another cup of tea, if I was comfortable enough on the lawn chair while they sat on a large black tarp.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhlce9tDv4Q

     This week the organizer, Santu, read an article documenting the resolution of a decades-old land dispute between the local government and a group of farmers. In a nutshell, the farmers’ land had been seized for development in an eminent domain sort of scenario, and they’d been paid a nominal fee for it. They fought for years to get proper compensation, taking it up the chain of courts. In the end they lost. The warning to the wastepickers was clear: the spatial freedom they enjoy here exists in legal limbo, and while their homes are not in immediate threat, they may be down the road. The crowd was galvanized and several lingered after the meeting to plot strategy.

     

     I’m guilty of having deployed the trite phrase “a humbling experience” in the past. When we say we’ve been humbled, we often mean we’ve been forced to reconsider the affluence and banality of our daily lives. The Bhopura meeting, on the other hand, was a kind of humility in converse – expecting the sensationalism of extreme poverty, I was confronted instead with the richness of one poor community, its rituals and formalities, its jokesters, its concerns, its kites.

     

466. Photos of Field Visit to Bardiya and Kailali

     June 9, 2009 5:42 am Leave a Comment

     http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2685215&id=7902240&l=bb9ae73ab7

467. I’ve actually been doing stuff.

     June 7, 2009 7:43 am 3 Comments

     Okay readers this is an important post! I haven’t actually revealed any of the work I’ve been doing so I’ll do that now and ask for your help.

     1. The film.
     2. What I’ve been doing for the film.
     3. I need your help.

     The Film

     The documentary is going to follow the stories of a number of rescued abused child laborers who I’ll be living with in Nepalganj. Essentially the government does not enforce their child labor law so this district has supported my NGO’s work to “raid an rescue” the children in the worst situations. They essentially show up with the sheriff and take the kid. This is the “train” of the story. We’ll meet child laborers before they go to work, after they go to work and before they’re rescued, during rescues, as they enter the transit home, as they leave the transit home, and what their lives are like after returning home for a while. Along the way, we’ll explain the complexities of child labor and how it is deeply intertwined with education, development, and discrimination. We’ll talk to advocates, rescuers, parents, employers, economists, NGO/INGO child labor experts, local government officials, national government officials, and of course the kids themselves. We’ll talk about what has been done, what can be done, and what should be done. There are moral and pragmatic complexities that I’ll try to bring out in the film.

     What I’ve been doing

     For the past week I’ve been in neighboring districts, riding on the back of motorcycles for about 5 hours a day on average to visit places that I can’t believe my local partners can find. Sometimes we just ride through the forest–it is like the return of the jedi chase scene on endor–and there are multiple trails and we just ride and ride into the forest. I also forded a river Oregan Trail style except on an overloaded motorcycle at night. All of this motorcycle riding has been to visit rural schools to talk to children, parents, and educators affected by child labor. One recent highlight was after talking to a group of parents at an ex-bonded labor camp, I was invited to a meal where we drank homebrewed rice beer. I had a little and poured the rest in the two motorcycle drivers cups. We then drove around the forest singing a song about a man who falls in love with his sister-in-law and throws caution to the wind by declaring tht they’ll go off to look for Blackbuck (deer with big black beards).

     When I’m in Nepalganj at the Transit home, I hang out with the kids, eat all my meals with them, and try my new vocab out on them. They are an amazingly beautiful and joy-inspiring. Whenever I feel like interviewees are making the problem seem intractable, I think of the kids and instantly regain my inspiration. Pictures coming soon! During the day, I work on the film outline and plan interviews and shoots. When they go to bed, I watch documentaries and take notes on how any of the approaches might be useful in constructing shots, scenes, and sequences for the film.

     I drink way more soda than I have since I was 17.

     What you can do to help

     I need feedback on what audiences might be interetsed in. So I knew jack squat about child labor when I came into this project. What do you know about it? What do you want to know about it? Also if you have any idas for interesting sequences, scenes, or shots, please post a comment! Also, does this sound a little bit too much like Born into Brothels? Does it help that we’ll have Cops-like scenes of scuffles with abusive owners of child laborers?

     Sequence: combo of scenes that relate a complete story within the film
     Scene: combo of shots of same event
     Shot: Continuous piece of video

468. Recyclable by Bicycle

     June 4, 2009 10:41 am 2 Comments

     My first morning in Delhi, demolished by jet lag and seeking refuge from the heat, I wandered out of my austere apartment, rounded the corner, and promptly saw a motorized rickshaw get in a wreck. Instantly a dozen people swooped in to lift it back up onto its wheels, check to make sure that the two women who had tumbled out were okay, and commence arguing about who would shoulder the blame.

     The streets of Delhi are a veritable electron cloud of activity – in the mix are bicycle rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, cars, motorbikes, pedestrians, all manner of vendors, hawkers, and occasionally, cattle:

     

     As I learned yesterday, somewhere in this flux there are also “cycle kabaris,” or waste recyclers on wheels. Before beginning my research on municipal waste and greenhouse gas emissions in Delhi, I’ll be spending the next few weeks with the various communities Chintan supports in order to better understand the topography of waste collection and informal recyclers.

     The cycle kabari gang meets with Chintan weekly to air concerns and strategize. Yesterday we collected on the manicured lawns of Lodhi Gardens in New Delhi amid chirping birds and furtive young couples picnicking on the grass.

     Cycle kabaris are essentially one-man businesses, using a modified bicycle to ride around designated neighborhoods and purchase recyclables, such as old magazines and newspapers, directly from homeowners. They yell “kabari waala! kabari walla!” to announce their arrival, and residents descend with paper, plastic, and even metals in hand. Cycle kabaris then sell up the chain to larger, bulk recyclers at a higher rate to make a living. Unlike wastepickers, they do very little segregation of raw waste.

     

     The kabaris spoke of barriers to entry to their traditionally recognized zones of operation. Although the New Delhi Municipal Council (NDMC) has guaranteed them the right to collect and purchase recyclables from individual homeowners in designated neighborhoods, some residential block guards persist in either barring them outright or charging them an exorbitant “entry fee” to carry out their work. Chintan documents and aggregates complaints like these in order to help informal recyclers solve problems and build capacity.

     

     The number of participants at the Lodhi meetings has been down in recent months, partly because some cycle kabari workers have lost their homes – sometimes on public land – to city development in the area. They have thus been forced to move to other corners of the city.

     Yet the camaraderie among these men is immediately palpable. Though from different religions and backgrounds, they assured me they don’t compete with each other. They know whose turf is whose and respect the code, as it were. Prakash Shukla, a Chintan organizer who meets with the cycle kabaris each week summarized their philosophy thus: “To break one stick is simple, but to break a whole bundle of sticks is nearly impossible.”

     

469. Motorbikes and Markets – First Impressions of HCMC

     June 3, 2009 12:55 am Leave a Comment

     I read about the overwhelming abundance of motorbikes in Ho Chi Minh City prior to coming to Vietnam, but no amount of reading prepares one for trying to cross the street with a stream of honking traffic flying straight at you.  The general rule of thumb is to walk at a steady pace and let drivers maneuver around you-easier said than done.  It is hard to quell my impulse to stop abruptly when I see a moving vehicle heading rapidly in my direction.  Nonetheless, in the not-quite 48 hours I’ve spent here I am beginning to get used to the bustle of Vietnam’s largest city.  Since arriving I’ve been acclimating to the time difference and the heat while taking care of some logistical tasks such as registering with the consulate.  It has been an interesting, albeit confusing, few days.  Communication is difficult-part of me definitely feels like the silly American speaking to people in English and expecting a response-but I have found other ways to communicate and I am attempting to learn some Vietnamese phrases.  That said, I am looking forward to heading up to Dong Hoi to begin work at the LSN-V office.  Compared to HCMC, Dong Hoi promises to be quite tranquil.

     

     Statue of “Uncle Ho” in central HCMC

     Walking around HCMC I have begun to see the stark contrast between the old and new, rich and poor.  With a booming economy, Vietnam has been very successful at reducing poverty.  In 1975 roughly 80% of the population was living in poverty; recent estimates put the current poverty level at under 20%–quite an impressive transformation in a relatively short amount of time.  This morning I walked over to the Ben Thanh Market, one of the largest indoor markets in the city.  As soon as I entered the market I was hit with sensory overload-the bright fruit stalls and the numerous vendors selling Pho offered much to see, hear and smell.  Yet on the periphery of the market, the lingering poverty was apparent.  At this point I am still in processing mode-taking in all that is going on around me now that I’m finally here.

     

     Bright, Tropical Fruits at Ben Thanh Market

     Soon I will leave HCMC’s busy streets and head up to Dong Hoi via the Reunification Express, a train line that runs the length of the country.  It is a long ride to Dong Hoi-some 20+ hours-and although there are relatively inexpensive flights that would get me within driving distance, I thought the train would be a great way to take in some of the country I might not otherwise have the chance to see.  I will certainly be taking some pictures and posting them here, so check back soon!

470. Stuck to my seat.

     June 1, 2009 5:55 am 3 Comments

     “The Garuwa can make you stick to your seat.” Sitting among the medicine men, the spiritual keepers of this culture, my mind churned this phrase over. I do feel somewhat stuck to my seat, grounded here in the lushest plot of land in Dang district. Dusk among the bounteous small farming plots comes with a gentle ease—the same ease the farmers exude in tending their plots. They harvest with a sagacious certainty, unperturbed by the stranger with a camera.

     The children washing in the stream are framed by cobalt mountains quietly whispering majesty. I walk arm in arm, hand in hand, with my coworker and new friend Birbal. I love holding hands with men I respect and adore. He holds my hand with the same sureness the farmers bring to their toil. When it’s time to release, he simply flicks his wrist. It’s simpler than the sticky release to all my past romantic hand holds. The simple joy of physical affection reminds me of Austin, the only place I’ve lived in America where physical affection among friends is as it should be—normal.

     

     Stars give background to a dusk sky textured with a flow of bats coming out to greet the recent swarm of night insects. As they disappear the fireflies appear. We dine in a triangle on hand-woven mats behind Birbal’s family home. The electricity cuts out and a lamp appears in the center of the triangle. The night is meditative by candlelight. At this ceremonial feast, the men sit together to discuss their cosmology, their happiness, their future plans. The food is the most delicious I’ve had in a long time. It tastes like the end of a good day’s work. The rice wine further plants me firmly to my seat. Birbal holds my hand as he tells the shamans of my purpose here, of my culture. Night flowers bloom, giving the air a sweet, purple fragrance. Piglets scurry in the shadows behind the row of men.

     The assembly asks me how people live in America. I take a few breaths pondering whether I can find something positive to say regarding the rule rather than the exceptions. The Tharu keep telling me they’re a backward people. As poor people keep sharing their best and rarest goods with me without hesitation, it becomes more and more apparent every time I am asked about American culture that we are the backward people—despite and perhaps because of our wealth. We have diluted all our relationships that maintain our goodness, distanced ourselves from the rituals that keep us grounded to life. We are alone, anxious, depressed and trying to buy and medicate our way out of a deep dissatisfaction. If that’s cliché to say, all the sadder: we are a people unable to solve what we recognize as our most obvious and fundamental problem.

     

     And the rest of the world seeks to follow in our footsteps, blind leading the blind. During a walk the next morning with my 21 year-old friend Balu, he tells me that they are aware that modernization will dissolve their culture—it already has begun. He says it’s a worthwhile trade-off because they are so poor and backward. The grass is so dewy green and sweet on the other side of the fence. When we return one of the shamans performs a blessing ritual behind the house for a newly born child. I find myself desperately wanting a ritual to tell me that this life will turn out healthy, that I will cultivate a life full of family, friends, and community worth blessing. I realize these are choices I can make. Some of them will require a rejection of the culture I live in. I find myself stuck to my seat.

     

471. Disorientation…is most enjoyable!

     May 31, 2009 10:02 am 1 Comment

     As I read through the profiles and bios of the people I will soon be working alongside in Nepal, a surreal sense of admiration overwhelms me. As a student and advocate of human rights, I have a tendency to gravitate toward reading and watching material that showcases horrendous atrocities, civil strife, and the like; as such, I’m frequently baffled at the truly monstrous way in which some human beings inflict suffering on others. However, I live for the moments that shift that bafflement in the opposite direction – moments that leave me in awe at the level of strength and resilience that humans are capable of displaying, despite the most unimaginable circumstances of adversity. This is one of those moments.

     The Dalit journalists with whom I’ll be working at the JMC have been through hell and back. Here’s just one example: a former teacher was brutally attacked – and nearly killed – merely for being a Dalit in an important professional role. After this terrifying experience, he decided to become a journalist and work to fight human rights abuses within the caste system, despite the risky and highly taxing nature of the work. In addition to suffering from economic marginalization and physical/violent abuses, Dalits are subjected to an acute level of humiliation, insult, and general dehumanization. Being forced to live a life of shame – when their only crime committed is being born into the wrong caste – is what I’d imagine to be the hardest aspect for outsiders to empathize with.

     Discrimination, which can seem to be a universal human value in itself, has an unfortunately ubiquitous quality in the world (albeit with nuances in form and degree), but it is rare to find circumstances as extreme as Nepal’s in this day and age. This deeply entrenched oppression within the caste system has persisted for more than 800 years, yet Dalits continue to put up an unrelenting fight in the form of civil society activity. Given these onerous circumstances, my respect and awe of the tenacity in these individuals is inexplicable. I can only imagine how this distant admiration will solidify when I have the privilege of witnessing the JMC journalists’ courage and strength translate into action.

     This trip will be my fourth major visit to a developing country, and my third to an area affected by armed conflict. By now I’ve learned to stop myself from having any expectations, or even a modicum of confidence in anticipating how life in the country will be – regardless of how much pre-departure preparation and frantic studying I do. One thing I am certain of, though, is the sensory upheaval (Kathmandu is notorious for its “sensory overload” factor) that will come in the form of new sounds, smells, tastes, sights, and in this case air pressure – as well as the brand-new perceptions, emotions, and reflections that I know the experience will bring.

     I’m finding that the standard sense of feeling lost, small, insignificant, and generally awkward in a spanking-new location is growing on me. While I previously regarded this requisite initiation process as equal parts daunting and exciting, I now find that the latter outweighs the former by a long shot. The uniquely sobering and humbling effects that only fieldwork can yield have become oddly addicting – and I can’t wait to be thrown into the disorienting microcosm of this mysterious little country.

     

472. Tikkun Olam

     May 29, 2009 7:06 am 1 Comment

     I was recently introduced to a Hebrew phrase that explains, in the most concise way, why I am drawn to social justice.

     “Tikkun Olam.” More or less, the world is in great need of repair.

     It is perhaps this challenge that interests me: we live in a world that has more problems than we will ever have solutions. For every moment of triumph, we encounter a new and increasingly more complex issue. But I find it takes more than a good challenge to travel halfway around the world to a nation recently divided by civil war. It takes a desire to truly comprehend real suffering-an attempt to witness firsthand the sorest of shoes-to understand that civil and human rights as I know them are not universal.

     We, as human beings, have a social responsibility to help.

     Two weeks from today I will be on a flight to Kathmandu, Nepal in an effort to understand the relationship between women’s rights, domestic violence, and international security. I will be working for the South-Asia Partnership, a regional office affiliated with the International Action Network on Small Arms (IANSA), on its “Disarming Domestic Violence” campaign. To be completely honest, I know very little about Nepal. What knowledge I do have consists of geographic landmarks, basic demographic information, and a barebones understanding of its recent history. Currently the youngest republic in the world, I will be traveling to a very unique place during an exceptionally important time.

     I have no idea what to expect. One thing I did not expect-and recently discovered-is that it will be monsoon season. But I am prepared to encounter far more surprises. I hope to merge this experience with others that I have had for a more comprehensive idea of global issues. I have never been to Nepal, but I have been to less developed countries. I am eager to explore a new place and provide an international context to domestic violence and gun control.

     I hope that you will share this journey with me over the next two and a half months by continuing to follow this blog. My next post will likely be from Doha, Qatar, during a 15 hour layover. In the meantime, please explore the websites of IANSA and the South-Asia Partnership to learn more about the organizations that I will be working with this summer.

     

473. Trip to Tulsipur

     May 25, 2009 5:32 am 3 Comments

     Departing the plane in Nepalganj, I was first off the plane and had no idea which way to go. The passengers following me were similarly confused. Everything at the airport seemed under construction. After attempting to exit past a few construction crews that waved us to other exits, we found ourselves in a building full of construction materials—perhaps intended to finish the yet to be installed doors and windows.

     I picked my bags out of the cart that was driven over and proceeded out into the parking lot. No one to receive me as I had been told. I fished my phone out and turned it on to call my BASE contact, Pinky. She told me she’d call the local office and ring me back. I told her to hurry because my phone was running out of power. My phone ran out of power. Funny, it always seemed to run so long without a charge. Today, at the worst possible time, it ran out. For now on, whenever you have power, you charge the phone, I told myself.

     I went into the airport proper—also under construction—and found an outlet to plug the phone into. Pinky informed me that a staff member was on his way with a motorcycle. I explained that I had a suitcase that would not fit on a motorcycle with me on the back. She said that he would help me find my way to a vehicle, or, if it was too late, he’d been instructed to put me up in Nepalganj since the trip could take several hours and it might get dark if I didn’t catch a ride soon.

     Several hours. The map of Nepal makes Tulsipur look so close to Nepalgunj. It’s halfway between Nepalgunj and Butwal where the Fordham team was last week. It had never occurred to me that the trip would take several hours. The BASE staff member showed up and put me in a mini-bus (akin to a 12-passenger van), which shuttled me quickly to some stands by the side of the road where other mini-buses were parked. The staff member talked to the driver and his accompanying passenger/luggage managers. He explained my situation, and I was promptly instructed to get in the van. We exchanged a few broken exchanges that didn’t explain much. He asked if I had Nepali rupees. I said yes and asked how much it should cost. Before he could answer, the van took off. Everyone in the van stared at me. I smiled and felt oddly at peace.

     I’d been feeling anxious all last week with essentially nothing I had to do and a project I knew little about ahead of me. But now, in this crowded van, I was on my way somewhere, had not mastered any Nepali beyond explaining my name and the fact that I’m a student, and the hot Tarai wind was hitting me in the face. Just that morning I’d read an article in the NYT about how not knowing generates anxiety such that people who know they have a high likelihood for genetic disease will feel less anxious than those that don’t find out. Indeed, I was in the Tarai, had no control over my situation, and felt great.

     We stopped a few minutes later at a larger set of stands by the side of the road where hawkers ingrained the word for water in my mind, pani. Some passengers got out to buy some noodles. The scene reminded me of Guatemala and kids that would come on board the chicken buses selling rebottled water and fruit. I realized then that I hadn’t had anything substantial to eat and likely wouldn’t until I arrived. Having no food vocabulary and being unsure how long the van would stay, I stayed put. One man running a stand came up to me and asked if I wanted masala chips and water. One of the passengers must have told him about the foreigner. “Yes! And a mineral water.” No starvation after all. No discussion of prices. He appeared and charged me over the market rate but well below an American price and I happily received the sustenance. The bottle of water opened smoothly without any resistance of plastic breaking. I frowned and waved the man back over to ask for a Pepsi. Not in the mood to argue over fifty cents with the only person who spoke English. As I devoured my Lay’s Magic Masala and guzzled Pepsi, I thought, “How backwards: I refuse the home cooked meal and water and consume as much junk food as possible knowing that its processed homogeneity will ensure me a diarrhea-free ride.”

     “Arrrrrrn,” a long, shaky groan of suffering beside me. “Aaarrrrrrrn.” an elderly woman rocks back and forth, emitting this universal sound of suffering. Another passenger takes an empty bottle of fills it with water running at the stop where children are being bathed. I suddenly feel guilty for not drinking the bottle of water I bought. For the next four hours she continues to groan and choke on the water poured in her mouth by her companion (her husband or son… age is so hard to tell here where the sun leatherizes skin rapidly). She doesn’t use any words that I can discern. I wonder if she has dementia having read another NYT article that morning about increasing research on why some very aging individuals avoid dementia. As the hours pass by, I wonder if she will die on our trip.

     Nineteen people are crammed into the twelve-passenger van. It’s like a Guatemalan chicken bus with no head room (for me—see last post from Himalayan Times). Also, luggage goes on the roof as do the two passenger/luggage managers. While driving at something like forty or fifty miles an hour, one of these guys crawled out the window to climb up top as we moved—a sight not too unfamiliar. Except this time the bar he stepped on broke off. I’m not even sure how it was connected in the first place. Had his foot not fallen from the rod onto the window ledge, I think he probably would have fall off the van. The man by the window reached his hands out to grasp the leg. The van is falling apart in various places. I put my camera bag behind my head in the back row between the seat and the rear door fearing rain. The back door opens as I placed it back there and I realize the back door doesn’t close. It’s held shut by rope on the outside.

     We make one more snack/restroom stop where I see people using an open top well. There’s a pump right next to it yet people are drinking from a plastic jug dipped into the open top well. My humanitarian field studies course really taught me to expect epidemic illness at this sight. Yet, everyone looks relatively healthy. Perhaps natural selection has eliminated the people who are non-resistant to the inevitable flurry of germs that exist over time in an open well.

     We leave the paved road and engaged the rocky mountain roads as the sun sets. The darkness brings a strange feeling of being somewhere very different. Despite travel to various developing countries, I have yet to experience a place where there is no electric light in homes by the side of the road at night. It feels like time travel to see the candles in the doorways, the families huddled by fires.

     We arrive in Tulsipur and I’m dropped off near the BASE office with the property manager. He leads me down a path in total darkness but for beautiful blasts of lightning from the approaching electrical storm. Shadows of trees and two story structures and walls illuminate every few seconds and return us to total darkness. We phone Pinky by candlelight. She said she hasn’t been able to eat because she’s been so worried about me traveling in the night. There’ve been robberies on the route, she reveals. We walk ten minutes to a guesthouse that looks a little like 18th century rural homes in New England. Candleholders are permanent fixtures in the walls. First meal of the day by candlelight. I have arrived in Tulsipur and feel excited to be.

474. Making Business News in Nepal

     May 19, 2009 9:33 pm Leave a Comment

     See Newspaper Clipping

475. Interviewing Landless in the Terai

     May 16, 2009 1:26 am 1 Comment

     

     So I just returned from a week of assisting the Fordham Law School fact-finding mission in the Terai. I recorded video of the interviews and gained some insight into the social/political/economic relations of the region. I’m currently living in Kathmandu with my friend Amit who works for UNHCR. Here are some thoughts:

     “We don’t have enough to eat.” It’s something that I’m both used to and not used to hearing. I am used to hearing it on television and in classrooms but not from the person in front of me sharing shade and dirt. This I think will be a recurring theme–experiential knowledge.

     Subsistence looks totally different on the page of the customary tenure paper I wrote last year than it does in the villages we interviewed in this past week. Subsistence, from an experiential perspective, is a stick and straw hut with a cot inside. It is a level of consumption so far below what American consumption looks like it seems not just quantitatively different but qualitatively different. It felt very odd to feast (very inexpensively by American standards) for many of our meals during the trip considering many of those interviewed said that their food security is interrupted by any shocks.

     Gender. The recent rights education campaigns and Maoist advocacy education have really taught people—particularly women—to resist injustice. In many villages we visited, women conduct all the politics. They are the ones who break down caste barriers that have existed for centuries by eating with each other, which forces the men to do the same.

     Nepali. In Nepali, each number from 1-100 has its own word you have to memorize. Thank goodness the currency is 1:75. I’m probably only going to memorize 1-10, 50, 100, and 1000.
     
     Community. It’s amazing that people who are unrelated but share a common identity can be so close. Other members of the fact-finding mission found the Tharu community we interviewed particularly close-knit and living up to their reputation as kind and honest. It makes me wonder about the lack of community in the life choices I’m making. I’ve pigeon-holed myself into nomadic lifestyle, and I have the hypocrisy to condemn places like Cambridge that are just a collection of ephemeral professional culture resulting in a thinness of experience and a dearth of vivacity.

     Cultural Softness. My father once commented that he didn’t think I’d be comfortable living outside the developed world. One reason he chose to stay in America was that I had grown up there and would have a tough time returning to China. Maybe his hypthosis is grounded in his experience growing up in a socially and politically turbulent China. I’m finding this is not the case. Wealth and stability isn’t necessary to smile, to look into someone’s eyes with understanding when you speak to them. The first thing I noticed here was that I saw more people smiling walking down one street in the middle of town for an hour than I had my entire two years in Boston. Amit speaks of a softness to this whole country—the people are kind despite harsh circumstances. Some places are polite and others are not. I guess we can chalk it up to the ineffable cause of culture.

476. Gearing up for India

     May 10, 2009 8:07 am 2 Comments

     Out the window to my right a patch of fog is nestled in a verdant West Virginia valley, a perfect postcard cliché. The highway snakes back and forth through wildflowers and Freightliners. I’ve formally abdicated my role as driver, and now Rachel is barreling us toward Washington, DC, where tomorrow I will meet the other Peace Fellows on the first day of The Advocacy Project’s pre-departure training.

     For lunch we stopped at a joint called The Blue Moose Café. Halfway through my roasted red pepper sandwich I noticed on the bulletin board an oddly affecting poster.  A black and white photograph depicts a half dozen men dressed in flannel, Carhartts, hard hats and boots, wielding lunch pails and thoroughly soiled from a day’s work.  They stare with purposeful solemnity at the camera. The bold yellow caption had something to do with jobs and climate change. This being the epicenter of coal country, I expected to find, upon closer inspection, a fear-mongering slogan about devastating job loss that would result from moving away from coal-fired power.

     I was wrong.  The text was actually a quote from the mayor of a nearby town: “A carbon cap can be summed up in one four letter word: JOBS.” The poster then described how new, “green collar” jobs for these men could be created by a carbon cap-and-trade program in the U.S.

     

     For me the poster (and my initial misread of it) served as an apt metaphor for the simultaneous promise, misunderstanding, conflict, and hope that surround the prospects for clean energy in the U.S. and abroad. On Saturday I’m off to New Delhi, where I’ll spend the summer as an AP Peace Fellow with Chintan Environmental Action and Research Group. The brunt of my internship will be spent telling Chintan’s story and helping them formulate a white paper on the role of waste recycling in greenhouse gas emissions. We’ll also explore models for including and incentivizing New Delhi’s informal wastepicker and junk dealer communities in a community-wide carbon trading system. The clean energy and landfill waste story is a thorny one in the Indian context. In future blog posts I’ll try to make sense of it.

     I’m thrilled to be working alongside Chintan, an organization that has for years defended the rights and dignity of Delhi’s informal wastepickers. Together they’ve fought for identity cards, educational opportunities, basic sanitation facilities, and respect. I’m also lucky that AP Peace Fellow Jacqui Kotyk will be joining me at Chintan this summer.

     Though I’ve traveled widely in other parts of Asia without incident, at the suggestion of my doctor, in the last three weeks I’ve put on some serious biological armor, inoculating myself against Hep A, Hep B, Typhoid, Polio, Measles, Mumps, and Rubella. Doxycyline? Check. Cipro? Check. Mosquito repellent? Check. Copies of stuff that proves I’m alive? Check. Excitement? Double check.

     Here’s a quick introduction video…

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhHbC7DbFns

477. Drops in the River

     7:59 am 3 Comments

     I have never been to Washington, DC. So, as my plane took off from the west coast and began its journey across the US a couple of hours ago, a sense of excitement took hold. I am really looking forward to touching down in DC, the location of so many important political decisions that affect even me, a Canadian. Granted, I have spent some time in the US, and even took off from the Seattle airport having just spent Memorial Day weekend at a music festival in George, Washington. Somehow, DC seems different.

      

      

     

     The Gorge at George

     I am equally excited to meet the other Peace Fellows that will be receiving training through the Advocacy Project this week. We are a group of about 40 students being sent around the world to aid with capacity building within grassroots organizations working for social change.

     I am heading to New Delhi, India with another AP Fellow, Ted Mathys, where we will be working with Chintan Environmental Research and Action Group on issues of environmental injustice within the informal waste-sector. I am nervous about spending time in India and working with a grassroots NGO. In fact, I have completely shied away from international work until now.

     Throughout my life as a student, I have focused my work on local issues and have always found many cultural and sustainability challenges to work through in my own back yard. For instance, in working with cattle ranchers on sustainable farming policies for the Canadian prairies, I encountered many communication and trust barriers as an urban vegetarian environmental activist. However, I have found facing these barriers incredibly rewarding and have ultimately made many wonderful friendships while working through cultural differences at a local level.

     Yet, upon finishing my undergraduate degree and entering law school, international work has landed in my lap. Increasingly I am asked to work on international environmental law projects and to present my viewpoints on the impacts of this law on sustainable development around the world. Having never worked in a ‘developing’ country I feel uncomfortable adding my perspective into the international environmental law dialogue. Thus, I have signed on to intern in India, and look forward to learning form the people at Chintan and the other AP fellows about how treaty law plays out in practice in New Delhi.

     For now, my departure date to India is a few weeks away and as a result I still have time to reflect on where I will be going and what kind of changes this experience will bring to my life. As my plane begins its descent into Reagan International Airport I let the Fleet Foxes lull me to sleep and put both my excitement and apprehensions around what is to come in the back of my mind.

     httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAnR4JJJ63o

478. Back on the Road

     May 6, 2009 2:11 pm 204 Comments

     

     Hello everyone I know. So I haven’t had a blog since I was a teenager but the Advocacy Project requires that I keep one so I’m excited to have the excuse to write something for the people I love and admire. I would appreciate any feedback and suggestions as I travel down this unknown road.

     And now a little bit of Q&A based upon the conversations I’ve had with people asking me what I’m doing this summer. (I’ll also include the more critical questions my friends are too nice to ask.)

     You: So, Kan, what are you up to this summer?

     Me: I’m an Advocacy Project (AP) Peace Fellow this summer. That means I’m offering my services as a graduate student to a local NGO in Nepal.

     You: What’s the Advocacy Project and what do Peace Fellows do?

     Me: The Advocacy Project’s mission is to produce social change by helping marginalized communities claim their rights. This is done by partnering with advocates that represent these communities. The Advocacy Project believes strongly that change is best achieved by those who are most directly affected. Peace Fellows are expected to help their hosts (1) to tell their story in a compelling manner, (2) to develop information tools, and (3) to develop campaigns, through fundraising and outreach.

     You: Okay… so why are you going to Nepal?

     Me: Upon finishing my last exam, I came home, sat down, and asked myself this very question. This led to various other existential questions, which led to a few drinks. Hmm, anyway, let me give you the short answer: the Advocacy Project placed me in Nepal to work with a new partner NGO, called Backwards Education Society (BASE), which does social empowerment work for Tharus and other marginalized people in Western Nepal. I liked the idea so I’m going.

     You: What does BASE do?

     Me: Excellent question. Let me refer you to the description on their website:

     http://www.nepalbase.org/newweb/

     You: Wow, that sounds great… so, what are you, a random outsider grad student, going to do for BASE?

     Me: My goal I’m focusing on at this stage is to tell their story and to develop information tools. So what does that mean? I’m going to hang out with the organization for a bit and just learn about what they do. Then we’ll sit down and evaluate how new media can further their empowerment goals. This will likely involve incorporating photo, video, and audio—aimed at domestic and international audiences—through the internet as well as more traditional mediums. One of my goals for this summer was to learn how to use new media to conduct human rights campaigns. With that in mind, I decided to bring a high definition digital video camera to record video—my goal is to collaborate with BASE to create a documentary film, oriented for international distribution for broadcast, film festivals,and education markets. The hope is that this project will enable BASE to draw interest to their work from broader audiences and to generate funding from a more sources. In addition to this larger project, we will create short video profiles and photo profiles and post them on a web site that can be easily updated by BASE staff with future profiles. I also hope to train a staff person there to be the point person for new media so they can maintain these strategies.

     You: I don’t think you answered the “outsider” aspect of my question.

     Me: You’re very perceptive. I respect that. So I’m an outsider. Yes, and I’ll be a particularly conspicuous outsider. I’ll be a 6’3” East Asian man with a big camera walking around rural Western Nepal with almost no prior knowledge about the place, the people, or the language. So that’s a big issue in my mind. What is the appropriate role of an outsider? How do I be something more than a vacation-do-gooder? These days, I’m having trouble justifying anything without questioning my justifications as rationalizations, but here’s what I’ve got: It’s about the relationships and the storytelling.

     The relationship aspect: I approach this summer humbly as a volunteer interested in pursuing justice and alleviating suffering. I am a person just like my hosts. I walk this Earth on the path provided me by circustance and fate. I am here to do no harm but to create joy and harmony wherever I can. I am here to foster relationships by working diligently with those around me using our hands, our minds, and our dedication to our task.

     The storytelling aspect: One of my most lasting lessons from my years in theater is the power of story telling. The story we tell becomes our lives and the process of telling it is sacred. I understand I am privileged to be able to witness a story unfold for my hosts and with their permission I hope to help transmit their story, in their words, to the rest of the world. I dedicate my efforts to ensuring that this telling will be transformative in process and in outcome.

     You: Ok, wow, more than I wanted to know. So where exactly will you be? Can I contact you?

     Me: Uhm, right. Sorry about that. Here’s some more practical details: I’ll be based in Tulsipur.

     Map of Tulsipur

     The very short wikipida article reveals only that there are not many people and that the roads are probably unpaved. I’m excited to be living in a rural area. It will be the longest period I’ve spent living out in the country since I did Shakespeare at Winedale.

     I’m told there is dial up internet so I’ll be able to receive and respond to email. I’ll have a phone number eventually if you want to skype me.

     You: So when do you leave?

     Me: My plane leaves in 13 hours. I need to move all my stuff into storage right now so we can’t talk anymore. Oh, one last thing. I’m leaving so early so I can join up with a Fordham Law School fact-finding mission on landlessness in the region. I’m hoping this will help me better understand the situation and give me some practice with the video equipment. I’ll be hanging out with my former college housemate and HIA fellow, David Mandel-Anthony, who invited me to join their trip.

     I’ll update you with more in about a week–hopefully with some vlogs too! There’s a lot more to talk about. My initial research on the Tharu is fascinating. They are actually several groups with their own customs and languages but have adopted a common ethnicity in response to their common experience during modernization.

     That’s all for now. Be well. Keep America safe, beautiful, and weird while I’m gone (especially Austin, Texas).

     You: I’m on it. Looking forward to hearing from you in about a week.